Читать книгу The Complete Ingo Chronicles: Ingo, The Tide Knot, The Deep, The Crossing of Ingo, Stormswept - Helen Dunmore - Страница 27

Wake up, Sapphire. Wake up. It’s important. You’ve got to remember.

Who said that?

White wall, bedroom wall. I’m awake, or I think I am. It’s early. Mum hasn’t gone to work yet, I can hear her downstairs.

Inside my head everything slides into place. Yes, something happened last night. The sea was talking to me but then Sadie started barking and the sea’s voice went away. And an owl flew past too. It came so close that if I’d leaned out of the window I could have touched its feathers. And it turned and looked at me. Its eyes reminded me of something… but I can’t remember what, now.

I’m sitting rigid, upright in bed. It wasn’t a dream, it was real and it was important, even though I don’t understand what it meant. I’ve got to tell Conor.

It’s hard work waking Conor. He keeps fighting his way back under the duvet.

“Go WAY, Saph. Nogonnagerrup—”

But I’m brutal. I drag the duvet right off him and when he rolls over to the wall I haul him back.

“WhassMAAERSaph?”

“Conor, something really important’s happened. You’ve got to wake up.”

At last words penetrate the fog of Conor’s sleep. He says clearly, “Go away. I’m asleep.”

“How can you be asleep when you’re talking to me?”

Conor groans. “Go AWAY, Saph. Just cause you want to get up at dawn—”

“The sea was calling to me last night. It was saying my name. The sea’s got a voice, Conor! I think it was saying my name in Mer, and guess what, I understood!”

Conor’s eyes fly open. “What?”

“Moryow were calling me.”

“What? What did you say? Who are Moryow?”

“Did I say that?”

“Don’t you even know what you said?”

Suddenly the meaning of the word opens up in my mind.

“Moryow are the seas of the world,” I tell Conor.

“You’re making this up, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not, I swear and promise. Moryow came close last night, as close as they can. But Sadie wouldn’t let me hear the voice any more… and I think the owl stopped it too.”

Conor props himself up on his elbows. He looks rumpled and worried.

“It was a dream, Saph. It must have been.”

“It wasn’t. I definitely heard a voice. It was as clear as yours, and it was calling me.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was some weirdo.” He shivers. “Thank God you didn’t go.”

“But I would have done. It was only Sadie barking that stopped me.”

“Jack’s house is more than two miles away. How would Sadie barking from there have stopped anything?”

“I know, but the barking was close, as if Sadie was in my room. I could hear the lev of the Moryow, then the lev of Sadie hid it.”

Conor flops back on his bed. “This is all so crazy. Moryow – lev – I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s not crazy, Con. Listen. I think it only sounds crazy when you try to understand it all in a – well, in a human way.”

“Which other way can I look at it? I’m human. And so are you.”

“But imagine if I could speak full Mer, and talk to everything in Ingo. Maybe I’m beginning to learn the language.”

Conor suddenly stops being angry with me.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Saph. It’s just that it’s really really, scary to have a sister who suddenly starts speaking a different language. It makes you seem like a stranger.”

“How could I ever be a stranger to you, Conor! We’re broder and hwoer.”

Conor clasps his head in his hands. “Saph, stop it. And whatever happens, if you hear a voice like that again in the middle of the night, don’t follow it. You mustn’t do what it tells you to do. Swear and promise.”

“I can’t—”

“You must.”

“But Conor, don’t you understand? Promises made in this world only cover this world. I can’t promise here for what I might do in Ingo.”

Conor nods reluctantly. “All right, then. I suppose that’ll have to do. Swear and promise?”

“Swear and promise,” I say, and we each spit on our right hands and slap them together.

Conor believed me when I said that the seas of the world talked to me last night. Yesterday afternoon I felt as if I was on the outside of the family, on my own, while Conor was inside, close to Mum and Roger. But now Conor and I are back together.

“Hey, Saph, what’s the matter? You’re not crying, are you?”

“No, I’m just glad that…”

“That what?” asks Conor, wiping tears off me with the corner of his duvet. “You know Saph, you cry the biggest tears in Cornwall. We ought to bottle them and sell them to the tourists.”

“That you don’t think it was just a dream.”

“No. I know when you’re making up stuff. Those words sound real to me. But I wish I knew what to do.”

“Let’s talk to Granny Carne,” I say, not because I’ve thought about it, but because that’s what people round here say when they have problems they can’t work out.

But to my surprise Conor seizes on the idea. “You’re right, Saph! That’s what we’ll do. I should have thought of it before.”

“You mean we should go up there now?”

“Yeah, why not? Let’s go up there as soon as Mum’s gone off to work.”

Mum’s in her bedroom, brushing her hair and twisting it into a shiny knot for work. She smiles at my reflection in the mirror.

“There you are. You were sleeping so heavy this morning. I crept up and took a peep at you and you never even stirred. You look a lot better for the rest. Roger said he had a chat with you while you were making the tea yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. He thinks you’re a bright girl. I said that he ought to see your school reports. It’s the same every time. ‘Bright, but can’t be bothered’.”

“You didn’t tell him about my reports, Mum!”

“No, I didn’t. I’m too kind, that’s my trouble. But Mr Carthew’s always saying that you don’t do justice to your intelligence in your schoolwork. You could do really well, Sapphy, if you made an effort. You could get yourself to university, get a good job, get out of this place.”

“I don’t want to get out. I want to be here.”

Mum sighs, and lays down her brush. “I know. You think you want to spend the rest of your life swimming in the cove and running about with Conor. I don’t blame you, I was the same at your age. I failed all my exams and I didn’t care. But I don’t want you to end up like me, Sapphy, counting up your tips at the end of the night and hoping you’ll be able to pay the electricity bill.”

“But Mum, I thought you liked it in the restaurant.”

“It’s all right. But I want more for you. Don’t you see that? I want you to have a different life. Everyone wants more for their kids, it’s human nature.”

I wonder if it’s Mer nature too, I think, and hope that the thought won’t show on my face.

“Conor’ll be all right,” Mum goes on. “He works hard, and he knows what he wants. But you’re such a mazeyhead, Sapphy, sometimes I want to spifflicate you to make you see sense.”

Mum laughs, and I laugh too.

“Roger’s a good man,” goes on Mum abruptly. “I only want what’s best for you and Con.”

“Mum, you sound like you’re going to marry him!”

A flush rises in Mum’s face. She looks so like Conor. “Nobody said anything about marriage, did they?” she says. “We’ve only known each other five minutes. All I mean is, give Roger half a chance, Sapphy. He wants to be a friend to you, if you’ll let him.”

I can’t think of anything to say about Roger. I don’t even want to discuss him. “Why’s your hair so much shinier than mine, Mum?”

“Because I brush it from time to time,” says Mum.

“I keep asking you to do a henna wax for me, but you never have time.”

“I will, Sapphire, I promise. Now stop fiddling with my hair and let me get on. I’m going to be late. Oh, these school holidays, they go on for ever and ever amen. I’ll be glad when you’re back in school and I can stop worrying about you all day long. Be good, Sapphy, and don’t go off on your own. Stick with Conor.”

“But Mum—”

“What?”

“Mum, do people ever hear voices – of things that aren’t there?”

“What sort of voices?”

“Voices calling, but there’s no one there. Maybe calling your name.”

Mum puts one hand on each side of my face, framing it. Her fingers are soft and cool. “I think there are more things that happen than we know about,” she says. “You remember I told you that I was working upcountry in Plymouth, when my Mum died?”

“Yes.”

“No one was expecting her to die. She had a chest infection, but she was on antibiotics and people hardly ever die of chest infections. But she got an embolism in her lungs and she died at three o’clock in the morning. Dad rang me at four.”

I don’t know what an embolism is, but I’m not about to ask.

“So I never saw her again before she died,” says Mum. “But about two weeks later, after the funeral, when I was in the garden of our house – I hadn’t gone back to work yet, I was helping Dad – I heard Mum’s voice. She said, ‘Jennie?’ and I said, ‘Yes.’ And then she said, ‘Don’t worry about me, Jennie, I’m fine.’”

I stare at Mum. She’s never told me anything like that before.

“Did she say anything else, Mum?”

“No. But I felt her come up close. I didn’t see her, but she patted my cheek just like she used to when I was little. It was as real as that.”

“Was she a ghost, then?”

“No. She was Mum, same as always. And then she wasn’t there. Do you know, Sapphy, I’ve never told anyone about it until this minute.”

I look at Mum. She’s smiling, but her eyes are shiny. “Does it make you sad,” I ask, “when you remember your mum?”

Mum shakes her head. “No, I like talking about her. Come here, Sapphy, give me a big hug.”

I hug Mum tight, squeezing her until she gasps for breath. What if Mum died, and all I had was a ghost who walked up a path and then disappeared? Mum seems to be happy about her mum doing that, but I certainly wouldn’t be.

“Promise me you won’t,” I whisper.

“Won’t what?”

“You know. Promise. You won’t ever just—”

“Ever just what?”

“Disappear.”

Mum takes a deep breath. I can feel her ribs rise as her lungs fill with air.

“I promise, Sapphy,” she says.