Stormswept (30 page)

Jenna and I walk slowly along the sand, with Digory between us. We pass the pick-up truck, which looks as if it’s been thrown on its side by giants who’ve lifted it and then tossed it away.

“The wave did that,” says Jenna.

“Which wave?”

“It was huge, it threw me and Digory way up on the dunes. It was a really strange wave though. It was… Well, this is going to sound stupid but it was…
gentle.
It wasn’t like being wiped out. It lifted us up and carried us to somewhere safe.”

“It must have been huge, if it rolled the truck right over.”

“Yes. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it.”

“What happened to them? The men I mean?”

She chuckles. “They’re still running I reckon. They were heading for the causeway, weren’t they, Digory? We hid until we were sure they’d gone.”

“Mr Helyer lost his trousers,” says Digory.

I’m not sure if I can ask about Bran, but I don’t need to, because Jenna says, “Bran’s OK. He’s gone to his nan’s. He said—” She pauses, and glances at me as if she’s worried about my reaction.

“What did he say?” I snap. I’ve just realised that Eselda didn’t weave any singing magic around Bran. He will remember everything. But no one will believe him, I reassure myself. Even his dad won’t believe him. The more Bran says,
“But it was true! There really was a Mer boy, I saw him,”
the more angry his dad will be, because it’s Bran’s tomfoolery that’s caused the truck disaster. He’ll blame Bran for all of it, and he won’t forget for a long time. Bran will be keeping a very low profile.

“Don’t,” says Jenna quietly. At the touch of her voice I remember how Bran led the hunters away from me. “
Over here,”
he said,
“I’ve got the freak.”
But why did he decoy them away from me? He didn’t need to. Was it all because of Jenna, or was it… No, I’m not going to think about it. I’m too tired.

“Did you talk to Bran before he went?” I ask Jenna.

“Yes. He’s really sorry.”

“He should be.”

Digory’s been pulling on my hand for a while. “Mor, we haven’t got my fiddle. Are you going to go back for it?”

I sigh. “Not now, Digory. Not yet. It’s safe where it is.”

He walks on, head bowed, absorbing the disappointment. For Digory to lose Conan’s fiddle must be like losing an arm would be for anyone else. But to my amazement he says quite cheerfully, “Anyway it sounded better in Ingo. The tone was better. It doesn’t really belong in the human world.”

“Digory, Mum and Dad are going to ask where you’ve been,” says Jenna warningly, “so you’d better forget all that stuff and tell them about how you got lost and you hid in the dunes and fell asleep and then you woke up crying and that’s how we found you. That’s what we’ve agreed you’re going to say, remember?”

It takes me a beat to realise that my perfect sister Jenna can make up a very convincing story.

“Jenna…”

“Mm?”

“I thought something awful had happened to you. I thought I heard you crying for help.”

“When?”

“Just before I came back.” I’m not going to tell her that it’s why I came back. She’d be frightened if she thought there was ever any other possibility. If Jenna even guessed how deep in Ingo I really was, she’d go crazy.

“Oh,
then
,” says Jenna slowly. “You’re right in a way. Something awful
had
happened to me.”

Visions of Aidan Helyer’s men hurting her make me feel sick. “What— What was it?”

“I lost you. I didn’t think I was ever going to find you. I thought you’d drowned.” Jenna’s voice sounds as flat as if she’s talking about a trip to the shops.

“So that’s why you cried out for help.”

“I didn’t cry out. That would have frightened Digory,” says Jenna quickly. “It was just what I thought.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I say, and I’m quite proud of the way I manage to keep my voice steady when I really want to burst into tears and cry and cry. But that would frighten Digory too.

’ve learned a strange thing about time. I suspected it before, but now I’m certain. It doesn’t work the same here in the human world as it does in Ingo. Sometimes Ingo time seems to go faster than human time, but other times it goes far more slowly. I thought Mum and Dad would have called the police and coastguards to search for Digory, because we’d been away so long. But what seemed like hours and hours to me wasn’t as long here. Time opened out like a concertina and then it squeezed shut again and we were almost back where we’d been. Not quite though. We’d been away for long enough that lots of people were out searching.

It was horrible to see Mum’s face when we came back with Digory. She grabbed him and cried and cried as if he were dead instead of back safe. She didn’t even thank me and Jenna for finding him. Dad got out a bottle of whisky and started slopping whisky into glasses for everyone who’d been helping to look for Digory. Suddenly there were lots of people in the kitchen and it got very noisy with everyone shouting and laughing and Mum’s friend Rosie making sandwiches because everybody was hungry all at once. Mum didn’t even think about making sandwiches. She went upstairs carrying Digory and gave him a hot bath as if he was a baby, and then he came down wrapped in his duvet and curled up on Dad’s lap. Mum drank one cup of tea after another and kept going over and touching Digory as if she still didn’t believe he was really there. Digory was brilliant. He stuck to Jenna’s story and he was so convincing I almost believed it was what really happened.

“I woke up and it was all dark
…
I was really scared, Mum
…
and then I heard Jenna and Mor calling for me
…
”

Dad kept saying, “I knew he’d be all right, I kept telling you, Kerenza,” but from the way his hands were shaking as he poured out the whisky for everybody, you could see he hadn’t really known at all. He’d been just as scared as Mum.

I watch them all. They are my family and friends. I’ve known everyone in the room since I was born, and yet it all feels so distant, like a bright clear image projected on to a wall. I hear and see everything. I taste the sharp damson pickle in the cheese sandwich Rosie gives me. I huddle as close to the fire as I can, because I’m cold right to the bone. The fire burns brightly but it doesn’t warm me through.

Dad comes over. I look across and see that Mum’s holding Digory now. He’s nearly asleep. Dad still has the whisky bottle in his hand and for a wild moment I think he’s going to offer me some. But no.

“You all right now, my girl?” he asks me quietly. Dad is good at noticing things about me that other people don’t notice.

“Just tired.”

“You did a good job, you and Jenna.”

Better than you know
, I think. There’s so much noise in the room I think it’ll cover our voices.

“Dad.”

“Yes?” He squats down beside me and holds out his hands to the flames.

“There’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

“Bad or good?”

“Bad. But I think it’s going to come out good in the end.”

“Go on then.”

“Conan’s fiddle isn’t here any more.”

Dad goes completely still.

“Don’t say anything to Digory, Dad. He took it with him and now it’s in a safe place, but he can’t bring it back, not now anyway. But it’s safe.”

The flames hiss and spurt. This is a new load of wood that Dad brought over from Marazance on Johnnie Tremough’s tractor last week. There’s another roar of laughter behind us as Dad leans close to me and asks, “You sure about this now, Morveren? It’ll come to no harm?”

“Quite sure.”

“You know what they say about Conan’s fiddle. If it gets lost—”

“It’s not lost, Dad. I swear it. It’s somewhere safe but it can’t come back yet.”

“Look at me, Morveren.”

Dad’s eyes hold mine for a long moment. I don’t know what he sees in my face, but at last, slowly, he nods. “All right. That instrument’s a creature with a life of its own, I do know that. Always has been. And Digory’s safe back with us. But you take care now, my girl. We don’t want to lose you either.”

I was cold before, but now I’m too hot. I slip out of the room, go to the front door and open it. I take deep breaths of the cold night air. It smells of salt and I think of the first time Ingo called me, pulling me away from the walls and down the path. But I didn’t understand what was happening then.

My eyes are used to the darkness now. I see the glow of a pipe down by the gate, and recognise the outline of Jago Faraday. I’m not surprised. He would never come inside the house and join in the celebration, but even Jago must have been glad to hear that Digory was safely home. To my surprise, he calls across to me,

“Come here, my girl.”

He must think I’m Jenna. Reluctantly, I go down the path.

“It’s Morveren, not Jenna,” I say.

“I knowed that.”

He’s silent for a while. “’F I go down the pub and tell ‘em, they’ll mock me again,” he grumbles at last.

My mind leaps. I almost know what he’s going to say.

“I been night-fishing,” he says, as if he’s talking to the dark. “I seen ’em again. Your people.”

I stand still as a rock.
My people.

“I’m saying nothing down the pub this time. They’ll mock me,” repeats Jago.