North of Nowhere

by Liz Kessler

  “Maybe there’s another way around here?”

  “Oh, what does it matter anyway?” I said, turning to head back through the arch. “The point is, Dee’s not coming. And all I’ve got to look forward to today is moping around with Mom and Gran at the pub, all of us jumping a mile in the air every time the door opens in case it’s Grandad, and all of us pretending we’re not disappointed every time it isn’t.”

  I suddenly realized what a downer I was. We were back on the beach now. Peter put Mitch down and he immediately scampered off to chase some seagulls.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’d better get going. Enjoy your fishing trip. See you later.”

  “Yeah, see you,” Peter replied. “I hope your day gets better.” Then he called Mitch back, and they walked off in the opposite direction.

  As they went off, I realized I had another thing to be miserable about. Now that the boat had gone, I wouldn’t get to reply to Dee’s last note. How rude would that look? Dee would probably decide not to bother being my friend at all, now.

  I dragged myself back to the pub and desperately tried — and dismally failed — to imagine anything good happening today.

  The morning dragged so much that a couple of times I even checked my watch against the clock in the kitchen, to make sure it was still working. It was almost lunchtime and I was wiping down the tables in the pub. Mom and Gran were out back. The front door burst open.

  My heart did the same leap in the air it had done every time someone came in — followed by the same sinking to the ground it did every time it wasn’t Grandad.

  It was Peter. “It’s back!” he said breathlessly.

  “What is?”

  “The boat. The one behind the arches. I went back to the harbor to find out what time the fishing trip was, and it’s been canceled — the boss is sick. Apparently he had some bad oysters last night and can’t leave his house — or probably his bathroom, more like!”

  “So you’re not going out?”

  Peter’s eyes did that twinkly thing. “Well, not officially. But I have an idea.”

  “What?”

  He tapped his nose conspiratorially. “Meet me down at the harbor, and I’ll tell you. But you’ve got to be up for an adventure.”

  Before I had time to answer, he was gone.

  Gran came into the lounge a second later. “Was there someone here?” she asked. I could see the hope in her eyes. She was trying to hide it, but it was there, clouded with anxiety and fear.

  “It was a friend of mine,” I said. “We’re just going to go out for a little while. Is that OK?”

  The glimmer of hope in Gran’s eyes dissolved into a dark veil of sadness. I wanted to reach out to her. I wanted to tell her that I cared, that I was here, that I understood. But I didn’t know how to. We simply didn’t have a common language. It wasn’t her fault, or mine. We’d just never ever had anything in common. Until this week.

  “Gran — he’ll be back,” I said. “I’m sure he will. And until then, Mom and I aren’t going anywhere. Grandad is just as important to us as he is to you, and we’re going to be with you till he comes back. We’ll look after you.”

  The words came out in a rush, and I felt silly as soon as I’d uttered them. I knew Gran. She’d think I was an idiot for suggesting that I could look after her — for even thinking that she’d want me to!

  But she looked me in the eyes. Then she came over to me and touched my arm. “You’re a good girl,” she said softly. “You always have been. And you’re very precious to us both. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I . . . I . . .” I’d probably known it. She’d never said it before, not like that — so how could I have known for sure? But I did now, and I wanted her to know I cared too. I leaned forward and put my arms awkwardly around her waist.

  For a moment, she stiffened. Then I felt her relax. She put her arms around me, too, and patted my back. “All right, come on, now,” she said after a moment. “Let’s get on with the day. You go and see your friend. Have a nice time. Don’t stay out too long, all right?”

  “I won’t,” I said. And then I grabbed my coat and went out to join Peter and find out about his mystery plan.

  “Peter, you’re talking about theft!”

  “It’s not theft. I’m not going to keep it. We’re just going to use it to fetch Dee. And it’s her boat anyway!”

  “It’s her dad’s boat.”

  “Same difference.”

  We were sitting on the boat, bobbing gently up and down. I bit my lip while I thought about it. Peter’s plan was that we should take the boat and go to fetch Dee. He reckoned if it was only two miles to Luffsands, we could easily get there, pick her up, and be back here again within an hour or two. And the weather seemed to have turned out nice after all, so there was no real reason why she couldn’t come with us.

  “But what about her dad? What if he comes back and sees the boat’s not here?” I asked.

  “He won’t. The auction’s going on now. He’s not going to leave till it’s finished, is he? We can be there and back before he even comes down here again.”

  Peter had a point. The annual winter fair might have been a bit of a letdown, but the auction that went with it was rocking. We could hear the crowd shouting and bartering from the harbor.

  “Are you absolutely sure you know how to drive this boat?”

  “Positive!” Peter said. “The skipper said I’m the best he’s ever seen. A complete natural. I picked it up on the first day and he’s been letting me drive every day since then. He even left me in charge yesterday while he went to the back to help the others straighten out their lines. I’m totally comfortable with it. I might as well have been born doing it.”

  The excitement in Peter’s eyes was infectious, but I still couldn’t go along with it.

  “It feels wrong,” I said, a little more uncertainly.

  “I know,” he said. “I understand. And, believe me, this isn’t the kind of thing I would normally suggest. But Dee being stuck over there, miserable as anything, and you over here, equally miserable, feels just as wrong.”

  He had a point. How much harm could it really do? Dee’s dad would never know, and we would absolutely make Dee’s day. Her week. Once we’d cheered her up, she could make up with her dad and everyone would be happy again. We might, in fact, be doing the whole family a favor!

  “We’d have to leave some money on the boat to cover fuel,” I said.

  “Of course we will!” Peter said. Then he grinned. “You mean, we’re doing it?”

  Were we? Could we, really? Despite my reservations, I couldn’t help feeling a spark of excitement catch light inside me. I was going to meet my new friend. I felt as if I knew her already, and we hadn’t even met yet! “What will Dee say to her dad to explain how she got here?” I asked.

  Peter rubbed his chin. There was something about the way he did it that felt familiar to me, but I couldn’t think why. It was weird; I’d honestly never felt so comfortable with a boy.

  “Got it!” he exclaimed, grinning. “She can tell him that one of the other fishermen picked her up. They’ll all have come in by now for the auction.”

  “Doesn’t sound all that convincing to me, but I guess she might have some ideas. And if we can’t think of anything, she doesn’t even have to come back with us. I’ll still have met her. That’s the main thing.”

  “Exactly!” Peter said. “Look!” He pointed at the water. “It’s totally calm. The weather’s cleared up and so has the sea. Dee’s dad was wrong about a storm. He’ll probably be really pleased that she managed to get a lift across.”

  I hesitated before replying, and Peter leaped on my indecision. “I bet he even keeps the key in the same place as all the others,” he said. He got up and lifted the mattress on his seat. There was a lid on the top of the bench, which he lifted as well. He felt around, then pulled out a cork ball with a key on the end of it.

  “Ta-da!” he said, smiling broadly.

  I
couldn’t help smiling back. His excitement was growing on me. Maybe he was right. Maybe we could do this.

  “Mia — this could be your only chance to meet Dee,” he said firmly.

  I didn’t need to be told that. That was the biggest thought in my mind. And he was right. What was the worst thing that could happen? Maybe Dee would have an argument with her dad about it, but the chances were they’d get to make up sooner, not later.

  And the thought of her face when we turned up at Luffsands — I couldn’t wait! Without letting myself think about it anymore, I nodded at Peter. “OK,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

  We slowly pulled away from the jetty, the boat gliding on the glassy water. It was so calm. The weathermen really were useless! Dee’s dad had gotten it totally wrong.

  We came gently around into the bay. Peter was in the wheelhouse, focusing ahead, and every now and then glancing at the compass. The wind was gentle on my face as I leaned back against the side of the boat and closed my eyes. It was blissful. I’d never felt so at peace, so relaxed, so excited, so —

  “AMELIA!”

  In a nanosecond I was upright in my seat, eyes wide-open.

  “MIA!”

  It was Mom! She was on the beach with Flake. She looked furious.

  “Amelia, what are you doing?” she yelled.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” I called.

  “What’s wrong?” she called back, running toward the sea. “Your gran’s world has fallen apart, I’m trying to hold the place together, and you’re off joyriding on a boat with some strange boy we’ve never even laid eyes on before. What do you think is wrong?”

  I glanced at Peter in the wheelhouse. He’d changed course and was steering us toward the jetty, closer to Mom. I didn’t know if he’d heard what she’d said, but if he had, he was doing a good job of acting as though he wasn’t offended.

  “Look, we won’t be out long,” I began.

  “You won’t be out at all!” Mom snapped. “I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking I’m entitled to have at least one nice thing this week!” I snapped back. I didn’t mean to, but — well, she wasn’t the only one trying to cope with all this.

  Mom just looked at me. “None of us is entitled to anything while your grandad is missing,” she said.

  We were nearly alongside the jetty now, and close enough that I could see Mom clenching her jaw and dark circles under her red eyes. She looked as if she’d aged a decade this week. That was when it hit me. It was her dad who had gone missing. However bad this was for me, it was fifty times worse for her. How could I be so selfish?

  “Mom, I’m sorry,” I said. “Just give me a minute.” I opened the door to the wheelhouse. “We’ll have to forget it,” I said to Peter. “Nice idea, though.”

  Peter nodded. But his jaw was set, his eyes determined. “Look, I’ll drop you off,” he said, “but I’m going to fetch Dee for you.”

  “You can’t go on your own. She doesn’t even know you!”

  “You’ve described her to me. I’ll tell her I’m your friend. I’ll explain everything.”

  I thought about it. The idea was tempting. I was desperate to meet up with Dee, and Peter could make it happen. But I couldn’t convince my brain that it was the right thing to do. “Peter, you can’t,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Think about it. Dee has no idea who you are. She’s not likely to go off on a boat with some boy she’s never met. A boat that the boy has just stolen from her dad!”

  “I’m not stealing —”

  “I know you’re not stealing, but it would be hard to convince anyone else you weren’t. Dee’s never heard of you, her dad’s never met you, you have no link with this boat at all.”

  Peter let out a heavy breath. “When you put it like that . . .”

  “You know I’m right. You really can’t do it.”

  He nodded. “I guess.”

  “Peter, look at me.”

  He looked up. “What?”

  “You really can’t.”

  “OK. You’re right. It’s just a shame, though.”

  “Hey, you don’t need to tell me that.”

  He steered the boat perfectly alongside the jetty and jumped off to tie the ropes around a cleat. I could see what the fisherman meant. Peter did the whole thing so quickly and so naturally it was as if he’d been doing it all his life.

  He reached out to help me off the boat. “I’ll take it back around to the old jetty,” he said. “You go back with your mom.”

  “Promise me you won’t go to Luffsands.”

  “I promise,” he said. “See you tomorrow maybe.” And with that, he quickly pulled the ropes off the cleat and jumped aboard again. “I’ll leave the boat exactly where we found it,” he called, giving me a quick salute and a lopsided grin. “I promise.”

  Mom put her arm around my shoulders as we walked back up to the beach. “I’m sorry, darling,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get so angry. It’s just — when I saw you on the boat like that, I imagined something terrible happening to you. I can’t lose you as well.”

  At that, her voice cracked and I wrapped an arm around her. “You’re not losing anyone,” I said fiercely.

  She swallowed hard and wiped a hand across her cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she said. Then she linked her arm through mine. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get back to your gran.”

  Back at the pub, Gran had made us some lunch. We ate in silence for a while.

  Gran was the first to break it. “We need to pull ourselves together,” she said, putting down her knife and fork and folding her arms. “We’ve got a pub to run. We’ve got lives to get on with. We need to have some faith, some belief. So I’ve decided. We’re not going to worry anymore. We’re to believe he’ll come back. Agreed?”

  “OK,” I said.

  “Agreed,” Mom added. I got up and stood in between them, and the three of us joined arms. Soon we were hugging and smiling and holding on to one another just long enough to let each other know that, in our hearts, we didn’t ever want to let go.

  He pulled up to the jetty and moored up on the ring at the end. Slipping the key into its usual hiding place, he hauled his catch off the boat. It wasn’t easy. The swell had raged earlier, but suddenly calmed somewhere along the way. He took that as a good sign.

  The size of his catch was an even better sign. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a run like this.

  He’d argued with his wife and his daughter before he left home, but, oh, boy, he’d make it up to them when he got back. They’d have the finest oysters tonight. He’d buy them with the money he was about to earn at the auction.

  Itching with anticipation, he carried his box around to the auction house. He marched straight up to the scales where the fishermen’s catches were weighed in.

  “Morning, Charlie — how about this, then?” Frank said, smiling as he heaved his box onto the scales. But as he looked up, the smile froze on his face. “You’re not Charlie,” he said.

  “Who’s Charlie?” the man at the weigh-in asked.

  Frank laughed. “Who’s Charlie? He’s only worked here as long as I can remember!”

  The man shrugged. “Weigh-in’s been my job the last four years.”

  Frank stared at the man. Then he laughed again — only not quite so confidently this time. “Hey, it’s a joke, isn’t it?” he said.

  The man stared back. “Do you want your catch weighed or not?”

  Frank hesitated, mouth open. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Eventually he nodded.

  The man weighed Frank’s fish and wrote a number on a piece of paper. “You’ll be in auction number three,” he said. “Starts at two. Good catch there, buddy.”

  As the man turned to his next customer, Frank stumbled away from the scales. What was going on? Where was Charlie?

  He looked around the auction house, searching for a friendly face who could solve his puzzle — or tell him
who the practical joker at the scales was.

  But he couldn’t see a friendly face. Well, no. That wasn’t strictly true. The faces were friendly enough, just not familiar. Nearly fifteen years he’d been coming here, and he knew almost all the fishermen in the area. But not today.

  He didn’t recognize a single one.

  Frank stumbled to the benches at the back of the auction house. He sat down, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his forehead. It was dripping with sweat; his hands were shaking.

  What was going on? Why didn’t he know anyone?

  What was wrong with him?

  Saturday morning I was wide-awake before Mom or Gran or any of the guests. After tossing and turning for half an hour, I got up and sneaked downstairs. Flake wagged his tail lazily when he saw me.

  “Come on, let’s go out,” I said, grabbing his leash. Then I quietly opened the back door and we set off down to the harbor.

  Flake ran happily up and down the beach, chasing seagulls and barking at the waves. Every now and then he’d pick up a stick and bring it to me, dropping it at my feet and wagging his tail. I threw the stick distractedly and moseyed over to the old jetty. Maybe, by some miracle, Dee would be coming today. Or there might be another note, at least. The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself it was possible. I desperately wanted it to be. Apart from anything else, I wanted the chance to reply to her last note and explain why I hadn’t replied yesterday.

  I ducked down to get through the arches. The water was up to my ankles and the bottom of my jeans got soaked, as I’d forgotten to tuck them into my boots. I hardly noticed. All I cared about now was seeing the boat.

  But it wasn’t there.

  Well, of course it wasn’t. For one thing, it was about seven o’ clock in the morning. And for another, it was Saturday. Dee’s dad was as entitled to his weekend off as anyone else.

  By the time I got back to the pub, I knew I had to shake myself out of my miserable mood. It wouldn’t be fair to Mom and Gran if I spent all weekend moping around, so I decided I was going to be helpful and cheerful instead. Well, cheerful might be a bit too much to ask, but it wouldn’t do any harm to try.