Stormswept. Part 19

"Us?" says Malin.

"Yes, can't you hear her? She needs help!"

The cry comes again. It's fainter now but even sharper. It is a knife that cuts me to the bone. "Morveren, help me!"

Malin looks back at me impa.s.sively. "I can't hear anything," he says.

"You must be able to! You've got to help me, Malin, I don't even know which direction to go in. Where are we?"

I look around in panic. Smooth, dark water surrounds me in every direction. Below me it's so deep that the sea floor has vanished into shadow. Malin and I must have been drifting out to sea all the time that we were talking, and I didn't notice. Did he? Jenna's voice searches for me through the water: "Morveren! Morveren..."

"She needs me! You've got to help me find her, Malin." I'm convinced that he can. If Jenna is lost somewhere in Ingo, then Malin's my only hope of finding her. But Malin frowns, and remains silent.

"You don't want to hear her," I accuse him bitterly. He throws back his head. "I have heard enough from Air and Earth," he says. "Why don't you listen, Morveren? I am here with you. I am closer to you than your sister, and we are of the same blood and spirit."

"Jenna's my twin. I know you think we're not the same, but that doesn't mean we're separate. If she's in danger, I am too. If she's unhappy, I am too. Please, Malin. Please." I think of saying I helped you, didn't I, when you were in danger? a but I don't. I have a feeling that bargaining will anger Malin rather than persuade him.

He swims forward and takes my hand again, looking deep into my eyes as if he's searching for something there. "You can find your sister if you want to find her. I'll even help you. But you'll lose the best part of yourself if you leave Ingo, Morveren. Surely you know that. Surely you can feel it."

I nod. I do know. I don't just understand it; I feel it. My happiness and certainty are already ebbing away as the human world grows strong in my mind. I know only too well what I'm returning to, and what it will make me be. Angry, frustrated, not good at things, getting into trouble. For some reason Bran's face flashes across my mind. Bran at school, defying everybody.

In the human world I'll never be the Morveren I could be here in Ingo. The knowledge is as sharp and heavy as swallowing a stone. But Jenna will be there. I can't live with myself if I don't answer her call. I belong in Ingo but I also belong with Jenna.

"Jenna's always been there a we were together before we were even born," I tell Malin, trying to explain, but it sounds so weak. I can't put into words what it feels like when another person is more important to you than you are to yourself a so much part of you that if you lost them it would be like losing your own soul. And then I realise that I don't have to. Malin already knows. He doesn't say anything, but he searches my face again and comes to a decision as suddenly as the Mer come to a stop when they are flying through the water as fast as diving seals. He looks so sad that I want to pull back my words and wash that look from his face.

"Then you must go back to your own world," he says.

I don't think the journey takes long. All I really remember is Malin's grip on my wrist and the way we soared through the water. It wasn't even like swimming. I felt as if I were Mer too, as if Malin had given me that gift just for the time of our journey. Ingo accepted me just as it accepted Malin. It wanted us to be there, together, and it moved the currents to make us go faster. I belonged then, I know I did.

But it's over. I'm back in my depth. I put down my foot and it grazes the sand. I'm suddenly cold, although I haven't felt cold all night. I look insh.o.r.e and see a pick-up truck keeled over on its side, and a girl and a boy standing on the sand, looking out to sea. Jenna and Digory. How could I ever have forgotten about them, even for a second? But I don't call out and I keep my head down in the water. I want to say goodbye to Malin first.

I turn to him. "I'm sorry," I say. He doesn't say anything at first and I'm scared he's going to turn and vanish beneath the waves with that Mer suddenness and speed. He doesn't. He seizes me in a hug that is as fierce as it is brief, and then pushes me away from him. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Morveren," he says. "You saved me," and he lifts his left hand in salute. His face lights up in that sudden, brilliant smile, and in one movement he dives and vanishes.

"Malin!" I cry, but no one answers. I stare out to sea but there's nothing there, only the breaking surf with moonlight on it. Nothing. But just as I turn back to sh.o.r.e I see a movement. One after another, dark figures rear out of the water just beyond the line of the surf. Their heads show, and their glistening shoulders. I see their hair streaming like seaweed and a hundred hands lifted, like Malin's, in salute. The moment holds. I'm sure that they can see me as clearly as I can see them. I raise my left hand. It's a greeting, an acknowledgment, a farewell. And then they're gone, and the sea is empty.

Jenna and I walk slowly along the sand, with Digory between us. We pa.s.s the pick-up truck, which looks as if it's been thrown on its side by giants who've lifted it and then tossed it away.

"The wave did that," says Jenna.

"Which wave?"

"It was huge, it threw me and Digory way up on the dunes. It was a really strange wave though. It was... Well, this is going to sound stupid but it was... gentle. It wasn't like being wiped out. It lifted us up and carried us to somewhere safe."

"It must have been huge, if it rolled the truck right over."

"Yes. I couldn't believe it when I saw it."

"What happened to them? The men I mean?"

She chuckles. "They're still running I reckon. They were heading for the causeway, weren't they, Digory? We hid until we were sure they'd gone."

"Mr Helyer lost his trousers," says Digory.

I'm not sure if I can ask about Bran, but I don't need to, because Jenna says, "Bran's OK. He's gone to his nan's. He said-" She pauses, and glances at me as if she's worried about my reaction.

"What did he say?" I snap. I've just realised that Eselda didn't weave any singing magic around Bran. He will remember everything. But no one will believe him, I rea.s.sure myself. Even his dad won't believe him. The more Bran says, "But it was true! There really was a Mer boy, I saw him," the more angry his dad will be, because it's Bran's tomfoolery that's caused the truck disaster. He'll blame Bran for all of it, and he won't forget for a long time. Bran will be keeping a very low profile.

"Don't," says Jenna quietly. At the touch of her voice I remember how Bran led the hunters away from me. "Over here," he said, "I've got the freak." But why did he decoy them away from me? He didn't need to. Was it all because of Jenna, or was it... No, I'm not going to think about it. I'm too tired.

"Did you talk to Bran before he went?" I ask Jenna.

"Yes. He's really sorry."

"He should be."

Digory's been pulling on my hand for a while. "Mor, we haven't got my fiddle. Are you going to go back for it?"

I sigh. "Not now, Digory. Not yet. It's safe where it is."

He walks on, head bowed, absorbing the disappointment. For Digory to lose Conan's fiddle must be like losing an arm would be for anyone else. But to my amazement he says quite cheerfully, "Anyway it sounded better in Ingo. The tone was better. It doesn't really belong in the human world."

"Digory, Mum and Dad are going to ask where you've been," says Jenna warningly, "so you'd better forget all that stuff and tell them about how you got lost and you hid in the dunes and fell asleep and then you woke up crying and that's how we found you. That's what we've agreed you're going to say, remember?"

It takes me a beat to realise that my perfect sister Jenna can make up a very convincing story.

"Jenna..."

"Mm?"

"I thought something awful had happened to you. I thought I heard you crying for help."

"When?"

"Just before I came back." I'm not going to tell her that it's why I came back. She'd be frightened if she thought there was ever any other possibility. If Jenna even guessed how deep in Ingo I really was, she'd go crazy.

"Oh, then," says Jenna slowly. "You're right in a way. Something awful had happened to me."

Visions of Aidan Helyer's men hurting her make me feel sick. "What- What was it?"

"I lost you. I didn't think I was ever going to find you. I thought you'd drowned." Jenna's voice sounds as flat as if she's talking about a trip to the shops.

"So that's why you cried out for help."

"I didn't cry out. That would have frightened Digory," says Jenna quickly. "It was just what I thought."

"You can't get rid of me that easily," I say, and I'm quite proud of the way I manage to keep my voice steady when I really want to burst into tears and cry and cry. But that would frighten Digory too.

've learned a strange thing about time. I suspected it before, but now I'm certain. It doesn't work the same here in the human world as it does in Ingo. Sometimes Ingo time seems to go faster than human time, but other times it goes far more slowly. I thought Mum and Dad would have called the police and coastguards to search for Digory, because we'd been away so long. But what seemed like hours and hours to me wasn't as long here. Time opened out like a concertina and then it squeezed shut again and we were almost back where we'd been. Not quite though. We'd been away for long enough that lots of people were out searching.

It was horrible to see Mum's face when we came back with Digory. She grabbed him and cried and cried as if he were dead instead of back safe. She didn't even thank me and Jenna for finding him. Dad got out a bottle of whisky and started slopping whisky into gla.s.ses for everyone who'd been helping to look for Digory. Suddenly there were lots of people in the kitchen and it got very noisy with everyone shouting and laughing and Mum's friend Rosie making sandwiches because everybody was hungry all at once. Mum didn't even think about making sandwiches. She went upstairs carrying Digory and gave him a hot bath as if he was a baby, and then he came down wrapped in his duvet and curled up on Dad's lap. Mum drank one cup of tea after another and kept going over and touching Digory as if she still didn't believe he was really there. Digory was brilliant. He stuck to Jenna's story and he was so convincing I almost believed it was what really happened.

"I woke up and it was all dark... I was really scared, Mum... and then I heard Jenna and Mor calling for me..."

Dad kept saying, "I knew he'd be all right, I kept telling you, Kerenza," but from the way his hands were shaking as he poured out the whisky for everybody, you could see he hadn't really known at all. He'd been just as scared as Mum.

I watch them all. They are my family and friends. I've known everyone in the room since I was born, and yet it all feels so distant, like a bright clear image projected on to a wall. I hear and see everything. I taste the sharp damson pickle in the cheese sandwich Rosie gives me. I huddle as close to the fire as I can, because I'm cold right to the bone. The fire burns brightly but it doesn't warm me through.

Dad comes over. I look across and see that Mum's holding Digory now. He's nearly asleep. Dad still has the whisky bottle in his hand and for a wild moment I think he's going to offer me some. But no.

"You all right now, my girl?" he asks me quietly. Dad is good at noticing things about me that other people don't notice.

"Just tired."

"You did a good job, you and Jenna."

Better than you know, I think. There's so much noise in the room I think it'll cover our voices.

"Dad."

"Yes?" He squats down beside me and holds out his hands to the flames.

"There's something I've got to tell you."

"Bad or good?"

"Bad. But I think it's going to come out good in the end."

"Go on then."

"Conan's fiddle isn't here any more."

Dad goes completely still.

"Don't say anything to Digory, Dad. He took it with him and now it's in a safe place, but he can't bring it back, not now anyway. But it's safe."

The flames hiss and spurt. This is a new load of wood that Dad brought over from Marazance on Johnnie Tremough's tractor last week. There's another roar of laughter behind us as Dad leans close to me and asks, "You sure about this now, Morveren? It'll come to no harm?"

"Quite sure."

"You know what they say about Conan's fiddle. If it gets lost-"

"It's not lost, Dad. I swear it. It's somewhere safe but it can't come back yet."

"Look at me, Morveren."

Dad's eyes hold mine for a long moment. I don't know what he sees in my face, but at last, slowly, he nods. "All right. That instrument's a creature with a life of its own, I do know that. Always has been. And Digory's safe back with us. But you take care now, my girl. We don't want to lose you either."

I was cold before, but now I'm too hot. I slip out of the room, go to the front door and open it. I take deep breaths of the cold night air. It smells of salt and I think of the first time Ingo called me, pulling me away from the walls and down the path. But I didn't understand what was happening then.

My eyes are used to the darkness now. I see the glow of a pipe down by the gate, and recognise the outline of Jago Faraday. I'm not surprised. He would never come inside the house and join in the celebration, but even Jago must have been glad to hear that Digory was safely home. To my surprise, he calls across to me, "Come here, my girl."

He must think I'm Jenna. Reluctantly, I go down the path.

"It's Morveren, not Jenna," I say.

"I knowed that."

He's silent for a while. "'F I go down the pub and tell *em, they'll mock me again," he grumbles at last.

My mind leaps. I almost know what he's going to say.

"I been night-fishing," he says, as if he's talking to the dark. "I seen 'em again. Your people."

I stand still as a rock. My people.

"I'm saying nothing down the pub this time. They'll mock me," repeats Jago.

"Why are you telling me?"

Jago laughs a hoa.r.s.e laugh which turns into a cough. "Cos you already know, my girl. They gave you your name out of the old language, and rightly so. Morveren. Yes, that's what you are. Sea girl. I was miles out on the water when I seen you. But I'm saying nothing. Only you mind and keep your sister safe. She's not one of you and never will be."

I don't answer. I am shocked and full of questions and yet at the same time, deep down, I'm not surprised. Jago Faraday's long dislike of me had a reason, after all. He can see the Mer, and maybe hear them too. Maybe he knew, even before I did, that one day I'd find them.

Jago draws deeply on his pipe. Its red glow lights up his seamed, cantankerous face. I don't like him any more than I ever did but I know him now, just a little.

"Can't a man smoke his pipe in peace?" he asks in his old, cross voice. "Get on back inside with you, Morveren Trevail."

It's a long, long time before Jenna and I go to sleep. We both squash into her bed, the way we used to when we were little. Neither of us wants to be alone. We talk a bit about what happened, but most of the time we just think. At last a rim of grey light begins to show around the shutters, and I hear Jenna's breathing go slow and quiet, and I know she's asleep. Jenna asleep, Mum and Dad sleeping exhausted in their room, Digory dreaming, still wrapped in his duvet. He fell asleep downstairs and Dad carried him up. All our neighbours are at home in their own beds. Very carefully, so as not to wake Jenna, I creep out of bed, go over to the window and open the shutter just a little so the light won't fall on her. It is grey and still outside. I can hear the sea. You can always hear the sea even on the calmest days. I wonder if Malin's awake now, and if he's thinking of me, as I am of him.

There's a movement. A figure slips round the corner of the cottage opposite ours. He has his head down and his hands in his pocket. Bran. He stands there, staring up at our window. He must have been awake all night, like me. I don't move, but he sees me even though the shutters are only open a little bit. He raises his hand, a bit awkwardly. He wants me to come out.

I pull on my jeans and a warm top, tiptoe as lightly as I can across the floor, open our door and creep down the stairs. Really I should become a burglar, I'm so good at getting in and out of houses without disturbing anybody. The front door squeaks a bit with damp. I freeze, listening, but no one stirs upstairs. I put the lock on the latch and let the door close very very gently behind me.

"Bran?"

He signals to me to follow him. There's a porch on the side of the village hall where kids hang out sometimes, and that's where he heads. Once we're there, though, face to face, he doesn't seem to know what to say. But for the first time ever, Bran's looking at me without hostility.

"Is your Jenna all right?"

"She's fine. She's sleeping."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither. Are you staying at your nan's, Bran?"

He shrugs. "Got nowhere else to go, have I?"

I wonder if he'll ever be able to go back to his dad's. It's better for him if he doesn't, I suppose. But all the same, to lose your mum and then your dad is harsh.