Runners
Page 18
‘That’s Doll, whispered the woman, ‘She’s my baby.’ The female cat jumped up and settled at the children’s feet, purring gently. Hazel took Sid’s hand and smiled at him. ‘You saved us all, Sid, saved our lives. Thank you.’ And she reached up to his face and kissed his smooth cheek.
Sid fell asleep almost immediately his head hit the pillow but was woken a couple of hours later by Gaz, snoring. The painter had abandoned his comfortable mattress for the rug on the wooden floor. It was Izzi who now spread his woolly body across the bed next to Sid, on his back, legs in the air. Sid smiled to himself in the dark.
Next morning they woke to wreaths of sea mist covering the island and harbour. Gaz was up first to check on his boat. Remarkably, there was no damage. Izzi accompanied him and walked around in the shallow water lapping on the harbour beach, nuzzling at crabs, pawing the floating weed. Hazel and Sid, after separate breakfasts, took a walk together along the little harbour wall past the cottages, where chickens pecked in an open field, stepping delicately between the feet of goats and a cow. A wren darted in and out of the top of an evergreen escalonia bush, appearing and disappearing like a diving bird. They passed cultivated fields of potatoes and Brussels sprouts, salad leaves and tomatoes, leafless belladonna lilies dotted between the rows of vegetables. Speckled-breasted thrushes walked and hopped along the rows spearing snails and caterpillars.
The boy and girl reached the top of Telegraph Hill, where a tall tower stood looking over the island. Sid pointed out the date inscribed on the granite – 1805. They climbed the tower and looked down through the blue clear water under which shone a white sand beach that revealed itself as the mist rose and swirled. The sound of hammering came from a yard where three men were building a boat. A small patch of blue appeared in the sky and light sparkled in a patch on the calm water like a thousand silver stars.
‘It’s perfect, Sid, isn’t it?’ They sat on a grassy patch and he made a daisy chain for her hair. When they went back towards the cottage they were confronted with what looked like the entire population of the island.
They all gathered in the old pub. Sid noted that the people were clean and well fed, and dressed in clean, patched clothes, with sturdy shoes. The questions poured out.
‘What news is there from the mainland?’
‘Are there still Reducers?’
‘TA still in control of Cornwall, is it?’
‘Are there any animals left?’
‘There’s rabbits,’ said Lo, proudly. ‘And a milk-cow,’ she added, clasping the hand of her new friend, Doll.
‘Are you the only people here?’ asked Sid of one of the men whose cottage he had slept in.
‘Used to be more, but most of the able-bodied have left to find higher lands – Wales or Ireland, Scotland maybe. More of us intend sailing off soon, if you’re interested, lad?’
There were half a dozen children and three babies, and an old man and woman. The other islanders were about the same age as his parents, or younger. Several of the women were far gone in pregnancy.
‘Well, with you, there are now thirty-five of us, and you’re very welcome,’ said one of the men they had met the night before. He seemed to be in charge.
‘Make that thirty-four,’ said Gaz.
‘What do you mean, Gaz?’ Sid looked at him.
‘I’m not staying,’ he said. ‘Got to get back, thank you kindly.’ He tentatively put a finger to his injured forehead.
‘But you said…’
‘I said I’d bring you, not stay, boy.’
‘But we need you, Gaz,’ he implored.
‘You don’t need me, not no more, you don’t.’ The stern-faced, weather-beaten man put a hand on Sid’s shoulder and smiled gently at him. Sid was surprised to realise that they were practically the same height.
At the slipway the islanders gathered. Gaz had been given a sack of potatoes, eggs, greens, and a bottle of home-brew. He took Sid’s hand and shook it hard, hugged him, and too emotional to speak, removed the string with the cockleshell pendant from around his neck and placed it over the boy’s head. Hazel and Lo hugged him and he patted Izzi, who yapped in excitement. At the last moment, as Gaz was about to cast off, the dog leaped into the boat.
‘Get on out, boy, said Gaz. ‘You’re not coming along of me.’ The dog obeyed, dropping his head in disappointment.
‘No, you take Izzi, Gaz,’ said Sid. ‘He’ll help you with the fishing.’ He gave the dog a quick hug, and Izzi whined as if he knew that he was leaving Sid here.
‘You sure, boy?’ the man asked.
Sid nodded and gave the dog a last scratch between his ears. The dog whined softly and gave Sid a paw.
Sid said, ‘Go, Izzi, go.’ And the dog leapt into the boat and stood at the bow, wagging his tail.
Gaz saluted and nodded a silent thank you as he cast off from the slipway.
The sun was breaking through the morning mist, transforming the fogbound little harbour to a colourful scene of fishing nets and lobster pots, boats bobbing on the opal-green water. Cottages appeared floating in the wreaths of mist. Red seaweeds waved languidly under the water. Oyster-catchers called mournfully as they skimmed the rocks. The sea sparkled like a beaten silver dish. Gaz turned to gaze back at the island. He was looking forward to peace and quiet and getting back to painting. But more importantly, he had to know that Sand, who he and Rose had named Jenny, was safe. If the worst came to the worst and the Reducers came back to the valley, he would take Sand, Stella, and the farmer to the island. As he sailed past the end of the stone pier and the entrance to the harbour he gave one last wave before turning to look towards his goal.
Hazel and Sid clasped hands firmly and stood watching the little boat as it sailed away.
Seven young herring gulls in the mottled brown plumage of their first season followed a powerful adult male. Calling to each other, they flew above the boat towards Land’s End.
‘Be good, be safe,’ called Lo, her voice whisked away by the wind.
Other Books from Ann Kelley & Luath Press
The Burying Beetle
The first book in The Gussie Series, The Burying Beetle was shorlisted for the Brandford Boase Award and was selected for the WHSmith New Talent Initiative.
It was after I ate King that everything started to go wrong in our entire family, as if someone had put an evil spell onto us, a hex - like a bad fairy godmother had said at my birth, when you are eleven you are going to be struck by a sorrow so big it will be like a lightning bolt. There will be grief like a sharp rock in your throat. Twelve-year-old Gussie was born with a rare, life-threatening heart disease, but it hasn't hampered her curiosity. When she reads about the Burying Beetle, which has the unusual habit of burying dead birds, mice, and other small animals by digging away the earth beneath them, it becomes her mission to find one. As she searches the Cornish coast for the elusive insect, Gussie learns be like the Burying Beetle, to bury things past and to live.
The Burying Beetle is available from Luath Press, as an eBook, and from all good bookshops. Visit http://www.luath.co.uk/the-burying-beetle.html for more information.
The Bower Bird
The Bower Bird won the 2007 Costa Children's Award and the UK literacy Association Book Award. The Bower Bird also won the 2008 Cornish Literary Guild's Literary Salver. The Bower Bird is the second book in the Gussie series.
Gussie is twelve years old, loves animals and wants to be a photographer when she grows up. The only problem is that she's unlikely to ever grown up.
'I had open heart surgery last year, when I was eleven, and the healing process hasn't finished yet. I now have an amazing scar that cuts me in half almost, as if I have survived a shark attack'.
Gussie needs a heart and lung transplant, but the donor list is as long as her arm and she can't wait around that long. Gussie has things to do; finding her ancestors, coping with her parents' divorce, and keeping an eye out for the wildlife in her garden.
REVIEWS:
'B
rilliant' THE MAIL ON SUNDAY
'I'm pleased to be able to announce that Gussie has lived to see another day with Kelley capturing so beautifully Gussie's optimism and hope.' SUE BAKER'S PERSONAL CHOICE, PUBLISHING NEWS
'The world of life and death, beauty and truth seen through the eyes of a 12 year old girl. A rare and beautiful book of lasting quality - we felt this is a voice that needs to be heard and read.' COSTA AWARD JUDGES
'It's a lovely book - lyrical, funny, full of wisdom. Gussie is such a dear - such a delight and a wonderful character, bright and sharp and strong, never to be pitied for an instant.' HELEN DUNMORE, author of 'Ingo'
The Bower Bird is available from Luath Press, as an eBook, and from all good bookshops. Visit http://www.luath.co.uk/the-bower-bird.html for more information.
Inchworm
The third book in the Gussie series. Gussie is a twelve year old girl from St. Ives in Cornwall. She is passionate about learning, wildlife, poetry, literature, and she wants to be a photographer when she grows up. But her dreams were put on hold as she struggled with a serious heart condition. Now she has got what she needed: a heart and lung transplant. But it isn't working out quite the way she thought. Firstly she has to leave her beloved Cornwall to live in London and in the months following her operation she is unable to do very much except read and adopt a stray kitten, but she could do that when she was sick. She craves adventure and experience beyond her four walls, until, that is, she hits upon a plan - she is going to get her divorced parents to fall in love again. It's not going to be easy, her mum is still dating her doctor boyfriend and despises Gussie's father, who happens to be living with his new girlfriend - the Snow Queen. But Gussie is a determined girl and there is only one thing that could stop her now.
REVIEWS
'Not many books around that you can give to anyone of any age and be sure of an appreciative audience, but Kelley does it beautifully in this, the third in the Gussie series, following the well-deserved Costa Category award for The Bower Bird.' SUE BAKER's Personal Choice, PUBLISHING NEWS
'A great book.' THE INDEPENDENT
'You have to read it, and it will stay with you forever!' TEEN TITLES
Inchworm is available from Luath Press, as an eBook, and from all good bookshops. Visit http://www.luath.co.uk/inchworm.html for more information.
A Snail’s Broken Shell
The fourth book in the Gussie series. For the first time in years Gussie can run, climb and jump. Every breath she takes is easier now, and every step more confident, but Gussie can't help wondering about her donor. Was she young? Had she been very sick or was there an accident? And with her new life comes a whole new set of problems. She is going back to school at last - but she doesn't know anyone her own age, with the exception of Siobhan, the girl she hates most in the world. With school not meeting up to her expectations, Gussie turns to her old pastimes of birdwatching and photography, but troubling news awaits her there too. And then lightning strikes and Gussie must act at once...
A Snail’s Broken Shell is available from Luath Press, as an eBook, and from all good bookshops. Visit http://www.luath.co.uk/a-snail-s-broken-shell.html for more information.
The Light at St Ives
France has Montmartre, Prague has Mala Strana and England has St Ives, an enclave where artists can create freely and showcase their works to the world. Costa winner award Ann Kelley has already proved to be an excellent photographer with her previous books Sea Front: A Cornish Souvenir and Paper Whites: Photographs and Poems. Ann Kelley expresses herself in photographs as if they were words. Her style is simple but special, careful and delicate and her photographs genuinely capture the atmosphere of this beautiful Cornish town.
The Light at St Ives is available from Luath Press and from all good bookshops. Visit http://www.luath.co.uk/the-light-at-st-ives.html for more information.
Luath Press Limited
committed to publishing well written books worth reading
LUATH PRESS takes its name from Robert Burns, whose little collie Luath (Gael., swift or nimble) tripped up Jean Armour at a wedding and gave him the chance to speak to the woman who was to be his wife and the abiding love of his life. Burns called one of ‘The Twa Dogs’ Luath after Cuchullin’s hunting dog in Ossian’s Fingal. Luath Press was established in 1981 in the heart of Burns country, and is now based a few steps up the road from Burns’ first lodgings on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile.
Luath offers you distinctive writing with a hint of unexpected pleasures.
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