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

“Sapphy has a vivid imagination,” Dad said.

“Stop humouring her, Mathew. She’s got to learn the difference between what’s real and what’s not,” said Mum.

But sometimes real and not-real are hard to tell apart, and life is easier if you bend the truth, just a little…

“Where’s Conor now, Mum?” I ask casually.

“He’s gone out in Roger’s boat. They were planning to take it right out, to test the new engine, and then Roger’s going to come in to take soundings by the Bawns. You know, he needs to prepare for diving there. Now, Sapphy, why don’t you go up and change, and tidy your room while I finish this ironing. And then maybe you’d sort the washing for me. I need to put another load in the machine before the boys get back. The trouble with Sundays is that there’s always so much to do.”

The boys , I think angrily. As if Roger is part of our family. I go slowly upstairs, thinking hard. I know what soundings are. Roger’s trying to find out how deep the water is in different places, and how difficult it will be to dive there. The Bawns are part of a reef about a mile offshore. Most of the reef is underwater, but the Bawn Rocks show above the surface. The part of the rocks that you can see is black and jagged, but what you can’t see is the line of the Bawns that runs beneath the surface, like teeth. These hidden rocks are the most dangerous. In the old days, when shipping routes ran closer inshore than they do now, ships would lose their way in storms. The wind and tide would drive them on to the rocks. Sometimes, at night or in fog, a ship would break her back on the Bawns.

When the weather’s bad the Bawns are lost in a white thunder of waves. Spray breaks and tosses high, as if the rocks themselves are spouting water, like whales. It makes me shiver to think of having to swim in those seas. Dad told me that a boy was found in our cove one morning after a wreck. He was thrown up on to the sand, still clinging to a piece of slimy wood. The people who climbed down to rescue him couldn’t get the wood out of his grasp at first.

The miracle was that the boy was still alive. They wrapped him in blankets and carried him up the cliff path, and put him in front of a fire and poured brandy down him. He couldn’t speak a word that anybody understood. They never found where he came from, or what language he was speaking. They named him Paul, because St Paul in the Bible was rescued after a shipwreck too. The Treveals took the boy in, and he grew up with their children. His grave is in the churchyard.

Shipwrecked Paul was my age. He was the only person who survived that wreck. No one ever knew where his ship came from, or what cargo it was carrying. Even when he learned to speak English, he never talked about the wreck, or what his life was like before he was found in the cove. On his gravestone it says that he died in 1852. He married Miriam Treveal and they had eight children. And then maybe all of those eight children had eight children, and then those eight children had eight children, Dad said. So no doubt all of us around here have got a drop of that shipwrecked boy’s blood in us somewhere.

Dad won’t go near the Bawns, even on a calm day.

And don’t you ever go there, Sapphire, when you’re old enough to take the boat out by yourself. Those rocks are a powerful place, and they’ve got a bad appetite for boats and human flesh. To sail near them is like putting your head into a wolf’s jaws . After Dad said that, I could always see the shape of a wolf’s head in the farthest of the Bawns. We never went in close, not even for fishing. But now Roger has taken Conor there. Conor must have agreed, even though he knows how bad the Bawns are.

I rush downstairs. “Mum! Did you tell Roger not to take Conor close to the Bawns?”

“Roger’s a very experienced diver, Sapphy. He knows all about risk assessment.”

“Oh, Mum! He doesn’t know this coast like we do. It’s dangerous by the Bawns.”

A shadow of fear crosses Mum’s face, but she makes a big effort and answers cheerfully. “Conor’s safe with Roger. And look how calm it is today. Now, have you sorted the washing? I want the whites first.”

“Mum, it’s the Bawns, they shouldn’t go there—” but Mum’s closed her ears. I can’t believe that this is Mum, who hates the sea and fears for everyone that goes on it. And now, the one time she should be frightened, she isn’t. Mum, who used to issue storm warnings every time Dad took me out. I can remember when I was little the way Mum used to pick me up and hug me tight after I’d come back from fishing or taking photos with Dad. She would squeeze the breath out of me with relief.

Mum even chose the back bedroom for herself and Dad, because it faced inland.

Now she lets Conor go off in Roger’s boat, even though he’s almost a stranger, and he doesn’t know a zillionth of what Dad knew about the coast and the currents here. Dad knew the sea almost as well as the Mer.

I mustn’t think about it now. I mustn’t let Mum guess about the Mer, or Ingo, or any of it. She wouldn’t understand and it would only make her more afraid of the sea than ever.

“How long have they been gone, Mum?”

“For heaven’s sake, Sapphy, stop fussing! Conor will be fine with Roger. Roger’s got full safety equipment, and his mobile.”

“There’s no reception out there.”

“All they’re doing is testing the engine, taking the boat near the Bawns, doing some soundings and coming back. And then we’ll all have tea.”

I can’t believe it. Mum’s making it sound like an Enid Blyton story: have a nice adventure, and then home for tea. But Ingo isn’t like that. They weren’t anywhere near the Bawns when I saw Roger , I want to say. They were much farther out than that. Testing the engine, eh ? But never in a million years can I tell Mum about lying in the sunwater, far out to sea, and feeling the shadow of Roger’s boat come over me.

“There they are now!” says Mum, going to the door. She can’t stop herself from sounding relieved. She heard the sound of footsteps and voices before I did. Roger’s deep voice says something muffled, and Conor answers. Mum flushes slightly. A little smile grows at the corners of her mouth, and I know she’s happy because Roger and Conor are getting on well. But that’s what Conor is like. He’s the easy one, who makes friends everywhere he goes.

Conor and Roger take off their shoes outside the door. I stay inside.

“Is Saph back yet?” calls Conor. I can hear the anxiety in his voice and I wonder if Mum can.

“Yes, she’s in the kitchen,” says Mum casually, going out to meet them.

“When did she get back?”

“Oh, just a little while ago. You were right, she was out walking Sadie. You two sound as if you’ve had a good time.”

“We have,” says Roger heartily. “Or at least, I have. It was a pleasure to have you along, Conor.”

What a creep. But then I hear Conor. “Yes, it was good. Can we go out again next time you’re down?”

“No problem,” agrees Roger. “I’m grateful for the local knowledge. I’d have scraped when we came off the mooring, Jennie, but for Conor.”

Conor protests that Roger would have done fine without him, and they all laugh. And now they come in through the dark doorway, blinking as people do when they’ve been out on the bright sea for hours. My eyes are already used to the indoors, and so I see Roger’s face clearly. He startles when he sees me, just a little. He wants to hide it, but he can’t. He comes farther into the room, trying to look as if he isn’t staring at me. But he is. He’s measuring my face against something in his mind. He’s trying to tell himself that what he thinks he’s seen out on the deep water can’t possibly be true.