The Amazing Mind of Alice Makin (10 page)

I pull as hard as I can. I can barely see Reggie now. I can just hear his voice above the noise. I'm starting to panic when a picture comes into my mind. Like someone's painting it there. It's a weird feeling. Takes a while to see what it is. Then I do. Swan Island. Of course. That's it.

I call out, ‘Let's try to get to the island. We can shelter there.'

‘What?'

‘I said – never mind, just keep rowing.'

Reggie tries to change position, but as he does he knocks the oars into the water. I want to shout and scream at him. I don't. If I'm going to die, I'd rather die thinking about being in the shelter of Swan Island. I feel panicky. My thoughts cartwheel. Then suddenly the boat moves – on its own. We're not rowing. It just starts to move, heading for Swan Island, for cover. This is mad.

I try to look at Reggie, but can't see his face at all now. How's he doing it – making the boat go without oars? But I don't care as long as we get there. We make it. The wind starts to drop. I'm just about to breathe a sigh of relief when I look up. The wave is coming again, sweeping in a long, high bend round the edge of Swan Island, almost as if it's looking for us. It's higher and faster. This time it's really going to swamp us, make matchwood of the boat
and drag us down to the bottom of the lake. I'm soaking. My teeth are chattering.

I wonder what it's going to be like when it hits us. Don't have to wonder for long. I peer through my fingers. It's on us, filling the sky. It seems to freeze for a moment in midair, towering above us. Then I get that feather feeling again. Light as a raindrop. A bead of dew. Mad. But I know what I have to do. I screw up my eyes. Concentrate my mind like a magnifying glass focusing the sun on paper, waiting for it to burst into flames. I'm seeing a picture of us sitting in the sun again under a quiet, blue sky. Warm and safe.

T
ime melts.

The sun pops into the sky. Instant warmth spreads through my body. The sky fills up with blue, birds glide over the still, calm water, looping in search of lunch. As suddenly as the storm came, it's gone.

I say, ‘What the . . . ?'

And stop.

I can't believe what's happened. We're both still alive and bone dry. This is mad! Maybe I drifted off to sleep and dreamed the whole thing. I look at Reggie. I see something in his eyes, and know it wasn't a dream. He just looks puzzled. Whereas I'm scared out of my wits. I can feel my hands shaking. If it happened once, it can happen again, and I'm not sticking around to find out if it's going to. The oars drift by; I reach out and grab them.

‘Come on, let's get going'

I start to row by myself. Pull as hard as I can. Cut through the calm, still water. Keep looking behind. It seems to take ages to get back. Sweat streams down my shoulders.

On the jetty everything is normal. The same fishermen
are laughing and chatting. No sign of a tidal wave. No one has been washed away. There isn't a puddle in sight. We hit the jetty hard.

‘Oi, careful . . .'

Charlie is still painting the upturned boat. Looks up.

‘Oh, it's you two. You were quick. What happened, see the Loch Ness monster?'

I have to get out. I'm scared that if I look around that wall of water will be right behind. I get up too quickly. Catch my knees. Skin grazes. Flesh scrapes, blotches red. I've got to get away from here. Slip. One foot goes into the water, but I stumble up on to the jetty.

Charlie holds out a hand. Looks surprised.

‘Steady on. You all right, Alice?'

I don't take his hand. Stumble again. Half trying to work out what's just happened, half trying to block it out as impossible. I can't think properly because I'm still too scared. I run up the jetty. Don't know where I'm going. Anywhere away from here.

‘Alice, w-wait.'

I hear Reggie's voice through the maze of my thoughts.

‘Where are you g-going?'

Don't reply.

‘Alice!'

His footsteps pound behind me. Flash comes barking after him. I clear the jetty, dodging fishermen, tripping over their baskets. Angry voices are hurled after me. I reach the grass and throw myself down. It feels warm. Safe.
Smells new-mown. Get my breath back. Reggie arrives. Sprawls next to me.

‘Why d-didn't you wait?'

Flash arrives, thinks I want to play, nips at my arms. I push him away.

‘What for? Something else to happen?'

I'm still breathing heavily. Words squeeze out.

‘That was weird. I don't know about you, but I'm scared. Whatever that was could have killed us. And we were the only ones to see it. It's like none of that was real. Like something was controlling it.'

What he should say is something like, ‘I'm scared too, Alice. I'm scared out of my life. You don't get tidal waves on a lake. Boats don't start rowing themselves. What's going on?'

That's what he should have said. That would have made us the same. Together. Trying to sort things out. To unbend the kinks in the unknown, straighten out the mystery, solve it in a single straight line of common sense.

He doesn't. Instead, in a quiet voice, more like he's talking to himself than me, he says, ‘I think someone is trying to frighten us.'

I sit with my head between my knees. My heart is slowing. I look up at him. ‘Frighten us? What are you talking about?'

But he's not listening. He's staring at something.

‘What is it? What are you looking at?'

There's a figure standing at the far side of the lake. Seems to be looking towards us. A man. He's standing in the shade of some trees, so I can't really make him out. Blue smoke coils from the cigarette he's holding in his hand, drifting out of the shadows into the sunshine.

‘Just thought I recognized that man. D'you?'

I look again. Hesitate. There's something familiar, but he's too deep in the shade to see properly.

‘Not sure. Look, what did you mean about someone trying to frighten us?'

The man steps further back into the trees and he's gone.

Reggie takes off his glasses. Puts the sticking plaster back on properly. He seems to be acting mysteriously. Like he's got a secret that he's not sure about sharing.

‘You know something, don't you? You know what happened out there?'

‘I don't w-want to say, Alice . . . not yet.'

‘Yet? So you do know something!' I shriek at him, my anger a balloon filling fast. ‘Look, you, we could have been killed. If you know something, tell me.'

‘I c-can't. Not until I'm sure. When I am, I'll t-tell you. I promise.'

I'm still shaking. He knows something, all right, but he's made up his mind not to tell me. When Reggie makes up his mind, you can't unmake it.

I get up. ‘Well, I've had enough for one day. I'm going.'

‘Hold on, I'll c-come with you.'

‘Don't bother.'

I get up. Walk off. He follows. I start to calm down a bit.

I walk to Giovanni's. Reggie's slightly behind like he doesn't want to catch up. Suits me. It's as if suddenly I don't know him. I'm walking with a stranger.

Life's funny. For once, I get what I wished for most in the world, and it's not like I thought it would be. Right now the chocolates don't seem so important after all.

I take the stick to the counter. Reggie stays back.

Mr Giovanni is happy for me. ‘I'm-a glad-a you kids won something.'

I give him the stick.

He puts on his glasses and looks carefully at the number.

‘That's her all right-a. Lucky twenty-seven. The age of-a my son. Whatcha gonna have, young-a lady?'

I say, ‘The chocolates, please, Mr Giovanni.'

My voice sounds flat, like I don't care.

‘You like-a those chocolates, eh? They're the best. You gonna enjoy them, eh?'

‘Yeah. Thanks.'

He gives me the stick back. ‘Keep her as a souvenir, eh? Lucky souvenir.'

I nod and smile.

We walk back. Together, but not. Reggie might just as well be on another planet. We reach Mile End Road. As if he's been thinking about it for a long time, he says, ‘Look, I think other things are g-going to start happening.'

‘You're doing it again.'

‘Doing w-what?'

‘Talking in code. What things are going to happen.?'

‘Things you w-won't expect.'

‘Oh, great. That's really helpful. Now I know.'

I've had enough. If someone's got something to say, they should say it.

‘Reggie, you've got to stop this.'

‘S-stop what?'

‘Talking in riddles.'

‘Sorry. I don't m-mean to.'

‘Well, you are. So keep your mouth shut until you remember how to talk sense.‘

‘Sorry.'

‘And stop saying sorry!'

Now I feel terrible. It's like we don't know each other. Like we've suddenly found out we don't speak the same language.

He stops. ‘There's something I've got to d-do. I'll s-see you later.'

‘Not if I see you first.'

He turns and walks off. I don't go straight home. I need time to think. So I do what I always do when I need time to think – go for a walk.

I get home just as it's beginning to get dark. I can hear my mum calling my name as I come round the corner into Hawkins Street. The lights on the lampposts are just coming on, floating on the darkness like balloons.

It's been a long day, and for once I'm ready to go in. I walk down the corridor, my footsteps keeping me company. I feel confused and still a bit scared. Like everyone knows some dark secret except me.

At least I've got something for Mum's birthday. It's the first time I've got her something I really want to give her. Not like that jigsaw puzzle with the pieces missing, or the diamond brooch from the jumble sale.

I go down the passage to the front room, open the door. She's sitting at the table, darning a shirt. She looks tired. Her eyes are red-rimmed. She glances up, smiles, looks back down. I still feel funny, like someone's playing games with me, making up new rules for my life. But I've got to make an effort for Mum. Bert's not home, that's a bonus. I hide the box behind my back. Get closer. Then, when I'm on top of her, I plonk it down. ‘Happy birthday, Mum.'

She looks up. At the box. ‘What's all this?' At me. ‘You all right, love? You look as if you've seen a ghost!'

‘Yeah, bit of a funny day, that's all. Got you a birthday present. Chocolates.'

‘So I see. Where d'you get 'em?'

‘Sweet shop.'

‘Well, I didn't think it was the butcher's.'

‘I won 'em. Got the lucky number.'

She puts down her darning. ‘Goodness.' She grins. ‘My favourites and all. What a lovely box. It's beautiful.'

‘Can I have the lid?'

‘'Course you can.'

She reaches over. Kisses me.

‘Thanks, darlin'. Let's open 'em.' She lifts the lid carefully. Sees four empty cups. ‘Mice have been at 'em, I see.'

‘I was hungry.'

She offers me the box.

‘There's a list of all the centres here. How posh.'

‘Best in the shop.'

‘Well, you know what they say. Proof of the pudding's in the eatin'.'

She reads the little booklet with the list of centres like it's a novel. Sucking the names. Chewing pronunciations. ‘Hazelnut Praline, I think.'

‘What's praline?'

‘Don't know, but it sounds good.'

I watch her face as she takes out the chocolate and eats it. ‘Mmm. Wonderful. Come on, let's get stuck in.'

Later, I take the lid and go into my part of the bedroom. I pull the curtain. Sit on the bed, my head full of thoughts. I'm so tired my eyes hurt, but I can't sleep, can't stop thinking. I close my eyes and see the dark, swirling waters of the lake. Waves tower. I'm in the water. Freezing. My hands grabbing out. But there's nothing to hold on to but thin air. I fall. Sink into the darkness.

Cold-water morning light splashes through the curtains and on to my face. I get up quickly. A night full of weird dreams: rowing boats, tidal waves, chocolates. I have to get
all this sorted out. I need answers.

I look under the bed for the box lid. Can't see it. I push my arm under. Sweep it around. Lots of rubbish. Still can't feel the lid. Try again. Still no luck. Crawl under the bed. No sign. I sit on the floor for a while, trying to think exactly what I did with it. I'm sure I put it under the bed. There's only one explanation – Bert. He's always snooping around. He must have found it.

I don't even have a wash. I just pull on my clothes, pull back the curtain and go into the other part of the room. Mum is already up. He's still in bed, fast asleep. He came in late last night. I was still awake and heard him get into bed, so it can't have been him. Suddenly I feel panicky. Something's not right, not as it should be. Mum left the rest of the chocolates on the kitchen table. I go in quickly. Look everywhere. No sign. Not even an empty paper cup. Something digs into my side. The lolly stick. It's still in my pocket. I take it out, go to put it on the windowsill, then pull open the curtains so there's more light. My mouth is suddenly dry. My brain isn't working. Slowly, I turn the lolly stick over. Then turn it over again. I still can't believe what I'm seeing. Or rather what I'm not seeing.