by Lewis, Gill
Aunt Bev throws her hands up in the air. ‘Exactly. That’s always been the problem. We don’t know anything. A year on and still the only thing we do know is that she landed in the Solomon Islands, checked into her hotel room and vanished.’
Dad shakes his head. ‘I should have gone and looked for her at the time.’
‘You couldn’t afford the bus fare to the airport, let alone the plane ticket,’ Aunt Bev snorts. ‘The authorities there couldn’t find her. Not even the private detective hired by the families of the others that disappeared could find her. The case is closed.’
Dad frowns. ‘People don’t just disappear.’
Aunt Bev sits back and looks at Dad. ‘You can’t bury your head in the sand for ever, for Kara’s sake at least. You’ve got all Kay’s debts to pay. Thousands for that trip and all that fancy diving stuff she bought. But I bet you haven’t told Kara that, have you, Jim?’
Dad stands up. His chair knocks back against the wall. ‘I’m going out.’
Uncle Tom shifts aside to let him pass.
‘That’s right,’ Aunt Bev shouts after Dad. ‘Walk away like you always do.’
I stand up too. ‘Mum wouldn’t leave us. I know she’ll come back. She sent the dolphin.’
Dad stops, his hand on the door.
Aunt Bev glares at Dad’s back. ‘You’ve got no house, Jim Wood; no job to speak of, and soon no boat.’ She takes a deep breath and turns to me. ‘So there’ll be no more talk of dolphins in this house, Kara. Is that understood?’
She folds her arms.
She’s said her piece.
She’s done.
But I don’t care. The white dolphin is a sign that Mum’s out there somewhere, and I’ll wait for her, however long it takes. I want Dad to know this too. Mum will come back. I know she will. We’ll live on Moana, the three of us, and sleep under canvas stretched across the boom. We’ll sail away together one day like she always said we would.
Mum, Dad, and me.
The phone rings through the silence.
Uncle Tom answers it and passes it to Dad. ‘It’s for you, Jim.’
Dad takes the phone and I hear him pacing in the hallway. I hear his voice, soft and quiet. He walks back into the kitchen and puts the phone down on the receiver. He opens the back door, leans against the door frame and lets the cool night air rush in.
Aunt Bev’s got her head on one side. ‘Well . . . who was that?’
Dad’s shoulders are slumped. ‘It’s an offer for Moana,’ he says. ‘A man wants to view her this weekend.’
CHAPTER 6
I cut Daisy’s toast in triangles and push the plate to her side of the table.
She pulls off the crust and looks at me. ‘Aren’t you having any breakfast?’
‘Not hungry,’ I say.
Aunt Bev looks at me across the top of her magazine. ‘You’re not having a day off school. The head teacher wants to see you about what you did to Jake Evans’s nose.’
I frown. I don’t want to go to school at all.
‘I sent a big box of chocolates to Jake with your name on,’ she says. ‘Cost me nearly ten pounds it did. Let’s just hope it keeps his dad happy too.’
I get up from the table and grab my schoolbag. ‘I’ll be waiting outside,’ I tell Daisy.
Outside the sky is clear and blue. A rag of pale grey cloud stretches along the distant horizon above the sea. All I want to do is go out on Moana, but Dad left early to cook breakfasts for guests staying at the pub. I lean against the caravan and scuff the dry ground with my feet and wait for Daisy. I wish I was back at the primary school with her too. I felt safe there. It wasn’t just words and numbers like it is now in senior school. Mum was still here last year too.
‘I’m coming,’ calls Daisy.
I watch her walk down the path with her schoolbag across her shoulder and a larger bag dragging along the ground. ‘What’ve you got in there?’ I ask.
‘Fairy dress and wings and wand and a present for Lauren,’ she grins. ‘It’s her party after school.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I forgot,’ I say. ‘Come on, I’ll carry it.’
I walk Daisy through the mothers and pushchairs at the school gates of the primary school and give her a hug. ‘I’ll be back here after school,’ I say.
Daisy reaches into her bag and pulls a scrunched-up piece of paper from the pocket. ‘I did this for you,’ she says, ‘for good luck when you see Mrs Carter.’
I flatten the paper out and smile. A white wax crayon dolphin is swimming in an ink blue sea. ‘Thanks, Daisy,’ I say. ‘It’s just what I need.’
I mean it too. I’m going to need all the luck I can get.
I have to miss double art on Friday mornings to have extra sessions with Mrs Baker, my learning support teacher. I wish I could miss maths or ICT instead. Art is the only lesson I enjoy. It’s not that I mind Mrs Baker. At least I don’t get laughed at in her lessons. She says my dyslexia is just a different way of thinking. I remember her saying it often runs in families and I reckon that’s why Dad can’t read or write. Mum once tried to get him to see someone about it but he wouldn’t go, said it was too late for him to learn.
The only spare classroom is a Portakabin at the far end of the playground, now used as a store. I sit at one of the tables, a tray of sand in front of me. We’re doing Mrs Baker’s new technique today. Multi sensory development, she calls it.
I call it a waste of time.
I pull the tray towards me and pick up a handful of sand, letting the grains run through my fingers. It’s the coarse gritty sand from the car park end of the beach, not the fine white powder sand near the rock pools towards the headland.
Mrs Baker pulls up her chair and pats the sand down flat. ‘Let’s try the “au” sound, as in “sauce”.’
My fingers hover above the sand and I start to trace the outline of an ‘a’. I know this one. It’s the shape of Gull Rock from the shore, one rounded side and one steep, a dark cave circled in the centre. I start the top loop of the ‘a’ where the rocks are stained white with centuries of seabird mess. Gannets nest on the seaward side. I’ve watched them twist in the air and dive for fish, like white missiles into the water. Dad and I have seen puffins, too, scoot along above the waves. I curl my finger down to the base where grey seals haul out on the flat rocks and have their pups on the narrow pebble beach that faces the mainland shore. Submerged rocks and underwater caves and arches spread out into the sea. A wrecked warship has become part of the reef. I run my fingers across in wave patterns in the sand. Mum once showed me a photo she’d taken of a cuckoo wrasse, a fish with bright blue and orange markings, swimming through a rusted porthole and another of pink and white feather-stars living along the old gun-barrels. The whole reef spreads out from Gull Rock to the shore, an underwater safari park, a hidden wilderness.
‘Kara!’
I look up. I didn’t hear Mrs Carter come into the room. She smiles briefly at Mrs Baker and pulls up a chair beside me. She slides the Bible and some of the ripped pages on the table.
‘I think Kara and I need a talk,’ she says.
Mrs Baker’s eyes flit between us. She gathers up her papers and shoulders her saggy carpet-bag. ‘There’s no lesson next Friday, Kara, as it’s the last day of term, so if I don’t see you before then, have a lovely summer.’
I watch her walk out towards the car park at the back of the school.
A cloud shadow slides across the playground, darkening the room.
Mrs Carter leans forward in her chair. ‘I hear you’ve been making great improvements with your writing,’ she says. Her smile is a thin hard line.
I stare at the tray of sand and run my fingers through the coarse grains. We both know we’re not here to talk about my dyslexia today.
‘I know this year’s been hard for you, Kara.’
I look up. Mrs Carter is watching me. She takes her glasses off and folds them neatly on the table.
‘It’s all right to be angry.’ Her voice is
soft, controlled. ‘I understand.’
I trace a circle in the sand, round and round and round. I want this to be over with.
‘But you can’t take your anger out on other children and school property.’
I let silence sit between us.
Mrs Carter leans closer. ‘You broke Jake Evans’s nose,’ she says. ‘How do you feel about that now?’
I dot two eyes and trace the outline of a smile in my circle. ‘His dad’s going to destroy the reef,’ I say. ‘He’s going to pull his dredging chains across it and rip it up when the ban is lifted.’
‘There is never an excuse for violence, Kara.’
I stare hard at the sand. Mrs Carter sits back in her seat and folds her arms. I think she wants this to be over with as much as me.
‘But why rip up the Bible, Kara? Tell me that.’
I want to say it’s because she told us God will answer all our prayers. Well, I’ve been praying for news of Mum for a whole year now and I haven’t heard a thing. But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I shrug my shoulders and scrunch the sand up in my hands.
The school bell rings marking the end of the second lesson. The next lesson is maths, before the break. I glance up at Mrs Carter.
‘How can we resolve this, Kara?’ she says. ‘You tell me.’
I run my finger along the hard edge of the Bible. Resolve what? Mum not coming back? Dredging the reef? I know she doesn’t mean those things at all. I lift the corner of a tissue-thin ripped page. ‘I could help mend it,’ I say.
Mrs Carter sits back in her chair and nods. ‘It would be a good start,’ she says. ‘You can help me repair it on Monday after school. It’ll give you the weekend to think things through. But you know I’ll have to speak to your father about all this.’
I let the sand trickle through my fingers and watch it pile up in a little mountain in the tray.
‘And you’re to apologize to Jake as well,’ she says.
I stare at my hands, flecked with tiny crystal grains.
Mrs Carter stands up and tucks the Bible under her arm. ‘You can go now.’
I stand up and walk away but I feel her eyes burn in my back. Maybe she can read my mind. I’ll help her stick the pages in her Bible.
But I won’t say sorry to Jake Evans.
I’d rather die.
CHAPTER 7
I stand in silence in the corridor outside the maths room. Through the end windows I see the bright sunlit playground and far beyond that, the sea. I could walk out of here; just keep walking on and on. There’s no one here to stop me, no one here to see. But I don’t do that. Instead, I put my hand on the door and push it open. Everyone in my class knows I’ve had to see Mrs Carter about breaking Jake Evans’s nose. I know they’ll all stop and turn and stare when I walk in.
I keep my head down as I walk across the classroom. I stop at the place where I usually sit. But there’s someone else already there, in my seat.
‘Find another seat, Kara,’ says Mr Wilcox above the silence. ‘Be quick.’
I spin round and sit down at a spare desk by the window and spread my maths books out in front of me. I glance sideways at the new boy in the class sitting next to Chloe. He’s wearing black jeans and a white shirt. But it’s his face I notice more. The muscles in his neck stand out in straight tight lines, pulling the left side of his face down and sideways. It looks like his face has dropped on one side. His left arm is twisted up against his chest and writhes around as if he can’t keep it still at all.
He sees me staring, so I look away.
At break, Chloe and Ella stay behind with him to talk to Mr Wilcox. I guess they’ve been given the job of showing him around today. They’ve hardly talked to me at all. No one’s mentioned Jake’s nose either. I don’t think anyone would dare in front of Jake and Ethan.
It’s not until the morning lessons have finished, that I can join Chloe and Ella in the lunch queue. I grab a tray and slide it along behind Chloe.
‘Where’s that new boy?’ I ask.
Chloe looks over her shoulder. ‘Felix?’ she says. ‘He’s only doing mornings. He’s just getting to know the school before he joins after the summer.’
‘It’s hardly worth it,’ I say. ‘There’s only a week left before we break up.’
Chloe pours two glasses of water, one for her and one for Ella. ‘Mrs Carter said the school might need to make changes before he comes, like put in ramps and hand rails and stuff. He can’t walk that well.’
‘What’s he like?’ I say.
Chloe shrugs her shoulders and looks at Ella. ‘Dunno. Didn’t say much did he?’
‘Couldn’t wait to go,’ Ella says. ‘Don’t blame him though.’
Beyond Ella, I see Jake sitting at the table. He’s stopped mid-mouthful to watch us talking. Chloe and Ella have seen him watching too.
I take a plate from the stack. ‘Daisy can’t wait till Lauren’s party,’ I say. ‘You got many coming?’
Chloe puts her plate out for chips. ‘About fifteen. Mum’s dreading it. Dad’s just got back from sea and he’s dead tired. Mum wants us to help.’
Chloe’s dad works with Uncle Tom on Dougie Evans’s boats too. He’s come home to fifteen Daisys, high on fizzy drinks and birthday cake.
‘I don’t mind helping too,’ I say. ‘I’ve got to bring Daisy along, anyway.’
Chloe glances across at Jake and then at Ella. ‘We’ll be fine,’ she says. The words come out too quickly. ‘It’ll be a bit crowded in our house. We won’t need any help.’
Ella stares down at her tray.
‘All right,’ I say. I feel my eyes smart with tears. Chloe and Ella have always let me join in with them before.
‘Chips or jacket?’
I look up. The dinner lady is holding out a scoop of chips in one hand and a baked potato on a fork in the other.
‘Chips,’ I say.
She empties her scoop of chips on my plate and I pick up the ones that scatter across my tray.
Chloe slides a chocolate brownie on her tray and turns to me. ‘I’ve got to pick up Lauren and her other friends from school, so I’ll take Daisy too,’ she says.
I nod and pretend to concentrate on the plates of pudding and the bowl of fruit in front of me. ‘Tell her I’ll pick her up at half five.’
I watch Chloe walk away. She sits down next to Ella on the long table by the window. Jake and Ethan are at the table too. Jake glares at me. His face is a blue black mess of bruise. A bright white plaster sits across his nose.
I grab an apple and walk across the hall feeling Jake’s eyes on me all the way. The table is full. If Chloe moved up I could sit next to her, but her back is turned to me and her elbows are spread either side of her tray. The other tables have older children from Years Eight and Nine. I take my tray and sit at an empty table by the door.
I try to force my lunch down, but my mouth is dry and the chips stick in my throat. I push them to the side, hide them under my knife and fork and take a bite of apple. It’s Friday at least. No school for two whole days, and then only one more week until the summer holidays begin.
‘Having fun?’ Jake puts his empty tray down on the table and sits opposite me. Ethan leans against the door frame and smirks.
I look across at Jake. Close up, one eye is bloodshot red. The edges of the bruise are sickly yellow.
‘You don’t think you can make up for this with a box of chocolates do you?’ The corner of Jake’s mouth curls up as he speaks.
‘It wasn’t me who sent them,’ I say.
I wait for him to go, but he sits there, staring at me.
‘You know why my dad hates you so much?’ he says.
I stare down at the half-eaten apple on my plate. I know the reason why. I’ve heard all this before.
Jake leans across the table. ‘Aaron’s dead because of your mum.’
I grip the edges of my tray. The fork rattles against the china plate. ‘Your brother didn’t have a life jacket on when he was found,’ I say.<
br />
Jake snorts. ‘My dad says you’re going pay for this.’ He lowers his voice so not even Ethan can hear. ‘Soon you and your dad will have nothing left.’
CHAPTER 8
I slip my hand through Daisy’s. ‘Good party?’ I say. Her fairy tutu rustles as we swing arms, and she skips along beside me.
Daisy nods and smiles up at me. ‘Why didn’t you come too?’
I glance back at the house. Lauren’s waving from the door, but there’s no sign of Chloe or Ella.
‘I had to get some shopping for your mum,’ I lie.
Daisy runs ahead and pulls me by the hand. ‘Will you play with me at home?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m going out.’
‘Where?’
‘Just out.’
She stops and pulls away from me. ‘You’re going to look for the white dolphin aren’t you?’
I hold my hand out. ‘Come on, Daisy,’ I say. ‘I told Aunt Bev I’d get you home.’
It’s not entirely true, but I want to go back to the cove and I can’t take Daisy with me.
‘I want to come with you,’ she says. She juts her chin out and just stands there, like she’s not going anywhere. A gust of wind blows her long blonde curls across her face. Her fairy wings flutter. She clutches her wand and party bag in one hand and folds her arms across her chest.
‘Come on, Daisy,’ I say. I’m not in the mood to fight. ‘Please.’
She shakes her head. She looks like the sugar plum fairy. Sugar-plump and squashed into a ballet dress, about to have a tantrum.
I sit back on a low wall behind me and rest my head in my hands. I feel we could be here a while.
‘I’ll buy you an ice-cream at Zagni’s,’ I say. I jangle some coins in my pocket. I hope I’ve got enough to buy one. Maybe Daisy won’t feel like one after all that party food. But I know Daisy. She never turns down an ice-cream. I wait and watch.
Daisy twirls her wand round and round. She puts her hands on her hips and looks at me. ‘It has to be mint choc chip,’ she says.
‘Done,’ I say. ‘Mint choc chip it is.’