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

“But Faro! Dolphins don’t swim underwater all the time, do they? They show their backs above the water. They’ll take you into the Air. It’ll hurt you.”

“As long as I’m with her, riding on her back, I’m still in Ingo,” says Faro, not lifting his face from the dolphin’s skin. “Dolphins are always part of Ingo. Come on, Sapphire. Hurry. We have to go as fast as we can.”

I lean gently forward on to the dolphin’s back, and as my skin touches hers I’m held firm, as if some suction is gripping me. The clicks and whistles of the dolphins seem to be pouring through my body, turning into a language I nearly understand. I almost know what the two dolphins are saying to each other.

The dolphins move apart. They balance themselves in the water and then spring forward with a rush that plasters my hair over my face. I can’t see anything. I don’t know where I’m going or even where Faro is. But I have never felt so safe. My dolphin speaks to me and I wish I could answer, but I think she can tell through her skin that I trust her. I’m sure I can hear her heartbeat. The closeness of her is like a cradle.

“I know you’re my friend,” I say, and I don’t know what language I’m speaking or if it’s only thoughts in my head. I peep at my arms and they’re wearing a coat of bubbles from the dolphin’s speed. The water round us churns white but our rush is effortless. All at once we are going up and before I know what’s happening we’ve flashed through the skin of the sea and we’re out in a shock of dazzling sunlight. We crash back into the dark water and I can feel my dolphin laughing. Again and again and again we rise and dive, going faster and faster, the dolphin jumping higher each time. Faro’s dolphin jumps at our side and I know the two dolphins are racing, urging each other on, laughing with us and with each other.

“Faro!” I shout, not because I want him to answer but because nothing as wonderful as this has ever happened to me before. Our speed is like time unzipping and running backwards. Hope surges in me that where the dolphin’s journey ends I’ll find everything that time has destroyed. Dad’ll be home again. Dad’ll come down to the shore to meet me, saying, “Well now, Sapphire, have you been a good girl while I’ve been away? Should we give school a miss tomorrow and go fishing instead?” There won’t be any Roger, or games of cards, or Mum looking new and different with another man sitting at our kitchen table instead of Dad. The dolphins have the magic to take away everything that’s gone wrong, and bring back everything I love.

“Faro!” I shout again, wanting to tell him how great it’s all going to be. And he yells back something I can’t hear before we plunge back into the sea and down, down, skimming along a fast rope of current. And then the white sand zooms up to meet us and I know we’re coming to the borders of Ingo, where the earth and water meet.

Our dolphins slow down. I feel my body peeling away from the dolphin’s back. She is letting go of me, and I have to let go of her. But I want to stay with her, so much.

“Can I see you again? Please?” I ask her, but she pushes against me, shoving me gently towards the shore as if she’s telling me that that is where I belong. I must leave Ingo. I’m human, not Mer.

“But I belong in Ingo too,” I whisper, and she looks at me with her small, thoughtful eyes, as if she’s considering the question.

“Don’t go,” I plead, but I already know she’s leaving, and taking her magic with her. She turns to her companion and they point their blunt noses to the deep water, and spring away from us. The clicks and whistles fade. The dolphins are gone.

“I wanted to thank them,” I say, but Faro takes no notice.

“You can swim in from here. Hurry,” he says.

He won’t come any farther inshore, because the water’s too shallow. But I’m not going to leave without asking Faro something that’s been troubling me more and more. “Faro, why is it that I only ever see you? Where are all the other Mer? I don’t even see Elvira.”

“You saw the dolphins just now.”

“Yes, but I mean people. Mer People.”

Faro throws back his head angrily. “That is so typical of Air, Sapphire! People, people, people, as if people are all that matter.”

“I didn’t mean that, I liked the dolphins…” I argue, but even to me it sounds pathetic.

“You think you can have everything, don’t you, Sapphire?” demands Faro. He sounds nearly as angry now as he was when he was talking about oil-spills and dead seabirds. “Do you think you can have a tour of Ingo, stare at us all as if we’re creatures in a zoo – yes, believe me, I know all about your zoos! – find out all our secrets and then go home? Ingo is not like that . As long as you belong to Air, you’ll only see this much of Ingo,” and he dives to the sea floor, takes up a handful of sand and pours it through his fingers until there’s one grain left. He holds out the single grain to me. “This much.”

“I’ve got some Mer in me,” I say sulkily. “You told me so yourself.”

“I know.” Faro looks at me, his eyes serious, not so angry now. “Listen, Sapphire, that’s why we can meet. You and me. It’s because you’ve got some Mer in you. But I still don’t know how much, or how strong it is. You don’t either, do you?”

“Sometimes, when I talk to you, Faro, I feel as if I don’t know anything any more. I’m so confused.”

Faro lets go of the grain of sand and it spins down through the water to join its brothers and sisters on the sea bed. “We can’t talk about it now. You must hurry. But you have got Mer in you, Sapphire. And I—” he hesitates, and looks at me intently, as if he’s deciding whether or not to trust me. “I’ve got—”

But at that moment noise hits the water like a bomb. My ears sting with pain. The sea throbs as if it’s got thunder in it.

“Quick, Sapphire, swim for the shore! It’s the boat coming!”

As soon as Faro says it I recognise the sound of an engine. Faro grabs my wrist, grips tight for a second and then launches me towards the shore. I ride on the wave he’s made for me, and it hurls me up, swooshes me in, and throws me flat on the sand. I struggle to my feet, coughing and choking, my eyes blind with salt. My ears are full of sand. I can’t see and I can’t hear. I’m back in the Air, where I belong.

Faro has disappeared. The boat is chugging round the other side of the rocks, towards its mooring. The noise of its engine thuds around the cove like a warning of danger.

“Please don’t go off like that again, without telling me where you’re going, Sapphire,” says Mum. “If Conor hadn’t said you were taking Sadie for a walk, I’d have been worried.”

“Sorry, Mum. It was so hot that I took Sadie to play in the stream.”

“I can see that. You’re soaked through. You’ve been gone hours.”

Only hours , I think. So Mer time and human time haven’t been so different from each other this time. If time is a fan, then for once it hasn’t opened wide enough to separate Mum’s time from mine. Clever Conor, to think of saying that I’d taken Sadie out. Mum wouldn’t doubt what he said, because Conor doesn’t lie.

But Conor’s just told a lie for my sake. Or maybe it was for Mum’s sake? Conor wouldn’t want Mum to be frightened.

I don’t always tell the truth, I must admit. When I was little I used to scream and yell if people didn’t believe what I told them about fairies living in a cave I’d made for them under the rosemary bush. And I had an imaginary kitten which had to have milk every morning and only ate Whiskas, just like the cats I’d seen on TV. Dad bought a can of Whiskas for the kitten, but Mum got really annoyed and wouldn’t let me open it.