by Julia Jones
Ellen’s heart went out to this big, sad woman but she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t communicate without Donny there and she suspected that Skye might be afraid of her. People often were. It had been years since she lived in a family.
She thought of all the sailing yarns she had ever read. She thought of the long cold days and nights she herself had endured with only Strong Winds and Eirene’s parrot for company. She fetched the bottle of ship’s brandy and knelt awkwardly beside Skye to offer her a medicinal swig.
It was the worst thing she could have done.
CHAPTER NINE
Neaped
Sunday 1 October
Some of the waitresses from the Floating Lotus came down to the harbour to see them off the next morning. They were giggly and lively once they’d stopped being shy. They ran along the breakwater waving at Strong Winds. Ai Qin wasn’t there but Donny noticed the big chef standing somewhere near the RNLI shop, as if he was keeping watch over the girls.
The sea was so much calmer. It almost looked like a different place – except there were still waves breaking on the hidden shoals to either side of the entrance channel. This area of the sea was littered with wrecks, Gold Dragon said. Ships that had gone down within sight of safety, drowning everyone on board. Their families watching helplessly.
The morning sun dried the last patches of damp out of Strong Winds’ sails. Donny was glad to be sailing again. He reckoned he did his thinking best at sea and yesterday’s story had left him with a lot of thinking to do. What would he have decided if he’d been Eirene? Or Henry?
There was no doubt that Granny had been a brilliant mum to Skye. Caring for her, fighting for her, keeping her alive and safe must have gone as far as anything could to soothe the terrible grief she suffered after the loss of her brothers. And then she’d done the same for him as well.
He could understand how Henry must have felt when he realised that he and Eirene had brought that disease to his people. Far worse than him and Skye smashing up Snow Goose.
But he couldn’t make up his mind what he thought about Eirene. Mothers should always stay with their children. Shouldn’t they?
Skye had already gone to her bunk before he and Luke had come back last night. She had a small foc’sle cabin that Polly Lee had previously used as a storage space for ropes and sails. Lots of Strong Winds’ spare equipment had been left behind in China so as to make space for him and Skye to bring their possessions on board. It was a pity they had so little to bring.
He should maybe have tried harder to find his mum a dream- catcher. Hers had been forgotten in the hospital and he’d given his to Luke back in the vicarage. He thought he’d heard her moving about the cabin in the very early morning, sort of moaning and searching. But after their long day at sea, and the delicious meal, Donny had slept too well.
They took the inshore passage this time. Sailed past low sandy cliffs and long stretches of shingle beach; past seaside towns and the mouths of unknown rivers. The air was as clear as if it had been rinsed by yesterday’s rainstorms: the waves as glittery as if they were auditioning for parts in a holiday advertising campaign.
Donny mostly saw reminders of war – Martello towers with slits for windows, concrete pillboxes that might have housed a gun, radar-monitoring stations which were dead and quiet now.
“Cold War,” said Great Aunt Ellen as they passed concentric rings of metal masts on the marshes before Orford. Then, about an hour later, she stared at some low, reddish-coloured cliffs in amazement. “But everything’s gone!”
“What’s gone? Does it matter?”
“Perhaps not. But it should ...”
“What should?”
“Everything that’s gone. The people. The technology. The scientific brilliance.”
“More war-time stuff?”
“Stuff you call it! Stuff that saved us in our darkest hour!”
“Okay, I guess ... Didn’t you ever hear from them again?”
“Who? Oh, Eirene and Henry? No. And if you’re about to ask me whether I ever went looking, yes, I did. I called in ports that I wouldn’t otherwise have chosen and I asked questions that were roundabout and casual. We’d all agreed, you see, that we had to let them go. They were never to look back. It was to be the longest road. Edith had the baby. And I ... I had Eirene’s parrot. And her flag. It was supposed to be enough.”
“They probably died.”
“And if they didn’t then, they would have done by now. I’m eighty-something dammit and I was the youngest of them all. Fatally much younger ... Do stop brooding, Sinbad. Come and take the helm for a while. Better still, persuade your mother to come and take it with you. You can stand in on this tack and get an eyeful of Bawdsey Manor, that’s what I was talking about. Then you’ll need to bring her round smartly and head out for the Woodbridge Haven buoy. The shoals here are treacherous.”
But Donny couldn’t persuade Skye even to put her hand to Strong Winds’ up-curved tiller. Which was a pity because he was sure she’d like it. It gave him such a vibrant, connected feeling. Luke liked it too. He kept going on about some Viking raiders’ project they’d been doing in school.
Skye seemed a bit strange and unfocussed today. He wished he hadn’t told her about the camps. Or the deaths from European disease. This evening he was going to have to tell her about the Care Plan and his School Attendance Targets and the SS threat to put him in a Unit if he failed to comply. Not exactly bed-time story stuff.
If they hadn’t had Luke with them they could have pointed their bows away from the coast. They could have sailed on and on like Eirene and Henry. He could definitely see the attraction.
But Luke was there and he didn’t seem to have noticed the atmosphere. He was still in adventure mode and it was time he had a turn at steering. Why should ancient history mess up all their lives anyway? If he saw Flint or Toxic at the school gates on Monday morning, he was going to give them a V sign: V for Voyages.
The two boys chatted about nothing in particular as the flood tide took them swirling up the River Orwell back to Pin Mill. There was no sign of the shark-boat and no activity around the Hispaniola. The only odd thing that they noticed was an empty cage that had somehow got washed up on the saltings.
Gold Dragon wasn’t interested in salvage suggestions. “We’ve got to reach Pin Mill Hard as close to high water as we can. Not a moment later. If I’ve got to neap this brave old lady I need to make a proper job.”
Neaping meant that she had to sail Strong Winds as far up the mud as she possibly could, at the highest moment of the tide, and moor her securely. After that the junk would be stranded for about eleven hours out of every twelve. Stuck fast. Access available anytime to Flint, Toxic and their creepy crew. If the grounding took place at the top of a spring tide, like today, the junk could be stuck for a fortnight or even a month until an equally high tide occurred again.
Strong Winds slid to a stop where there was an empty space in the line of houseboats and Polly Lee left all sails up for several moments longer so the junk continued piling on. They laid out anchors fore and aft and took warps to the posts and chains that were already there.
Donny’s heart sank when he caught sight of one of the Year Ten bullies who’d had a go at him and Vicky that time. He’d forgotten that they were likely to be hanging around the Pin Mill Hard. The boy lobbed a hefty stone in their direction then slouched off round the back of the pub. Almost as if he’d been looking out for them and was on his way to report their arrival.
Then the tide turned and the water began the six-hour process of draining away.
So did Great Aunt Ellen’s good temper.
Skye was told sharply (via Donny) that none of these new knots were to be touched under any circumstances. Luke was marched back to the vicarage and Donny dispatched to his berth straight afterwards. His orders were to check his homework, eat some supper
, pack his bag and go to bed. She would set him an alarm so he had all the time he needed to catch the school bus in the morning. No excuses would be accepted.
Monday 2 October
He did what he was told. Would have done it anyway without her needing to be so snappy. He was up and ready in plenty of time. Walked up the lane to his old stop where he used to get on when he was living at the vicarage. Joined up with Anna. All exactly like before. Xanthe and Maggi would be waiting a couple of stops further on. They could have an Allies meeting on the bus. Like they used to do.
Except that the driver wouldn’t let him board.
He looked at Donny, checked his list and said that Donny’s temporary SS pass had expired. His parent or guardian would have to make a written application to the correct department and that might take several weeks to process. There’d probably be a fee to pay; he didn’t know the circumstances. Meanwhile, he said, it was more that his job was worth to allow Donny a place this morning. He’d had a letter. From the Welfare.
“But I’ve GOT to get to school!” This was where he’d been catching the bus ever since he had first started at Gallister High. Donny couldn’t believe that the driver would have even noticed that he hadn’t been at the stop last week, let alone demand to see his pass and then refuse him. He could have been off with flu or something. There were loads of spare seats. “I’ll be in mega- trouble if I don’t.”
“Should have thought of that before you started getting yourself picked up from Shotley. This ain’t a free-for-all. Whole system would be in chaos if kids started jumping on wherever they felt like. Now step back off the platform, young man, I’ve my regulars to collect.” And away he went with a self-righteous fart from his exhaust.
His first day under the new system and he needed 100 percent attendance! If he tried walking he wouldn’t be there till about lunchtime. He didn’t know whether there were public buses and anyway he hadn’t got any money.
Donny ran back along the road to Erewhon Parva Vicarage.
Gerald and Vicky were in the kitchen with Hawkins chirruping from his tall chinchilla cage. Rev. Wendy had already taken the car and left. She was delivering Luke and Liam to their primary school, then driving on to one of her many meetings.
“I can ring in for you and explain,” said Gerald.
“Anna’s going to tell someone. That’s not the point – I’ve absolutely got to get there. Dead or alive. Every day. It’s in my Care Plan.”
“How very awkward. I’d better call a taxi.”
“Except I haven’t any money.”
“Thinking about it, neither have I. Wendy needed the purse ...”
Gerald furrowed his brow and thought about it a bit more. He was never exactly quick. “Desperate times, desperate measures, John. I’ll write an IOU to the Flower Fund!”
The taxi took forever to arrive. They were always busy at this time of the morning, the driver explained helpfully. Taking children to school.
Donny missed the whole of first period, which should have been tutorial, then dragged himself grumpily round his next two lessons until it was break and he headed to the library to find Anna.
It wasn’t good news. She hadn’t found Mr McMullen, who might have understood and thought of something helpful. Only a supply teacher who’d marked Donny absent and said she’d have to get the office to send out a truancy call. Apparently he was on a special monitoring system for At Risk children.
“And I haven’t a clue how I’m going to get home. That taxi cost fifteen pounds! Do you think you could ask Maggi if their mum would give me a lift? That would get me part of the way back ... I don’t mind walking the rest.”
“Maggi’s not in. Someone said they thought she’d had an accident on Saturday – racing in all that wind. I haven’t seen Xanthe either. I think she’s on a GCSE field trip.”
“Looks like I’ll be walking all the way home to Pin Mill then,” said Donny glumly. “I’d better print myself out another map. It’ll be something to do at lunchtime. I’ve just discovered that my meal card’s been cancelled.”
“SS really reckoned you’d be gone,” Anna commented as they set out together on their long march after school. “I bet they’re heart-broken that they can’t be sending each other memos about your truancy and getting Flint’s policemen out with their sirens and flashing lights.”
She’d skipped all her library time to share her lunch and try to persuade the school administrator to get Donny the right forms for a permanent meal card. Then she’d refused to get on the bus herself and said she’d walk back to Pin Mill with him.
“Yeah. It’d have been like their Christmas had come two months early if they could charge Gold Dragon with abduction.”
“Before she arrived, Flint and Toxic were forcing you and your mum to stay ... ”
“It seemed they wanted to get hold of her then.”
“But now that they’ve seen her ... ”
“And realise what a total star she is ... ”
“They can’t wait to get rid of her!”
Donny’s old school shoes were about a size too small. He was going to get such blisters.
“To be fair ...”
“Why?” said Anna, “Why be fair? When did that idea ever enter their heads?”
Donny laughed. “You’re right! But, it’s like you said that night at the vicarage, this isn’t normal SS stuff any more. And I understand about as much of it as I speak Mandarin.”
It was about five miles from school to the vicarage. They were sticking to the same route that the bus took – on the off- chance that Rev. Wendy or one of the Ribieros might drive along and rescue them. The weather was okay and the leaves on the trees and hedges were turning to their early October bronze and gold.
Donny needed to think about something that wasn’t his feet.
“Anna,” he said suddenly, “I’m really sorry. I haven’t asked you a single thing about your weekend. I mean, how did you get on? Is that bloke still there, the one you thought was looking for your mother?”
Anna’s wide grey eyes sparkled, her pale face flushed. It was one of those moments when she looked so amazingly pretty. “Is he there! This weekend it felt like I couldn’t click a mouse without scrolling over him! It’s like he’s a transmitter suddenly booted up to maximum frequency. It’s unreal! If I’d been going home on the bus today, I was going to get my old machine out of Mr Mac’s cupboard and take it back to the vicarage. I want to look through some of the searches I’ve saved. Try and see how I could possibly have missed him.”
“Oh. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I probably oughtn’t to take the computer without telling Mr Mac. I didn’t want to ask that sub teacher.”
“So, this bloke. Is he a perv? You said he was on some dodgy site ...”
“Dunno. I didn’t do any of those this weekend. Didn’t want the Diocese accusing Rev. Wendy of being ‘inappropriate’. It’s another reason for wanting my own computer back. I mean technically it’s prehistoric but I can possibly find a way of linking it to the laptop and covering my tracks by creating alternative user identities. If I could have spoken to Mr Mac I was going to blag some extra cabling. I wanted to ask him about adding a USB port as well. If I ever have any money I’m so buying a memory stick.”
“I thought ICT was meant to be a boy thing!”
She tried not to look pleased. “I’ve always been a techie. My dad was. I expect I got it from him. And there was some mega- Prof in my mum’s family too – though it certainly skipped her.”
She went quiet then. A white van came fast round a corner heading in the direction of the school. It was completely on the wrong side of the road. The driver braked when he saw them, swerved slightly and sped on.
“Bloody idiot!” snapped Anna, who’d jumped up onto the bank. “We could have been a pram or a horse or anything ... What a berk
! I should have got his number. Answering your question: his screen name’s Oboe – though I don’t know why he’s bothering with it. He’s being so up-front I’m surprised that he hasn’t given out his address, home phone number and chest size. He keeps on posting the same message ‘Signal from Mars for Lottie Livesey. Urgent. Will Lottie Livesey please make contact? My last few crumbs to share.’ I bet he’s getting some weird replies!”
Signals from Mars – had he dreamed that somewhere? Couldn’t think that he had: couldn’t see that it mattered. “Have you answered him?”
“I can’t not. But I don’t trust him. And that’s not only because I don’t trust anyone – if he actually knew my mum, he’d know that she’s so not into computers. I set her up a website ages ago, before she had Vicky. I keep checking it in case she leaves a message. But she never used it and she hasn’t now. I sent Oboe the link.”
“Won’t he have found the site already? Surely he’ll have Googled her?” Donny was doing his best to think the way that Anna did.
“Obviously.” She didn’t sound that impressed. “Except the name I used should make him think it’s actually her who’s made contact – if he does know anything and he’s not just phishing.”
“What name?”
“Theodora. That was my mum’s mum’s name. They fell out years ago. Then she died. That was when we were living in Lowestoft. Mum didn’t even go to the funeral. Refused to accept any of her money. Never mind that we could have done with it.”
“Oh,” said Donny. “That seems a bit extreme.”
“That’s Mum. She’s really sweet and caring, ninety percent, but she has these principles. She doesn’t compromise.”
“Oh,” said Donny again. Anna and her mother maybe had something in common. “Um, what did they quarrel about?”
“Politics, I think. My mum was a protest singer whereas her mum was a romantic novelist. I tried one of her books when I was about nine – Castaways. It was rubbish.”
“Oh,” said Donny once more. “That’s strange ...”