by Lu Hersey
Michelle’s bike is several sizes too small for me and it’s got a pink flowery basket strapped to the front. Things are bad enough as it is without having to look ridiculous too. The tingling in my hands is getting stronger. I can’t think straight.
“I’m going to see my grandmother.” Even as I blurt it out, I can feel the water seeping out through my palms. Again. Second time today.
He looks concerned. “In Ancrows? It’s a bit of a way if you’re riding that thing. Couldn’t your dad take you?”
“Michelle’s mum is dropping her round after school with a friend. And he has to be in the shop.”
“Would you like to come over to mine when you get back later? I’d love to see you.”
“No thanks, I can’t, sorry. Um, I have to go now.” I feel the water starting to drip down my fingers and I have to get away before Elliot sees. I need to get to Mamwyn’s. I just know she’s the only one who can help me stop it happening.
Elliot stares down at the pavement. When he looks up, I see the hurt in his eyes and I feel like my heart’s been squeezed in a vice. He must think I’m giving him the cold shoulder, trying to get rid of him.
“Well be careful on that bike,” he says. “There’s a storm coming.”
More than anything, I want to jump off the bike and give him a massive, reassuring hug. But a drop of water falls from my hand and hits the pavement by my foot. I have to go.
I push away from the kerb and start to pedal off, swerving along the road until I get my balance. “Thanks,” I shout back as I ride off, not daring to turn round to look at him.
I’m scared and really upset. It feels horrible leaving Elliot like that. And what the hell is wrong with me? The water coming through my hands is making it difficult to grip the handlebars.
At the edge of the village, the road comes out on the clifftop. The strong wind catches my jacket and blows the bike across the dotted white line to the wrong side of the road. A car approaches fast from the opposite direction, and I’m terrified it’s going to hit me. I hear the car brakes squeal, and for a second I don’t think I can get out of the way in time.
Adrenalin pumps through my veins and I pedal with all my strength against the wind. I manage to wobble the bike back across the road in the nick of time. The driver honks his car horn and hurls abuse at me out of his window. I’m glad he doesn’t stop to lecture me. I’m already shaking from the shock of such a close brush with death.
Elliot was right about the storm. There’s a sudden downpour of icy cold rain and within minutes I’m completely soaked through. It’s incredibly dangerous cycling up here in this weather. I jump off the bike and start pushing it along the grass verge next to the road, hands freezing in the wind and rain.
After a few paces, I try holding the bike with one hand and putting the other hand in my pocket to warm it up. I feel something in my pocket. I pull it out to see what it is. The knotted blue canvas flaps in my fingers.
What was it that homeless man – Robert – said? Something about when you want the wind to change. The knots are intricate and my hands are wet and cold, but I’ve still got a couple of miles to go and the sky is threatening another downpour. I duck behind a gorse bush to try to escape the weather. I sit on the grass and lay the bike down beside me.
It takes me several minutes. I keep telling myself I don’t know why I’m bothering. I’m probably just wasting time and being stupid. But something about the strange things that have been happening to me recently makes me think it’s worth trying. Anyway I’m curious. Gradually I manage to loosen the first of the three knots with my freezing fingers.
At first I don’t notice the wind dying down. I’m too cold to think. Then as I finally undo the very last part of the knot, the wind drops. I stand up shakily. There’s no more than a light breeze blowing. The rain’s stopped completely. A feeble ray of sun breaks through the clouds and lights up the tufted grass at my feet.
Did that really happen?
I think back to what Robert said in the graveyard. Folk don’t appreciate the old ways. Surely the charm can’t really have made the weather change?
I stuff it back into my pocket and climb on the bike again. I’m still soaked through and shivering. I feel very wary about cycling again at first, but soon realize I can control the bike now there isn’t a gale blowing.
As I pedal along the cliff road, I keep going over it in my mind. The wind turned from gale force to a breeze in minutes. I didn’t imagine it. Only a few weeks ago I’d have said it was coincidence. But some part of me sensed the power in that knot as I was undoing it. I think it was the charm. It actually worked.
I get to the downhill stretch of the cliff road leading to Ancrows. I could freewheel down this hill in minutes. My pulse quickens now I’m getting close to seeing Mamwyn. I have no idea what’s happening to me, but I need answers. And soon.
By the time I reach the bottom of the hill, I’m travelling at speed. Suddenly a woman steps out into the road in front of me.
“Look out!” I shout.
The brakes squeal as my fingers squeeze the levers as hard as they can. I swerve the bike to avoid her and nearly go over the handlebars as I screech to a halt.
“Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” The woman is really shouting at me.
We recognize each other at exactly the same moment. It’s Elliot’s Aunty Bea.
“You! I might have known. Your sort are nothing but trouble. Always were, always will be. Just keep away from me.”
I stare at her blankly. It was her fault she nearly got run over, but there’s no point in saying so. She pushes her face closer to mine.
“And you can keep away from Elliot too, or I’ll make you sorry you ever met. I won’t have him mixing with the devil’s own.” She spits at me. “A curse on you sea people.”
I’m so shocked and upset, I don’t say anything back to her. She turns and quickly disappears down a path between the houses. I sit astride Michelle’s bike with my feet on the ground, shaken by what just happened. I breathe deeply in the cold air, fighting back the tears and trying to recover myself. The devil’s own? What’s that about?
And what did she mean by “sea people”?
chapter 18
I struggle along the narrow lane leading to the harbour, still reeling from the encounter with Aunty Bea. I try to calm myself down as I push the bike up the narrow passage to Mamwyn’s house.
The blue door opens before I reach it. Mamwyn looks delighted to see me.
“Danni! I was expecting you. It’s turned out to be a perfect evening for it.”
“A perfect evening for what?” I ask.
“The stormy weather might have made things difficult but that seems to have passed over now. Come in. Let me find you something dry to wear, you look half drowned!”
I chain Michelle’s bike to the railings and follow Mamwyn into her front room. I’d almost forgotten how incredible her house is. The mosaic dolphins and fish dance in the flickering light of the fire, making the walls look alive.
I’m not sure why, but I immediately feel safe. Almost as if I’ve come home.
I sit on Mamwyn’s sofa, wearing a threadbare purple velour dressing gown. It’s meant to be floor length but it only comes down to my calves because she’s shorter than me. My clothes are hanging by the range in the kitchen to dry.
Mamwyn pokes the fire. It’s all so homely, I can’t understand why Mum never brought me here.
“Why didn’t Mum ever tell me about you? I didn’t even know you existed.”
“She wanted to protect you.” Mamwyn’s voice is steady, but she looks sad.
“That’s crazy. Protect me from what?”
“It was very difficult for her growing up in Ancrows. She didn’t want you to suffer the way she did.”
“Why? I don’t get it. What made it so bad?”
Mamwyn is quiet for a moment. She stares into the fire as she answers. “It was when the new minister came. He and his followers shunned p
eople like us.”
“You mean Crawford? The one who killed a boy?”
“Crawford.” Mamwyn almost hisses the name. “Such a nasty piece of work. Though there are those who would still disagree. Most of the village were in his congregation at one time.”
A thought occurs to me. “Did you know the boy – the one he killed?”
Mamwyn’s voice softens. “Oh yes. He was called Billy. Such a sweet child.” Her eyes fill with tears.
“Did Mum know him too?”
“Of course. He was her Robert’s little brother.”
Her Robert? For a moment I’m speechless.
“You mean Mum went out with that homeless man?”
“Up to that time, Mary – your mother – and Robert were always together.” Mamwyn’s tears fall and she wipes them on her sleeve. “When Billy died, that was the end of it. Robert nearly went mad with the grief. Started living rough. Mary moved away after she testified at Crawford’s trial. Changed her name and everything. She didn’t want to come back again and she doesn’t to this day. Only when she has to.”
“What do you mean, has to?”
“She needs to return to the sea sometimes. It’s our way.”
“But if she hates coming here so much, why not go to the sea somewhere else? Even Graymouth’s by the sea!”
Mamwyn smiles. “It wouldn’t be the same. She needs to come here.”
I still don’t get it and I feel annoyed.
“So why didn’t she bring me? She could at least have told me about you!”
“But if she’d told you, you’d have wanted to visit. She thought it would be dangerous for you.”
“Why?”
“You don’t know how it was after Crawford came. Before that it wasn’t a problem. Sea people were just accepted as part of the community.”
“What does ‘sea people’ mean anyway?”
“Sea people means us, Danni. Our family. We are special. But some people just don’t understand. They fear what they don’t know. Even now there are some round here that would prefer us dead.”
A chill runs down my spine. “Like Elliot’s Aunty Bea,” I mutter.
Mamwyn picks up on what I said immediately. “Bea? You mean Beryl? Her that went to school with my Mary? She’s evil, that one. What’s she said to you?”
I’m taken aback. So Aunty Bea is the Beryl in Mum’s diary. The one she hates. That explains a lot.
“I just saw her in the village. She cursed and spat at me.”
“Keep away from her, Danni. And her family. They’re poppet makers. Always been trouble.”
“Poppet makers?” It sounds harmless enough to me but it’s obvious Mamwyn doesn’t think so.
“Little figures for putting curses on people. They call ’em poppets, though I don’t know why. There’s nothing nice about them. Before Crawford’s time, people would pay her family to make them. It takes a family like Beryl’s to make a poppet. It’s in their blood. Cursing is all they’re good for.”
I don’t say anything. Elliot comes from a family of curse makers. That’s not what I want to hear. He’s the only friend I’ve got round here.
“So who’s this Elliot?”
Mamwyn doesn’t miss a trick.
“He works in Dad’s shop. Bea – Beryl is his aunt. But he doesn’t like her either.”
She looks at me steadily for a moment.
“Well you be careful around them. Remember, it’s in their blood. That’s all I’m saying.”
She stands up and pokes the fire again, then turns to me and smiles. “Anyway, that’s more than enough about the past, girl. This is your time now. The moon is still waxing, and that’s a good time for new beginnings. Come through to the kitchen and we’ll start to prepare for tonight.”
My heart starts pounding in my chest like a hammer.
“Actually I can’t stay that long. I haven’t got any lights on the bike. I just popped over to see you, that’s all…”
She looks directly into my eyes. “Danni, you’re afraid because you know something is happening to you, don’t you? Think about it. The water. The dreams. You can’t just ignore it. It won’t go away.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” I’m angry and close to tears. She’s right – I am scared.
“You need to understand what’s happening so you can stop fearing it, but I can’t do anything to help unless you let me.”
“Does it have to be this evening?” I feel like everything’s slipping out of my control and I want to take it back.
“There won’t be a better time, but you can put it off if you want.”
I finger the wind charm in my pocket for a few seconds and don’t say anything. I didn’t ask for any of this and I’m afraid. I’d much rather go home and pretend everything’s normal. But deep down, I know she’s right. I have no choice. I need to know what’s happening to me.
“Okay,” I say.
She smiles. “So call your father and tell him you’re staying.”
I reach in my bag for my phone.
As the light outside fades in the early evening, Mamwyn bustles round the kitchen. She went upstairs earlier and changed, and she’s now wearing a very odd-looking flowery garment that’s somewhere between a baggy dress and a dressing gown. I’ve seen them before in vintage shops. It looks a bit like it’s made of curtain material and has big pockets. I’m amazed anyone would actually choose to wear one.
She catches me staring. “What’s the matter? This is my favourite housecoat. It’s very practical.”
I smile sheepishly, and watch as she scrabbles in a drawer in the kitchen table and pulls out a box of matches. She pops it in her pocket. She hums softly as she takes some drying herbs off a hook and shoves them in the other pocket. Then she looks up at me.
“We’re almost ready. Just need to find you some dry shoes.”
She disappears into the front room and I hear her going back up the stairs. A minute later she comes back with a pair of hideous orange Crocs and hands them to me.
“You expect me to wear them?”
“What’s wrong with them?” She looks puzzled.
“Er, nothing. Just not a big fan of orange.” I slip them on my feet and wiggle my toes. They’re surprisingly comfortable, but I’m so glad none of my friends can see me.
“Ready?” She smiles encouragingly.
Suddenly I’m nervous again. My mouth goes dry and my pulse starts racing in anticipation.
“I guess. So what exactly are we going to do?”
“It’s best we just get on with it and you ask me questions later. Don’t look so worried. You’ll be fine! Just follow me.”
She pulls back a rush mat from the flagstone floor. One of the stones underneath has an iron ring set in it, which has been carefully recessed into the slate so the mat will lie flat and cover it.
Mamwyn bends down and pulls the heavy ring. The slate slides back easily, revealing a yawning pit below. A stone stairwell leads down into total blackness. It looks ancient. There are dents in the centre of each step where the stone has been worn away by use. My heart feels like it’s beating so loudly Mamwyn must be able to hear it.
“We’re not going down there, are we? It looks seriously creepy.”
“It’s just a passage. You won’t come to any harm. Best not to think about it too much.” I guess she’s trying to reassure me, but I’m not happy about going down into the dark. I go to get my phone from my rucksack.
“Just leave your stuff on the table,” she says. “You won’t need it where we’re going.”
Great. So I can’t even take my phone in case of emergencies. I hesitate, then realize there’s probably no signal down there anyway. I may as well leave it.
“There’s no need to be afraid, girl. This is a special time. You’ve inherited the family gift. And it’s wonderful!” She smiles so broadly, I know she means it. But I’ve seen the page in Mum’s diary.
I don’t want the bloody gift. I just want to be normal.
Mamwyn takes down a couple of candle lanterns from a kitchen shelf and lights the candles inside. The smell of sulphur from the matches hangs in the air as she passes a lantern to me.
“Before we set out, you must swear an oath never to tell anyone about what happens in the ceremony. Otherwise the gift will be lost to us.”
“Okay,” I say.
She looks at me hard.
“If you don’t hold to the promise, you’ll put all our lives in danger. People may think they know about us, and some of what they believe may be true. But no one must ever witness the changing, and you can’t talk about it. Ever. Not even to your life partner.”
I look her in the eye. She’s deadly serious.
I nod.
“Okay. I swear.”
I’m hoping it won’t be a difficult secret to keep.
Mamwyn smiles.
“Always remember, it’s a gift,” she says. “You go first, I have to close the doorway after us.” She holds her lantern high and points down the steep stone stairs.
Doorway? I suppose she means she’s moving the flagstone back into place when we’ve gone down. I feel the panic rising as I take the first step. The smell of ancient stone and earth rises from below, along with a hint of something else I can’t quite place. A bit like a bonfire a few days after it’s burned out. The closeness of the stone surrounding me is oppressive.
“Keep going!” says Mamwyn.
I go down a few more steps and the stairs start to spiral. The sound of our footfall echoes down into the well of darkness below. I’m glad I’ve got a lantern so I can see where to put my feet. It’s like going down inside a lighthouse, the steps going round and round so you can’t see the bottom until you get there. I don’t know how many I’ve gone down already but it seems a lot. Suddenly they come to an abrupt end and my foot lands on a floor of packed earth and bedrock. I’m in a dark, low tunnel.
Mamwyn comes down the steps right behind me and brushes past so she can lead the way.
“Come along!” she says. She sounds so happy and ordinary, as if we’re just heading to the kitchen for a cup of tea and a slice of cake. I almost want to laugh. Stuck in a dark tunnel with some mad old woman, and no one even knows where I am.