The Girl Who Lost Her Shadow

by Emily Ilett

  Gail stared at Femi. “What about your friend?”

  “My friend? Nah. He’s gone. I mean, he’s still here, but we’re not friends.” Femi took a deep breath. “But it’s alright to be wrong, you know, to mess up. Everyone does. As long as you make up for it.”

  He paused for a moment, then said, “Did I tell you it was Kay’s idea to use the ravine? She said I couldn’t do it by myself, that she’d help me. She’d pull me back up. She said too many people try to do things by themselves ‒ she couldn’t understand it. It’s a brave thing to ask for help, she said. The bravest thing.” Femi turned to Gail. “And you’re not doing this by yourself any more, Gail. You’ve got us.” Femi stretched out and stood up. “So, Kay asked you to get her shadow, right? Let’s get it then.”

  Gail slowly stood up next to him, brushing sand off her knees. “I keep thinking about what Mhirran said about Kay’s shadow following mine. Maybe her shadow was chasing after mine because I wasn’t there for her. Because I wasn’t the person I needed to be. Because I wasn’t a gale.”

  “And your shadow was going to the Storm Sisters?”

  Gail frowned. “I thought that’s where Kay’s was heading. But if her shadow was following mine then it must have been my shadow that was going to the Storm Sisters. It’s where me and Kay planned to go the next time a storm came. We said we would shelter from the storm together.” She paused. “I think my shadow wanted me to follow it here. I think it wanted me to see the Storm Sisters for myself.”

  Femi turned to look up at the two giants looming over the cliff edge. “Maybe your shadow is trying to tell you something.” He pointed. “See the one on the right?” Gail nodded. “That’s Eilidh. She’s the youngest and the smallest. They say that just as they were being turned to stone, she leaned out across her sister, so that the storms would reach her first. She was trying to protect Mor. Do you see?”

  Gail stared at them. Femi was right. The smaller sister edged further over the cliff, her face turned bravely towards the sharp sting of the ocean spray, the grey bulk of her rock bent like a protective arm around her sister.

  Gail thought of Kay’s hand beneath her stomach when she’d held Gail up in the town pool, and Kay’s arm wrapped tight around her as she helped Gail back up the beach when she sliced her ankle. Gail remembered swimming in the sea together for the first time, how they’d tread water laughing, their hands held tight together, and she thought of the cave nestled between the two Storm Sisters, like they shared the same beating heart. Gail swallowed hard. She knew what her shadow was trying to help her understand. “It’s my turn now,” she whispered. Because the safest place to be in a storm is together.

  As Gail turned away, something glimmered for a moment in the corner of her eye.

  “Look!” She pointed at Femi’s shoe. “It’s Leo!”

  Femi grinned at the limpet awkwardly. “I told Mhirran I’d take him back. She thinks he came from a beach right by where I live.”

  Gail bent down and ran a finger along the limpet’s wigwam edges. They were rough and welcome against her fingers. It felt like a long time since she’d bumped into Mhirran in the caves. An orange-haired girl chattering in Dolphin and carrying a lost limpet home.

  “Gail! Femi! There’s another whale!” Mhirran was half-running, half-wading towards them, her face flushed and her legs soaking wet. “It’s going to get stuck in shallow water. I think it’s looking for this one. We’ve got to do something. We’ve got to save it!”

  Gail hurried forward, scanning the water. Then she saw it: another whale, dangerously close to the shore. This one was smaller, younger, though still huge, and it seemed to be looking for something. Gail chewed her lip. It was impossible. They couldn’t save it. The tide was coming in and the whale was already too close.

  Then a strange feeling began at her toes. A warmth like the end of a journey or her sister’s laughter. It flooded her body. Gail looked down. Leo the Limpet’s shadow was nestled next to her right boot. Gail blinked. Limpets can find their own way home. And as Gail stared at the blue-grey ocean, the waves reaching up the beach in curiosity, the sea felt like the home she’d forgotten she had. It felt like their home: hers and Kay’s.

  When someone you care about is sinking, Gail’s mouth was a determined line through her freckles and she felt the gale rise powerfully inside her, you never give up trying to save them.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Darts of wind lifted the sea into churning white froth and waves crashed onto the beach, reaching long fingers towards their feet. Gail’s hair slapped her cheeks and gusts billowed out her jumper like a man o’war. The swimming whale was closer now. Gail could see the slick wet grey of its back.

  I wish Kay was here. The thought was a lump in her throat. Then Gail straightened. She was doing this for Kay. She was Gale and she could do this. She took a deep breath. Think. She’d braved Oyster Cave. She’d escaped from the tree-shadow and rescued Mhirran. She’d met a wildcat and trapped the pearl fishers. She’d done all of that without Kay. Rescuing a whale was just like that, right?

  “Think, Gail. Think,” she whispered. Thunder cracked the sky and water shivered down her back. Gail wiped rain from her eyes and squinted. The whale was even closer. It was trying to reach the one on the shore. Was it her mother? Her sister? Gail winced. How could she turn it around, swim it out to sea again? High above, a bird cried out and Gail saw it spiral upwards towards another. She remembered what Jake had said about the storm petrel shadows. There are ties between shadows as well, Gail. Stronger ties than we could guess at. Gail looked back to the stranded whale, which lay like a fallen mountain across the beach. Her eyes stung but she blinked them clear.

  “The shadow,” she breathed.

  “The storm’s bringing her closer,” Mhirran whispered. “What can we do?”

  Gail pushed her hair back. “I have to lead the whale away. I think it’s looking for this one.” She gestured towards the beached whale. “I’m going to take her shadow.”

  Mhirran blinked. “No, you can’t go in during this storm. Look at the water, Gail. You can’t swim in that, it’s too dangerous.”

  Gail looked at Mhirran’s earnest, frightened eyes, huge behind her glasses, which were halfway down her nose. Gail pushed them up carefully and smiled. Of course… “We need another storm, Mhirran. A storm to fight this one.”

  Mhirran’s eyes widened. “Jake?”

  Gail nodded.

  “But, how can I…?” Mhirran flapped her hands in the air. “He’s afraid of storms. He won’t—”

  “He will, because you’re asking, Mhirran. He cares about you.”

  Mhirran’s face was pale, but she tucked her hair behind her ears. “Okay,” she said. “Good luck.”

  Gail watched Mhirran run back towards the cliff-face and the path. Then she took off her shoes, her rucksack and her jumper. Her teeth were chattering already. Gail stood before the whale on the shore and ran one hand slowly along its rough skin.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Will you let me take your shadow? Your friend is in danger.”

  The shadow was smaller than the whale. It shivered like silk when Gail stepped into it. And when she stepped away, it moved with her like a mountain might move. As if it had all the time in the world.

  Gail felt it in her bones and her lungs and the beat beat of her heart. She could hear the hum and clicks of the whale’s language. She could feel its deep darkness, its intelligence and its yearning for water.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, and, as she turned towards the ocean, she saw something small and dark stroke the side of the whale’s body. The limpet’s shadow nestled against the beached whale. It wasn’t alone.

  As soon as the whale’s shadow touched the water, Gail felt lighter. As if she had miles and miles of swimming before her and miles and miles behind. She watched the shadow ripple out along the sea floor.

  “This is the first time I’ve swum alone,” she said to nobody in particular.

&nb
sp; “No it isn’t.” Femi replied. He was standing in his top and pants, and the black and white of his skin shone like one of his own beautiful drawings. The water rolled over their feet and rain-veils swung and shifted over the sea.

  When she twisted round, Gail could see a small figure on top of the cliff. She looked tiny. Her hands were cupped around her mouth but Gail couldn’t hear her. A burst of birds punctured the sky further away and Gail realised that Mhirran was calling them. She was calling the birds so Jake would see them, and know she needed him. She looked like a lighthouse, Gail thought, as Mhirran’s hair shone orange against the grey sky. Gail remembered Lighthouse Rock. Because you light up the ocean…

  She frowned at the waves. Was the water too rough? Was it too dangerous? Then one of the birds she’d seen circling high above plummeted downwards, sweeping past her cheek, letting out a familiar Krrrrrrhuh Krrrrrrrhuh. Stunned, Gail turned to spot a thin, dark figure watching them from the edge of the beach. As she stared, the figure gave a slow nod, gesturing slightly at the bird shadows and the ocean. It was a small gesture, but Gail knew exactly what he meant.

  “Who’s that?” Femi asked.

  “It’s Francis,” breathed Gail. “He’s saying the bird shadows will look out for us.”

  “Francis? But didn’t he…?”

  “People make mistakes,” she said, smiling at Femi. Then she closed her eyes and squeezed his hand, filling her face with determination.

  He grinned. “All right,” he said, and they walked into the ocean together as the skies thundered above them and rain splashed onto their cheeks.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Cold, Gail thought as her teeth clattered together, is too short a word for such a horrible thing. Four letters weren’t enough for the bone-crushing, needle-stinging, eye-aching, tongue-numbing cold of the ocean. It bit the air from her lungs and the muscle from her arms. Swimming felt impossible. Even the whale’s shadow couldn’t keep her warm.

  “I-i-f y-you k-k-k-eep m-m-moving you’ll w-warm u-u-up.” Femi thrashed hopefully in the water next to her.

  Gail tried to say something back to him but her lips wouldn’t move. All she was thinking was: OW. Owowowowow. Ow. The bird shadows were swooping low over them, like strange feathery lifeguards.

  When Gail kicked her feet, she felt something loosen beneath her.

  “F-F-emi, I-I’m… T-the shadow… It’s t-t-t-t-t-t-oo d-d-d-de-e-ep-p.”

  She swallowed, lifted up both her feet and looked down. The shadow was still there, large and looming and fragile on the bottom. Seaweed stroked its darkness. Okay, Gail thought, it’s not going to leave me.

  They pushed against the current and held their breath when waves crashed over their heads. Gail’s arms ached from breaststroke, and her feet kicked weakly at the water. The whale was getting nearer, but, when Gail looked back, the shore wasn’t getting further away. Panic rose in her throat. She tried to swim faster but waves pummelled against them, pushing them back towards the beach. She closed her eyes and willed herself forward.

  “Ga—”

  Gail didn’t see the wave in time. Saltwater rushed up her nose and into her mouth. She gagged and thrashed at the water and when she broke the surface, one bird shadow was pulling at her arm and seaweed hung from her hair.

  “The current’s t-too strong.” Femi was gasping for breath. “We’ll n-never m-make it.”

  Gail ignored him. She had to reach the whale. Blood drummed inside her head and her arms felt like rocks. Think of the sunfish, she thought. It’s so heavy but it still floats. The rain was falling in a thick sheet from the sky, biting into their eyes and face like hail. Gail strained and kicked against the pull of the ocean. But it wasn’t working. And the whale was closer than ever to the shore.

  Then she felt something push her forward, like a hand on her back. Then again. A strong wind was helping her out to sea, leaning against her shoulders and whispering in her hair. Gail blinked. The water was changing. The waves were hesitating, rising to a peak and then falling back on themselves, confused. Rain was driven horizontal and, for a startling moment, lifted upwards. The sea was shifting, shivering, then, achingly slowly, tugging Gail and Femi and the whale away from the shore.

  Jake had arrived.

  Now Gail and Femi were level with the whale, away to its left. It was still facing towards the shore, towards its stranded friend. “I have to lead it away,” she shouted over the wind. “You go between it and the beach. Don’t get too close.”

  Half of her words were swallowed by the gale, but Femi shook his head. “I’m staying with you.”

  “Trust me,” she shouted. Then, because it sounded good and made her fingers ache a bit less, she shouted it again. “Trust me!”

  After she shouted it the third time and spat out a mouthful of seawater, Femi had disappeared, one of the petrel shadows hovering by his head. Okay, Gail thought. Just a bit further.

  By the time she’d swum around so that she was out beyond the whale, Gail had decided that she would never ever swim again. She hurt all over and she was sure something was biting her. And her plan wasn’t working. Despite Femi thrashing in front of it, and Gail and the shadow trying to draw it away, the whale was still headed for shallow water.

  But then the massive creature began to turn.

  It happened slowly, like the sun rising. The water shifted around its body as its tail moved through the ocean. Further beyond it, Gail could see the spray lifting where Femi was splashing and swimming up and down between the whale and the beach.

  She looked down. The water was far too deep for her toes to reach the seabed and too dark for her to see the shadow. But she felt it. It was stretching, reaching out towards the turning whale and then retreating back to Gail, guiding it towards her. Gail began to tread water, rain drumming on her head and shoulders and the wind stinging her cheeks.

  “This way,” she said, the words rippling towards the whale. “This way, where the water’s deeper.”

  She floated on her back, kicking her feet and swilling her arms backwards, feeling the shadow beneath her gently steer the whale away from the shore. Behind Gail, the stranded whale was a smudge on the beach, a smudge like a tearstain in ink.

  “I’m sorry,” Gail murmured. “But it’s this way.”

  The whale was so close now, Gail could feel the ocean parting before it. For the first time, she thought about how huge it was and how small she was in comparison. Fear gripped her throat and she struggled to stay afloat. And then the whale passed her, and the shadow at her feet went with it. It moved so close she could feel the tickle of its fin. It was only an arm’s length away when a volcano of air erupted out of its blowhole. Gail tipped her face up to it: a whale’s breath. And, in that instant, watching the whale swim towards the horizon, Gail coughed around a mouthful of seawater and saw something small and spiky swim out from inside her into the vastness of the sea. The pufferfish had gone.

  Gail watched the whale until she could no longer see it. She wasn’t angry any more and she didn’t feel helpless. She felt light and glowing. She felt fierce and free. She felt tired and cold and wet. And a long way from the beach.

  When she turned towards the shore, the wind hit her face like a wet flannel. Gail reeled back, then was knocked forward by a wave and spiralled round until she was facing out to sea again. Where was Jake?

  The second time, she got further. But her legs were numb now and dragged behind her. The whale’s shadow had gone. Gail was alone.

  She pushed her fringe from her eyes but the waves grew like hills and the beach disappeared from view. She felt so tired. So so tired. Her hands grasped at the water. She needed something to hold on to.

  And as another wave churned her over, her nan’s words flooded her mind. The sea en’ got no back door, Gail. Remember that when you’re swimming. Remember that you can hold your breath longer than Kay. Gail took a deep breath and dived underwater, where the waves couldn’t choke her. She beat against the current. And when she
surfaced she was close enough to see them: Mhirran dancing on the sand, saying something in a strange code that Gail didn’t understand; Jake, collapsed exhausted next to her; Francis, tall and still at the edge of the beach; and Femi, his head dipping in and out of the water steadily as he front-crawled towards her.

  The smile started at her feet, warming each toe before flowing around her knees and into her stomach and her ribcage and her shoulders and her ears and her eyes. It felt bigger than a whale, bigger than a mountain, bigger than the sea. Gail grinned and her feet kicked and her arms pushed against the water as Femi drew level with her and they swam the last stretch to the shore together.

  When, at last, Gail crawled onto the beach, blue-lipped and bedraggled, the smile glittered in her eyes like a thousand luminous jellyfish. And when she stood, with seaweed curled around her ankles, two shadows stretched and rippled from her feet.

  Gail was a wildcat, a lighthouse, a gale. And she had found their shadows.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  A watery sun slipped through the curtains onto the pillow. Gail watched the light play over Kay’s eyelids and twist around the green seaweed strands in her hair. Her breathing was like the sea’s whisper on a beach. It was early. Gail was the only one awake. And Femi, of course, but he was outside.

  When they’d got back last night, after Mhirran’s uncle had found them at the cove, Kay was already asleep. Gail’s mum had shouted and cried and grounded Gail for three hundred years and then given her a bone-crushing hug and made them all macaroni pie. After dinner, once they’d taught everyone how to say ‘wildcat’ in Morse code, Mhirran and her uncle had headed home to Francis. He had wandered north soon after Gail and Femi crawled onto the beach, and Jake had followed after him, his eyes shadowed and soft.

  Gail and Femi had made the plan for early this morning before Femi had left her house. It was Gail who’d found the paint.