by Kate Blair
“That suits you,” I said, pointing at her hair when she let go. She grinned, and bent down to stroke Tonic, who purred as she rubbed against my legs. She sauntered past us both, tail up, into Grandpa’s house.
No, into our home. I’d have to get used to that.
Janet bobbed forward, arms out, leaning in for a hug as Mum stood and got out of the car. Mum reacted too slowly, probably still stiff from the drive.
Janet’s face fell, and she stepped back, awkwardly. “We decorated the house, like we used to for Uncle Chris. But perhaps we shouldn’t have. I mean, I know it’s your place now; Chloe and I just thought …”
“It’s wonderful. Come here.” Mum grabbed her cousin, pulling her into a tight hug.
There was a lot for us to deal with. Mum had endured decades of nightmares; had spent most of her life running. Chloe had to recover after five years of being turned to stone. Ollie would need professional help for the foreseeable future, and we’d all be mourning Grandpa for years. The grief was a raw wound, a hole in my chest that still took my breath when I thought of him. The funeral had been hard on all of us.
But in the weeks since, Ollie’s smile had peeked out a little more.
There would be bad days as well as good. The voice would keep talking to us, trying to keep us apart. We’d have to learn how to listen to each other, instead of it.
It wouldn’t be easy, but together, we could heal.
Over Mum’s shoulder, I saw Janet’s eyes fill with tears. She clutched at Mum as if she were a life belt. They didn’t let go for a long time.
I wondered how many other families were suffering. How many people were barely holding on, listening to the lies whispered in their heads. I wished I could talk to them. I wished I could tell them they weren’t alone. That they were loved, more fiercely and deeply than they could imagine.
Mum and Janet broke apart, but Mum kept her hand around her cousin’s shoulders. They stepped up into the house together, Janet wiping at her eyes. Chloe followed.
Ollie glanced back at me. “Come on, sis.” He held out his hand.
In front of him, the hall glittered with lights and tinsel. I took Ollie’s hand, and we stepped into our new home.
This was the story I wanted. The story of us. We’d write it together.
I was excited to see what would happen next.
Acknowledgements
Writing books is not a solitary pursuit. In fact, one of the best things about it is the community. I am lucky to have an amazing network of friends and professionals in my corner, all of whom make the process go better at every step of the way.
As always, major thanks to Barry Jowett, my publisher and editor, as well as the other lovely people at DCB and Cormorant, particularly Marc Côté. A special thank you to Emma Dolan for the wonderful cover, which I still can’t stop staring at.
Thanks to The Rights Factory. My fab agent and friend Lydia Möed was enthusiastic about this slightly odd story from the start, and I will miss working with her — but I am very grateful to Ali McDonald for taking this book on.
I am indebted to the Ontario Arts Council for their support. They help make writing time possible for so many of us.
Thanks also go to the Humber School for Writers and to my mentor, Tim Wynne Jones, whose wonderful insights helped me solve many problems in early drafts of this book, and let me see what was possible.
Thank you so, so much to everyone who read this book and gave me feedback through what felt like endless drafts: James Bow, Megan Crewe, Shalini Nanayakkara, Angela Misri, Claudia Osmond, Nicole Winters, Helaine Becker, Leah Bobet (whose encouragement came at the most necessary time), Ann Marie Meyers, Jocelyn Geddie and Jo Hope.
I read all of your comments so many times, and it often felt like you were talking to me when I rewrote. On the hardest days everything felt more possible with your voices guiding me with helpful feedback. Thank you so much for being the kind thoughts whispering in my head.
And thank you, most of all, to my family — both here and on Hayling. We might not all be together, but you’re always there for me, when I need it most.
Kate Blair is a native of Hayling Island, UK, and is now a Canadian citizen living in Toronto. She has written two novels for young adults. The first, Transferral, was a finalist for the Manitoba Young Readers’ Choice Award and the Saskatchewan Young Readers’ Choice Snow Willow Award, was longlisted for the Sunburst Award, and was a Canadian Children’s Book Centre Best Books for Kids and Teens Starred Selection. Her second novel, Tangled Planet, was also longlisted for the Sunburst Award, and received a Starred Review from School Library Journal. The Magpie’s Library is Blair’s first novel for middle-grade readers.
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