Читать книгу Making the Grade - Cate Shearwater - Страница 8
ОглавлениеThey arrived at the station with just minutes to spare. There was only time for some hasty hugs on the platform and Lucy pushed a package into Ellie’s hands. ‘Just a little good-luck present from me,’ she said shyly. ‘Open it on the train.’
‘Thanks, Lucy!’ said Ellie, touched by her sister’s kindness and realising how desperately she was going to miss her.
Just then the guard blew his whistle and Ellie jumped on board as he yelled at Lucy to stand clear.
‘We’ll email you – and Face-thingie – and Twittle – and all that stuff!’ shouted Mum as the train started to draw away from the platform.
Ellie leaned out of the window to wave. ‘But you don’t know how to do any of those things!’ she laughed.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll show them!’ said Lucy.
‘Good! Oh – and don’t let Dad blow up the boat-shed,’ shouted Ellie. ‘Or let Mum paint the cat blue – or try to feed you watercolour soup . . .’
‘That was an accident!’ cried Mum.
‘I’ll be home at half term!’ called Ellie. But the train was gaining speed and her final words were blown away. She could just see Lucy, waving like her life depended on it, getting smaller and smaller on the platform.
‘Goodbye, Cornwall. London, here I come!’ Ellie whispered as the train started on its journey from the seaside home she loved towards a future she’d been dreaming for as long as she could remember.
She stood by the window for ages, watching as the train made its way along a section of track that seemed to skirt right along the edge of the clifftop. Even though it was January, the sun was bright and the sky clear, and Ellie could see the ocean stretched out like the blue practice floor at the gym.
Finally, she turned away from the window, but somehow she couldn’t face going into the carriage to sit with the crowds of people, so she plonked herself down on her suitcase by the bike racks and unwrapped Lucy’s gift. She gasped as she lifted the tissue paper to reveal a beautiful new leotard – all silvers and greens and blues – the colours of the ocean, Ellie thought. It was so beautiful, and it was so sweet of Lucy – who must have been saving her pocket money for ages – that she felt suddenly like crying.
Determined not to let the tears come, she folded the leotard carefully into her rucksack then tugged out her favourite gymnastics book and opened it on a well-thumbed page. This book always made her smile. There was a picture of a young gymnast doing a backwards walkover on the beam. She made it look so easy and yet Ellie remembered her own struggles to achieve that move.
There was another picture on the opposite page of the same gymnast performing a floor routine. The photographer had caught her mid split-leap and she looked almost as if she was flying. Her face was focused, but also serene – as if she was feeling the moves as well as executing them. Wasn’t that what Fran had said Ellie should try to do?
The young gymnast’s face was as familiar to Ellie as her own – which was hardly surprising since it was almost like looking in a mirror. The girl must have been about sixteen when that picture was taken – just three years older than Ellie – and she shared Ellie’s pale brown hair and her large expressive blue eyes.
There were other pictures on the page too. Of the same gymnast holding aloft a trophy at the British Championships, aged just fifteen. Of her performing a gold-medal-winning vault at World Champs two years later. With her teammates on the way to the Olympics, hope shining on their faces. Underneath the last picture a caption read, Britain’s top gymnast, Lizzie Trengilly, just before the tragic fall that ended her career.
A shiver went down Ellie’s spine as she took in the page for what must have been the millionth time. It always thrilled her to think that she was actually related to the great Lizzie Trengilly.
Today, more than ever, she wished she could talk to Lizzie about her time at the Academy. But Lizzie had turned her back completely on gymnastics after that terrible injury. She’d always been a bit of a free spirit, so she’d taken off round the world – teaching sport to street kids in South America, helping save gorillas in the African jungle and who knew what else. Ellie wasn’t sure if Aunt Lizzie even knew she was going to the Academy.
Ellie sighed. Maybe one day she could talk to her about all this. Until then she had to keep working hard, and try to achieve her greatest ambition – the one she’d never shared with anyone – to fulfil Aunt Lizzie’s dream of Olympic gold.
Dreams of Olympic glory helped Ellie pass the time, but by midday the train was hot and sticky and she was stiff and ravenous. She munched on the strange sandwiches her mum had made for her – peanut butter and smoked salmon sprinkled with popping candy – as the train rumbled through fields and villages on its journey towards London.
‘Tickets, please.’
The guard was standing over Ellie with a kindly expression on his face. She rummaged around in her bag and handed him the ticket.
‘Now, I’m curious,’ said the guard with a twinkle in his eye. ‘How on earth do you manage to sit comfortably in that particular position?’
Ellie looked down and realised she was sitting virtually in the splits, one leg stuck out to the side, the other folded inwards. ‘Oh – um – I suppose – I – well, I do a lot of gymnastics.’
‘Ah,’ said the guard, his face lighting up. ‘A gymnast! I thought perhaps you’d dislocated your hips or something, and I was just wondering if I needed to pull the red cord and call for medical help.’
Ellie giggled.
‘Off to the Olympics are you, young lady?’
‘One day, I hope,’ said Ellie.
‘Goodness me, a world-famous gymnast on my train!’ exclaimed the guard.
Ellie grinned. ‘I hope so.’
‘Well, take a look out of the window and get your first glimpse of the Big Smoke.’
The guard tugged down the window and Ellie was amazed to see that the fields and villages had been replaced by rows of buildings that stretched as far as the eye could see, red-bricked terraces side by side with glistening office blocks and concrete shopping centres, traffic fumes mingling with neon signs in the cold grey winter’s afternoon. The sun had disappeared and it all seemed so different to Cornwall – so gloomy and crowded. Ellie wondered how she would ever feel at home here.
‘Newcomers to the city get to make a wish,’ said the guard.
‘Oh,’ said Ellie. ‘Um – right.’ She closed her eyes and made her wish.
‘Let’s hope London makes all your dreams come true,’ said the guard with a grin. Ellie shivered, but she wasn’t sure if it was excitement, cold or fear.
‘Now, I’d best be getting on,’ said the guard. ‘And no somersaulting down the aisles on my train, y’hear? Or I might have to impose a penalty fare.’
