Read Online The Deep by Helen Dunmore - Free Book Online

darkness, by the time I am out of Ingo. I shiver and stumble as I scramble up the rocks. Faro’s gone, and the rough gray surface of the sea hides everything.
    Why didn’t I leave some dry clothes up on the rocks, above the tide line? Because you didn’t know you were going to Ingo, of course, you idiot. And now I’m freezing, shaking and shivering as I climb over the grassy lip of the cliff and start to scramble up the path. Bony fingers of last year’s brambles snatch at my hands. Up the path, up the track. What’s going to happen when I get home? I’ve been gone for hours. I was sitting in the sun when Morlader came to fetch us, and now it’s evening.
    I reach our gate, dodging in past the rowan tree andthrough the door. We never bother to lock the cottage unless we’re going away.
    I hope no one saw me running up the track with water dripping off my clothes.
    “Conor? Mum? Roger?” I call. But I know they aren’t there. You can always tell if home is empty, because it has a completely different feeling. My voice echoes as if the cottage is a shell. I hurry up to the bathroom, strip off my clothes, find a towel, and rub myself all over until my skin tingles. I’ll have to put on some of the hand-me-down clothes I hate wearing. And rinse my wet clothes quickly, to get the salt out of them before they shrink.
    Mum mustn’t know. I put on an old pair of jeans that’s slightly too big for me and a green top that’s about the best of the hand-me-downs. I clatter downstairs with my wet clothes in a bundle, quickly shove them into the washing machine, and turn it on to rinse and spin.
    Conor must still be down at Rainbow and Patrick’s, with Sadie. Mum and Roger have been over at Porthnance for hours. They must be buying up the town. Or maybe they’re just “getting a bit of space.” That’s what Roger says sometimes: Your mum and I need a bit of space. It’s extremely irritating, considering that Conor and I are out of the house most of the day. How much space do they need?
    I make a mug of tea and a banana sandwich and carry them to the table. My body is limp with fatigue. It’s not swimming that’s worn me out—I can swim for miles inIngo and not notice it—it’s the tunnel, and being so afraid, and then the tension of the assembly and the battle of words and wits with Ervys. At least Faro and I didn’t have to come back through the tunnel. We came back the way the Mer usually go. It takes longer, but it’s much gentler. I couldn’t have faced the tunnel again. It’s easier when you do things innocently, for the first time, before you realize how tough they are.
    Oh, no, Conor’s carving is still in the zip pocket of my trousers! I punch the washing machine program button and drag out the clothes. Water flops onto the floor, but I don’t care. I unzip the pocket, and there’s the talisman. I lay it carefully on the table while I mop the floor, put the clothes back into the drum, and restart the machine.
    I sit down again. Under the electric light the carving is more beautiful than ever. I study it dreamily, admiring the strong curves of the Mer tail, the flowing hair, the line of the diving body. I know just how he feels as he plunges through Ingo, swooping through the water like a razor blade through silk. No, not really like a razor blade. Ingo welcomes you, and silk would never welcome the blade that cut it. Sometimes I have a very strange feeling that Ingo longs for me just as much as I long for Ingo. As if we need to be put back together in order to be whole. I must talk to Faro about it….
    And then my eyes light on the headline of the newspaper that someone’s spread out on the table.
    NEW FLOOD DEFENSE PLAN FOR ST. PIRANS ! it shouts. As if anything that humans can do would hold back the tides. I pull the paper toward me to read more, and that’s when I realize: It’s the Cornishman . But the Cornishman comes out on Thursdays, and it’s Wednesday today. This must be last week’s