Authors: Liz Kessler
North of Nowhere (6 page)
It was time to get out of here.
“I’m just taking Flake out for a walk,” I said, unhooking his leash. At the sound of the “w” word, Flake leaped from his bed in a flash, sitting upright and wagging his tail.
“You’re very eager to walk the dog again,” Mom observed.
“What’s wrong with that?” I replied, perhaps a bit too sharply. Why did I feel guilty? It wasn’t as if I was doing anything wrong — as long as you don’t include the minor fact of boarding a boat that wasn’t mine and reading the personal diary of someone I’d never even met.
Mom laughed. “Nothing at all. It’s nice that you want to be so helpful, isn’t it, Gran?”
Gran looked up from the dishes. She glanced vaguely at me. “Yes, it’s very kind, thank you, dear,” she said in a dull voice. And even though I totally understood that she wasn’t herself because she was so worried about Grandad, and it was mean of me to even think it, I wanted to shake her and shout, “Talk to me! Be honest with me! Tell me how you feel — it won’t kill you!” But there was too much of a gulf between us, full of all the words that we were too scared to say out loud. So I didn’t try to get across it. Instead, I buttoned up my coat and hooked Flake’s leash on to his collar.
“See you later, then,” I said, and we went out into the cold.
The boat was there. I had a little flip of nerves in my stomach as we went down the jetty. Flake leaped on board as though it were our own boat, and I felt another twinge of guilt. But the desire to see if there was a reply to my note outweighed the guilty feeling.
I clambered onto the boat and pulled the back locker open. The diary was there. Before I had time to stop and think about it, I grabbed the book and opened it up.
And then I read eleven words that made my excitement plummet like a heavy anchor dropping to the bottom of the sea.
Who are you, and why are you reading my PRIVATE diary???
I looked around to see if I was being watched. I couldn’t see anyone. I looked back at the page and read the words again. My face burned with shame. Now what?
I paused for a moment, and then I did the only thing I could think of doing.
I grabbed the pen, turned over the page, and started writing.
“One more step. Careful, now. The ground’s quite bumpy. I don’t want you to trip.”
The man shifted the weight of the baby he was carrying in a sling on his chest. Holding on tightly to his wife’s hand, he guided her as she gingerly put her left foot out and took the final step.
Vera laughed. “I hope this is going to be worth it when I open my eyes,” she said.
“It will be,” her husband replied, smiling. “You’ll see.” Then he turned her slightly to the right, and was about to undo the scarf he’d wrapped around her eyes.
Suddenly, he was nervous. What if she didn’t feel the same way as he did about it? What if she couldn’t see its potential? What if this wasn’t the life she wanted for them all?
He hesitated.
“Frank, what is it?” she asked. “Are we there yet?” She could hear the sea lapping gently toward them and then softly receding, sucking the pebbles away with it. It was so close; they must be right at the water’s edge.
At the sound of his wife’s soft, questioning voice, Frank shook himself. He undid the scarf, and then, his voice shaking and low, he said, “Open your eyes.”
Vera blinked a couple of times. The sun was bright, and her eyes had been covered with a scarf for the last twenty minutes.
She looked at the building in front of her. Two stone walls jutted forward, like arms reaching out toward her. In between them, weeds and grass and heaven knows what else was growing wild and free — almost as high as the top of the walls.
Behind the wildness was a blue door, its paint peeling from every panel, with rusty hinges and a stone arch over the top and, above that, a wooden window frame and a pointy roof with a chimney poking up from the side.
“I don’t understand,” she said. She turned to look at her husband. He was digging into his lip with a thumbnail. He always did that when he was nervous.
Vera reached out to him. She took his shaking hand and held it tight. Holding his hand tenderly against her cheek, she leaned forward to kiss their baby girl on her head. Only twenty or thirty steps from where they stood, the sea gently stroked the beach.
“Why are we here?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
Frank hesitated. They had been here so often; they’d talked about it, shared their fantasies of the future. But maybe it wasn’t what she wanted in real life. Maybe it had been just a game.
There was only one way to find out.
“It’s our new home,” he said. He couldn’t look at her. What was he thinking? It was little more than a rundown shed. He was a fool! He was a —
“Really?” Vera was looking at him with shiny, wide eyes. “Really?”
Frank nodded.
And then her arms were around him. She was laughing, kissing him, jumping up and down. “You’ve made me the happiest girl in the world!”
All at once, the breath he felt as though he had been holding since they’d arrived on the island came out in a
rush, almost a sob.
He held his wife and his daughter as tightly as he could. Wrapped them up in all the love he had, tied together with his hopes for the future. They were going to build their life here. Here in this tiny village. He’d bought them a home — and she loved it!
Vera closed her eyes and felt the happiness wash over her like a sun-kissed wave. Their life as a family had truly begun.
Monday, February 18
Dear Dee,
First of all, I need to apologize. I really am sorry for reading your private diary. You must think I’m a terrible person. Well, even if you don’t,
I
do. I’ve never done anything like it before. I’m the girl who doesn’t get into trouble at school because I’m too chicken to do anything really bad. I’m the girl who doesn’t get yelled at at home because I’d rather keep my mouth shut than do anything to cause trouble. Seriously — I’m a good person!
But, I suppose I’m also the girl who can’t resist a mystery, and when I saw your boat, and the book kind of almost fell out of the locker (OK, that’s not strictly true. It didn’t fall out — but I could see it really clearly when the locker door fell open. And that’s how honest I am — I can’t even lie about something like that!!!), well, I was intrigued, I admit it.
Oh, and the only reason I was on the boat in the first place was because my gran’s dog took a liking to the crab pots on the deck, and I had to get on board just to get him back. And I
promise
that’s true!
So what I’m saying is, basically, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Please?
I’d like to be your friend. I’m here to see my gran, who is going through a major crisis (I won’t bore you with the details, but, trust me, it’s a bad time), and I don’t know anyone in the town except for Gran and my mom. You are literally the first person I’ve come across here who I could be friends with. Well, apart from a boy I met yesterday — but boys are different. You’re the first one who seems just like me and who I think would totally understand me.
Like, the thing about the seals — I would have been SOOOOOOO excited to see that. I LOVE animals. I don’t tell many people that, because, now that I’m almost in high school, it’s not cool anymore. But I can tell you, because I know you’ll understand. I think I’d like to be a vet when I grow up. What about you? (Oh, I’ve just realized — I’ve confessed that I read the part about the seals, too. I’m really sorry — again!)
Anyway, if you don’t want to be friends, then just write another note like the last one (which was pretty scary, by the way!) and I’ll leave you alone. But if you do want to be friends, then write to me in here.
I’ll keep my fingers crossed.
Your friend (I hope),
Mia
Tuesday, February 19, 7:00 a.m.
Dear Mia,
I’d like to just get something clear before we go any further. This IS my private diary, and I DO think you were wrong for reading it. I’m not sure that I totally forgive you for that yet, but perhaps I will let it go.
For now.
I can’t even believe I’ve just said that. My mother once glanced at a page of it, and I didn’t speak to her for TWO WHOLE DAYS! That’s how seriously I take it.
But from your note to me, well, I think that perhaps I feel differently about you reading it from how I felt when Mother did. I think what I’m saying is that I agree with you — you do sound a bit like me. You love animals, you say things the same way I do. And OK, in my heart of hearts, I admit it — if I’d seen the diary, I think I might have let my curiosity get the better of me, too.
Which DOESN’T mean that it’s OK. OK?
It just means I understand.
And yes, you’re right about the other thing, as well. The friends thing. Have you got a best friend? I have two good friends — Angela and Lydia — but I can’t honestly call either of them my
best
friend. They both live on the mainland, and that means they get to meet up a lot more often with each other than with me, so I end up being left out a lot.
I live in Luffsands (which you probably know already, depending on exactly how much of my diary you read!).
It’s the island that’s about two miles north of the mainland. You can see it from Porthaven on a clear day. You can’t see the village, as it’s on the opposite side of the island. The rest of the island is mainly woods and beaches. There are a few houses dotted around, but ours is the only village.
It’s a bit similar to Porthaven, only even smaller. We have a grocery store, a tiny pub, a harbor, and about seventy houses. Most of the people who live here are fishing families. The only problem is, none of them include anyone my age. There are a couple of younger children. The Moss family has four-year-old twins, Molly and Jason. They live in a house right down near the beach, which they painted bright pink earlier this year because Molly wanted them to!
There are a couple of families with babies, and a few with older children, but the children moved off the island as soon as they were old enough. And as for girls my age — not a one! So it’s pretty lonely.
Which is the ONLY reason why I have forgiven you for reading my diary!
Anyway, write back. I’m not coming across to the mainland for school this week, because it’s spring break, but I’ll sneak my diary onto the boat so my father can bring it over to you without even knowing!
Looking forward to hearing back from you,
Dee (I like the nickname, by the way — maybe I’ll adopt it!)
Tuesday, February 19, 3:00 p.m.
Dear Dee (glad you like the name!),
I’m SOOOOOOOOOOO glad you wrote back to me. I’ve practically bitten my nails off, I’ve been so nervous. I had visions of you calling the police and having me carted off and arrested for trespassing! Thank you for forgiving me. What I did was pretty bad — but now that I’ve heard back from you, I’m really happy I did! (And really sorry, as well, obviously.)
I think your village sounds great. Maybe I could visit it one day this week. Or you could come over here. Don’t you have any plans to come across to the mainland at all, even though it’s spring break?
I’d ask my gran about coming to see you, but she’s really preoccupied at the moment. My grandad has disappeared. It’s all pretty awful, actually. They had an argument and he just went. It’s been four days now. She hasn’t told the police yet, but Mom phoned Dad today, and he says that if we still haven’t heard anything by the end of today, then we have to call them tomorrow morning.
I know that he wouldn’t just up and leave. I wish he’d get in touch and tell us where he is. Tell us he’s fine. Just tell us
something
. I haven’t said this to anyone yet, because Mom and Gran have got enough on their plates already, but the truth is, I’m really scared. I love my grandad. He’s so kind and warm and friendly, and I just don’t want anything to happen to him.
I can’t talk to Gran about it — she doesn’t talk about feelings at the best of times, but this week she’s worse than ever. She’s like one of those mussels that you can’t open because they’re completely sealed up.
Gosh, sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I don’t even know you.
Thanks for listening anyway! Are you having a nice week? What do you do in Luffsands during spring break?
Love,
Mia xxx