Helen Dunmore - The Complete Ingo Chronicles - Ingo, The Tide Knot, The Deep, The Crossing of Ingo, Stormswept

“I’ve never tried to hurt you,” I say. It sounds pathetic, even to me. The things Faro says strike heavy in my heart, and I know that they are true. I’ve heard of dolphins drowning in tuna nets, and tankers releasing thousands of tonnes of oil into the sea. I’ve seen seabirds on TV, coated with oil and struggling in the water until they die. And layers of dead, gaping fish on the tide line. What would it be like if oil swilled out of a tanker now, and coated our lips and our tongues and burned our eyes? Would it kill us too? Yes, it would cover us and we would choke to death.

“You think you haven’t done anything to us,” says Faro, more quietly. “But you’re still part of Air, Sapphire.”

“No, I’m not! I’m—” I break off because Faro is watching me so intently. Why? What is he waiting for? There’s a pressure in my mind, as if someone else’s thoughts are beating against mine.

“Faro, don’t!”

“Don’t what? I’m not doing anything.” He looks surprised.

“Aren’t you trying – you know, to see my memories?”

“No. Why do you say that?”

“It’s as if there’s something else inside my mind. It’s pressing on me. It wants to come out. I can feel it but I can’t quite tell what it is.”

“Ah,” says Faro. His breath comes out in a long sigh. “I know that feeling. Haven’t you had it before? Don’t you really know what it is?”

“No.”

“It’s you. It’s yourself. But it’s another part of you, a hidden part that you don’t know about.”

“That sounds crazy.”

“No, it’s not crazy. But it’s… difficult. Don’t think about it now, Sapphire. Think about something else.”

“Faro,” I try to speak calmly and quietly. “That song you sang. Have you ever heard of my father?”

“Yes,” says Faro immediately. He’s still watching me closely. “You mean Mathew Trewhella.”

He knows my father’s name. Or did I tell him? I can’t remember.

“How do you know his name?”

“I told you. We hear things. We know a lot about humans when they live close to us. He was always out in his boat.”

“Have you ever seen him?”

There’s a pause, and then Faro says, “Yes.”

“When?”

“I can’t remember. Not long ago.”

But time for Faro isn’t the same as human time. Not long ago could be months – or years—

“Where was it?”

But Faro shakes his head. “No. It’s gone.”

“But it’s important, Faro! You must try to remember.”

“I can’t. It’s gone.”

“Is there anyone, anyone at all who you think would know what happened to him? Anyone here in Ingo, I mean?”

Faro shakes his head. A ripple of movement runs through his body and down into his tail. Faro says no with his whole body, not just his voice. His hair sways like fronds of seaweed.

“Leave it, Sapphire,” he says. “I’ve nothing to tell you. I saw him in his boat once, that’s all. Let’s get out of this current and go back south. I want to feel the sun.”

Even though questions burn in my mind, I have to let them go. But I won’t forget them. If Faro can’t give me the answers, I’ll search until I find someone who can.

We slip out of the current like eels. Outside it, the sea is cold. How far are we from home?

“Not very far,” says Faro. “That was a slow current. We’ll catch a faster one back.”

We swim through the cold dark sea. We’re in mid-water, Faro says, which means we are between the sea bed and the surface. The water is so deep I can’t see the bottom.

“If we were up on the surface, we wouldn’t be able to see land,” says Faro. “Keep your eyes open. Now, Sapphire, see that current there? That’s the one we want.”

It’s a cold current this time, and it settles itself around us like an icy, prickling glove. But when I’m in Ingo, I feel the cold but it doesn’t hurt me. My blood is changing, Faro says. It’s slowing down and becoming like his.

“Hold on!” shouts Faro suddenly. “This current is wild .”

He’s right. It’s like the roughest rollercoaster in the world. I make a grab for Faro even though I know I don’t need him any more. But the current’s too strong and it tears our hands apart and sends me swooping and tumbling over and over as it rushes me south.

I hate it and I love it. If it goes on for one more minute I’ll die, but at the same time I want it never to end.

“Pull OUT, Sapphire!” Faro’s yelling. “Now!”

We burst out into warm, still water. The icy current is gone, racing south without us.

“Time to feel the sun,” says Faro.

Feeling the sun doesn’t mean going up into the Air. It means sunbathing a couple of metres below the surface, in the brightest water. Faro takes my wrist. We rise together, towards the shining surface. Faro knows something about Dad, I think. I’ll find out. I won’t let Faro know that I’m still searching. I’ll keep it secret.

“Let’s have a sleep,” says Faro.

We close our eyes. I’m tired from the current pummelling me all over. Water rushes gently in my ears. Faro’s right, it’s good to feel the sun. All my worries are slipping away from me. I stretch out my arms and legs to the delicious warmth, and let myself rock and drift on the swell of the water. I will find Dad. But now I’m away in Ingo… far, far away, in a garden of seaweed and sea anemones.

Memories flood into my head. A boy and a girl, side by side, peering into the depths where blue and silver fish flick from rock to rock like electric darts. The boy has dark hair, like Conor. I can’t see his face. But where his legs should be there is thick, glistening sealskin. I try to move my legs and feel the powerful flick of my own strong tail and I shoot upwards through the water laughing as my brother chases me—

It’s the cold shadow passing over me that wakes me. I open my eyes at once with a feeling of panic, and stare up through the water. The surface is black. Something is directly above me, blocking out the light. A shark . Fear whips though me. No. It’s not alive. The dark shape is solid and dead-looking. Man-made. Not something of Ingo, but something of Air. How do I know that ?

A boat, I think. It’s a boat, but I’m seeing it from upside down and it looks quite different. That’s why I didn’t know what it was. I’m looking straight up through the water at its hull. The boat is about the size of a fishing boat. I can see the rudder and the propeller. A small boat that wouldn’t hurt me even if it passed right over me. But the engine isn’t running. The boat is drifting silently.

And then it happens. A face looms over the side of the boat. A face and shoulders, part of a body in a blue shirt. Someone looks down, staring deep into the sea where I am. The face is distorted by Air. It wobbles. But upside down and distorted as it is, I can see it. It’s a man’s face. And if I can see him…

That’s when it happens. The eyes look down and catch sight of me. The face goes still with shock. The man stares and stares as if he can’t believe that what he sees can possibly be real.

With a shock, I know what he sees, and why he can’t believe it. He sees a girl, deep under the water, looking back at him. We meet each other’s eyes. He sees me and I see him. It’s a long moment and even through Air and water I recognise the frozen disbelief in his face. It can’t be real. A girl sunbathing way below the surface. A girl with her eyes open, who doesn’t need to breathe like Air People. Not a drowned girl but one who is alive, and looking back at him. A mermaid . I think I see the word form on his lips. And as his mouth opens to cry out and tell someone else on the boat to get a net and catch me and take me away and put me in a glass tank in a freak circus—