Читать книгу Making the Grade - Cate Shearwater - Страница 7
Оглавление‘There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!’
Ellie turned to see her little sister come flying down on to the beach, bouncing across the sand. She came to a breathless stop by Ellie and Fran.
‘I told Mum you’d be here,’ Lucy squeaked excitedly. ‘She says you need to get a move on or you’ll miss the train. Ooh – did you say goodbye to Jorian? And Diablo? And little Roo?’
Ellie grinned. ‘Not yet, no.’
Lucy frowned and put her hands on her hips. Ten years old, with wild red hair and a rosy face full of freckles and dimples, Lucy looked nothing like pale, sandy-haired Ellie who was three years older than her. People sometimes refused to believe they were sisters – until they noticed their eyes, which were the exact same shade of cornflower blue, framed with startling black lashes.
‘Well, you need to. They’re going to miss you,’ Lucy insisted. ‘But I’m going to look after Jorian. I’ll take her out every single day for you, keep her in good condition.’
The way Lucy spoke, you’d have thought she was talking about her pet dog or horse. But Jorian was Ellie’s old rowing boat. Living on the creek, both girls had learned to row pretty much as soon as they could walk. Dad was a boat-builder, so for Ellie’s seventh birthday he’d made her a beautiful ten-foot dinghy from salvaged wood, painted blue and white. She couldn’t imagine a day going by without going out in Jorian, with Lucy beside her in her boat, Roo.
‘And I’m going to miss you too,’ said Lucy, her bright face filled suddenly with sadness. ‘But I’ve decided I’m going to work really hard at gym so I can come to the Academy one day. Aren’t I, Fran?’
‘So you keep telling me,’ said Fran, who had a soft spot for Ellie’s crazy sister. Then she glanced at her watch. ‘But I think you should get going, Ellie. You don’t want to miss that train.’
‘Ooh, no,’ said Lucy, slipping her hand in Ellie’s and tugging her up towards the cottage. ‘You can’t be late for your first day at the Academy!’
Ellie took one last look around. She’d grown up on the creek, spent every day of her life messing around on the water, rowing, crabbing, collecting shells with Lucy, helping Dad in the boatyard or Mum in her painting studio. She tried to drink it all in, as if she could carry it with her – just like Fran had said. Then she turned and made her way back up to the cottage.
‘Darling, I’m so sorry we can’t come up to London with you,’ Mum was saying as she darted around the kitchen searching for her mobile phone and her car keys. ‘This exhibition is so important. If I could sell a few more paintings it would make all the difference. You know.’
‘I know, Mum,’ said Ellie. ‘Sending me to the Academy is expensive.’
‘Oh it’s not that. You’ve done so well to get this scholarship,’ said Mum. ‘There’s just a lot of other things to get – what with uniform for your new school – and all the things you’ll need because of transferring in the middle of the year . . .’
Ellie’s stomach did a flip and she stopped listening for a moment. She’d almost forgotten she was starting at a new school. She’d been so focused on the new gym she hadn’t given it much thought.
‘Of course we’ll muddle through like we always do,’ Mum was saying. ‘It’s just . . .’
‘I understand,’ said Ellie. It wasn’t that they were poor exactly. Dad had always made enough to get by with his boat building and Mum’s paintings sold well to tourists in the summer months, but gymnastics was an expensive sport and, though they never said so, Ellie knew they’d already given up a lot to help her follow her dream.
‘And the train fares, you know,’ Mum went on, still searching for her mobile phone. ‘It’s astonishing how much it costs for a return ticket these days.’
Next to her two petite daughters, Mum seemed like a giant – and a very strange giant at that! She was nearly six feet tall with a cloud of frizzy red hair and an extremely odd dress sense. Today, she was wearing an orange tie-dye kaftan with green patent boots and what looked like a feather boa wrapped round her waist. She had a paintbrush stuck in her hair, which was spattered with tiny blobs of coloured paint.
‘Looking for this?’ asked Lucy, pulling Mum’s ancient phone from out of the fruit bowl.
‘Of course. I knew I’d put it somewhere safe!’
Ellie grinned at Lucy. They were used to finding their school books in the dishwasher, or Mum blowing up the microwave because she’d accidentally tried to nuke her car keys.
‘Now. Where’s your dad?’ Mum said, squinting as if she might find him hiding in the fruit bowl too.
‘I bet he’s down at the boatyard,’ said Ellie. ‘He’s probably totally forgotten I’m leaving today.’
‘Would I ever do a thing like that?’ said Dad, appearing at the back door, wearing a faded fisherman’s jumper and a chauffeur’s cap covered in sawdust. It was easy to see where Ellie got her looks from – Dad was small and wiry with sandy hair and eyes the colour of the sea. ‘Your carriage awaits, Gymnastic Princess,’ he said with a flourish of his cap.
‘What on earth are you wearing, Dad?’ giggled Lucy.
‘The Landrover’s on the blink again,’ Dad said, then bowed low and declared, ‘So Diablo begs the privilege of escorting Britain’s next great gymnastic champion to the station!’
‘What?’ shrieked Lucy. ‘We’re going by boat?’
‘What could be more appropriate,’ said Dad. ‘Tide’s perfect and it’s not too choppy. It’s far quicker than the coast road anyway.’
Lucy jumped up and down excitedly and Ellie couldn’t help smiling. One last trip out on the water before she left the creek. What better way to say goodbye?
