by Lu Hersey
“I’ll show you your room upstairs,” she says. “It used to be your mother’s. I’ve just felt your clothes by the stove and they’re not dry yet, so I’ll find you something else to wear. You’re still shivering and that dressing gown isn’t warm enough for you.”
I follow her up the tiny spiral staircase next to the enormous painted wooden mermaid. Mamwyn bustles into her room and I stand on the landing for a moment, staring at a picture carved into a whale’s tooth that’s hanging on the wall. It’s dated 1709 and the picture is of a sailing ship.
“Here you are, put these on.” Mamwyn has reappeared to hand me a garishly patterned jumper and large pair of navy-blue cotton trousers with an elasticated waist. I try to keep my face free from expression. I just hope my own clothes are dry by the morning. There’s no way I’m wearing this stuff back home. What if I bumped into Elliot again?
She shows me into Mum’s old room.
“You may as well keep the dressing gown up here for now since you haven’t any night things with you,” she says. She leaves the room and closes the door behind her.
The room is painted green. The faded curtains have a repeat pattern of a fleet of yachts racing past a red and white striped lighthouse, and the leaded window looks out onto a tiny yard at the back. The headland rises steeply behind it, so the house isn’t overlooked by anyone. The furniture consists of a bed, and a lamp on an old sea chest beside it. The room is almost as compact as a ship’s cabin. An extra door in the wall leads into a cupboard space where there’s a rail to hang clothes. It’s completely empty. I’m a bit disappointed. Mum hasn’t left anything here at all. I shut the cupboard and get changed quickly into the dry clothes.
A delicious smell of cooking drifts upstairs as I head down to the kitchen.
“Fancy some soup? It’s leek and potato.” Mamwyn is stirring a large pan on the range. The yeasty aroma of warm bread escapes into the room when she opens an iron door in the front.
Despite my recent experience of throwing up the mackerel, I’m starving. I’m practically dribbling as I sit down at the table.
“I’d love some, please. It smells wonderful.”
Mamwyn puts out two bowls for us. The bowls are different sizes and have different patterns. They look old, and I start wondering where she gets all the unusual things in her house. I guess they’re probably all finds from the sea, or debris washed up by the tide.
She brings the bread out of the oven and puts it in the centre of the table on a breadboard, then reaches into a drawer and hands me an alarming-looking knife with a bone handle.
“Cut the bread, could you? I’ll serve the soup.”
As I cut the bread, I think back to the day at Dad’s when the water first started coming through my hands. It feels so long ago, but it’s hardly any time at all. Since then, my life has been turned on its head.
Mamwyn puts a bowl of soup in front of me and I stop thinking about everything and tuck in immediately. It’s the best soup I’ve ever tasted. Everything feels so homely. Although I realize things went badly wrong for Mum when she lived here in Ancrows, I still can’t understand why she doesn’t visit.
“Does Mum really never come back to see you?” I ask.
“Like I said, she comes back because she has to, and I see her in passing. But she usually arrives when she knows I’ll be out. Often on the anniversary of my Joseph’s death when I’m up at the graveyard.”
I put my spoon down and stare at her.
“Why? That’s so mean!” I feel upset on Mamwyn’s behalf. She’s old and she looks so sad now she’s talking about it.
“She’s never forgiven me. She thinks I could have saved my Joseph.”
“My grandfather? How?”
“Fishermen don’t just marry sea people like us for love, you know.”
I stare at her, dismayed.
She smiles. “Don’t get me wrong, Danni. Love’s the most important ingredient in any marriage, and of course me and my Joseph did love each other. But in fishing villages like Ancrows, they’ve also heard tales of how we can help them get to land if anything happens at sea. How we’re supposed to be lucky for them.”
Tears well up in her eyes as she speaks. “Mary never understood what happened that night. I really couldn’t save him. And I wanted to, believe me. I wanted to so much.” A tear spills down her cheek and she wipes it away quickly with her apron.
My heart goes out to her. I feel bad, as I’ve obviously opened an old wound. I try to bring the subject back to Mum.
“If Mum blames you and doesn’t want to see you, why does she come back at all?”
“She has no choice. She has to go through the changing from time to time. If she doesn’t, the problems return.” Mamwyn catches my mystified expression. “You know, the seawater coming through your hands, the dreams – it all comes back if you leave it too long. Water is part of what we are. The gift is meant to be used.”
I get a sudden image of the pool of water on the work surface the day Mum disappeared. The wet chair in her room. So that’s what happened. She avoided going back. She left it too long.
“How long is too long, Mamwyn?”
“I’m not sure. She comes here about once a year, so probably no longer than that.”
It begins to dawn on me why Mum might see the family gift as a curse. She can’t get away from it. She has to return here whether she wants to or not. And that means I will too. Right now it doesn’t seem such a hardship, but what if it becomes a problem, like it is for Mum?
I start to think about Elliot. Would I ever be able to tell him? How would he react?
“Mamwyn, how much did you tell your husband – did he know about the changing?”
“Like I said, you should never talk about it, even with those you’re closest to. And they must never, ever witness any part of the transformation.”
“But what about the cave and everything? He lived in the same house as you, didn’t he ever go down there?”
“I said it was an old smuggler’s tunnel. I told him it was dangerous. I only went down myself when I knew it was safe because he was out at sea. But of course he’d heard about sea people. The whole village knew the legends.”
“So didn’t he ask you about it? Or try to follow you?”
She hesitates, just for a second, but long enough for me to notice.
“He knew more than he should. But it was all right before Crawford came, people respected the old ways. They knew better than to ask too many questions.”
“I can’t imagine anyone I know not being curious enough to want to go down there and take a look.”
Mamwyn looks thoughtful. “Maybe. And maybe not. But there’s no point you worrying about it – keeping the cave hidden isn’t a problem for you while I’m the only one living here.”
She smiles at me.
I attempt a smile back. She’s right. I’m jumping ahead of myself. But I still get the feeling that there’s something she’s not telling me.
By the time we finish our soup, I’ve practically fallen asleep.
“You need to go upstairs and get a good night’s rest,” she says.
I want to ask so many more questions, but I’m exhausted and I figure they’ll keep until morning. She’s right. It’s time for bed.
I wake to the smell of frying bacon. I feel fantastic. It’s the first night I haven’t been woken by nightmares since Mum left. I jump up and reach for my dry clothes, which Mamwyn put on the chest next to the bed last night.
Now it’s daylight, I notice how badly the sea chest is damaged. There’s a big chunk hacked out of the front, as if someone had to cut the lock out. It’s a shame because the chest looks valuable. It’s made of very dark wood, carved in patterns around the edges, and is obviously very old. Whoever cut the lock out must have been really clumsy, as there are gouges in the surrounding wood. I can’t resist gently lifting the lid to see if it opens. It does. The chest is empty and smells of dust and wood. There are a couple of dead woodlice at
the bottom. I shut it again quickly and pull my clothes on.
“Morning, Danni – would you like some breakfast?”
I nod enthusiastically. Mamwyn looks delighted to see me. I wonder how much time she has to spend on her own, and feel angry with Mum all of a sudden. Keeping me from Mamwyn seems so selfish. Whatever happened to her in the past in Ancrows, there’s no excuse. I had to grow up with only Mum for company most of the time and now I feel like I’ve really missed out. She’s even been difficult about me seeing Dad, especially since he moved here.
Suddenly I picture Mum as she is now, lying in hospital, and I feel terrible. I wonder how long it will be before they try some new treatment on her. Then I remember something Mamwyn said when I first met her.
“Mamwyn, you said only you and I could help Mum. How come? Surely the hospital can do something?”
Mamwyn puts a delicious plate of cooked breakfast in front of each of us and sits down. She looks at me across the kitchen table.
“You don’t know what’s wrong with her, do you?” she says.
“No. I have no idea.”
The old woman’s eyes fill with sadness again. “She’s lost her sealskin. I’ve been worried out of my mind for over a week. I found her clothes in the cave so I knew she’d been here.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “But her sealskin is missing. It’s no longer on the ledge.”
I sit with my fork poised in the air a moment, while the enormity of what she’s just said slowly sinks in.
“Can we get her another skin?” I whisper.
But I already know the answer. I feel the connection with my sealskin, even now. A bond. It’s a part of me.
Mamwyn shakes her head. “That’s like asking if we can get her a new soul. Of course not. She needs her own. When I gave you your skin last night, I told you it was yours for your lifetime.”
“So where did it come from? I don’t understand.”
“The skins were given to us by the seals at the beginning of time, back when animals and men still spoke to each other.”
I laugh. “Really? And when was that supposed to be?”
She doesn’t smile. “I’m only telling you what was told to me. I don’t know, because I wasn’t there. But I believe it to be true.”
My mind is whirring, trying to tell me it’s just a story. It’s too far-fetched, impossible. But I already know there is truth in the legends about sea people.
“Does this mean others have had my skin in the past?” I shiver slightly at the thought, remembering how I felt a sense of other people going through the same experience when I first touched my sealskin.
“Of course! Many, many sea people will have owned it over the centuries. The skins have been passed down from generation to generation. They’re our legacy. Our gift.”
“Are we the only sea people?”
“I was told there were once many of us, a whole tribe – and there may still be others out there. I don’t know. I’ve never seen any and neither did my mother, but before that I’m not sure. What I do know is that when I die, my skin will be put back on the ledge until the next youngster is ready to take it on. That’s when it comes alive again.”
“Are there other skins in the cave besides ours?”
“Yes, but they’re all lying dormant now. They wait for their next owner to be born. In a sense, the skin chooses you.”
The significance of what she’s saying sinks in. “So there’s no way Mum’s skin can be replaced?”
“Never. And worse. The way she’s behaving, it’s as if her skin’s no longer in this world.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just think about your sealskin, Danni. Close your eyes. Picture it in your mind for a moment.”
I do as she says. Suddenly I can visualize the skin clearly, sparkling slightly in the dark of the cave, waiting until I return. Even just imagining that makes me feel good.
“I can tell you see it from your expression. Now think about your poor mother.”
I feel myself welling up as I realize the truth. “She can’t see hers, can she, Mamwyn?”
“No, I’m afraid she can’t.”
The tears spill down my face. “So how on earth are we supposed to find it?”
chapter 21
I have to get back to Dad’s so he doesn’t start worrying about me. But as I unchain my bike from the railings, Mamwyn and I are still trying to think of something we can do to help Mum. We’ve been going round in circles talking about it for the past half-hour.
Mamwyn tells me she’s already searched the beach at Porthenys and didn’t find any sign of the lost sealskin.
“I can carry on looking across all the other local beaches, in case it washes up somewhere,” she says, watching me put the bike chain in my rucksack.
“But what if someone sees you? Be careful, won’t you, Mamwyn?”
“They won’t see me, don’t worry. There are ways to manage these things. No one really notices us in seal form, anyway.”
“Maybe I can keep checking the beach at Cararth while I’m at Dad’s. Save you looking there.”
“Good idea. We may as well keep looking. It’s the best we can do for now, even though…”
“Even though what?”
“Nothing. Just that feeling…something’s not right. Can’t put my finger on it.”
I give her a hug. “Try not to worry. I’ll come back as soon as I can get away from Dad and the shop. We can go over it again, and see if you’ve figured it out.”
I wheel the bike down the narrow alley back to the harbour road, waving as I go round the corner.
The minute I leave Mamwyn’s I start to dread what it’s going to be like when I get home. Thank goodness Dad’s usually so oblivious to what’s going on. I’ve no idea how I’ll manage to pretend everything’s normal.
I keep a sharp lookout for Elliot’s Aunty Bea as I reach the main street in Ancrows. I decide to take the longer way out of the village, avoiding the very steep hill where I ran into her yesterday. The cottages in Ancrows are old, all painted in muted colours and most with grey slate roofs. Many have tiny gardens at the front, where primroses and daffodils are out. It looks like a picture postcard of the perfect Cornish village, yet I now know there are things going on here that people couldn’t begin to guess at.
As I walk up the winding road out of Ancrows, I notice a tiny lane leading off to my left. There are no houses along it, just an old, boarded-up petrol garage on one side. The rusting petrol pumps look like something from another era. Elder bushes and buddleia have sprouted out of the cracked concrete forecourt. I catch sight of something glinting in the shrubbery and look more closely. My heart suddenly skips a beat when I realize what I’m looking at. Mum’s car. Parked in amongst the buddleia, tucked against the wall. No wonder the police couldn’t find it.
I look behind me to see if anyone’s watching, but the road is empty. It’s still early. I push the bike down the lane so I can check the car. Mum obviously parked it here to keep it hidden. It seems she didn’t want anyone to know she was in the village. If Mum hadn’t lost her sealskin, Mamwyn might not have known she’d been to Ancrows at all.
The car doors are locked. Mamwyn didn’t say anything about finding Mum’s car keys with her clothes, so I reckon they must be here. I rest the bike against the wall and kneel on the cold concrete so I can feel under the wheel arches. I fumble round and finally touch cold metal on top of one of the tyres at the back. Thought so. I’ve known her to hide the keys like this before.
I grab the key and open the car. She didn’t leave anything inside, not even under the seats. I get out and open the boot to see if I can find something there.
Mum’s handbag is hidden under the coat she wears to work. A quick rummage reveals her house keys, her purse and her make-up. The bag smells of damp leather.
I can’t decide whether to take it with me or not. I don’t want to draw attention to the fact that Mum left her car here in case people start asking questions about how
she got to Porthenys. In the end, I just take her purse, make-up and house keys, and shove it all into the flowery basket on the front of Michelle’s bike. I leave the bag where I found it in the boot. I put the car key back on the tyre, carefully checking to make sure no one’s watching me.
I can take her make-up into the hospital next time I visit. I feel a wave of sadness when I think about it. She doesn’t need it. She won’t even be aware that I’ve brought it in. One of the nurses would have to put it on for her and they probably don’t have time. Worse, her condition won’t change, whatever treatment they give her, until I can find her sealskin.
I get on Michelle’s bike and head back to Cararth with a heavy heart.
“Hi, Danni, guess what? The drains flooded at school! There was poo floating over the playground so Dad had to bring us back.” Michelle has her party dress on and is playing some elaborate fairy game.
Pink netting stretches all around the front room. I’m not sure, but I think it’s meant to be fairyland. I’m so glad she’s here. It means I haven’t been immediately bombarded with questions by Dad about why I stayed at Mamwyn’s last night.
I smile at Michelle. “Who’s this?” I point to a girl in a silver-sequinned outfit who’s staring at me shyly from behind the netting.
“That’s Sasha. She’s my friend.”
“Hi, Sasha, Shell’s friend,” I say. I notice Jackson is sparkling slightly too, and a closer inspection reveals a light covering of pink glitter in his fur. He’s also wearing silver tinsel round his collar. Poor Jackson.
“Do you want to play with us, Danni?”
“Thanks for the offer, Shell, but I’d better do some schoolwork.” I grin at them both and back out of the room.
It’s true, I probably should do some schoolwork, but I feel too restless. I wish I could go and see Elliot straight away to try and make up for cycling off in such a hurry yesterday, but I can’t. He’ll be at school.
I decide to take Jackson down to the beach before I attempt anything else. I want a chance to look for Mum’s sealskin before I have to be at the shop with Dad answering loads of his stupid questions, or worse, trying to do a project for school.