The Ingo Chronicles: Stormswept

by Helen Dunmore

  “I’ll try the post office.”

  “She’s not working today,” Jenna says. She always knows Mum’s working hours better than I do.

  “I’ll try anyway. They can pass on a message.”

  No one answers the post office phone either. I can’t believe this.

  “It’s ten to four. They shut at three,” Jenna says as I slam down the phone.

  “I wish you’d have some ideas then.”

  “We could hire a boat?”

  “Hire a boat? With what? I’ve got 90p left.”

  “I’ve got ten pounds.”

  “Where’d you get that from?”

  “When we were working in the summer.”

  Ten pounds would be enough to hire a boat for an hour, but no one will be hiring out boats at the end of October. They are up on the wharf and covered in tarpaulin. Anyway, we can’t hire a boat and not bring it back, so it’s a stupid idea. Panic and impatience are starting to make me feel sick. We walk all round the quay again. A boy who’s fishing off the end of the stone pier glances at us curiously.

  “It’s Josh Watts in Year 11,” says Jenna.

  “Maybe he’s got a boat.”

  “He’s fishing, Mor, get a grip.”

  “I’m going to ask him anyway.”

  I would never talk to Josh Watts normally, but desperation makes me bold. I go right up to him and say that we’ve missed the tide and we need to get back. Does he know anybody who’s got a boat? Josh smiles lazily, looking from me to Jenna.

  “Course I do,” he says.

  “I mean, who’s got a boat and would take us over.”

  “I’d take you over,” says Josh.

  “What?”

  “S’long as you pay for the fuel. Got to go right away though, or it’ll be dark.”

  Jenna and I look at each other, hardly daring to believe how easy this is. Already, Josh is packing up his rod.

  “Fishing was rubbish today anyway,” he says. “Come on.”

  We go to the stone harbour steps. There’s a small boat with an outboard motor moored below. I look at it dubiously. It’ll be slow, and I don’t think Josh will get back before dark.

  “Sea’s flat, we’ll be fine,” says Josh, misunderstanding me.

  “You won’t get to the Island and back before dark.”

  He shrugs again, easily. “No problem. I can leave the boat over there a day or two. I’ll walk back when the tide’s down. I got friends to see over there.”

  Jenna gives me a meaningful glance, and when Josh goes ahead down the steps she whispers, “Carrie Hickman. Josh likes her.”

  “Oh.” It all becomes clear. Every boy in our school used to like Carrie, but she left last year and went up to Truro College. She’s a year older than Josh. If he brings us over, it won’t look as if he is chasing Carrie. He can meet her “by accident”…

  We climb into the boat.

  “Sit to the side,” Josh says to me. “She rides low in the water anyway.”

  The engine putters, coughs, and then Josh eases the throttle open. It sounds fine.

  The light is beginning to fade as we leave the shelter of the harbour wall. As Josh said, the sea is flat, but even so you can feel the swell. I love it. It always reminds me of when I was little and Dad used to lift me up. That feeling of being held as you swoop through air or water.

  “Seal,” says Josh.

  Its black, slick retriever head is pointing to us. The water is so clear that I can see its whole body, lolling beneath the surface. Its eyes meet mine. We say nothing but I have the strangest feeling that a message passes between us, only it’s a message that I can’t decipher. A second later, the seal dives.

  “Dolphins were out in the bay yesterday.”

  “I know. I saw them,” says Jenna. She trails her fingers in the water. The wake creams behind us, making a long line back across the way we’ve come. I wonder what Josh would say if I told him, “The Mer were out in the bay this morning. Did you see them?”

  The wide shining sea is not empty at all. It is full of its own secret life. We putter across it in our little boat with its outboard engine, but we don’t touch it, what’s really happening in all these miles and miles of water. I wonder if the Mer know we are here. I wish I could make them hear my thoughts. I could tell them that Malin’s in danger. We’ve got to get him away before the next low tide, so there’s no chance of Bran’s dad finding him first.

  The Island is growing bigger ahead of us. Josh steers round a little, towards the harbour. There are the roofs, the dark shapes of the rocks, the white rim of sand. I can even see smoke rising from chimneys. Everything is as familiar as the faces of the people I love. Home. Every time I come back I feel the same relief. All the time I’m on the mainland, even when I’m at school, I feel a faint uneasiness deep inside me. I don’t belong there. I don’t want to be trapped there.

  If leaving the Island feels like this to me, then what must leaving the sea be like for Malin? He is out of his element completely. It must be close to the way I feel when I’m on the mainland, but a hundred times as strong. I want to go straight to him, but we’ll have to go home first. We need the groundsheet to carry Malin, and we need our wetsuits. We’ll have to go into the sea with him and make sure he can swim away safely before we leave him. Swimming in the night sea won’t be like swimming in King Ragworm Pool. He’ll need all his strength. The Mer will come to him, surely. They’ll know. Even though it’ll be dark, maybe we can find a way of signalling.

  At that moment the seal’s head pops up on the port side of the boat, where I’m sitting. Josh whistles. “The old beggar. He’s followed us all the way. Probably thinks I’ve got fish in the boat.”

  Seals do follow boats for that reason. They know that fishermen will chuck them the by-catch when they come into harbour. Josh is wrong about this seal, though, I’m almost sure of it. I lean down over the water, and whisper to the seal, hoping that the sound of the engine will cover my voice:

  “Tell Eselda that Malin’s in danger. We’re going to help him. He’ll be back in Ingo tonight. Tell her to wait for him.”

  The seal’s dark, intelligent eyes are fixed on mine as he swims along, easily keeping pace with the boat. Does he understand? “Tell her. Tell them all,” I whisper urgently, “Please.”

  “Are you talking to that seal?” asks Josh. His eyes glint with amusement. “Maybe it’s true what they say about you Islanders.”

  “What do they say?” snaps Jenna, with unusual force.

  “Don’t be eggy. I’m not saying you’re first cousin to a seal.”

  “I can think of worse relations,” I say. I like Josh.

  “Me too. Those Helyers, say,” he goes on, glancing at Jenna. “Wouldn’t like to be even third cousin to any one of them.”

  Jenna flushes. I’m glad he said it. She needs to hear it. If it’s just me telling her bad stuff about the Helyers all the time, she’ll find a reason to ignore it.

  Suddenly the harbour lights spring on, and it’s dusk. Josh steers the boat past the end of the stone pier, and in at the steps. We are home. I turn and the seal is gone.

  “It’s too dark for you to go back now, Josh,” I say.

  “I reckon so,” he answers, looking back at the mainland where lights are already stringing out along the coast like orange and yellow pearls. That thick cluster of lights is Marazance. “No problem.”

  Jenna holds out her ten pounds and Josh carefully counts back six.

  “Thanks, Josh. We really appreciate it,” I say, to make up for Jenna who is still cross because of what he said about the Helyers. How can she be so stubborn? Hasn’t today already proved to her that Josh is one hundred per cent right? We jump the gap and climb the steps. Josh throws me the rope and I loop it round the bollard.

  “Aren’t you coming?” I ask him.

  “Later.”

  We say goodbye.

  “He’ll wait till we’ve gone, and then he’ll go to Carrie’s,” I say as we hurry home.


  “Mm.”

  Still eggy, I think, but I don’t say it. “OK, as soon as we get home, I’ll find the groundsheet while you get the wetsuits and stuff, then we’ll go straight to the pool.”

  Jenna doesn’t answer. She’s frowning and she looks a million miles away, but that doesn’t matter. She’s coming with me, and together we can get Malin out of the pool, down the rocks and away over the sand to the sea. By the end of tonight, Malin will be free.

  Mum is at the door, looking out as if she’s waiting for us. Light streams from behind her, outlining her.

  “Morveren! Jenna!” she cries in a voice I’ve never heard before. “Have you got Digory with you?”

  “No!” we say as we run to her. “What’s happened? Is he lost?”

  We all crowd in through the door.

  “Where have you been?” Mum demands.

  “Only over in Marazance.”

  “I didn’t know where you were. I thought maybe he was with you.”

  “We’d have said, Mum, if we were taking him to Marazance,” says Jenna. Mum nods, biting her lip. Her eyes are fixed on the dark behind us.

  “I don’t know where he is,” she says, in a tight, unfamiliar voice. “We’ve been looking everywhere. You know what he’s like for wandering off.”

  “When did you last see him?” I think back. Was Digory in the house when Mum told me to clean the bathroom? That was hours ago.

  “He was playing with his Lego, and then he called up that he wanted to go over and play with Robbie Savage. I was finishing off upstairs, doing the bathroom—”

  “Oh, Mum!” I feel a horrible pang of guilt. If we’d cleaned the bathroom, Mum would have been downstairs with Digory and maybe he wouldn’t have gone out.

  “—and I was in the middle of it so I called down that he could go, but he had to be back for tea. I know he had his watch on.”

  It is quarter to six. “He’s useless at telling the time,” I say quickly. “Maybe he’s still—”

  “No, I’ve been to the Savages’. Rose said he hadn’t been there, but Robbie’d taken his bike down to the village hall, so maybe Digory was there too. You know how they like racing their bikes round the building. But he wasn’t there. Your dad came back from work and he’s gone out looking. You know what Digory’s like, he could be in any house in the village. I stayed here because I didn’t want him to come home and find the house empty.”

  It’s like an echo of the storm, and the missing sailors. A shudder runs through me. Digory shouldn’t be out there in the cold darkness.

  “It gets dark so early these days,” says Mum, as if she has heard my thoughts. “When I heard you coming I thought he might be with you.”

  “He’s always going off, Mum. He’ll be fine,” says Jenna soothingly, but she can’t hide the worry on her face.

  “He’s like you, Morveren. He hates the dark,” says Mum.

  Thoughts crowd my head, flashing into images of Digory lost, Digory crying, Digory on his own in the dark. Maybe he’s fallen somewhere, or hurt himself. I look at Mum’s face and know that the same thoughts are in her too.

  “No one would hurt a child like Digory,” she says as if to herself.

  “Of course they wouldn’t,” I say, but as the words leave my mouth, another thought stabs me. Bran Helyer told Digory that he would throw him into the sea. No. I’m over-reacting. Bran might threaten but he would never, ever do such a thing. He’s not that bad. Besides, Bran is over in Marazance, and Digory didn’t even leave our cottage until Bran was well off the Island.

  When Digory goes off on his own, it’s usually because he wants to play his violin somewhere quiet, where nobody will hear him…

  “Mum, is Digory’s violin here?”

  But Digory’s violin is safe in its usual place. I’m relieved. Digory won’t go anywhere for long without it. He’ll be back soon.

  The moment of relief doesn’t last. I don’t know what instinct it is that makes me look up, to the shelf where Conan’s fiddle sleeps in its case, wrapped in its blue velvet cloth. The shelf is empty. Conan’s fiddle has gone.

  Mum hasn’t noticed. Jenna hasn’t noticed. I clench my hands tight, digging my nails into my palms to stop myself from crying out. Why has Digory taken it? Some people say that if the fiddle is ever lost or broken, it will be the end of our island… But Digory wouldn’t worry about that. To him, every instrument is like a person. You learn to know it and you don’t fear it. All he would want to do is make music with it.

  I am afraid. Too many things are coming together. Digory’s words echo like a trickle of icy water through my mind.

  “I was standing right on the edge of the sea. They knew I was there. They wanted me to come in the sea with them, but I said I couldn’t.”

  The Mer can hear Digory’s playing, and he can hear theirs. He listens to the musicians of Ingo and answers them with his own music. He plays so beautifully… maybe too beautifully. There is something magical in the way that Digory plays, and it makes you want to listen for ever. But this time he’s taken an instrument that’s a hundred times more powerful than his little everyday violin. If all those stories are true, Conan’s fiddle comes from the time before our island even existed. What will happen when the Mer hear Conan’s instrument, with Digory playing it?

  “I’ll go out and have another look round,” Mum says. Her voice is carefully normal now.

  “I’ll come with you,” says Jenna, but Mum is too quick for her, and is already out of the door. Jenna pushes past me, to follow, but I hold her back, and kick the door shut.

  “Jenna, what about Malin? We’ve got to help him.”

  “It won’t take long to find Digory. He can’t have gone far.”

  I know exactly how Jenna feels, because I feel the same. My stomach is clenched with fear. All I want is for the door to fly open and Mum to come in, pulling Digory by the hand and scolding him because she’s been so frightened that she can’t help being cross. All I want is to see Digory again.

  I take a deep breath. I can’t get angry with Jenna.

  “Mum and Dad are both out looking. Please, Jen. It won’t take long. They could hurt him. He could die—”

  Jenna looks straight at me. “I know that. But Digory’s our brother, Mor. Malin’s not even – Malin’s got his own people.”

  Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry. It won’t help Malin or Digory.

  “His people can’t come on land. You know that. They can’t help him.”

  “Mor, we’re wasting time. What if Digory’s had an accident? What if—”

  “Please, Jenna. You promised you’d help.”

  “Digory needs us a hundred times more than Malin does. He’s only seven. Now let go of me. Mor, you’re hurting my arm.”

  “Fine,” I say furiously. “You’re the one who’s to blame for Bran finding out about Malin. If it hadn’t been for you he’d never even have come here. You encouraged him. And now you just abandon Malin – to be captured – or put in a cage – or a tank – as if he wasn’t a person—”

  “He’s not human, Morveren! They don’t help us, do they? When that Polish sailor was drowning, the Mer didn’t save him, did they? But you think we’ve got to put Malin first, ahead of our own brother.”

  My anger drains away into cold despair. She isn’t going to help. She thinks it is either help Malin, or help Digory. She doesn’t believe we can do both.

  Jenna’s thoughts are different from mine and that’s not going to change. What’s the point of trying to explain that to be a person you don’t have to be human?

  “I’m not leaving Digory alone, out there in the dark,” says Jenna resolutely. “Move out of my way.”

  I move out of her way. I don’t even want to stop her any more, because she believes in what she’s doing as much as I believe in rescuing Malin. But I don’t follow her. I feel sick. I’ve done everything wrong. If I’d explained to Jenna properly, she might have listened. Why is it that I can never get things right? Or
not here… not in this world…

  I wish— I wish— How I wish I could be in Ingo. Away in Ingo, where Malin’s people are. The music of the sea and the faraway music I heard when we were burying the Polish sailor are calling me now. And now I think I know what’s happened to Digory. He heard that music too, or why else would he have taken Conan’s fiddle? Mum and Dad and Jenna can search for him in every house throughout the village, but they won’t find him. I am the only one who can do that.

  I know what to do. Groundsheet, wetsuit. Maybe, even without Jenna, I can do something to save Malin, and find my brother.

  Outside, the calm of the day has dissolved and the wind is blowing strongly from the south-west. I can taste salt. Ingo. I thought I was standing still, but I’m already at the gate. Down past the houses, round the side of the village hall, and on to the track which leads down to the shore. Something is pulling me. I hear a roar of the sea in my ears, drowning out everything.

  I reach the rocks where Malin is. There is a faint sheen of light from the sea, just enough for me to climb up safely, lugging the groundsheet. The tide has turned and is already falling, though it will be some time before the causeway is uncovered. Already there is hard, wet sand between the rocks and the sea. For once the darkness isn’t my enemy but my friend, because it’s hiding both me and Malin.

  Now I stand on the lip of King Ragworm Pool, gazing down. I can only see its surface, black as oil. No sign of Malin. For a second I feel an incredible hope that maybe he’s escaped and is already free and safe, back in Ingo, and I won’t have to be torn in two any longer. All I’ll have to do then is join the others and find Digory.

  Something makes me look round. A darker shape shifts against the solid darkness of the rock. I nearly scream, but bite it back just in time. The shape becomes clear as the scudding cloud parts and the moon shines down on us. It’s a boy, sitting on a shelf of rock on the side of the pool, with his wetsuit pulled down to his waist. It’s a boy with a seal tail that curls down almost to the water. It’s Malin. On his face there’s a smile of triumph that shows his sharp, pointed teeth.