Stormswept (17 page)

“Night, Jen,” I say sleepily. I pull the duvet right up around my head and make my breathing go slow and steady, but my mind is working furiously. There was something very wrong about the encounter with Bran. I go over what he said again and again, and then suddenly it comes to me like a light shining in my face. It’s not what Bran said. It’s what he didn’t say. What he didn’t ask.

He didn’t ask us why we were out at that time of night. He didn’t ask where we’d been, or what we were doing.

Is that because he knew?

It can’t be. We’d have heard him following us. He couldn’t have hidden himself so well. Anyway, if he
was
hiding, then why would he step out like that? Did he want us to know he was there for some reason?

It’s warm under the duvet but I feel cold. Bran’s clever. If he didn’t mess about in class all the time he’d be one of the cleverest, like Jenna. When we were little, before his mum went away, the teacher was always praising him because he had such an amazing memory. A photographic memory, she said. Bran only has to see something once to remember every single detail. If you’ve got that kind of memory, I don’t think it would go away, even if you messed about in every single class for the rest of your school life.

What if Bran saw me go in the sea? What if he saw me climbing up the rocks to King Ragworm Pool? What if he followed the light of our torch? I know he didn’t climb the rocks behind us. Not even Bran can move that quietly. But he might have come close. He will remember everything. When daylight comes, he’ll be able to find his way back to where Malin’s hiding.

I’ve got to tell Jenna. I’ve got to make her stop him. I’m on the point of rolling over and waking her, when I know with cold, hard certainty that I can’t. Jenna would never knowingly hurt anyone. She can be incredibly annoying – especially if you are not as perfect as she is – but she is kind. She cares about people. She knows that Bran’s had a bad time – probably even worse than she’s told me – and I think she quite likes the fact that she understands him better than anyone else. But she probably believes that beneath it all there’s a really nice person, just waiting to be rediscovered. That’s the way Jenna thinks, and it sounds lovely, but it can be dangerous. She won’t believe that Bran could hurt Malin.

I lie still. The person I must tell is Malin, not Jenna. No. First I must tell Malin’s people, so that they’re ready. It’s a risk to try to return him to the sea before he’s strong enough, but it’s more of a risk to leave him in a hiding-place that may not be a safe refuge any more.

n my dream I’m caught in a storm. It’s almost dark and I’m alone in a strange landscape which I’ve never seen before. It reminds me of the Island but everything is distorted. Rain pelts down, lightning flashes so close that I flinch, and then there’s a crack of thunder. Leafless trees lash in the wind like angry skeletons as I try to run, but the air is heavy as treacle and my legs won’t work. Water splashes around my feet and in a few seconds it goes from ankle-deep to knee-deep and it’s still rising. I stumble and fall and then I’m flat on my back with my face underwater. I stare up helplessly at the branches thrashing the surface, trying to get at me. Even though I’m underwater, the storm still beats on my face, harder and harder, sharp as hail. I try to move but I can’t. My lungs are bursting and I can’t breathe.

I wake with my heart pounding. The dream fades but the tapping on my face grows stronger. I open my eyes. It wasn’t rain or hail, it was Digory. He’s leaning over me and patting my face to make me wake up.

“Digory!” I yelp. Jenna stirs.

“Ssssh. Don’t wake up Jenna,” whispers Digory right into my ear so that his breath tickles. I sit up on my elbows and look at the clock. Ten past six. Still dark outside. I put my finger to my lips, and Digory nods. He looks all big-eyed and scared and I wonder if he’s wet the bed, but that hasn’t happened for ages.

Digory is nearly as good at moving silently as Jenna and me. We slink past Mum and Dad’s door and down the stairs. Digory tugs hard on my hand. We go in the kitchen and Digory drags me towards the larder.

How clever he is. He knows what I didn’t discover until I was about ten: the larder is so well insulated that it’s the one place in the house where you can talk and no one can hear you. We both push in and I shut the door and switch on the larder light.

“What is it, Digory?”

“I need my violin,” says Digory in a worried voice, “otherwise I can’t show you properly.”

I sigh. Sometimes Digory can’t explain things in words and he has to do it in music. Not a great idea at this time of the morning.

“Tell me with words. You can’t play your violin, not even in the larder. Everyone will wake up.”

“I think I did something bad,” says Digory. His eyes are bigger than ever.

“What sort of bad?” I’m not worried. Loads of things seem really bad when you are little.

“I wanted to play my violin to Malin,” says Digory in a rush. “He wanted to hear it. Sea music makes Mer people strong.”

“Sea music makes Mer people strong?
Digory, what are you talking about? What do
you
know about the Mer?”

“I do know. They play their music to me, I told you before. They tell me things in their music.”

I give him a long look. I don’t think he’s lying. But he has his own world and what happens in that world is not always connected to reality.

“What do they tell you?”

“An pobel Mer er trist,” says Digory.

An icy shiver runs all over me. “
How do you know Mer language?
” I demand, kneeling down on the floor so his face is level with mine.

“Don’t squeeze my arms like that, Morveren, you’re hurting!”

I didn’t realise I’d grabbed hold of him. I let go and move back as far as the larder shelves will let me, so he won’t be scared.

“Did someone teach you those words?” I ask as calmly as I can.

“No, I told you, they put them in their music, so I heard them. All the Mer are sad because they’ve lost Malin.”

“And you say you heard them?”

“I was right on the edge of the sea. They knew I was there. That’s why they wanted me to come in the sea with them, but I said I couldn’t, because of my violin.”

“Digory! You must never, ever go in the sea on your own, whether you’ve got your violin or not. It doesn’t matter what you hear. Stay on the sand. Don’t go in the sea.”

“I didn’t, Mor! You’re pinching me again!”

“Sorry. I’m just scared, that’s all. What if you went in the sea on your own and nobody knew where you were? If anything happened we wouldn’t be able to rescue you. You know that.”

He looks so miserable that I soften. “It’s OK. You didn’t go in. It’s not that bad. You know you shouldn’t have gone right down to the water, though. Mum’s told you millions of times.”

“That wasn’t the bad thing,” says Digory, so quietly I have to bend right down to hear him.

“What was it then?”

“I don’t want to tell you, Mor, cos you’ll be so angry.”

“I won’t. I swear I won’t.”

“You’re angry with me already.”

“I’m not. I told you, you scared me,” I say, trying to sound less scary myself. My heart is thumping with fear. What if the Mer steal human children? “Digory, just tell me. I won’t get angry, I promise.”

“I played my violin to Malin and Bran saw me.”

“
What?”

“You said you wouldn’t be angry! You promised!”

“I’m not, I’m not. You mean you went up on the rocks and played and Bran saw you up there?”

It’s all fitting together. That’s why Bran was out in the dark, waiting. He
did
follow us, just as he followed Digory earlier on. But I still don’t know how much Bran knows. Digory playing his violin is nothing unusual. He goes down to the shore to play sometimes, and Mum doesn’t mind as long as he keeps away from the water. Bran might think he was a bit weird, giving a concert for nobody, but little kids play pretend games like that…

“Digory, are you sure Bran saw you?”

“He talked to me.”

“Oh no!”

“I had to talk to him! I didn’t want to!”

“And you were right by the rocks where Malin is?”

“Yes,” says Digory in a small, wretched voice.

“Don’t look like that. If he didn’t see Malin he’ll never guess,” I say, trying to reassure myself as much as my brother. “The first time I saw Malin, even though he was right in front of me, I couldn’t believe he was real.”

“But that still wasn’t the bad thing,” goes on Digory, and this time tears well out of his eyes and start to slip down his cheeks.

My mind fills with dread. “What else happened?”

“He asked me who I was playing for, and I didn’t want to say ‘Malin’ because you told me it was a secret. So I said I was playing for myself, and he laughed at me and said I was a loser and a weirdo and – and he said everybody thinks that – so I got angry and I shouted at him and said, ‘The Mer like me playing to them.’ And then he went all quiet but it was more scary than when he was laughing at me. He sort of tapped my violin but it was quite hard and I was scared he was going to try and break it. And then – and then—”

“Don’t be scared. Bran’s not here now. Just tell me.”

“He said, ‘Who are they then? Who are the Mer?’ and I didn’t want to tell him any more so I said they were part of a game and then he came up really close and he said… He said…”

Digory is crying hard now. I feel really sorry for him, but I’ve got to know.

“What did he say? Try and tell me.”

“He said he’d throw me in the sea if I didn’t tell him who the Mer are,” whispers Digory, as if he’s still frightened Bran might hear him. “But Mor, I think he already knows.”

“He wouldn’t do it. He was just trying to frighten you.” I can’t bear the thought of Digory on his own with none of us there to help while Bran threatened him.

“I was so scared. There weren’t any people anywhere.”

I put my arms tight around him. He’s shaking with sobs and terror. “It’s OK. You didn’t do any bad things. It was Bran who was bad, not you. Stop crying and I’ll get you a biscuit off the top shelf.”

If Mum buys chocolate biscuits she hides them on the top shelf, otherwise Digory eats them all. But for once even the promise of chocolate doesn’t help.

“I told him – I told him – that if he threw me in the sea then the Mer would rescue me because they were my friends and they were much bigger than him. And I knew they were close because when I was playing, they joined in and played too.”

I wipe his face with the sleeve of my nightdress. “You were so brave to say that,” I tell him. But my mind is clicking away like a computer, working out the logic of it. Digory thinks that Bran already knew about the Mer. How could that be? Of course there are a lot of stories and Bran will know them all. He will know the legend of how our island came into being, and how the Mer helped our ancestors. But those are legends and they’re safe in the past. Surely Bran won’t make the jump to guessing that the Mer are here, in the present day?

“And then Bran said, ‘You play that violin. I want to hear your friends. If they’re as close as you say, they’ll play too, won’t they? Unless you’re telling me a load of lies and you don’t want to know what I do to liars.’”

I hate hearing Bran’s words in Digory’s mouth. It’s as if he’s got inside my brother’s head. “I didn’t want to play, Morveren, but I had to. I played a little bit and I tried to make it all sad and warning so they’d know they had to escape, but the Mer didn’t understand. They started playing too, just like before. Bran heard them.”

“How do you know he heard them? He can’t have done.”

“He pretended he didn’t. He didn’t want me to know, but his eyes went all still, and the black bit in the middle changed shape. I kept on playing and then he said stop. He said, ‘If you open your mouth about this, your mum and dad will find you floating like that Polish sailor.’”

“I’ll kill him.”

“I had to promise him I wouldn’t tell anyone. But I did tell you, Mor. He can’t really throw me in the sea, can he?”

“No. No one can do stuff like that.”

But I’m afraid. There are rumours about what happens to people who fall out with Bran’s dad. He’s violent, and he’s the kind of man you keep away from unless your business is the same as his business. It’s like there are two worlds, and they touch sometimes but mostly they are separate. Bran lives in his dad’s world, most of the time. He speaks its language, except when he’s with Jenna. I can’t believe he’d really try and hurt Digory…Jenna’s little brother… Or maybe I can.