by Nadia Aguiar
She took a small step closer.
He was just a kid, like her. But, before he had even finished growing, he was disappearing. He looked so fragile and small, a ghost of the boy she had met days ago. The bruise on his forehead had faded to a shadow – how ridiculous that it had healed while he would not. Seeing him like this, the memory of his treachery seemed hard to recall. She remembered their conversation in the Gorgonne, how secretly happy he had seemed to talk to her. It felt, for a surreal moment, that they had been fighting for the same thing, on the same side, all along.
They had not been on the same side, though: he had destroyed their bike, sabotaged them, broken the rules, and he’d run out to the Wave after her and caused it to topple and almost killed her – he was her enemy. But somehow what had happened no longer mattered; it was as though the Wave had swept it away.
She felt numb, as if she were outside her own body, but she knew what she had to do.
Feeling her hands shaking, she reached up until she felt the shell round her neck. Carefully she pulled its string over her head. She knelt down and took out the sea-sponge cork and looked at the last of the Bloom. There were only a few drops left. Before she could change her mind, she tilted the shell until it touched Kal’s lips. The coldness of his skin startled her and she almost dropped the shell, but she recovered and held it firmly and poured. Kal swallowed, murmuring through his sleep. She tipped the shell until the last of the Bloom drained out.
There. There was none left.
None left for Granny Pearl.
It was all over.
The full weight of what she had done settled on her.
Penny dropped her head. She felt dizzy.
She had made it so far – all the way back to Tamarind, to Kana. She had faced the terrifying octopus in the depths of the Blue Pit and secured a deadly Zamzee beetle. She had navigated the whorls through the strange and twisting depths of the Gorgonne, saved her friends and returned with a shell from the boiling lake. She had been hailed as the winner of the competition – the Bloom Catcher – and had dived fearlessly through the great wall of water to gather the precious Bloom, and she had filled the shell with it. She had been brave, always. But after all that she had nothing to show for it but the empty shell, almost weightless in her hands. The Bloom was gone, used up on a person who until moments ago had been her enemy.
Penny turned so she didn’t have to see Kal any more.
‘There’s nothing I can do to help Granny Pearl,’ she said. The room was still and silent. Dust motes rolled softly. ‘Things can’t go back to the way they were, can they?’ she whispered.
‘No,’ said Elder. ‘They can’t. I’m sorry.’
Penny reached up for the goggles round her neck before she remembered they were gone. She began to cry.
She inhabited a pure feeling, sorrow. She lost all sense of time. The women who had been there had left. The hut was quiet.
Gradually her tears subsided. She became dimly aware that life outside had begun to buzz along again. Someone had opened the curtain, and through it she could see that the water moved, the sun shone, the breeze caught the leaves, the birds flew, the palms brushed the sky. The unnatural hush had been replaced with sounds of life resuming: cart wheels rattling over cobblestones, stray crabs being gathered into buckets for dinners later that night, the clank and clatter of the middens being dismantled, the whistle of nets being cast out to catch the fish that had returned after the Wave. People were breaking camp and preparing to return home to ordinary life. Seagrape was no longer on the stool and must have flown out of the hut. The last of the water from the Wave drained out of Penny’s ears. She could hear sounds again, sharp and distinct. She wiped her eyes on her shirt.
With or without the Bloom, it was time to go home.
Then she remembered Kal lying cold behind her. If he had woken she would have heard, but there had been no sound. Maybe she had been too late, or maybe the Bloom didn’t work. She dreaded the inevitable grim news.
She heard Elder saying her name. She had forgotten he was there.
‘Look,’ he said. He nodded to Kal.
Steeling herself, Penny turned round.
The change was evident. The colour had returned to Kal’s face. His breathing was slow and even, the breathing of someone sleeping deeply.
‘He’s resting,’ said Elder. ‘But he’ll wake. When he does, he’ll have to face the consequences of what he did. But … because of you … he’ll live.’
The relief that flooded Penny was bittersweet. The Bloom did work.
Elder rose. His flowing silk robe was bright. His polished head shone. He held his jewelled cane firmly.
‘I have to go and call the Bloom Festival to a close,’ he said. ‘You’ll be able to open a final whorl, to go home, but you don’t have long.’ He paused and looked at Penny kindly. ‘You aren’t returning home with what you came for,’ he said. ‘But you’ve swum in the Bloom. You’re different now.’
Elder left, and Penny looked back at Kal. She hesitated, then reached out and squeezed his hand. His skin was no longer cold but warm, flush with life. His eyes opened. He looked around the room and down at his own body lying there. With difficulty, he swallowed. He tried to lift his head, but he was still too weak. When he spoke, his voice was raspy.
‘We were in the Wave,’ he said. He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts with effort. ‘You opened a whorl for us to get out before it crashed.’
‘Not for very long, though,’ said Penny. ‘The water still caught us.’
Kal’s thoughts became clearer as he woke. He managed to sit up a little way.
‘You could have made a better one, if you hadn’t tried to take me with you,’ he said.
‘Maybe,’ said Penny.
‘Where’s the Bloom?’ he asked, looking for the shell round Penny’s neck.
‘Most of it went to the Coral Basin,’ replied Penny. ‘The whorls have closed. The mandrill’s gone.’
‘And the rest of it?’
Penny was silent.
Kal looked at her.
‘Oh,’ he said quietly. ‘I see.’ He looked wonderingly at her then, exhausted, lay back and closed his eyes. ‘You probably won’t believe me,’ he said at last. ‘But I’m sorry. I really am. I meant to open a whorl inside the Wave, but I misjudged. I was just going to get a little of the Bloom for myself and leave right away. No one was even supposed to know.’
‘Why did you want it so much, anyway?’ Penny asked finally.
When Kal opened his eyes, he wasn’t looking at Penny but out of the window, at the bright square of the sky.
‘It’s hard to explain,’ he said. He was quiet. ‘When I was younger, I was sent to live with my aunt in Tontap,’ he said at last. ‘My mother couldn’t take care of me any more. There were too many kids and my father was never there.’ He paused to clear his throat. ‘I hated Tontap. I don’t know when it started, but I got the idea that if I became the Bloom Catcher my parents would hear about me and one of them at least would want to come and bring me home. Everyone in Tontap would know that I was important. After you won, I was so mad. I felt like it should have been me – I was the one who deserved it. I’d wanted it for so long.
‘Then I thought that even if I couldn’t be the Bloom Catcher, I could still have some of the Bloom, that maybe it would give me some kind of power. It felt like my last chance. I know now that I won’t go back home; it’s too late. I think I already knew it. But I thought I could still have something, something for myself.’ He looked at Penny. ‘So that’s why I did it. Not to mess things up for you. I’m sorry.’
They were quiet as Penny absorbed what Kal had told her. It was easy to see how when he was a homesick young kid he had thought that being the Bloom Catcher would change everything – would make him powerful and accepted, could even be the thing that helped him go back home. As time went on he couldn’t give up the plan – the idea itself still made him powerful. Probably he had even wanted to pro
ve that he was better than the people he was so unhappy among. Penny could identify with feeling on the outside of things, with not belonging. But, even when she was lonely and unhappy at school, she had always had her family. So, when she looked at him here now, she felt not anger but overwhelming sadness for him, for how lonely he must have been for so long.
‘You must hate me,’ he said.
She looked at him, small and alone on the mat. He was the only one who had wanted the Bloom as much as she had, who needed it as badly, who had pursued so single-mindedly the idea of what the Bloom could do and believed so wholly in its power to change things. He had believed in its magic, too.
‘No,’ said Penny. She shook her head. ‘I thought I did before. But I don’t. I’m glad you’re OK. And glad the mandrill has gone back to the Gorgonne and Kana is safe.’
It was over, for both of them. They were released. Penny felt a strange, heady freedom, the newness of life without an all-consuming purpose. She had the sense, kneeling there, that in another life she and Kal might have been friends. But in this life there was the bicycle, and the Bloom that was gone, and the fact that she couldn’t stay in Kana any longer, anyway.
‘I have to go now,’ she said. ‘But I hope, I don’t know – I hope things work out for you.’
‘I’m going to be in trouble,’ said Kal. ‘Huge trouble.’
Penny nodded. ‘Yeah …’ she said. ‘But maybe just for a little while. I think that in the end, everyone will just be happy that you’re all right.’
Kal looked sceptical.
‘I know that Tabba and Jebby will be,’ said Penny. ‘You should be friends with them, I mean really friends. They’re great.’
For a moment, Kal’s sadness parted and he looked hopeful. With effort he sat up and reached out his hand. Penny took it in hers, and not knowing what else to do, they shook hands. It was a strangely formal, adult gesture that made them both feel self-conscious, but they could not think of anything better.
‘Goodbye,’ she said.
‘Goodbye,’ he said solemnly. Before he let her go, he squeezed her hand tightly. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
Penny left the hut. Everyone else was gone, but two women had stayed behind to tend to Kal, and they slipped quietly inside as Penny went out. Down the hill, between the buildings, Penny could see the limestone crescent of the amphitheatre, which began at the edge of the town and curved round the valley. Below it lay the blue sweep of the sea. As Penny walked down the steps from the porch, she saw Tabba and Jebby running up the street towards her, out of breath. When they saw her, they sprinted the last of the way and almost barrelled into her.
‘Penny!’ Jebby cried. ‘We’re so happy to see you!’
‘You looked so small in the Wave!’ said Tabba, embracing her. ‘We were so scared when it crashed!’
‘When the whorls closed, we knew you were all right and must have got to the Coral Basin,’ said Jebby. ‘We were looking for you up and down the coast, but we ran all the way back here when we heard the triton …’
‘We just passed Elder,’ said Tabba. ‘He said you gave the last of the Bloom to Kal and he’s going to be all right now. Is that true?’
‘It’s true,’ said Penny.
Tabba and Jebby just looked at her.
‘Oh, Penny,’ said Tabba, her eyes filling with tears. ‘There’s none left for …’
Seeing Tabba’s tears made Penny feel sad again.
‘It’s all right,’ she said hoarsely. ‘My grandmother would have wanted him to have it. I have a feeling it only works in Tamarind anyway. And I’m glad that Kal’s OK.’
There was nothing else that could be said about it. Penny cleared her throat.
‘Tell Bellamy I’m sorry about his bike,’ she said.
‘We already have,’ said Jebby. ‘We saw him last night, and Rai.’
‘They’re down there now – look,’ said Tabba. ‘On the top step of the amphitheatre. See – they’re waving.’
Penny looked where Tabba was pointing and could just make them out, Bellamy sitting, Rai standing on the bench beside him, looking up the hill. When she saw that the children had seen her, she swung her arms wildly back and forth over her head. Even from a distance Penny could see that she was smiling. And Bellamy was waving, too – he must not be that angry about the bicycle. Penny waved back at them.
The Council of Elders had assembled for the last time on the platform at the bottom of the valley, and the amphitheatre was filling with people again. Penny searched for Helix. He had promised he would say goodbye this time. And where was Seagrape? Penny heard Elder’s voice, echoing off the hills.
‘People of Kana,’ he boomed.
His voice was strong and clear as a bell. The crowd stopped shifting and rustling and murmuring, and fell so quiet that Penny could hear the flapping of a bird’s wings. She held her breath. Seconds later, Seagrape appeared and landed on Penny’s shoulder. Penny sighed in relief. She waited until she saw Helix, running up the hill towards them. He embraced Penny wordlessly, lifting her feet off the ground, and she hugged him back, resting her head on his shoulder. When her feet touched the ground again, Elder was speaking.
‘The end of the competition did not unfold as it could have,’ he shouted, his voice resounding up through the valley. ‘But what matters is that the Bloom is complete. The whorls are closed; the mandrill has gone back to the Gorgonne. The last few drops of it were given away in a moment of great need to the person who required it most. The danger has passed. Kana is safe and will prosper for another generation. When the triton sounds for the last time, the festivities will be over.’
It was time to open the final whorl. Penny did not know how she did it – somehow she just imagined it, clearly, strongly, and there it was, shimmering in the middle of the yard. Mist slowly swirled and eddied inside it and, as she watched, it began to glimmer more brightly. She turned to Tabba and Jebby. They didn’t have long.
‘Would you do something for me?’ she asked. ‘Would you be nice to Kal? He needs some friends.’
‘We will,’ promised Tabba.
Jebby raised the bell and rang it.
Penny hugged each of the twins fiercely. They hugged her back.
Seagrape nuzzled Penny’s cheek and wove back and forth. Penny stroked the parrot’s smooth feathers, felt the hard, smooth mineral crescent of her beak as Seagrape gnawed her knuckle gently. Penny’s heart felt heavy. Then the bird lifted her wings, and Penny felt a rush of air as Seagrape’s talons left her shoulder for the last time. She flew away, leaving a painful absence in the place where she had been. Penny watched her glide out over the valley, wings opened on the wind, her shadow rippling over the earth below.
Cool, white mist rolled out of the whorl and touched Penny’s skin. In the distance the triton sounded. Its low, sonorous note rang out across the blue slopes of the swells, over all the people gathered in the amphitheatre, up the shining green hills and into the bright sky.
Penny stepped into the whorl. The sound of the triton faded and Kana fell away. Behind her for a moment she heard the bicycle bell trilling a furious farewell.
It would not be a passage through a rough storm, or a dark night lost and alone. This would be simple. The ground had already been covered, the journey already made. This was just the last step, a light hop across.
At the last second, Penny looked behind her. She reached out her hand.
When the mist cleared, Penny became aware that she was in the cabin of the Pamela Jane – the real Pamela Jane, in the tiny cove at home, its water lapping blue-black against the pale sand of the beach. Helix stood next to her in the cabin. Through one of the boat’s portholes, the lights of Granny Pearl’s house twinkled on the hill.
‘Come on,’ said Penny, barely able to contain her excitement. ‘We’re here!’
She hurried up the companionway and opened the hatch, then climbed on to the deck. The night air was soft on her face. She paused and breathed in the scent of home – salt, veg
etables in the garden, oranges in the grove. A warm breeze blew the boat gently on its mooring. A new rowing-boat was tied to the stern. She and Helix climbed in and with four strong strokes Penny had rowed them to the small crescent beach.
‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’
‘Shall I tell them you’re here?’ she asked.
‘No, not yet – wait,’ he said.
Penny left him there and ran lightly up the hill. The grass was damp under her bare feet. She didn’t call out, suddenly terrified that she was too late. She bounded up the porch steps and was about to dash through the screen door when she saw Granny Pearl sitting in her rocking chair, a blanket in her lap, a soft fur of insects flickering around the tiny light burning at her feet. Penny threw her arms gently round her. For a long time now she’d been too big to sit in Granny Pearl’s lap, but she snuggled into the chair beside her. The two of them were small enough to sit side by side.
‘I’m so happy to see you,’ murmured Penny, burying her face in her grandmother’s arm.
‘I’ve been waiting up for you,’ said Granny Pearl. ‘I had a feeling you’d be back tonight.’ She hugged Penny close and kissed the top of her head.
‘I was in Tamarind,’ said Penny. ‘A different part than we had ever been in before. A place called Kana. And Granny Pearl …’ Penny dropped her voice and sat up to face her grandmother. ‘Helix is here,’ she whispered excitedly. ‘He came back with me. He’s down by the cove. He didn’t want me to tell anyone he was here yet.’
Granny Pearl smiled and closed her eyes.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I knew when I saw all the signs – I knew it was time for him to be here again. That it was the right time. No, don’t call him – wait until he’s ready. We’ll see him soon enough.’
‘I tried to get the Bloom for you,’ said Penny. She was so tired but had so much to say. ‘I was close – but then … I gave it to this boy who really needed it.’
‘The Bloom?’ asked Granny Pearl.
‘The stuff that would make you better,’ said Penny. ‘What you sent me to get for you.’