by Alex Shearer
‘What’s that, darlin’?’
‘Peggy – there’s a bus. There’s a school bus. Serving all the outlying settlements …’
‘Really? That so?’
‘Peggy, you can see it. Look. There it is. Just turning. Right there. It’s huge. It doesn’t even look full. There’s a bus, Peggy. We could have come on the bus!’
‘Oh … well now … yes … I guess you could.’
‘Martin and I could have just got here on the school bus!’
‘Ummm …’
‘What’s that?’ Martin said, overhearing me. ‘What are you saying? Hey, did you just see that big school bus?’
‘We saw it, thank you. Peggy –’ I said.
‘What is it, Gem?’
‘You knew –’
‘What’s that, darlin’?’
‘About the bus. You knew, didn’t you?’
‘Well, I forget things. It’s my age. What with the arthritis and the cramps, and I’ve been getting a touch breathless too recently …’
‘Peggy, why didn’t you just put us on the bus?’
She sighed.
‘Gemma –’
‘Well?’
‘So many reasons, darlin’. I wanted to take you myself. And I wanted to see City Island one last time –’
‘Why should it be the last time?’
‘Shh, darlin’. Don’t be angry now.’
‘I’m not angry, Peggy, I just don’t understand – I mean – this journey – everything we encountered – we could have sunk – been killed – you could have been killed – the minefields, the troll, that motel with those maniacs … We could have avoided all that. So, why?’
‘Well – the school bus – what would you have learned on that?’
‘Learned?’
‘You’d just have been a passenger, darlin’. But on this boat, you’ve been crew, and captain too, sometimes. All of you. And the boy there –’ she nodded towards Alain – ‘and the two little ladies – where’d they be? One would still be a lonely soldier, and one’d be rat-skinning, and the other would be cloud-hunting and getting ready for her scars.’
‘They could have got the bus too.’
‘But they never would. It was meeting us that brought them here. Serendipity.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Look it up in one of the big dictionaries they’ll have in that school library there. Sometimes it’s best to make your own way, darlin’. You can’t beat your own steam for getting there. In my old opinion.’
I watched the big school ferry sail off towards its moorings, with all those children up on deck. I’d bet they’d all had comfortable berths on board, and catering, and showers, and organised activities, and all kinds of pastimes and amusements to keep them occupied on the long trip to City Island, as the ferry stopped off picking up its passengers for the term ahead from all the tiny and remote one-boat islands like our own.
But then they’d not seen what we had, or done what we had. And it was true what Peggy said. It had been an education.
‘You don’t mind, do you, darlin’?’
‘No. I don’t mind. I’m glad we made our own way.’
‘It was fun, wasn’t it?’
‘Well … some of the time, Peg.’
‘Well, that’s only right. If it was fun all the time, it wouldn’t be fun at all.’
‘What?’
‘Just think about it. We’re here.’
A frantic parking attendant on a sky-bike was dashing around between the boats giving directions and pointing out moorings. We followed his instructions and tied up at a floating pontoon.
‘Remember the number on the post or we’ll never find the damned boat ever again.’
‘G27.’
‘I’m going to write it on the back of my hand,’ Peggy said, squinting. ‘Anyone seen my glasses?’
‘Peggy,’ I pointed out, ‘you don’t wear glasses.’
‘Then maybe,’ she said, ‘it’s time I did.’
Well, I don’t know about the others, but I certainly felt like some country cousin from the out-sticks as we made our way through the streets of City Island and headed for the enrolment at the school.
There were people so fine and elegant and dressed in such fashions and styles as I’d never even imagined, let alone seen. And they had such ways about them too, ways of walking and talking, and gesturing and standing. You felt a little crushed just seeing them, like you were a simpler, less complicated being, and would never attain their dizzying heights of sophistication.
Peggy must have read my mind, because she said, ‘Gemma, don’t go getting taken in by the posers now.’
‘What’s a poser, Peggy?’
She nodded at the people in the wild, extravagant clothes.
‘They are. Scratch ’em and they’re no different to you and me. All veneer and no substance. Flesh and blood, that’s all. I think we’re down this way now.’
It wasn’t hard to find the way, you just followed the other parents, the other guardians, the other children, the other families – which is what we were too – a family of a kind.
ENROLMENT
Peggy led us up to a desk. I looked around me. Some of the other people were arriving with big suitcases and luggage on wheels. All we had was a bag each. Alain had next to nothing.
‘Don’t you worry about that,’ Peggy said, mind-reading again. ‘All’s provided. And I’ll be leaving you some money.’
‘Peggy, we haven’t got any money.’
‘Ben Harley’s not the only one with a private stash. I’ve been saving it up for you – you and Marty. To tide you over.’
‘Peggy –’
‘No, I don’t want it. It’s for you. We’re going to put it in a bank account later where it’ll be safe and you can use it as you need.’
‘Peggy –’
‘Now don’t go thanking me or I’ll be getting embarrassed.’
We shuffled along in the queue, then we were next.
‘Names, please.’
‘Piercey,’ Peggy said. ‘Gemma and Martin Piercey.’
The woman at the desk checked her list.
‘OK. They have places reserved.’
‘And could you take three more?’ Peggy said.
‘Three!’
‘If you can?’
‘Ages?’
Alain, Beth and Angelica gave their ages.
‘Are they Pierceys too?’ the woman asked.
‘In spirit,’ Peggy said.
‘OK – just let me check …’
‘Government does say free schooling for any child as wants it …’ Peggy said.
‘Yes, it’s just whether we have the places at this particular – oh yes. That should be all right. Yes. They’re accepted. Here are your name tags and your form numbers. You’ll find monitors in the next room holding cards up. You find the one with the card number matching your age and just join them for now.’
‘Then thank you kindly,’ Peggy said.
‘Thank you. Next!’
‘This way, Peggy. In here.’
But she didn’t follow.
‘No, I’ll be leaving you to it now, darlin’ –’
Sudden shock filled me. I felt trembly, a bit sick. This couldn’t be it, already, so abruptly, so absolute.
‘Peggy, no –’
‘There’s no one holding up a sign in that room with my age on it, darlin’.’
‘But, Peggy –’
‘You can’t just go, Peggy –’
‘No, you can’t –’
‘You can’t –’
‘No –’
‘I’m not just going. I’m going to be waiting here. You go and find your rooms and get settled and then you meet me back here and we’ll all go out for dinner. How’s that?’
So that was what we did.
We went out for dinner to a restaurant in City Island, and Peggy ordered wine, and she said we all had to try it, even at our age, though she did water it down a little
. She made a toast.
‘To getting educated,’ she said.
‘To Peggy,’ I said.
So we drank to both.
It was strange leaving her. We all walked her back to the marina and made sure she got on board OK, as she’d drunk most of the wine, to be honest, and was a little unsteady on her old feet.
‘Thank you, darlin’s – that was wonderful. Couldn’t have had a better send-off.’
‘But you’re not going yet, Peggy? You’re not sailing now?’ I said, panicking again.
‘Oh, no. You come and see me tomorrow. We’ll say a proper goodbye then. Oops! Who left that step there? Oh my.’
‘And we’ll be back for the long holidays, Peggy,’ Martin said. ‘You don’t have to come and get us. We’ll take the school bus. And we’ll write –’
‘Sky-post ain’t exactly regular –’ she said.
‘We’ll still write though –’
‘That’ll be lovely, darlin’ – I’ll look forward to that. Gemma, Martin, you say goodnight to your great-great-grand – whatever – you say goodnight to me now.’
And we did. We each gave her a hug and a kiss.
‘Thanks, Peggy. For everything – for looking after us – bringing us up – giving us a home –’
‘Oh no – I’ve got to thank you – the pleasure was all mine – I have to tell you – the day you arrived and those Cloud Hunters brought you – I was in more than two minds – but I wouldn’t have done without you for the world – nor all the islands in it.’
‘I love you, Peggy.’
‘I love you too, of course I do, why wouldn’t I? But don’t keep saying it or you’ll make me cry.’
‘Love you, Peggy –’
‘My Martin, my little boy – only not so little now – my Gemma – my little girl –’
It took us a while to all dry our eyes and get disentangled. Alain, Beth and Angelica were tactfully waiting out of the way. Then they all said goodbye to Peggy too. But not too seriously. After all, we were coming back to wave her off tomorrow. School didn’t start properly for another two days, so we wouldn’t be missing anything important.
‘What time shall we come tomorrow, Peggy?’
‘Oh, not too early. I shan’t be sailing before noon at the earliest.’
‘Will you be all right on your own?’
‘Sure I will. I’m tough as old boots by now.’
‘Indestructible, eh, Peggy!’ I said.
‘That’s it, darlin’. Indestructible.’
But she wasn’t. None of us is.
The others couldn’t come the next day. As they hadn’t enrolled into the school in advance they were stuck with extra form-filling, so it was just Martin and me who made our way to the marina to see Peggy off on her journey home.
Her boat was alone on the pontoon. The other boats which had been there previously had already sailed.
‘Peggy!’ I called, as we tramped up the walkway. ‘We’re here. Are you up?’
‘Maybe she’s gone to get a few supplies,’ Martin said.
‘Or she’s sleeping off last night’s dinner. Go and see if she’s down below and give her a shake.’
‘OK.’
Martin went down below and I tidied up a little on deck and checked the solar panels and made sure the water tanks were full.
‘Gemma –’
‘What is it?’
‘Gemma –’
‘Martin – what is it?’
‘I can’t wake her, Gemma. She won’t wake up.’
25
by invitation
GEMMA: FINAL WORD:
‘My name is Gemma Piercey, and just as you are now, I was also once a pupil at this school. And just as you will too, I grew up, and went out into the world. And I’ve been asked by the headmistress to return as the annually invited speaker to give the keynote address – as you may also have the honour to do one day. So I shall do my best not to bore you. And that’ll mean keeping it brief, which I will.
‘I came here rather late to start a formal education. I was already in my teens. But the teaching was good and I soon caught up, as did my brother, Martin. We were orphans, who had lost our parents when we were very young, and we were brought up by a rather wonderful old lady called Peggy Piercey, who gave us her name and looked after us on a remote little island that she owned, at the edges of the Outlying Settlements.
‘Peggy was related to us, but so remotely as to be almost too far away to see. She was a great-great-grand-aunt, or something along those lines. She had no real reason to take us in and look after us, but she did, for which I am eternally grateful.
‘We could have remained on that island indefinitely, and I might be there still, if Peggy hadn’t been such a great believer in getting an education. So she got us accepted as pupils at this school, and we set off one day to travel here – Peggy, myself, and my younger brother Martin – who now works as a sky-pilot for the Inter-Island Lines, and is captain of one of their largest cruisers.
‘It wasn’t an easy journey, and we picked up a few other potential pupils along the way – all now quite eminent and well known in their own fashion. One was Alain Qualar, our first Member of Parliament to have come from a cloud-hunting family; another his sister, Beth, who you might know as a singer. And, maybe most famous of all, Angelica Tanner, the writer, whose series of children’s books about the life of a girl apprentice rat-skinner unexpectedly proved to be the publishing sensation of the year. I understand that there is already a film in the works and other books to follow. In fact I probably only got asked to speak today as Angelica was too busy – only joking.
‘Anyway, I can’t tell you that I’m rich, or that I’m famous. But I don’t know if that is the point. For those of you who don’t know about me, I’m an eye surgeon who works for the Free Hospital Ship. I spend most of my time travelling around the system, and along with my colleagues, we treat numerous people who, without our help, would lose their sight. We don’t charge for our service and we’re funded purely by public donation.
‘I always wanted to do something to help other people, ever since I came to City Island, and I’ve sometimes wondered why that is. And I guess I know. An education is a wonderful thing. But a school can’t teach you everything. Some things in life you learn without knowing you’re learning them. They rub off on you – like brushing against a flower and the pollen sticking to you – and you carry them with you. You learn from the people around you, and if you’re lucky, those people will be the ones who want the best for you.
‘So this is the other reason I am here. Not just to talk to you about the future, but to express my gratitude to our great-great-grand-aunt, and to this school, for all they both gave us.
‘So that’s it. I’m keeping it short, as promised. I don’t have any wonderful advice. Just make the most of it, that’s all. This is your chance and many people never get one. But I did. And you’ve got one too.
‘And lastly, there’s an old boat down at the marina, in the floating museum there. You might want to go and visit it when you have some free time. It’s called the Voyager. It’s quite small and nondescript, but it’s full of history, and there’s something special about it. If you stand on the deck, you can almost feel its past. And you can read about the journey it made. Of course, no one would even contemplate such a journey on a boat that size now. They used to call those little boats sky-runners, and it was one of the last of them. And I guess that is my claim to fame. I sailed on it, on the last of the sky-runs. I wouldn’t be here now, if it hadn’t been for that little boat and for the lady who owned it.
‘I guess that was maybe the most wonderful time of my life, when I look back on it. I learned so much and I saw so much. I didn’t know how special it was. Nor how special the lady was who adopted us and looked after us. So that’s all I have to say really. Just take your chance, and do your best. And don’t be afraid to tell the people you love that you love them. And do it while you still can. Good luck. Just tell
them while you can. Because you never know when they might be taken from you. It’s not very original, I know. But it’s still true and still pertinent. And always will be, I guess.
‘Thanks for listening. I think we’re due to get some lunch now – which is always something to look forward to.
‘And, oh, before I forget. If you do visit the Voyager, down at the marina museum, you’ll no doubt run into a sky-cat there, who lives on board. He’s been there a long time and no one can coax him to leave. But he’s well fed and looked after. Anyway, you be sure to make a fuss of him and pet him a little, and he’ll be your friend. He answers to the name of Botcher.
‘I think he’s waiting for someone to come home.
‘And can’t understand that they never will.’
First published in Great Britain in 2013 by Hot Key Books
Northburgh House, 10 Northburgh Street, London EC1V 0AT
Copyright © Alex Shearer 2013
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-4714-0050-6
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