Breathing Underwater (12 page)

 

 

 

Last summer

August 25th

Joe came to the barbecue with everyone later last night, and at some point Sam turned up too, and I stopped worrying about them for a while, but this morning he didn't go running, and he didn't have breakfast, and I haven't seen him since.

I go with Maddie, Rosie and Coral to look for washed-up Venetian beads at Beady Pool, and then on to the sand bar. Maddie and I swim from the Gara end of the strand, and afterwards we sunbathe while Rosie and Coral play in the sand. It's just an ordinary day. We're getting used to it being sunny day after day.

Coral's nothing like her sister. I watch her. She's fair, and shy and quiet. She smiles a lot at Rosie, sweetly. She doesn't seem to mind the way Rosie bosses her around.

‘Here,' I say. ‘Do you want these to go round the top?' I give her my handful of shells, to decorate her fairy castle.

She arranges them around the turrets. It's a good castle, for a little child. She's got loads of patience, unlike Rosie.

‘What's your sister doing today?'

She doesn't answer.

Rosie pipes up instead. ‘She's sleeping. In her tent. Then she's going to the pub like she always does.'

‘She doesn't,' Coral says.

‘Where, then?'

‘I don't know,' Coral says. ‘She doesn't tell me.'

‘You should follow her,' Rosie says. ‘That's what I'd do.'

Maddie laughs. She throws a pebble against Rosie's lumpy castle and it makes a big dent in one of the walls. ‘You're such a nosy parker!'

‘She's got a boyfriend,' Rosie says.

‘We all know that,' Maddie says.

I lean over to help Rosie patch up the sand wall, so no one can see my blushing face.

 

I go back home the long way, via Periglis. The dinghy has been pulled up the beach, the sail rolled loosely round the mast, still dripping. That's where Joe must have been, then. It looks as if he was in a bit of a hurry. Gramps normally takes the sail right down, and brings the spare oars and all the gear back to the shed to dry off. I notice Joe's left the two bungs on the edge of the wall. He'll be mad if they got lost, or nicked, so I jump down on the shingle and go and pick them up, to take back with me. I find a washed-up sea-urchin too: pale purple and white stripes, almost perfectly round and whole. I start walking back along the path to the campsite.

Then I see them: two figures crossing the field. They go past the washrooms, through the gateway, up the lane past the farmhouse. I follow a safe distance behind. Sam has a bottle in one hand. Her feet are bare, she's carrying flip-flops in her other hand. She's wearing a short white skirt, and a black sleeveless T-shirt, and a black leather belt. Her hair hangs down her back like a glossy curtain; she could be a model, a girl in an advert. They stop outside the farm, and Huw goes into the house. Sam waits for him in the lane, so I have to go on, past her. She doesn't say anything and neither do I.

I push our gate open and stop, hidden in the garden behind the hedge. I hear Huw and Sam come past, on up the lane. I know where they're going now. I want to stop them right there, but I can't think how. All the time, I'm thinking about Joe. Imagining the hurt look on his face. The pain in his heart.

I go round the side of our house to the back garden. Voices drift from the downstairs bathroom: it's Evie and Gramps, now laughing softly together. I fetch the green rug from the sofa, take it back out to the grass under the apple tree and wait for Joe.

 

I look up when I hear his feet coming down the stairs: I know it's him, because of the way he always jumps the last three steps. He's been in his room.

‘Are you going down the field?' I ask.

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

‘I'm not going there,' he says.

‘Where, then?'

‘Out.'

So I follow him. Like Rosie said.

Up the lane.

My heart skips a beat.

Now all I can think of is that somehow I've got to stop him finding Huw and Sam. I can't bear the thought of him seeing what I saw.

He's almost there. He's lifting the stuck gate at the hinge end, to open it.

I sprint to catch him up.

He turns. ‘What are you doing, following me?' He's angry. He grabs my arm and it hurts. I twist away.

‘Go on. Scram.' He shoves me away.

I feel so stupid and helpless. There's nothing I can do. I watch him walk towards the peeling front door. For a second I'm paralysed: a rabbit caught in headlights, crouched behind the hedge. Blood thrums up the back of my legs.

More voices. Shouting. Joe comes skidding out of the gate and he bumps straight into me. He swears at me, shouts. He's nothing like my brother Joe. He hauls me up. His words spit into my face. ‘You knew. You've known for ages, you deceitful little spy. Snooping on people.'

It's horrible. I start to cry. ‘I only wanted to stop you, Joe!' I wail, but he pushes me aside and rushes off and in an instant it's all over.

I reason with myself as I wander back home. It's not so terrible. So, he found out about Sam and Huw. Well, better that he did, really. Otherwise he'd have gone on thinking how amazing and lovely she was for ever. Better to know the truth. Even if it hurts. The truth's always better.

I don't go straight home. I go across the island and past the church to the field, to see if Joe's gone there.

‘Are you OK?' Maddie leaves the football game for a moment to talk to me. ‘You're very pale,' she says. But my throat's sort of stuck: I can't answer, and I rush off again, her voice echoing after me.
Come and play, Freya! We need more people . . .

I run along the shoreline path, jump down on to the disused lifeboat slipway. Once, each island had its own lifeboat and crew: nowadays, the lifeboat has to come from Main Island. Gramps' rowing boat is stacked upside down next to the slipway as usual, but the dinghy has gone.

I know instantly that Joe's taken it out. All the time I've taken wandering around looking for him has been enough for him to get the boat down to the water, the sails up, and to make his way across the bay. I crane my neck, scanning the water. And yes, there it is: way beyond the rocky promontory, the white triangle of the sail. I can just about see it flapping as the boat catches a gust of wind.

I should call out, or wave, or something.

But he'll be all right. He knows what he's doing. It won't be dark for quite a while. Not really dark. Joe loves sailing: he'll come back feeling better. Everything will go back to normal. Only one more day and Sam will be gone, and we can forget all about her.

Seventeen

 

 

I try not to think about Huw. I reckon if I go and find Danny it'll take my mind off things. Usually, I like walking through the campsite in the evening. Everyone's cooking outside their tents, or sitting around chatting, and all the little kids race around playing games and it feels really relaxed. Once I've worked out Huw's not around, I begin to chill too.

I find Danny washing up at the outside sinks; I hang around with him while he finishes and help him carry bowls and stuff back to his tent, which means I get to meet his family. They are really friendly and easy and kind, so that makes a change from the rest of my day up till now. I end up staying ages. His dad makes me hot chocolate on their camping stove. Danny's little sister Hattie bullies me into reading a million stories. (Actually, I like reading stories.) We read this big book of fairy stories, all in rhyme, and Hattie knows most of the words by heart. It's cosy sitting on a camping chair with Hattie leaning against me, all warm and ready for bed in her pink fleecy pyjamas, both of us sipping hot chocolate.

‘Football now?' Danny asks. ‘Coming?'

‘One more story, Freya?' Hattie wheedles.

‘Bedtime for you, Hattie,' her dad says, scooping her up and kissing her tummy till she squeals.

 

Danny and I walk together without saying much. I've cheered up a bit, though, and it's a relief to just lark about and run on the field. Neither Huw nor Matt are there. Izzy says they're helping Dave with some boat trip, at Bryluen. She's on the other team so we don't get to talk much. She asks me how Gramps is, but that's all.

We play out till it's too dark to see the ball. The younger kids drift back to the campsite. I sit in a circle with Danny, Izzy and the others, chatting about not very much. Maddie and Lisa decide to go to the pub. Izzy doesn't want to go. In the end it's just Danny, Izzy and me left.

‘Let's lie down and look at the stars,' Izzy says.

‘Why?' Danny says.

‘Just do it and see.'

So we lie down. The grass is slightly damp. Above us, the sky is clear and studded with stars. The more you look the more you see. After a while it seems as if the sky is pressing down, heavy with a million trillion stars each of which is a tiny pinprick but together making a whitewash of light. The sky seems to curve, pulled down to earth at its edges. You can see how the earth is actually round. I've never noticed that before.

We point out the constellations we know: the Great Bear and the Plough, Orion the Hunter and Sirius, the Dog Star.

‘Wish we had a telescope,' Danny says.

‘Why? You can see everything like this. You're more part of it. Isn't it amazing?'

‘Yes,' I whisper. It's mind-blowing. Extraordinary.

Danny keeps fidgeting.

‘Sshh! Listen,' Izzy says. ‘They make a sound.'

‘What do?'

‘The stars.'

‘How come? That's impossible,' Danny says.

‘Just listen.'

There
is
a sound. A very faint, high-pitched fizzing, like static. My head starts to spin.

‘The music of the spheres. Zinging down to earth, to us.' Izzy's voice comes out all breathy and awesome.

Danny sits up. ‘Ugh! This grass is sopping wet!' He stands up and stares back down at me and Izzy. ‘You are almost the same colour as the field.' He walks a few paces away. ‘From here you are invisible. Someone could walk right over you.'

Izzy laughs.

My head swims. I'm drunk with starlight. I feel tiny, under this vast sky. So many stars, and some of them aren't even there any more, already burned up, even though their light is still travelling towards us, to this moment. It's taken that long: light years. Out loud I say the word
firmament,
not because I'm religious or anything, but because it's such a lovely word, and it feels like this sky needs an amazing word.

‘What?' Izzy says.

‘Firmament. The sky.'

Izzy says it too.

‘Hey, Matt's coming this way,' Danny says. ‘Stay quiet and see if he notices you.'

But Izzy giggles. ‘Hi, Matt. All finished, then? Boat sorted?'

Matt looks slightly bemused, staring down at Izzy. ‘Coming for a drink? Huw and Luke are there already.'

‘Not tonight. You can.'

‘Not bothered. I'll go back with you.'

‘We're not going back. Not yet. Lie down and watch stars with us.'

‘I'm off,' Danny says. ‘Coming, Freya?'

‘Don't go yet!' Izzy holds on to my sleeve.

So I don't. I do what she wants, because I want it too. That's the effect Izzy has.

Danny looks a bit fed up. He doesn't say bye or anything. We watch him disappear into the dark.

‘Ahh!' Izzy says. ‘He really likes you, you know?'

‘Shut up!' I push Izzy away lightly and she laughs.

Matt comes and joins us. He lies down in the space between Izzy and me. I feel tingly and weird being so close. I can sense his body like heat, even though he's not actually touching me. Above my face the air feels cold now.