Red Rocks Page 11

  20

  As soon as the boys were gone, Jake turned to look at the seal. It lay on its side, breathing heavily. He crept up to get a closer look. It eyed him back and seemed to sigh. Its head was smeared with blood. He knew this was the same seal that had woken him on the rock, and he would bet that it was also the same seal that had guided him and his dad back to shore that day.

  There wasn’t much he could do for it, and an injured animal could be dangerous, so he should keep his distance. But this seal wasn’t like any others. Jake put his hand gently on its side, which rose and fell.

  ‘I’ll get help,’ he promised. The seal looked him in the eyes and blinked, and Jake took it as a sign that it understood him. Then he ran. His whole back stung but he pushed through it. He stumbled several times and grazed his hands once, but each time he fell, he picked himself up and ran on.

  He banged on Ted’s door. He knew before he got to the hut that Jessie wouldn’t be there, but a small part of him hoped that he was wrong about so many things. When he stumbled inside, he could see that Ted was alone.

  ‘You made it! Well done, young fella,’ said Ted. But then his face changed when he saw Jake’s; Ted caught Jake as he sank to his knees.

  Jake knelt, panting, trying to catch his breath enough to speak.

  ‘There’s a seal … it’s hurt … some boys … hurt it. I think it’s …’

  Ted looked grave. Jake wasn’t going to say what was on his mind, but he could tell that Ted knew exactly what he was thinking.

  ‘Where is it?’ Ted gripped him by both shoulders.

  ‘Near the cave where the sealskin …’

  Ted jumped to his feet, surprisingly agile for his age. He made for the door, then hesitated. He crossed back and picked up some clothes. ‘You stay here, boy. You’ve done your bit.’ Then he was gone.

  Jake sat on the floor for what felt like an eternity, too sore to move. He managed to crawl over to the sink and pull himself up to grab a glass of water. He guzzled it down, spilling half of it down his front before pouring another and drinking that too. Then he sat down on the bed to wait.

  He must have fallen asleep. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his side on the bed and the front door was being kicked open. Ted staggered in, red-faced and sweating. In his arms he carried a child — no, not a child, a teenage girl, who clung to his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

  ‘Move!’ he barked, and Jake sprang to his feet. Ted laid the girl carefully on the bed.

  It was Jessie, as Jake knew it would be. She wore a baggy pair of shorts and the holey black jersey Ted had taken as he left. Except it wasn’t the Jessie he knew — she looked too old, at least fourteen. Her legs were longer, ganglier, and her hair spread about her like seaweed. It shone with congealed blood from the cut on her head. Her eyes were closed.

  Jake stood by with his hand over his mouth. ‘Will she be all right?’ he muttered through his fingers.

  Ted said nothing. He clattered around by the sink, pulling out a bottle of disinfectant and slopping it into a bowl of water. Then he looked around the room until he spied the clean towel on the drying rack. He tossed it to Jake. ‘Rip this up.’

  Jake did as he was told. He tore at the towel until it was nothing but little squares. He poured all of his anxiety into the task, and hardly took his eyes off Jessie’s face as she twitched and made small moaning sounds on the bed.

  Ted pulled up a chair next to the bed and tenderly dabbed at Jessie’s wound. Jessie opened her eyes and winced. She tried to sit up but Ted gently held her down.

  ‘You just stay there, missy,’ he said.

  ‘I am fine,’ she said. She looked intently into Ted’s eyes. ‘Really.’ There was a force in her voice Jake had not heard before. Ted removed his hand from her shoulder and she sat up. ‘Jake,’ she said, and smiled weakly. ‘I am so glad to see you.’

  Jake felt shy suddenly. He nodded and felt himself grow pink. Despite her injury, and her baggy old clothes, she looked beautiful. Was this a trick? Was he falling under the spell of the selkie again?

  ‘Come here, please.’

  Ted stood up and made way for Jake, who sat down in the chair at the head of the bed. Jessie took his hand, and Jake knew this was no spell — after all, her skin must be safely hidden away. What he felt for her was real. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. Jake nodded again. He flinched when she squeezed his hand.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You are hurt.’ She examined his scraped palms, but they were the least of his pains: his shoulder, his wrist, his tailbone and legs were all bruised and aching.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing. Are you all right?’

  She put a hand to her head. The bleeding had stopped. ‘Just bruised. You are very brave.’

  Jake pulled away from her, standing up and moving to the window. He couldn’t quite acknowledge what she had said to him. Part of him still wanted to hold on to the belief that he had simply stopped some boys from hurting a seal, but that the seal was just that — an animal. That somehow Jessie had been watching him, and that was how she knew he had helped. But she no longer hid the fact she was a selkie just like Cara. There was so much he wanted to ask her. What was it like to be a seal? How did it feel to inhabit the body of a different creature? But now was not the time: he’d ask her another day.

  He said nothing and stared out the window. He could see his bike lying on the road, its handlebars twisted and broken. So the boys had abandoned it and run off. It would be a long walk home with his aching bones, but he knew he had to set off soon. He didn’t know if his father was hurt or even alive at all, but it was too much for him to contemplate right now, and he pushed the thought away.

  He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and when he looked he saw a figure gliding over the stones. It was Cara. She was wearing the old overcoat and her feet were bare again. Her face was intent, looking out towards Red Rocks. As she passed the house, she turned her head and saw Jake at the window. Jake stiffened, unsure how she would react to him, but she smiled at him and raised a hand. Jake raised his also.

  ‘How does she know? You didn’t get the chance to tell her.’

  Ted came and stood behind him and they watched her walking away. ‘The spell’s broken now. As soon as you put it back, she had nothing keeping her at your house. You did a good job today, boy.’

  ‘But she found out.’ Jake felt ashamed. ‘She overheard us talking. She tore the place apart. And I just left him there. What if she’s killed him?’

  Ted put his hand on Jake’s unhurt shoulder and squeezed firmly. ‘I have a feeling he’s all right, but you should go, just to make sure. You go. I’ll stay here with Jessie.’

  Jake groaned. All he wanted to do was lie down, but he knew he had to make one last effort. Despite Ted’s assurances, he was terrified about what he would find when he got home.

  21

  It was almost dark by the time he reached his father’s house. The clouds had all cleared and the wind died away to a whisper. A few stars were beginning to show, sparse sprinklings of light in the sky. Jake dragged his aching body through the gate but with a last burst of energy ran up the steps to where the front door stood slightly ajar.

  ‘Dad!’ he called. Panic set in when there was no answer. He ran into the living room, where it looked as though a hurricane and an earthquake had struck at once: upturned and broken dining chairs lurched drunkenly, books were tipped all over the floor, dents pocked the walls where hardbacks had been flung. Stuffing from the couch cushions covered the floor like candyfloss. Jake stuck his head in the kitchen, just to make sure it was empty, and was greeted by the smell of vinegar and spices from the smashed bottles and jars that littered the floor. There was no sign of his father.

  Forgetting the pain in his body, he ran outside, his ears ringing. He glanced up at the shed, but something drew him away from the house, some instinct he didn’t know he had. He crossed the road blindly and ran down to the beach. In the dying light, which stre
aked the sky with orange and indigo, he scanned the sea and the beach. As the darkness crept around him, he saw a shape on a patch of sand between some rocks. Jake stared harder. It looked like a log at first, then a seal, and he took a step back. He mustn’t disturb it. But as his eyes adjusted to the failing light, he saw the shape on the beach was not a seal at all. It was too small, not bulky enough. It was a human, lying in the damp sand left behind by the tide.

  ‘Dad!’ Jake’s chest felt as if it would explode. He ran. Tears stung his cheeks. He threw himself in the sand beside the body, which lay on its front, clothes soaked through, hair wet. It was his father all right, but he was as still as the rocks, and so cold. Jake yanked his shoulder, but Dad’s big body was so heavy he couldn’t shift it. He braced his legs in the sand and threw all his weight into it. This was harder than anything he’d had to do today, and Jake felt small and weak and desperate. But with a final shove, he managed to heave his father over onto his back. Even in the weak light Jake could see the blue lips, though half the face was gritty with wet sand. Dad’s eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, his face shockingly pale against the stringy hair that stuck to his forehead and the dark, damp beard. A long scratch travelled down one cheek.

  ‘Dad!’ he screamed, and shook him, but there was no response — the eyes remained resolutely shut. The light was draining from the beach and his father was being swallowed by the night.

  Jake sat down beside him and let the tears come. Into his mind an image formed, of two small girls lying in this very spot, drowned by the sea that had welcomed their mother into its cold arms. He could see them so clearly, their thin, pale limbs in white nightdresses. And now, all these years later, his father lay here, on the same coarse sand. Ted had tried to warn him with his story, and Jake had worked so hard to save his father, pushing himself further than he ever thought was possible, but in the end, it was for nothing. He had failed. Everything was his fault, and now his father was surely dead. Grief pressed down onto his shoulders like a physical force, and he lay back on the wet sand. If only there was some way he could bring him back. He would give any part of himself just to see his father stand up and walk away.

  He rolled over and put his head on his father’s chest, smelt damp wool and salt, touched a cold hand. Suddenly, the body beneath him heaved. Dad’s lungs filled with air, a great noisy gasp of it, and his chest expanded beneath Jake’s cheek. Jake sat up and looked into the staring, wild eyes of his father, barely visible now in the dark.

  ‘Jake?’ gasped Dad. He only managed the one word before he started coughing. He rolled onto his side, doubled over and coughed and coughed until Jake was sure he would cough up his lungs. But soon he was quiet and still.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Jake. ‘I’m here.’ His father’s arms coiled around him, pulling him down onto his chest and squeezing. He felt the relief in his father’s touch — the same relief that was now flooding through him.

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ Dad said. ‘I thought you were dead.’

  ‘You thought I was dead?’ Jake was confused. Things were the wrong way around. It was his father who had lain, corpse-like, in the sand, not him. He sat up. He grabbed both of his father’s hands, and just managed to pull him to a sitting position. Dad breathed heavily, one arm around Jake’s shoulders.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Dad. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘We’re just on the beach. Don’t you remember?’

  Dad groaned. ‘Not really. Bits. Help me up.’

  Together they got him to his shaky feet, and he stood, swaying for a minute.

  ‘I thought you were dead,’ said Jake. ‘I thought you’d drowned.’

  Dad said nothing, just nodded and leant on Jake as he started shuffling back towards the house. It was a slow journey, and Jake felt he might be crushed by his father’s weight with every step. The house was dark, and when Jake flicked on the living room light, the harshness of it glanced off the carnage. Dad gasped, as though seeing it for the first time. He collapsed on the torn couch, shivering.

  ‘I’ll get a blanket,’ Jake said. ‘You’re freezing.’ When he came back, his father looked so small. Jake had always thought of his dad as a tall man, with legs that could take mountains in one stride, and yet here he sat looking tiny and, yes, weak. This was perhaps the biggest shock of all.

  But he was alive. Apart from the long scratch down his cheek, and his skin blue with damp and cold, he looked physically unharmed. Jake put the blanket over him, then sat down next to him on the wrecked couch. Without its cushions, the springs dug into his backside. Dad’s arm came around him, holding him tight. He seemed dazed, confused; Jake wasn’t sure how much he knew or remembered.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s gone, mate,’ said Dad. ‘She’s gone and left me.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jake. ‘I know.’

  They sat in silence. Jake looked around the room at the chaos.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘After I left?’

  Dad turned and looked at him. His eyes were glassy again, as though he couldn’t focus on him properly. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘It’s all a bit of a blur. Like I was drunk.’ He was still shivering with the cold.

  ‘What can you remember?’

  ‘I managed to calm her down a bit, after she trashed the office. Not before she gave me this though.’ He laid a finger gently on the scratch on his face. ‘I told her you were just a silly kid playing a game, that you didn’t know what you were saying. But not long after you left, she just pushed me aside and went and stood on the beach, looking out to sea. I left her there for a bit, I don’t know how long for. That part’s a bit fuzzy. Truth was, I was scared of her. Did you see her face? Her eyes?’

  Jake nodded. He wondered if he had unlocked the spell by touching the sealskin when he first got to the boat, and if that was the point at which Cara had broken away from his father, shutting him out. If he hadn’t opened the bag, who knows what would have happened?

  ‘After a bit, I went down to see her, but she just stood there, looking west, towards the rocks. I took her hand, tried to get her to come inside, but she was cold and hard, like a statue. I don’t know what I did after that. But one thing I do remember: just before she left, there was this sound. It sounded like you, Jake, like you’d let out a huge sigh, but it was all around us. I looked for you, but you weren’t here. And soon after that, she came back into the house. I thought she’d come back to me, but she said nothing, just changed into her dirty old clothes and walked out. She didn’t even say goodbye, but I knew it was over before she’d even set foot out the door.

  ‘After she left, I sat there for I don’t know how long. It was like the world had stopped. Then there was a knock at the door. It was one of the local fisherman. He told me he’d seen my boat, smashed on the rocks with nobody inside it.

  ‘I should have done something then, called a search party or something, but I wasn’t myself, mate.’ He hung his head, ashamed. ‘This sounds crazy, but I thought I felt the sea calling me. Something told me that I could go after Cara, and find you, if I just went into the sea. I don’t remember anything after that. Just you waking me up on the beach. I’m so sorry, Jake. I wasn’t trying to drown myself, I promise.’

  Jake nodded. ‘I know. It’s okay.’

  Dad shook his head. ‘I tell you what, buddy, there’s been something weird going on here. And I don’t know why, or what you did, but I feel like I owe you my life.’

  ‘It was the sealskin. I found it, and I put it back.’

  Dad opened his mouth, as if to speak, then closed it. He sighed and shrugged. ‘I don’t think I want to know. We’re safe, that’s all that matters.’

  But Jake knew that he was lying — their safety wasn’t all that mattered. He could see it in his father’s slumped shoulders, his hollow eyes: he was upset that Cara had gone, and he was going to be upset for some time to come. Not just because of the enchantment: Dad had liked Cara before he knew about the power of the
skin. The spell had intensified his feelings, made them irrational, but for a few days, Dad had held out a real hope that he had found someone to love.

  ‘You’ll meet someone else,’ said Jake. His father just smiled a sad smile.

  22

  A hammering sound was coming from outside the window. In his bed, Jake bolted upright. Cara. Was she banging to get in, to claim her skin?

  But when he squinted into the late morning light, the events of the day before came back and he sighed. Not Cara then. He was exhausted and his whole body ached, but he dragged himself to the window and looked out. Dad was up by his writing shed, hammering a piece of plywood over the broken glass.

  Jake called out to him, and Dad waved and smiled. The haunted look was gone from his face, but Jake had a feeling that it was tucked away just out of sight, and would never be far from the surface. His father looked strong again in a singlet and jeans with his leather tool belt around his waist. Perhaps it was the fact that Dad’s face was clean-shaven, making him younger, more himself, that made Jake think his old dad was looking back at him.

  ‘Better get a move on,’ Dad called. ‘You’ve got a plane to catch at lunchtime!’

  Jake groaned and turned back to his room. He found his suitcase and threw as many clothes and books as he could find into it, then went in search of breakfast.

  Dad had obviously been up for some time. The stuffing had been squeezed back into the couch cushions, the books and newspapers picked up and put back on their shelves or stacked neatly on the floor.