can do about that now, and besides, as old Alice Trewhidden always says, It’s not good to tell your business to strangers.
You’d have thought I was Rainbow’s friend already, the way she smiled at me.
Conor’s gone fishing off the rocks at Porthchapel with Mal. Mum was right: Conor has got to know loads of people in St Pirans already. I suppose it’s partly because he goes to school here, but it’s also just the way Conor is. I don’t know all his friends’ names, but they’re mostly surfers. Conor speaks surfer talk when he’s with them. He and Mum and Roger all keep telling me I should surf, but I don’t want to any more. If you’ve surfed the currents of Ingo, why would you want to surf on Polquidden Beach, or even up at Gwithian? It would be like being told that you’re only allowed one sip of water when you’re dying of thirst.
Conor doesn’t feel the same. I tried to talk to him about it once, not long after we came to St Pirans.
“Saph, you’re not giving St Pirans a chance,” he said. “There’s great surfing here. You used to like body-boarding at the cove.”
“That was before we went to Ingo,” I said. Conor looked at me uneasily.
He doesn’t talk much about Ingo now we’re in St Pirans. It’s as if he thinks we’ve left Ingo behind, along with the cottage and everything we’ve known since we were born. Or maybe there’s some other reason. I have the feeling that Conor is keeping something from me. Mum says he’s growing up, and that I can’t expect Conor to tell me everything now, the way he did when we were younger.
“Don’t you feel it’s pointless, this kind of surfing?” I asked. I wanted to probe what Conor was really thinking. “I mean, compared to surfing the currents, it’s nothing. Once you’ve been in Ingo, you can’t be satisfied with messing around on the surface of the water.”
Conor’s face was clouded. “I can’t live like that, Saph, neither properly belonging in one place or another,” he said. He sounded angry, but I don’t think he was angry with me. “I’ve got to try to belong where I am. It’s no good to keep on wanting things you can’t have—”
He broke off. I didn’t answer, because I wasn’t sure what he meant.
“I know you miss Senara,” he went on.
“Home, you mean.”
“All right, home.”
“So, I miss home. That’s normal, Con!”
“But other people are living in our cottage now. We can’t go back there, so it’s no use hankering.”
“We could go back if we wanted. Mum could give the tenants notice.”
“But, Saph, Mum doesn’t want to. Can’t you see that? She was glad to get away from the cottage and the cove and everything that reminds her of Dad. Mum’s much happier here.”
I know that really. I’ve known it for weeks, but I haven’t wanted to put it into words.
“And there’s something else, too,” Conor goes on. “She wanted to get us away from Ingo.”
“Mum doesn’t know anything about Ingo! She doesn’t even know it exists.”
“We haven’t told her anything. But Mum’s not stupid. She picked up that something strange was going on down at the cove. She was frightened for us – especially for you. She even asked me if I knew why you were behaving so strangely.”
“You didn’t tell her?”
“Saph, why are you so suspicious all the time? Of course I didn’t. Mum doesn’t know about Ingo, but she senses something, and since Dad disappeared she’s not taking any chances. Maybe she’s right,” Conor adds, sounding thoughtful.
“Mum’s right? Right to take us away from everything? Adults know they can get away with doing what they want, but that doesn’t make it right! Conor, how can you say that? It’s like – it’s like betraying Ingo.”
“But if you are always on the side of Ingo, Saph, then you’re betraying something too. Granny Carne said you had Mer blood, but she didn’t tell you to forget that you’re human.”
I went up to my room. I didn’t want to talk about Ingo any more. I was afraid that Conor might say, “Forget about Ingo, Saph. Put it all behind you, and get on with real life.”
Yes, I do miss home. I only let myself think about it at night, before I go to sleep. I miss our cottage, the cove, the Downs, Jack’s farm. I miss watching the lights of the cottages shine out at night and knowing who lives in every one of them. I miss Dad even more in St Pirans, because not many people here ever knew him. They think Mum’s a single parent because she’s divorced, until we explain. Everyone in Senara knew Dad, right back to when he was a little boy, and they knew all our family. Even if Dad wasn’t there, he was still present in people’s memories.
At least I still go to the same school. Conor’s transferred to St Pirans school, but I didn’t want to. I don’t mind going on the school bus to my old school. I had to fight hard, though. Mum said that I should go to school here in St Pirans so that I’d make friends locally and “settle in”. Strangely enough it was Roger, Mum’s boyfriend, who supported me. He said, “Sapphire’s had a lot of changes. She needs some continuity in her life.” Mum listens to what Roger says, and to be honest, Roger never talks without thinking first.
That’s the trouble with Roger. It would be easier if I could just dislike him. Hate him, even. But he won’t let me. He keeps doing things which trick me into liking him, until I remember that I mustn’t like him because it is so disloyal to Dad. But it was Roger who made sure I got Sadie. And it’s Mum who talks about “settling in” all the time, not Roger. Roger says you have to give everything time, and that we’ve all got to cut each other some slack, take it easy and let things fall into place. Roger is very laid-back about most things, but he can be tough, too.
Settling in. I hate that phrase so much. Even worse are the adults who tell Mum that children are very adaptable and soon forget the past.
“Not Sapphire,” says Mum grimly when people tell her how quickly we’ll get used to our new life. “Her mind is closed.”
Is my mind closed? No. It’s wide open. I’m always waiting.
Every day I go down to the beach, to the water’s edge, and listen. When we first got here in September, there were still tourists on the beach. Naturally, Faro kept away. I didn’t really expect to see him. But if I was going to see him on any of the St Pirans beaches, it would be at Polquidden – the wildest beach. The storms crash in here from the southwest, and at low tide you can see the remains of a steam-ship wreck. I think Polquidden Beach is the closest that St Pirans comes to Ingo. The rocks at the side of the beach are black, heaped up into shapes like the head and shoulders of a man. Sometimes when I’m down there with Sadie, I catch myself scanning those rocks, looking for a shape like a boy with his wetsuit pulled down to his waist. A shape that is half-human, half-seal, but not quite like either of these.
Faro. He came last night. If my mind had been closed I would never have heard the voice of Ingo. That’s why I can’t settle into St Pirans. I mustn’t. I’ve got too much to lose.
“Saph! Saa-aaphh!”
