The True Colours of Coral Glen

by Juliette Forrest

  “Can you see me?” he asked, gawping as if I was a stone angel that had just sprung to life.

  I froze, unsure how to answer.

  My eyes followed him as he ducked down and moved from side to side.

  “Oh! You have no idea what this means – thank heavens I’ve found you! Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lyart… Where are my manners? My condolences for your loss…”

  Something fizzed deep inside me and started to bubble up. Blood whooshed through my veins and my heart drummed in my ears. Words shot out of my mouth the same way lava spouts from a volcano.

  “It’s creepy sneaking up on girls in graveyards,” I spat, before storming off towards the path.

  “Wait! There are some important things I must tell you.” I heard his footsteps as he pursued me. “It’s a matter of life and death.”

  Today could not be over soon enough.

  I fought hard not to break out into a run; the boy was even crazier than I’d thought. Not even Mr McCubbin, my physics teacher, was this weird. If I could just reach the gate, I’d be seconds away from the Brigg Inn and safety.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to find someone living to talk to!” Lyart caught up with me. “Coral, the first thing you need to know is the earthbound are spirits who have chosen not to cross over to heaven after death, but to remain here instead. Most people can’t see them, but you can.”

  I stopped and whirled around. It was clear I was dealing with someone who was completely and utterly stark raving bonkers.

  “The next thing you should know is your gran has chosen to become heavenbound and will leave the earth on the next full moon. This means she is still here and I can take you to her, if you wish to see her one last time.”

  I gasped, resisting the urge to ball up my fist and punch Lyart on the nose. “Who even are you?” Every part of me shook with rage.

  “Ah, you’re not good with names either. I always forget them, and you’d think being the Keeper of Halloway, I’d have special memory powers; sadly not. Allow me to introduce myself again. I’m Lyart,” he said with a bow.

  I ignored his answer. “Are you from my school? How do you know my name? Is this a wind-up?” I checked the trees and bushes for Justin Furic or any of the other boys.

  Lyart raised his hands as though trying to reassure me. “I don’t go to your school. I live here in Halloway churchyard…”

  “Let me tell you something. What you are saying about taking me to see my gran … is beyond horrible … and you should be ashamed of yourself.” My cheeks flushed Amsterdam Tulip.

  Lyart’s brows came down, puzzled. “Do you not want to talk to your gran again?”

  My heart near exploded like a popped balloon. He’d just said the one thing I wanted to hear more than anything else, but no matter how much I wished it was true, it just wasn’t possible. The cruelness of his lie stung worse than jellyfish.

  “If you. Know what’s good for you. You will never speak to me again.” I didn’t have enough breath in my body to say it in one sentence.

  The gate to the graveyard squeaked open and I heard footsteps – a chance for me to make my escape. As I wiped my eyes, a familiar face came into view.

  “Coral,” said Dad. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere. Mum told me you were in the hotel gardens. You should have let us know you were in here.”

  I glared at Lyart, who stood at the side of the path.

  “Are you OK?” asked Dad. “Mum said you had a run-in with Miss Mirk, today of all days.” He hadn’t even asked who the scruffy boy was.

  “She was rude about God.” I glared at Lyart, wishing he would go away.

  “Miss Mirk upsets everyone. She’s a professional upsetterer, if there’s such a word,” replied Dad.

  “I’m certain she’s kidnapped him.” I slid my eyes back over to Dad.

  “Your mum mentioned you thought you’d spotted God in Miss Mirk’s handbag. She is many things, but I wouldn’t have her down as a cat rustler.”

  Lyart distracted me by stepping out from the shadows and disappearing behind Dad.

  “What are you doing?” I called out to Lyart, nervously.

  Dad answered, thinking I was speaking to him. “I’m wondering if you’re ready to go? Mum is taking Nessie, Margot and Dodo home. They’ve had a bit too much sherry and they’re singing at the tops of their voices. Management at the hotel asked them to leave.”

  Without warning, Lyart walked clean through Dad’s body – who didn’t flinch once.

  My jaw dropped.

  “I know, shocking stuff getting chucked out of a hotel at a funeral.” Dad rubbed his eyes. “Ach, I’m glad they let off some steam; they’ll miss Gran as much as we will.”

  Dad couldn’t see Lyart! He really couldn’t!

  Lyart strode towards the giant sycamore tree. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Coral. I can take you to your gran, but only if you help me with a matter of utmost urgency first. Many lives are at risk, so I’ll need an answer by tomorrow. I’m really hoping you’ll say yes.” Shafts of sunlight appeared, piercing through his body in Melted Butter spears.

  “What are you gawping at?” asked Dad, following my gaze over to the tree.

  “A robin! Thought I saw a robin.” The truth was way too strange to try and explain.

  Dad stuck his hands in his pockets. “Your gran always said if you saw a robin it was someone in the spirit world sending their love.”

  I glanced over at the tree but Lyart had gone.

  Dad put his arm around my shoulders and leaned on me. “Come on, I think we deserve the power of pizza tonight.”

  The sun’s dying rays turned the clouds Gold Doubloon, Glazed Raspberry and Lavender Posey. As shadows reached out across the path, I bit my lip. Was it possible Lyart was telling the truth and I could see Gran one more time?

  Foxes raided bins for food, owls swooped silent as bats, a dog barked at a cat chasing a mouse and seagulls gave their last cackles of the day as they wheeled above the rooftops. A sea breeze stirred, nudging the dozing trees awake. A satellite flashed past the stars and the shy moon hid behind Silver Rocket clouds. Leaves trembled and branches tapped against my window, but my eyes were already open. I knew Gran was dead, except I couldn’t stop worrying that she’d be cold in her coffin. Even in the summertime, she’d feel chilled, which she’d always blamed on poor circulation. And God couldn’t curl up in her lap to warm it any more.

  I wiped my eyes. I hadn’t even realized it was possible to cry silently until today. As if it hadn’t been enough having to say goodbye to Gran. Had I actually seen a spirit boy? An earthbound, as he’d called it. I had watched Lyart walk through Dad; could it have been a trick of the light? And what did he mean when he’d mentioned lives were at risk?

  My insides churned as though I was on a waltzer ride at the fair. If he was fibbing about taking me to see Gran one last time, it would be the cruellest trick ever played on me. It was the one thing I wanted most in the world. My breath caught in the back of my throat as I imagined hugging her and telling her how sorry I was for what happened.

  But how could any of this be possible?

  The trees stirred and I heard a yowl outside. I got out of bed and padded over to the window. I peered into the garden but couldn’t spot any dark shapes slinking across the lawn. I hoped God was safe wherever he was.

  Something moved in the shadows and my eyes darted over to Miss Mirk’s garden. She was hunched over a bin bag, dragging it up the stairs. Whatever was inside it was heavy. With one last heave, she staggered through her doorway, the bin bag vanishing from view. The glass on the door rattled as she slammed it shut.

  What was she smuggling into her house at this time of night?

  My heart raced faster than the second hand on my alarm clock as I jumped back into bed. No wonder Miss Mirk didn’t want me poking my nose in her business; she was definitely up to no good. Why would she kidnap God if she hated animals? None of it made sense and I couldn�
��t talk to Mum and Dad about it because they didn’t believe there had been anything strange in her handbag. The question was: how could I prove Miss Mirk had stolen God? As I lay staring up at the ceiling, I shivered every time a radiator clanked or a floorboard creaked.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Dad and I held the poster up for Mum to inspect. She was sitting at the breakfast table in her dressing gown, halfway through her fourth yawn, which made me yawn too. I’d been awake most of the night as well.

  “It’s a really good picture of God and the letters are nice and big, so people will be able to read them as they are driving past in their cars, too. Who chose the colour?” asked Mum.

  “Me.” I was certain colours could be lucky or unlucky. Although the Chinese believe red brings good fortune, Gran swore it wasn’t so advantageous for Mrs McHugh at the curling club because it brought out the broken veins on her face. Gran said they were gin blossoms, except I have no idea what those even are. Whenever I’d worn something Peppermint Leaf, I’d always had the best day. I’d read at the library that green was sacred to Egyptians because it gave them hope, so that’s why I’d chosen it for God’s poster. Peppermint Leaf might not work for me any more; however, I was sure it would for him and that seeing his picture would jog the memory of a neighbour who might have spotted him in Miss Mirk’s garden and then Mum and Dad would believe me that she’d kidnapped him. We had decided to write his full name under his photo because Dad said if we just put God is Missing, we might upset the minister who lived nearby, or spark a huge philosophical debate in the neighbourhood.

  Dad insisted it would be a good idea to join Saltbay’s Lost Pets page on Facebook. We had scrolled through it and found missing dogs, cats, guinea pigs, rabbits, budgies and even a parrot. Nip, the dog from the poster, was there too, which meant he couldn’t have been found yet. Seeing all the photos of the animals at home, in happier times, made me sad and more determined than ever to find God. I’d do anything to get him back here with us where he belonged.

  I grabbed a bowl and emptied the last of the cereal into it. I sat and watched the milk changing Cocoa Disco. Dad made a coffee and scrolled through the emails on his phone. He never normally spoke until he’d finished his first cup of the day.

  “Your dad and I have to go to the lawyers this morning to discuss some important things to do with your gran.” Mum buttered some toast and took a bite. “Will you be OK here for a while?”

  Mum and Dad had agreed I could take the week off school. I knew if someone asked what had happened or mentioned they were sorry to hear my news, I’d just burst into tears. And my mind was way too distracted to pay attention in class anyway.

  “Can I put the posters up?” I raised my eyebrows.

  Mum and Dad glanced at each other. Dad shrugged and Mum placed her toast on her plate.

  “I’ll stay on Our Street and Brown Street.” Brown Street wasn’t actually called Brown Street but for some reason dog owners never scooped up the poop there, so Dad and I renamed it. We’d given all the nearby streets, lanes and cul-de-sacs new titles: something which had kept us both endlessly amused and made Mum and Gran shake their heads.

  “What I don’t tape to trees and lamp posts, I’ll pop through people’s doors,” I added.

  A thought occurred to me. If I put one through Miss Mirk’s door, I could peer through the letter box to see if I could spot any signs God was there. I leaned forward on the table, crumbs crunching under my elbows. “The sooner people know God is missing the better.”

  “Will you take your phone with you?” Dad asked.

  I nodded.

  “Is it switched on and fully charged?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

  “It is.” I gave an exaggerated blink.

  “Will you promise only to stick to Our Street and Brown Street? And not to go into someone’s house even if they offer you a brand-new seasonal paint chart of autumnal hues from Homeworld?”

  “This is serious,” said Mum, glowering at Dad.

  “I promise,” I said quickly, before she could change her mind.

  “Well then, you can go, but if you break any of the aforementioned rules, you’re grounded for the rest of your life and into the afterlife too.” Dad set his face in a stern expression.

  I thought about what Lyart had said. I wished I could tell Mum and Dad what had taken place in the graveyard, except there was no way they would believe me – especially not after they thought I was making it up about Miss Mirk kidnapping God. And no matter how desperate I was to see Gran to tell her how sorry I was for what happened, I knew deep down inside it just wasn’t possible. I’d been mad even listening to Lyart in the first place. My insides crumbled as anger pulsed through my body. I ought to go straight round to the graveyard and thump him for lying to me.

  The clouds zipped across the sky, in a hurry to reach the next town. The cool air smelled fresh and of the sea. Saltbay beach was only a ten-minute walk from the house; Gran and I loved going there on days just the same as this. The waves would be Mermaid’s Tail tipped with galloping Chalk White horses, which would thunder on to the sand, leaving behind gifts of glossy seaweed, driftwood, bright plastics, smashed crabs, and a rainbow of broken shells. If the wind was strong, jellyfish would roll in on the tide and lie still, gleaming like giant milky opals. Swallows swooped after flies faster than thoughts and wagtails would flutter and bob amongst scratchy patches of dried seaweed. As much as I would have loved the breeze to chase away my sadness for a while, walking along the sand without Gran would feel as weird as the ocean not being there.

  I tugged on my Squid Ink beanie hat, buttoned up my Heartthrob Red coat and tied a knot in my Sweet Apple scarf. I hurried out on to the street, attaching posters to all the lamp posts. That’s when I noticed Miss Mirk’s gate was already open. After checking the coast was clear, I nipped up her path, ignoring the nerves helter-skeltering around my insides.

  I watched the net curtains for movement, but they stayed stock-still.

  Striding up the three steps to her door, I took off my rucksack and pulled the posters out. I knelt on the mat and opened the brass letter box. It was stiff, so I pushed it hard, the tip of my finger turning Ballerina Gown. The poster landed on the other side of the door and slid across the dark wooden floor. My eyes took a minute to adjust to the gloom. The hallway was painted Dragon Blood and the pictures on the walls were squint, as if someone had brushed past them in a hurry. I spied scratches on the doors, which didn’t mean much because it was an old house. Gran always said the more marked something was, the more interesting a story it had to tell. I studied the shadows for God, but he wasn’t there, so I held my breath and strained my ears for any yowling or hissing.

  “What are you doing?” said a quiet voice behind me.

  The letter box snapped shut as I scrambled to my feet, letting go of all the posters. They fluttered down the steps, catching in the towering dandelions and knee-high nettles.

  “Not content with spying on me again, you are now littering my flower beds.” Miss Mirk’s eyes glinted Pewter Dagger.

  I chased after the posters, retrieving them from the weeds as quickly as I could.

  “Miss Mirk, I wasn’t sure if you were home or not. Can I give you one of these?” I straightened up and passed her a poster, my cheeks flushing Bullseye with the lie.

  She wasn’t wearing her glasses so held it away from her at arm’s length. The brooch pinned to her lapel caught my eye. It was Chiffon White with three talons on it and very much looked like a bird’s foot.

  “Nature has not been kind to this animal; it is a brute of a cat.” She sniffed, her nose whistling.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I take it you have not located it yet?”

  I remembered Mum’s warning about being polite. “No, Miss Mirk; we’ve not found him yet. That’s why I’m handing out posters in case he’s been spotted … nearby.”

  “I told you to stay away from me and my property. I will not warn you a
gain.” Miss Mirk crumpled the poster into a ball and stuffed it inside her handbag. She brushed past me and heaved her shopping trolley up the front steps. One of its wheels caught and the flap flew open. Four cans spilled out, bounced down the steps and rolled towards my feet. To my astonishment, they were tins of cat food.

  Miss Mirk charged after them, her face changing from Macaroon Cream to Blushing Vixen.

  My anger started in the pit of my stomach and then travelled through my veins, reaching every single part of my body. It was so strong, my heart shrank behind my ribs and skipped some beats.

  “If this food is for God and you’re keeping him from me or you’ve harmed him in any way…”

  Miss Mirk cut me short. “No wonder your grandmother wound up in an early grave. Stay away from me.” She opened her door, bumped the trolley inside and slammed it shut behind her. Some chips of paint floated to the ground like dirty confetti.

  She knows it’s your fault Gran’s dead.

  The cloud above snagged on a jagged TV aerial and burst. Rain started to fall.

  Fleeing from her garden, I tore past my house.

  I sprinted so fast birds flapped, dogs barked and people stared behind me, curious of what I was running from.

  CHAPTER

  6

  I shot through the gate, dashing across the squelchy grass towards the giant sycamore tree. Water seeped in through my high-tops and the Golden Spice curls that poked out beneath my beanie hat had darkened to Espresso.

  Falling seeds the same shape as helicopter blades whirled down on to the ground. The graveyard spun and I could no longer breathe. I collapsed, gasping for air.

  Miss Mirk knows Gran’s dead because of you. How long before she tells Mum and Dad?

  My thoughts emptied my lungs and I wheezed.

  “Slow your breathing, Coral. Inhale through your nose … that’s it … hold it … hold it… OK, you can exhale out through your mouth now. You’re going to be fine – again. Breathe in through your nose.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and listened to Lyart’s voice. When my lungs finally filled, I sat up.