Helen Dunmore - The Deep

Oh no, Conor’s carving is still in the zip pocket of my trousers! I punch the washing machine programme button and drag out the clothes. Water flops on to the floor but I don’t care. I unzip the pocket, and there’s the talisman. I lay it carefully on the table while I mop the floor, put the clothes back in the drum and restart the machine.

I sit down again. Under the electric light the carving is more beautiful than ever. I study it dreamily, admiring the strong curves of the Mer tail, the flowing hair, the line of the diving body. I know just how he feels as he plunges through Ingo, swooping through the water like a razor blade through silk. No, not really like a razor blade. Ingo welcomes you, and silk would never welcome the blade that cut it. Sometimes I have a very strange feeling that Ingo longs for me just as much as I long for Ingo. As if we need to be put back together in order to be whole. I must talk to Faro about it…

And then my eyes light on the headline of the newspaper that someone’s spread out on the table.

“New flood defence scheme for St Pirans!” it shouts. As if anything that humans can do would hold back the tides. I pull the paper towards me to read more, and that’s when I realise. It’s the Cornishman . But the Cornishman comes out on Thursdays, and it’s Wednesday today. This must be last week’s paper.

I stare at the date. It’s impossible. I blink, but the figures stay the same. I am looking at a newspaper which comes out tomorrow.

How long have I been gone? I’ve got to speak to Conor. But the flood took his mobile and he hasn’t got enough money yet for a new one. I’ve got to talk to Conor before I speak to Mum, then I’ll know what’s happening. If I’ve really been gone for a day and a half, then Mum will have contacted the police and the coastguard and everyone. But there’s no sign of that. The cottage is undisturbed. I remember what it was like after Dad disappeared, with neighbours and men in uniforms everywhere, and phones ringing.

There’s not even a note for me on the table. Mum would have left a note, surely. She wouldn’t have just thought, Oh well, Sapphy’s been gone for thirty-six hours but no worries, I’ll go and have a bit of space with Roger .

I know for sure that Conor went to Rainbow and Patrick’s. They might know something. There’s a landline number for them somewhere, if their landline is back on yet after the flood…

It is. I find the number in our phone’s memory, and to my relief there’s a normal dialling tone. After six rings, someone picks up.

“Hello?”

It’s Rainbow.

“Rainbow? It’s Sapphy. Is Conor still with you?”

“Oh, hi, Sapphy.” Her voice is relaxed, friendly, unconcerned. “How are you? Are you coming over?”

“Um, no, not just now – listen, Rainbow, can I have a word with Conor if he’s there?”

“Sure, wait a minute, he was here a second ago—”

And I hear Conor’s voice in the background, “Rainbow, can I take the phone in the kitchen?”

The phone is passed over. I hear footsteps and the door shutting. He’s gone into Rainbow and Patrick’s little back kitchen. I hold the phone, listening. Conor doesn’t say anything at all, but I know he’s there because I can hear him breathing.

“It’s me,” I say at last. “Are you all right?”

“ Am I all right? ” says Conor quietly and furiously. “What do you think, Saph? You’ve been gone since yesterday.”

“I was fine though, Conor, I was in—”

“I know where you were.”

“Conor – Mum, does she know?”

“She’ll be at work now. She thinks you’re here with me. I called her yesterday and said you’d decided to come down to Rainbow and Patrick’s and help out with the cleaning. And then it got late and so we all stayed over. But that’s it , Saph. It’s the last time I lie for you. Next time you can tell your own lies.”

“Conor, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Rainbow and Patrick don’t know anything. If they meet Mum, and Mum says something about you being here, they’re going to think we’re both liars. Why don’t you ever think ? Why do you just plunge in and do whatever you want?”

I can’t find an answer to this. I look down at the talisman lying on the kitchen table.

“Elvira gave me something for you,” I say quietly. I hear a sharp intake of breath.

“What? What is it?”

“I can’t really describe it. I’ve got to see you, Con.”

Suddenly there’s a flurry of barking in the background. I hear a door burst open, and Rainbow’s voice apologising, “Sorry, Conor, Sadie was desperate to get to you. I couldn’t hold her back.”

The barking grows louder and louder.

“Steady, girl, it’s all right, I haven’t gone away – get down, you crazy dog – Sadie! ”

“Let me talk to her, Conor.”

“She knows I’m talking to you, that’s why she’s going nuts. Here, Sadie.”

A volley of barks hits the phone. I hold it away from my ear, then when Sadie calms down I say, “It’s all right, Sadie girl, I’m here. I’m back. I’m coming to fetch you.”

She understands, I know she does. She whines, deep in her throat, with a mixture of pleading and relief in her voice.

“Conor? Conor, listen, I’m coming down now. I’ll ride your old bike. I’ve got to talk to you.”

“It’d better be good, Saph,” says Conor grimly, “and for God’s sake don’t forget the bike lights.”

I nearly make the mistake of leaving a note for Mum to tell her where I’ve gone. But just in time, I remember that I’m supposed to have been there all the time. But my clothes are in the washing machine! Mum is bound to notice that. She’ll know I was here in the cottage, and not in St Pirans all the time…

I’ve got to think. Mum’s at work, Roger’s off somewhere – I’ve got to make it look as if I never came back to the cottage at all. I check the bathroom, then drink the cold mug of tea, finish the banana sandwich, wash up the evidence carefully and put away the mug and plate. By this time, the washing machine’s programme is almost finished. I wait impatiently while it chunters through an endless slow spin. At last the red light switches off and I can open the door. I stuff the clothes into a plastic bag and hide them in the garden, under a gooseberry bush, in case Mum checks my room. I’ll put them out on the line tomorrow.

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