straight ahead, their legs tucked up, landing on the river on two posts. Luxuriously they spread their wings and held them out, bat-shaped, as if to dry. Lily watched them, felt them watching her.
‘Come on,’ Em and Arrie called, and she turned and ran after them towards the mill.
‘You don’t come out here alone, do you?’ she shouted, but they didn’t look round.
From the doorway of the mill, a short flight of steps disappeared into a stagnant pool of water, and there floating on the surface were some sticks and a red, high-heeled shoe.
They all peered in. ‘Hello, lo, lo, lo.’ Em let her voice echo between the walls, and they all looked up at the cone of sloping brickwork, the circle of pale sky.
‘Who says it’s haunted?’ Lily asked, and just then a shadow fell on them, chilling the air. Arrie clutched her arm.
‘It’s all right,’ Em said, ‘it’s just a cloud,’ but she took Lily’s other arm.
They moved round the side of the mill and sat on a block of granite implanted with shells. They sat there in silence, waiting for the sun to come back out. Both the girls kept their faces turned upwards as if their lives depended on it, while Lily looked along the coast. There was a huddle of houses on the first curve and a mass of boats beached up on the shore, and just beyond it, shimmering silver, was a huge dome.
‘What is that place?’ she asked Em, but Em was still watching the sky.
‘It’s Daddy’s job,’ Arrie told her.
‘It used to be.’ Em wrenched her eyes away. ‘Not any more. It’s a nuclear power station. They make power.’
‘No.’ Arrie was perturbed. ‘They make bacon rolls.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Em nodded, serious. ‘And bacon rolls.’
It was after midday when they finally returned to the Green, and the first person they saw, standing by the foot of the slide, was Em and Arrie’s father. The two girls shot each other a quick look, and Arrie put her hand up to her mouth. ‘We never even showed you the secret!’
But Lily was hurrying forward. ‘I’m sorry,’ she called. ‘It’s my fault. They’ve been with me.’
His eyes looked strained, tired with searching. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I thought they’d be all right.’
Arrie sidled up against him, twisting her small body for a stroke and Em stood with her head against his arm.
‘I’m Lily, we haven’t really met… I’m renting next door…’ She trailed off with the implications of this. The thin walls, the thud on the stairs.
‘Grae,’ he said, his head nodding forward, his eyes half closing in the faintest hint of a smile, and he put his hand down and ruffled Arrie’s hair.
11
‘So how was your lesson?’ Gertrude asked Alf. ‘How was Miss Cheese?’ Alf stood before her. ‘Still no progress?’ she prompted, and then to her surprise he raised his hands and began fluttering his fingers, trilling them over a set of imaginary keys. He sped over the ivory, up and down and back again in a rolling crescendo of sound. She could almost hear the high notes, tinkling on a hairline creak, and then the ricochet of thunder as he boomed down to the far end. Gertrude was so taken aback that she leant too far over on her lounger, upending it so that her books slid on to the grass.
‘Well, I… that’s wonderful.’ She started clapping. It was the first sign of life she’d seen in him since the storm. ‘Come and sit down.’ She patted the space vacated by her books. ‘So you’re enjoying your lessons now?’ Tentatively he perched beside her. ‘I’m very pleased.’ She looked at him, his hair as white as butter, so bright it shone, and she thought of the small boy she had cared for in the war nursery, the boy whose mother had said she wouldn’t ever visit if he cried.
‘Mustn’t cry, mustn’t cry,’ he’d muttered, clinging to a shred of blanket, ‘mustn’t cry,’ until slowly, over the weeks and months, this instruction fixed itself so tightly inside him that there was nothing left of it but
‘Come on,’ Em and Arrie called, and she turned and ran after them towards the mill.
‘You don’t come out here alone, do you?’ she shouted, but they didn’t look round.
From the doorway of the mill, a short flight of steps disappeared into a stagnant pool of water, and there floating on the surface were some sticks and a red, high-heeled shoe.
They all peered in. ‘Hello, lo, lo, lo.’ Em let her voice echo between the walls, and they all looked up at the cone of sloping brickwork, the circle of pale sky.
‘Who says it’s haunted?’ Lily asked, and just then a shadow fell on them, chilling the air. Arrie clutched her arm.
‘It’s all right,’ Em said, ‘it’s just a cloud,’ but she took Lily’s other arm.
They moved round the side of the mill and sat on a block of granite implanted with shells. They sat there in silence, waiting for the sun to come back out. Both the girls kept their faces turned upwards as if their lives depended on it, while Lily looked along the coast. There was a huddle of houses on the first curve and a mass of boats beached up on the shore, and just beyond it, shimmering silver, was a huge dome.
‘What is that place?’ she asked Em, but Em was still watching the sky.
‘It’s Daddy’s job,’ Arrie told her.
‘It used to be.’ Em wrenched her eyes away. ‘Not any more. It’s a nuclear power station. They make power.’
‘No.’ Arrie was perturbed. ‘They make bacon rolls.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Em nodded, serious. ‘And bacon rolls.’
It was after midday when they finally returned to the Green, and the first person they saw, standing by the foot of the slide, was Em and Arrie’s father. The two girls shot each other a quick look, and Arrie put her hand up to her mouth. ‘We never even showed you the secret!’
But Lily was hurrying forward. ‘I’m sorry,’ she called. ‘It’s my fault. They’ve been with me.’
His eyes looked strained, tired with searching. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I thought they’d be all right.’
Arrie sidled up against him, twisting her small body for a stroke and Em stood with her head against his arm.
‘I’m Lily, we haven’t really met… I’m renting next door…’ She trailed off with the implications of this. The thin walls, the thud on the stairs.
‘Grae,’ he said, his head nodding forward, his eyes half closing in the faintest hint of a smile, and he put his hand down and ruffled Arrie’s hair.
11
‘So how was your lesson?’ Gertrude asked Alf. ‘How was Miss Cheese?’ Alf stood before her. ‘Still no progress?’ she prompted, and then to her surprise he raised his hands and began fluttering his fingers, trilling them over a set of imaginary keys. He sped over the ivory, up and down and back again in a rolling crescendo of sound. She could almost hear the high notes, tinkling on a hairline creak, and then the ricochet of thunder as he boomed down to the far end. Gertrude was so taken aback that she leant too far over on her lounger, upending it so that her books slid on to the grass.
‘Well, I… that’s wonderful.’ She started clapping. It was the first sign of life she’d seen in him since the storm. ‘Come and sit down.’ She patted the space vacated by her books. ‘So you’re enjoying your lessons now?’ Tentatively he perched beside her. ‘I’m very pleased.’ She looked at him, his hair as white as butter, so bright it shone, and she thought of the small boy she had cared for in the war nursery, the boy whose mother had said she wouldn’t ever visit if he cried.
‘Mustn’t cry, mustn’t cry,’ he’d muttered, clinging to a shred of blanket, ‘mustn’t cry,’ until slowly, over the weeks and months, this instruction fixed itself so tightly inside him that there was nothing left of it but
Similar Books
