The Girl Who Lost Her Shadow

by Emily Ilett

  So Gail half-stumbled, half-ran through the forest, following the trampled ferns and churned hoofprints of the deer. Mhirran must have gone in the same direction as the herd, taken up by the current of movement. “Mhirran?” she gasped out as she ran, but no one answered. Surely she couldn’t be far? Gail urged her tired legs forward, then slipped and cried out as a splinter of bark caught in the soft skin of her thumb. As she paused to suck the sliver of wood from her hand, a shiver trickled down her spine and she froze. The forest felt suddenly alive. Goose-pimples tickled her skin. Something slipped through the undergrowth in the corner of her eye. And there it was: a shadow the length of her arm, its darkness swimming and sliding like a reflection of the clouds rolling above. Gail gasped in recognition. It was like the shock of cold water, or the sudden sharpness of a stone in the soft pad of your foot. Her own shadow was watching her.

  She gulped for air. What do you say to your own shadow?

  Hi? How are you? (Why did you leave me?)

  “Wait.” She reached out an arm towards it. “Wait for me.”

  But the shadow slipped neatly over tree roots, rushing away from her reaching arms.

  “No,” Gail whispered. “Come back.” Her tired voice fell into the wet undergrowth and she stumbled forward, a tight pain winding its way up through her ribs as she watched the dark blur of her shadow dart away between the trees. Gail bit her lip, stifling the urge to cry out. Then she dug her toes into the mud and pushed her hands deep into her pockets. Her shadow didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. She had to find Kay’s shadow now. She had to free it from Francis’s machine.

  She twisted her toe harder into a deer’s hoofprint and tried to breathe out the hurt that ached through her, but the hairs on the back of her neck still crackled. The watchful feeling remained. She pushed her fringe back from her face, searching the woods. A pine cone creaked beneath her shoe. She turned slowly, her ears straining.

  “Mhirran,” Gail croaked, coaxing her voice from a dry throat. “Mhirran!” Her eyes scanned the forest for a flash of orange hair.

  But it wasn’t Mhirran who appeared from behind a large hollow tree stump, only metres from where Gail stood.

  Chapter Nine

  The boy was as startled as Gail, and he put his finger to his lips immediately. Gail stared at him, mouth agape. Weak sunlight slanted across his face. From the corner of his eye, curving round to his chin, the boy’s black skin was pearly white. The shape looked almost like a crescent moon, and was matched by another pale patch on his forehead that curled in on itself like a shell. They gave his face the look of an atlas.

  Gail swallowed. Her eyes slipped from his face, embarrassed, but then lifted again as the boy said: “You’re Kay’s sister.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  In the shocked silence, Gail’s heartbeat thrummed against her ribs. She stepped closer.

  “You know my sister?”

  A half-smile twitched at the boy’s cheeks. He had short dark hair and stood tall and straight as a pine, a rucksack straining at his shoulders.

  “Yes,” he whispered, nodding. “I know Kay.”

  “How?” Gail demanded loudly. “What are you doing here?”

  The boy hissed at her to be quiet, looking uneasily behind him into the dense tangle of forest and gesturing her closer.

  Gail scowled, but crossed over to crouch next to him beside the stump. Up close, the white patch above the boy’s eye looked like the outline of the island.

  “Why are we hiding?” Gail asked, quieter, the ground soaking into her knees. “And how do you know my sister?”

  But the boy ignored her. His eyes were bright and burning with expectation. “Where’s Kay? I’ve been leaving her messages, but I didn’t hear… Did she tell you to come?”

  Gail stared blankly at him.

  “I’m Femi,” the boy whispered. Then, leaning closer: “Did she tell you to find me?”

  “No, I came by myself. I don’t…” Gail frowned as the brightness in Femi’s eyes went out. “Wait, why would she tell me to find you? Who…?” Gail looked at the boy, his long limbs tucked beneath him like origami. “It’s you,” she breathed out slowly. “You did the drawing. You left the map for her.”

  “You found it?” Femi looked relieved. “But where’s Kay?”

  Gail’s face closed over. “I’m looking for her shadow,” she said at last. Femi raised his eyebrows and Gail felt a spark of defiance rise in her. “That’s why I’m here. I’m looking for Kay’s shadow. It’s been taken.” It was almost true, she told herself. “What’s the map for?”

  “You’re looking for her shadow?” he said in blunt disbelief.

  Gail stared him down with narrowed eyes, her mouth set in a fierce line, and shifted as if to leave, but Femi pulled her back. “Okay.” He shrugged half-apologetically and laughed. “If you say so, I believe you. Kay talked about you a lot.” He paused, and Gail felt the words swoop through her, like the slow stroke of a turtle. “You’re just like she said you were,” he added, with a lopsided grin.

  Gail scowled but before she could retort, a stream, of swearing from the bracken behind them broke the quiet.

  Femi leaned quickly towards her, ignoring the question in her wide eyes. “I’ll look out for her shadow. If it’s here, I’ll see it. I’m good at finding things.” He paused and Gail saw his hand move deftly across the ground to his side. “Are you? Can you find things?” he asked her, and there was a strange urgency behind the words. “Use the map. There’s something I need—”

  “Femi, what you doing?” The voice was raw with impatience and Gail caught a glimpse of a boy striding out of the bracken before Femi pushed her inside the hollow of the rotting tree trunk.

  “Got a stone in my shoe. Stopped to get it out, that’s all.” Femi rose to his feet, his voice steady and slow, designed to make peace.

  “Sounded like you were talking to somebody. Are you talking to yourself now? Come on. Gus is way ahead. You’ve been hanging back all day, slowing us down. And you’re the one who suggested this spot so we’d better find something.”

  “We’ll find something, Euan. Trust me.”

  As he spoke, Femi turned slightly towards Gail and, so quickly she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, he flicked his hand once, then twice, to the side.

  Crouched inside the hollow, Gail could see Euan’s pale skin glistening with sweat as he gestured to Femi to move past him. “You’re taking us right across the island, Femi. If we don’t find anything…”

  Femi straightened his rucksack. “We will,” he said lightly. “We’ll find what we’re looking for tomorrow. Let’s walk another half hour then camp. Or if you’ve changed your mind, we can head back. It’s a long way still and it’s going to be a cold night.”

  Euan grunted and shook his head. “Let’s go.”

  From where Gail hid, she could see the tightness of Femi’s fingers as he held onto a branch. But he nodded and headed on with Euan close behind, blue sleeping bags bouncing against their rucksacks.

  When she could no longer hear them, Gail breathed out, releasing the damp bark she’d been squeezing between her fingertips. She straightened cautiously and clambered out of the hollow, brushing lichen off her cheeks and woodlice from her knees. She stood for a moment, one hand on the trunk. Mushrooms dotted its slope like a staircase and their dark curves were speckled brown like Femi’s eyes. He reminded her of Kay. He reminded her of Kay when she stood as far out as she could on the rocks at their beach, salt spray in her eyelashes and her arms stretched forward, her face turned to the wind. Afraid and fearless, all at once.

  Gail shivered the memory away and the sounds of the forest settled around her. Above, a bird spun out a clicking tune that fell into a puddle of notes then grew again into a cascade. She knew she should keep moving, keep looking for Mhirran, forget about Femi. But she stayed there, by the tree trunk.

  He knew Kay. He’d asked for her help.

  Gail chewed her lip and looked to the r
ight of the stump, where Femi had gestured. She recalled the strange sweeping movement he’d made with his hand. Can you find things? She knelt down and flattened a fern to the side. Her mouth curled upwards as she saw what he’d done.

  The shape of the island was drawn into the soil with a fingertip. Here was the north, where she’d come from. There was the harbour, marked with a deeper hole for the town. And here – she traced her finger across the ground – here at the south-west corner, where the island jutted out into a thin point, a cross was scored into the soil. Gail reached to pick out the pebble he’d placed in the centre of the cross. But as she drew it up, she realised it wasn’t a pebble at all: a pearl shone dimly in the centre of her palm, milky as a moon and cold as betrayal.

  Gail gasped. She pulled the mussel shell she’d found in the tunnel out of her coat pocket. Folding open the paper map, she looked from it to the map sketched on the ground, as Kay’s voice bloomed inside her head: Where did you find it, Gail? Who did you get it from? It had been before summer, before everything had changed. Gail had found the shell on the way back from school, cast aside on the pavement, and had been shocked at her sister’s anger, light flashing in her eyes. Look at it. Can’t you see what it is? It’s a freshwater mussel shell. People are fishing and killing them here, on this island, to sell the pearls. They’re being hunted to extinction, Gail. She’d taken the shell from Gail and her voice had softened in reverence. This one was old, so much older than us. Maybe a hundred years.

  A blackbird trilled in the tree above her as Gail stared at the pearl, waiting for the knot inside her head to untangle. Her stomach churned in anger. They were pearl fishing, those boys, looking for freshwater mussels. And Femi was leading them.

  Gail shook her head. It didn’t make sense. It was illegal, so why would he leave her this map? Why would he show her where they were going?

  The sharp cry of the blackbird startled Gail out of her thinking. Its song was straight and urgent and sounded almost like a whistle.

  Whistle if you need me, that’s what Mhirran had said, back in the tunnels.

  Of course. Gail scrambled to her feet, tucking the pearl and shell back in her pocket. Taking a deep breath, she licked her cracked lips and tried to whistle. The air wobbled out. She tried again. This time, a faint sound glided away from her. The next was clear and sharp.

  Gail waited, holding her breath. After a moment, she tried again, the whistle high and strong.

  And this time, from not so far away, a tired high note came back to her.

  Gail blinked. Had she imagined it? She whistled again, her ears straining for the response.

  When it came, quieter this time, hot relief flooded through her. Mhirran would know what to do. She’d know where Francis was, where he’d taken Kay’s shadow. She’d know about Femi. Gail hurried towards Mhirran’s whistle, hope unfurling inside her, as she dodged branches and ducked beneath sweeps of conifer. And, there, like the tiny headlights of the pinecone fish, a flash of orange sparked in the corner of her eye.

  Chapter Ten

  An arm of bluish-green needles swept across Mhirran’s cheek like a curtain. Her glasses were striped with dirt and one knee was drawn up to her chin. There were holes in her jeans and scarlet grazes beneath them. Her right hand was curled around her left wrist, which was red and swollen. When Gail gently nudged the orange fringe from her forehead, Mhirran’s eyes were closed. Relief drained from Gail’s body and, in its place, something cold and hard settled in her gut. She bit her lip against the painful squeeze of it.

  “Mhirran,” Gail whispered, touching her elbow. “Mhirran,” she said again, louder, her heart beating in her ears.

  At last, Mhirran stirred and Gail breathed out. “Where does it hurt? Is it your foot? Your wrist? Is it broken? What should I do?”

  Mhirran twitched. It was a twitch that could have meant everything hurts or nothing hurts.

  “I’m sorry, Mhirran,” Gail began, “about what I said. It wasn’t… I’m not… I think you’re…” Gail took a deep breath, watching Mhirran’s fingers flex on her injured wrist. Her fingers looked so small. Mhirran looked small. As if her chatter had made her seem bigger than she was.

  Gail tilted her head. White clouds rolled across the sky and a cold breeze curled around her neck. Her stomach growled and she realised it must already be well past noon. What now? They could be miles away from Mhirran’s uncle, miles from Francis and his machine, miles from Kay’s shadow.

  Mhirran’s face was chalk-white, the freckles standing out like islands on her cheeks, and her breathing was shallow. It felt like she was a long way away. Wait, what had Mhirran said before? That she spoke to Gail to find her again…

  Gail searched frantically through her mind for something to say. Then she remembered when she’d been so hurt and felt so clumsy after she’d broken her arm falling downstairs, and Kay had told her about the sunfish while she drew each octopus tentacle carefully on the cast. Gail smiled and cleared her throat.

  “You know, Mhirran,” she said, “there’s a gigantic fish called the sunfish. They’re silvery and clumsy and kind of like a circle. They weigh nearly five thousand pounds, which is, like, four-and-a-half times what a polar bear weighs. And they float in the ocean. Imagine that,” she breathed. “A fish weighing more than a polar bear, swimming in the water. Some things are impossible,” she said, “until you discover them.”

  Smiles, Gail learned, are luminescent. Like fireflies, she thought, as Mhirran’s smile lit up the dim shade of the conifer. Then Mhirran coughed and spluttered and Gail gently hooked an arm around her back to lever her into a sitting position, leaning against the tree. As she shuffled Mhirran upright, Gail saw that the limpet, still clinging tightly to her boot, was brown with mud. She reached down and wiped the worst of it off with her sleeve. The limpet was a long way from home now. Just like her. She looked at the young girl sitting next to her. Just like Mhirran, too. Gail smoothed the hair back from her friend’s face.

  When Mhirran opened her eyes, she scanned the forest ground around them before turning to Gail.

  “I saw it.”

  Gail froze. “You saw it. You saw Kay’s shadow? Here? It got away?”

  Mhirran shook her head and her mouth pinched as the movement nudged her wrist. “I saw your shadow, Gail. Right here. I’d fallen and tried to roll out the way of the deer and when I tried to get up, I saw it. It swept right by me and I tried to reach for it, but…” Mhirran closed her eyes again. “It was moving too fast.”

  “Are you sure it was mine?”

  Mhirran grimaced. “It was yours, Gail. It wasn’t hers.”

  “I saw it too,” Gail said at last, trying to swallow her disappointment. The hurt she’d felt when she’d seen her shadow disappear rushed through her once more. “My shadow knew I was there and it left me again.” She took a deep breath and eased the cold air slowly out through her teeth. “I wish it had been Kay’s.” She tightened her hand around a mulch of wet leaves. He’d got it. He’d got Kay’s shadow.

  Mhirran reached out a hand and curled one cold finger around Gail’s thumb, like a seahorse anchoring itself in the ocean. “We’ll get it back, Gail,” she whispered, her voice tight. “I promise.”

  Gail stared at the young girl, glasses askew and lips edged with purple. Something turned inside her.

  “It’s okay, Mhirran,” she said softly. “You don’t have to.”

  Mhirran smiled then and her eyes shone like they had when Gail first met her, a strange girl with orange hair tapping Morse code deep inside a tunnel like the whole island might be listening.

  “You don’t mean that,” Mhirran said.

  Gail grinned in relief. “I need to find Francis, Mhirran,” she said. “I need your help.”

  Then she frowned as Mhirran’s seahorse finger tightened around her own. “You’re freezing. Here.” She rummaged in her rucksack for gloves and as she pulled them out, the photograph of Kay fell to the ground. Mhirran reached for it, wiping the mud-soaked
edge gently on her sleeve.

  “She looks just like you. Half you and half leafy seadragon.” She smiled.

  Gail blinked at Kay’s green, glowing face. “I was painting her into a queen angelfish, not a leafy seadragon,” she murmured. “Leafy seadragons camouflage too well, Kay always said. But she wanted to stand out.” Gail frowned. “She never wanted to disappear.” Her voice was edged with pride even as the words bit into her stomach. She tucked the photo deep into her bag, letting out a stifled cry as she retrieved two squashed sandwiches from its depths: “Here, I forgot about these.” She passed one to Mhirran.

  The wind blew pine needles into their hair and down their backs as they chewed, and Gail rubbed the prickle from her neck.

  “Can you stand?”

  Mhirran nodded and lurched to her feet. Gail pulled a scarf from her bag and wrapped it into an awkward sling around Mhirran’s neck, gently lifting her wrist to her chest.

  “Thanks for finding me, Gail,” Mhirran said softly as Gail tied the knot at her shoulder.

  Gail felt the words float inside her, bright like orange buoys. She squeezed her toes inside her shoes and straightened. “Where now?”

  “If we find the river and follow it up past the waterfall,” Mhirran said, “then my uncle’s is just over the stones. Francis will be there,” she added, avoiding Gail’s eyes. “He always brings them home.”

  Gail’s face tightened at Mhirran’s words but she busied herself with her bag so Mhirran wouldn’t see. Lifting it onto her back, she took a deep breath, then stepped three paces into the forest and closed her eyes. Kay used to say that even if Gail was spun a hundred times, she’d still be able to point to the sea. Gail would laugh and reply that on an island, the sea is in every direction. But Kay was right. It was like she could smell where the ocean was closest. River water was different, though. Her head ached from listening and her feet were numb from the cold. But she listened until she could hear, to her right, the faintest splash of running water.