Читать книгу Stormswept - Helen Dunmore - Страница 10

t’s not until I burst through our cottage door that I remember about the drowned Polish sailor. Jenna’s sitting by the fire, hugging her knees and staring into the flames. Digory’s lying on the floor playing with his toy cars. Jenna looks up.

“Didn’t you hear the church bell? I thought you’d come straight back.”

“Yes – but Jenna—”

“He still had his life-jacket on. The helicopter spotted him. They might have found him in time, if it’d been daylight.”

Jenna turns to me, her face pale and upset. I know she’s thinking the same as I am. How long did the sailor survive, hoping for rescue?

“He was called Adam,” says Jenna. “One of the other men told Mum. It’s better knowing his name, don’t you think?”

“Yes. But Jenna—”

“Don’t you want to talk about it?” says Jenna, with a rare flash of anger.

I look at her over Digory’s head. He’s humming to himself, telling himself a story about his cars, but that doesn’t guarantee that he’s not listening.

“I need your help with my maths,” I say.

Instantly, Jenna’s face sharpens. It’s a signal we use whenever we need to talk to each other urgently but don’t want anyone else to know.

“I’m just going up to our bedroom with Morveren, to look at our homework,” she tells Digory, who nods without stopping his game.

Upstairs, Jenna shuts the door before asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Jen, you’re not going to believe this, but please, please listen before you say anything. Promise?”

She nods, and folds her arms. I know she thinks I’ve done something awful and she’ll have to cover up for me.

Jenna is good at listening. Even now, when I’m telling her something that no one in their right mind could possibly believe, she listens attentively, frowning a little. I tell her about the noise I heard, and about finding Malin, and how he’s hurt and needs help. When I tell her about how I uncovered the sand and saw his tail, I see the pupils of her eyes widen, but she still says nothing.

“He needs us to help him, Jen. We’ve got to get him into the water.”

Jenna remains silent.

“Don’t you believe me?”

Very slowly, she nods. “I believe that you believe it,” she says.

“But it’s true!”

“Morveren, when you were climbing on the rocks, do you think you could have slipped? Is there anything you can’t remember?”

She thinks I fell and banged my head, and I’ve imagined everything because I’m concussed or something. It’s what anyone would think, but Jenna’s my twin sister. She must be able to see that I’m deadly serious. I want to shake her to make her believe me. But would I have believed in Malin, if I hadn’t seen him and touched his skin? Mer people don’t exist except in stories, everybody knows that.

“Jen, listen. I didn’t bang my head, I swear. Even if you don’t believe me, just come. If there’s nothing – I mean, if he’s not real – then it won’t do any harm, will it? But he’ll die if we don’t help him.”

Jenna shivers, and rubs her arms. “It’s been such a horrible day,” she says very quietly, as if she’s talking to herself. “I wish it was over. I can’t leave Digory on his own, Mor.”

“He’ll be fine! He likes being on his own.”

It’s true. Digory’s one of these people who’s happy just being himself. I can see that Jenna’s wavering. She still doesn’t believe me, but she can sense how desperate I am.

“I’m going to get the groundsheet so we can carry him to the pool.”

“It’s under the stairs,” says Jenna automatically. She always knows where things are.

I go to fetch the groundsheet, and Jenna comes after me.

“You don’t have to follow me,” I snap. “I’m not going to collapse, even though you don’t believe I didn’t bang my head.”

“All right then, I’ll come with you,” she says suddenly. Her face is creased with worry. “I’m not letting you go on your own.”

She hooks the fireguard to the wall and tells Digory to be sure and not touch it. Mum is working a few hours at the post office, and if he needs her he can run down there. Dad’s at the harbour. “Just play, Digory. Don’t go in the kitchen and don’t touch the fire. Do you understand? If you’re really good, I’ll give you a surprise when we get back.”

“What surprise?” asks Digory. Jenna glances at me and says, “Morveren’s Mars bar that she’s hidden in the freezer.”

“Jen!”

“Surely it’s worth a Mars bar?” asks Jenna coolly, and I have to shrug and agree.

“I’ll be really good, Jenna,” says Digory earnestly.

Once we’re clear of the village I start to run. I’m so scared that Malin will die before we get him into the water. It’s like a stone in my stomach. People do die. That man last night… Adam. He was waiting for help and it didn’t come.

“He’s right down the end,” I pant.

The beach looks completely empty, and for a moment even I doubt everything. Jenna stares ahead, her face carefully inexpressive, but I know what she’s thinking.

“We need to go down to the rocks, then I can get my bearings. We have to find the right dune.”

I run down the beach, with Jenna following. I look around, trying to fit the landscape into the right pattern. Not here. I go on. I think this is where I was when I first heard Malin groan, but I’m too far down the beach. I turn and start to walk backwards in the direction we’ve come, looking left, then right, then ahead. I glance behind me. Was it here? No, it’s still not quite right. Why didn’t I check Malin’s exact position before rushing off for help? All the dunes look the same. Was it that one – or that one? Jenna watches me, saying nothing.

“It was definitely around here,” I say, and set off towards the dunes. We scramble up, grabbing hold of the tough marram grass to help us keep our balance in the shifting sand. We are at the top.

There’s nothing. Jenna comes up beside me, and stares around at the empty curves and hollows of the dune. Still, she doesn’t speak.

“It must have been further down.” I am hot all over now from nervous fear, and the weight of the groundsheet. Any minute, Jenna will say she’s going back home. I skid down the side of the dune again and Jenna follows. Back on the flat sand, I look out to sea and then at the rocks, trying to get my bearings again. It still doesn’t look right. I walk backwards.

Suddenly sea and rock and sand slide into place, as if I’ve put in the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

“This is the place! I know it’s here!”

Jenna nods but I see scepticism in her face. She’ll humour me a bit longer. Again, we climb the side of the dune. There’s the top, exactly as I remember it. I climb up, and stand stock-still, my heart beating hard with relief and also with… Well, with disbelief. It is all true and there must have been a part of me that still didn’t quite believe that it could be true. I didn’t bang my head. Against all the laws of reality, Malin is real. There he is, lying in the hollow of the dunes, eyes closed, head flung back, as if—

“Jenna! Quick! Quick!”

Jenna scrambles up, panting, and then she sees him. She grabs hold of me, digging her nails into my arm.

“Let go, Jenna!”

In a second I’m at Malin’s side.

“Malin! Malin!”

Very slowly, his eyelids part. My heart thuds so hard I have to swallow in order to speak.

“My sister’s here, Malin,” I say, as calmly as I can. You’ve got to be calm with people when they’re really ill. “You’re going to be all right. We’re taking you to the salt water.”

But I can see from his face that there’s not a moment to lose.

“Let’s get the groundsheet out flat beside him, then we can lift him on to it. We haven’t got time to wet it. Come on, Jen!”

Jenna looks as if someone’s hit her in the face, she’s so shocked.

“Jenna, help me!”

Her hands are shaking, but she helps me to spread out the groundsheet.

“I’m going to go round behind him and get my hands under his arms. You lift under his— his tail.”

“Do you think we ought to move him?”

“We’ve got to. He’ll die if we don’t.” Jenna is so pale I’m afraid she’s going to faint.

“Then we can wrap the groundsheet round him and carry him to the pool. He was talking to me before. He speaks English.”

With a huge effort, Jenna collects herself. “King Ragworm Pool, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“But we’ll have to get him up the rocks.”

“We can do it.”

Lifting Malin on to the groundsheet is the worst part. The first time we try to lift him, he slips and his tail hits the ground. He groans and the colour ebbs from his face, leaving it a dirty grey-blue. I’m afraid we’re murdering him, not helping him.

“Try kneeling at right angles to his body, Jen. Get your arms right under him.”

She’s in position. I tighten my grip under Malin’s arms.

“One, two, three – lift.”

This time it works. We lift Malin as gently as we can, and lay him on the groundsheet. He’s heavy. Carefully, we wrap the groundsheet around him like a sling, so he can’t fall out. The gash in his tail is bleeding again, but not too badly. We decide Jenna will walk backwards, holding his tail, and I’ll keep hold of him under the arms, through the groundsheet, so he can’t slide out of it.

It is a nightmare journey. Getting him off the dunes is the worst part, because we are so scared of losing our balance and falling with him. I dig my heels into the sand for balance and try to take his weight as Jenna feels her way carefully back downwards.

By the time we’re on the flat sand I’m sweating all over. Jenna’s hair sticks to her forehead.

“Wait, he’s slipping.”

We get a firm grip again, and set off slowly, painfully, across the sand. It feels so exposed. What if someone sees us? They’ll think we are burying a body. Malin groans again as the groundsheet jerks. Oh no, we’re hurting him. We’re making things worse. I should have told Dad and Dr Kemp and let them help us—

No. He wanted me to get him to the water. He didn’t want anyone else to know. We’re doing what he asked.

It seems to take hours to reach the rocks. They’re not very high, but they loom over us like mountains now that we’ve got to get Malin up them. It’s so easy to climb up there usually that I hadn’t realised how difficult it would be with the dead weight of Malin between us.

“Let’s work it out logically,” says Jenna, wiping her hair away from her eyes. Her voice is shaky but it’s her sensible, “Jenna-solving-a-maths-problem” voice. What’s logical about any of this? I think, but I say nothing.

“We need to keep his head higher than his body,” she goes on. “It’s probably safest to go up side by side, don’t you think?”

“OK.”

“There’s a ledge for you there – and I can dig my foot in sideways, into that cranny. Let’s get up there first then work out the next foothold.”

Jenna’s in full practical mode now. Whether or not Malin is real, there’s a job to be done and we’re here to do it.

We daren’t risk falling with Malin, so we test each foothold over and over before we lift him. We only have to climb about ten feet, but the rocks are razor-sharp. If we dropped him…

The sea doesn’t reach these rocks, even at high tide. Maybe it does sometimes, at the equinoctial spring tides, although I’ve never seen it. But every tide brings water sluicing in along the stone channel that I think was made by our ancestors long ago. He’ll be safe here. I hold on to the thought as I struggle with his weight. You’ll be safe soon. You’ll be back in salt water, I tell him, but not aloud. Very slowly and cautiously, we inch our way upwards, leaning into the rock for balance. My shoulder muscles burn. My arms ache in their sockets…

“I’ve got him,” says Jenna, when she’s sure of her foothold, and I take the next small step upwards. Suddenly Malin’s weight shifts, as if he’s trying to move inside the groundsheet sling. I feel myself coming away from the face of the rock and fight with all my strength for balance. We teeter for a terrifying second, and then with all the force in my body I throw myself backwards. I lie against the rock, breathing hard, grasping him. I really have banged my head now. A wave of sickness rises into my mouth.

“Morveren? Are you OK?”

I can’t speak, but I nod my head and hope she can see it.

“He moved,” says Jenna.

He’s alive then.

“Coming up,” says Jenna, and we are side by side again, with Malin level between us. The pain between my shoulder-blades is like fire. I brace myself against the rock, dig my foot into the next cranny, and haul myself upwards. Jenna follows.

“We’re – almost there,” she pants.

And then we are there. King Ragworm Pool shines darkly beneath us. Weed sways in its depth, and anemones cling to its sides like jewels. I have never been so glad to see water in my life. We lower Malin carefully on to the flat top of the rock, and unwrap the groundsheet.

I lean over and say his name, my mouth close to his ear, but he doesn’t react. He’s unconscious, I think. Is he breathing? I wish I had a mirror, to see if it mists from his breath. But do the Mer breathe warmly, as we do? He’s so cold.

“Do you think it’s safe to put him in?” asks Jenna, “What if he drowns?”

Put him in sounds so awful, like putting a pet goldfish into a bowl. This whole day is making me feel horrible about being human. The responsibility of knowing what to do for Malin feels as heavy as his body when we were carrying him. If only he’d tell me how to help him into the water…

But Malin is silent. He’s far away, in a place where no one can reach him. Come back, I whisper under my breath. Come back. He doesn’t stir or speak, but at that moment, deep inside me, his voice echoes: I must be in salt water if I am to live.

“Mer won’t drown,” I say to Jenna, with more confidence than I feel.

There’s no shallow end to King Ragworm Pool. The rock has been hollowed out by water over thousands of years, and the sides of the pool are sheer. There’s a ledge at the other end where Jenna and I usually scramble in and out of the water, but we can’t clamber all the way round there carrying Malin.

“How’re we going to get him in?” asks Jenna.

“Let’s move him to the edge. If we pull the groundsheet so it’s over the rock and down to the water, we can sort of slide him, maybe. I’ll get into the pool and then if you ease him over, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bang his head or anything.”

“You’ll be freezing!”

“Yeah, I thought of that.” I stand up and pull off my hoodie and jeans. “Hold him under the arms so I can get him in tail-first.”

We get Malin to the very edge of the pool, with the protective groundsheet under him but not wrapped around him. Carefully, we pull the groundsheet free so that it hangs down, touching the water.

“I’ll splash water all over him so he slides better.”

“OK.”

My toes grip the edge. King Ragworm Pool has never looked so cold and dark. I shut my eyes, stop breathing, and jump in.

I come up gasping, throw my hair back, and swim to the side.

“Stand back, Jen!”

I tread water, raising myself high while I scoop up handfuls of water and throw as much as I can over Malin and the groundsheet. Then I brace my feet against the rock and kick backwards, gripping the end of the groundsheet. My weight pulls it tight, like a chute.

“Push him now, Jen!”

Jenna grunts with effort as she tugs and pushes, easing Malin over the lip of rock. The groundsheet tightens as Malin starts to slide. Suddenly there’s a rush of weight and movement. Just in time, I jack-knife away as Malin plunges over the edge of the rock and into the water. The pool surface breaks up and I can’t see him any more. Jenna’s leaning over the edge.

“Where is he? Is he all right?”

“He’s at the bottom.”

I can see him now. For a second I think he’s moving, and my heart leaps with hope, but then I realise it’s only the disturbance of his fall.

“I’m going to dive down and have a look.”

“Be careful!”

I am so cold now that I’ve gone numb. I kick off against the rock, down to the bottom. There he is. Face-down, not moving. Only his hair stirs as it flows upward. I touch his shoulder and he drifts a few centimetres, then he’s still again. I’ve got to breathe. I push upwards and burst through the surface, shuddering with cold.

“Morveren! Come out! You’ll get cramp.”

“Just – just one more dive—”

I steady myself, draw in the biggest breath I can take and dive again. I swim to Malin. He’s turned a little now, on to his side. I can see the gash in his tail.

Suddenly Malin’s body quivers from end to end, as if a current is running through it. He hangs still, then his tail moves. With one stroke, he is in the deepest shadow of the rock. I want to follow him, but I can’t stay underwater any longer. I rise to the surface, and this time I know that Jenna’s right, I’ve got to come out. If I stay in any longer I’ll be too weak to climb out.

I swim slowly to the edge. Jenna’s scrambled round to help me, and soon I’m lying on the rock, so exhausted that I hardly feel the cold. She takes off her own T-shirt and rubs me hard.

“I’ve brought your clothes round. Get them on quick, Mor, you’re all blue.”

My hands shake so much I can hardly get my hoodie over my head.

“Put your hood up, that’ll keep you warm.”

“Have you – got any – chocolate?”

Jenna shakes her head. “We’ve got to get home straight away, you’re freezing. I thought you weren’t going to come up, the second time. I was all ready to dive in after you.”

“That was s-s-stupid—”

“I saw him move, Mor. He’s all right.”

I nod. I’m not sure that “all right” is really the correct description of how Malin is, but at least he’s not dead, and he must be conscious or he wouldn’t have been able to swim to the side. He wanted us to put him in the water, and we did. We couldn’t do any more. But that gash in his tail, gaping under the water—

“You’re shaking, Mor. Come on.”

It starts to rain again on the way home. I don’t feel cold any more, but my head doesn’t seem to belong to my body. I have to concentrate hard to put one foot in front of the other.

Digory’s not in the cottage, but he’s left a note: i am Gon to sea Mum.

“I hope n-n-not,” I say.

“What?”

“G-g-gone to sea. We’ve g-g-got enough – to worry about w-w-w-without that.”

“Your teeth are making a horrible noise, Mor.”

She’s right. They are chattering. I’ve read about it in books but never thought it could happen in real life. My teeth are clashing together so hard I’m afraid bits will chip off.

Jen rushes upstairs and runs a bath. It’s so hot that it hurts to get in, and she pours in half Mum’s lavender bubble bath so that bubbles come right up the edge.

“I’m going to make you some hot chocolate. Don’t fall asleep, Mor.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to drown in the bath after not drowning in the pool.”

My teeth have stopped chattering. Jenna brings me a massive mug of hot chocolate and sits on the edge of the bath while I drink it. It’s so sweet I feel the sugar rushing through me.

“Yum, that’s amazing. Don’t watch me like a nurse, Jenna. I’m fine. I just got a bit cold.”

“You were all covered in blue patches. I nearly called Dr Kemp. I thought you were going to have an asthma attack.”

I used to have asthma when I was little, but I don’t any more and I hate it when people go on about it. I sink back into the bubbles. The mention of Dr Kemp has given me an idea.

“I’m going to ask Dr Kemp what’s the best thing to do for a gash like Malin’s, that can’t be stitched.”

“You can’t do that, Mor! She’s bound to ask who it is that’s injured.”

“I’ll make an appointment for something else, then I’ll just sort of slip in the question.”

“You can’t do that. Mum always makes our appointments.”

“I can. Malin can’t go to a doctor, can he? So I’ll go for him.”

“What will you say is wrong with you?”

I sink back in the water until only my mouth and the tip of my nose are above the bubbles. “I’ll think of something. Did Digory take my Mars bar?”

Jenna is silent. I blow paths in the bubbles under my chin.

“Mum’ll notice we’ve used her lavender.”

“Mor…”

“What?”

“Maybe he won’t be there, when we go back.”

“Of course he will.”

“He might just – you know, swim out, when the tide’s high.”

“He can’t do that. You know he can’t. The tide doesn’t get that far and the channel’s far too narrow for anyone to swim up it.”

“But if he’s—”

“If he’s what?”

“Well, he’s not like a person, is he?”

“He’s Mer. You know that.”

“He might be… well, you know. Able to disappear. If he’s a sort of—”

“Sort of what?”

“You know. A sort of magical creature. Like in Harry Potter.”

“You carried him, Jenna! He didn’t feel very magical to me. He’s as real as we are.”

“Yes, but…” Jenna’s voice trails away into unhappy silence.

She wants him not to be real, and everything not to have happened. If we go back to the pool and Malin’s not there, then we can start to forget about him. In a few months we might be able to pretend that none of this really happened. It was something we imagined, because we hadn’t had any sleep and because the Polish sailor – Adam – died.

I sip the dregs of my hot chocolate, and watch Jenna secretly from under my eyelashes. I’m not going to argue any more with her about the reality of Malin. But I am going to see Dr Kemp.