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“Malin! Malin!”
Very slowly, his eyelids part. My heart thuds so hard I have to swallow in order to speak.
“My sister’s here, Malin,” I say, as calmly as I can. You’ve got to be calm with people when they’re really ill. “You’re going to be all right. We’re taking you to the salt water.”
But I can see from his face that there’s not a moment to lose.
“Let’s get the groundsheet out flat beside him, then we can lift him on to it. We haven’t got time to wet it. Come on, Jen!”
Jenna looks as if someone’s hit her in the face, she’s so shocked.
“Jenna, help me!”
Her hands are shaking, but she helps me to spread out the groundsheet.
“I’m going to go round behind him and get my hands under his arms. You lift under his— his tail.”
“Do you think we ought to move him?”
“We’ve got to. He’ll die if we don’t.” Jenna is so pale I’m afraid she’s going to faint.
“Then we can wrap the groundsheet round him and carry him to the pool. He was talking to me before. He speaks English.”
With a huge effort, Jenna collects herself. “King Ragworm Pool, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“But we’ll have to get him up the rocks.”
“We can do it.”
Lifting Malin on to the groundsheet is the worst part. The first time we try to lift him, he slips and his tail hits the ground. He groans and the colour ebbs from his face, leaving it a dirty grey-blue. I’m afraid we’re murdering him, not helping him.
“Try kneeling at right angles to his body, Jen. Get your arms right under him.”
She’s in position. I tighten my grip under Malin’s arms.
“One, two, three – lift.”
This time it works. We lift Malin as gently as we can, and lay him on the groundsheet. He’s heavy. Carefully, we wrap the groundsheet around him like a sling, so he can’t fall out. The gash in his tail is bleeding again, but not too badly. We decide Jenna will walk backwards, holding his tail, and I’ll keep hold of him under the arms, through the groundsheet, so he can’t slide out of it.
It is a nightmare journey. Getting him off the dunes is the worst part, because we are so scared of losing our balance and falling with him. I dig my heels into the sand for balance and try to take his weight as Jenna feels her way carefully back downwards.
By the time we’re on the flat sand I’m sweating all over. Jenna’s hair sticks to her forehead.
“Wait, he’s slipping.”
We get a firm grip again, and set off slowly, painfully, across the sand. It feels so exposed. What if someone sees us? They’ll think we are burying a body. Malin groans again as the groundsheet jerks. Oh no, we’re hurting him. We’re making things worse. I should have told Dad and Dr Kemp and let them help us—
No. He wanted me to get him to the water. He didn’t want anyone else to know. We’re doing what he asked.
It seems to take hours to reach the rocks. They’re not very high, but they loom over us like mountains now that we’ve got to get Malin up them. It’s so easy to climb up there usually that I hadn’t realised how difficult it would be with the dead weight of Malin between us.
“Let’s work it out logically,” says Jenna, wiping her hair away from her eyes. Her voice is shaky but it’s her sensible, “Jenna-solving-a-maths-problem” voice. What’s logical about any of this? I think, but I say nothing.
“We need to keep his head higher than his body,” she goes on. “It’s probably safest to go up side by side, don’t you think?”
“OK.”
“There’s a ledge for you there – and I can dig my foot in sideways, into that cranny. Let’s get up there first then work out the next foothold.”
Jenna’s in full practical mode now. Whether or not Malin is real, there’s a job to be done and we’re here to do it.
We daren’t risk falling with Malin, so we test each foothold over and over before we lift him. We only have to climb about ten feet, but the rocks are razor-sharp. If we dropped him…
The sea doesn’t reach these rocks, even at high tide. Maybe it does sometimes, at the equinoctial spring tides, although I’ve never seen it. But every tide brings water sluicing in along the stone channel that I think was made by our ancestors long ago. He’ll be safe here. I hold on to the thought as I struggle with his weight. You’ll be safe soon. You’ll be back in salt water, I tell him, but not aloud. Very slowly and cautiously, we inch our way upwards, leaning into the rock for balance. My shoulder muscles burn. My arms ache in their sockets…
“I’ve got him,” says Jenna, when she’s sure of her foothold, and I take the next small step upwards. Suddenly Malin’s weight shifts, as if he’s trying to move inside the groundsheet sling. I feel myself coming away from the face of the rock and fight with all my strength for balance. We teeter for a terrifying second, and then with all the force in my body I throw myself backwards. I lie against the rock, breathing hard, grasping him. I really have banged my head now. A wave of sickness rises into my mouth.
“Morveren? Are you OK?”
I can’t speak, but I nod my head and hope she can see it.
“He moved,” says Jenna.
He’s alive then.
“Coming up,” says Jenna, and we are side by side again, with Malin level between us. The pain between my shoulder-blades is like fire. I brace myself against the rock, dig my foot into the next cranny, and haul myself upwards. Jenna follows.
“We’re – almost there,” she pants.
And then we are there. King Ragworm Pool shines darkly beneath us. Weed sways in its depth, and anemones cling to its sides like jewels. I have never been so glad to see water in my life. We lower Malin carefully on to the flat top of the rock, and unwrap the groundsheet.
I lean over and say his name, my mouth close to his ear, but he doesn’t react. He’s unconscious, I think. Is he breathing? I wish I had a mirror, to see if it mists from his breath. But do the Mer breathe warmly, as we do? He’s so cold.
“Do you think it’s safe to put him in?” asks Jenna, “What if he drowns?”
Put him in sounds so awful, like putting a pet goldfish into a bowl. This whole day is making me feel horrible about being human. The responsibility of knowing what to do for Malin feels as heavy as his body when we were carrying him. If only he’d tell me how to help him into the water…
But Malin is silent. He’s far away, in a place where no one can reach him. Come back, I whisper under my breath. Come back. He doesn’t stir or speak, but at that moment, deep inside me, his voice echoes: I must be in salt water if I am to live.
“Mer won’t drown,” I say to Jenna, with more confidence than I feel.
There’s no shallow end to King Ragworm Pool. The rock has been hollowed out by water over thousands of years, and the sides of the pool are sheer. There’s a ledge at the other end where Jenna and I usually scramble in and out of the water, but we can’t clamber all the way round there carrying Malin.
“How’re we going to get him in?” asks Jenna.
“Let’s move him to the edge. If we pull the groundsheet so it’s over the rock and down to the water, we can sort of slide him, maybe. I’ll get into the pool and then if you ease him over, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bang his head or anything.”
“You’ll be freezing!”
“Yeah, I thought of that.” I stand up and pull off my hoodie and jeans. “Hold him under the arms so I can get him in tail-first.”
We get Malin to the very edge of the pool, with the protective groundsheet under him but not wrapped around him. Carefully, we pull the groundsheet free so that it hangs down, touching the water.
“I’ll splash water all over him so he slides better.”
“OK.”
My toes grip the edge. King Ragworm Pool has never looked so cold and dark. I shut my eyes, stop breathing, and jump in.
I come up gasping, throw my hair back, and swim to the side.
“Stand back, Jen!”
I tread water, raising myself high while I scoop up handfuls of water and throw as much as I can over Malin and the groundsheet. Then I brace my feet against the rock and kick backwards, gripping the end of the groundsheet. My weight pulls it tight, like a chute.
“Push him now, Jen!”
Jenna grunts with effort as she tugs and pushes, easing Malin over the lip of rock. The groundsheet tightens as Malin starts to slide. Suddenly there’s a rush of weight and movement. Just in time, I jack-knife away as Malin plunges over the edge of the rock and into the water. The pool surface breaks up and I can’t see him any more. Jenna’s leaning over the edge.
“Where is he? Is he all right?”
“He’s at the bottom.”
I can see him now. For a second I think he’s moving, and my heart leaps with hope, but then I realise it’s only the disturbance of his fall.
“I’m going to dive down and have a look.”
“Be careful!”
I am so cold now that I’ve gone numb. I kick off against the rock, down to the bottom. There he is. Face-down, not moving. Only his hair stirs as it flows upward. I touch his shoulder and he drifts a few centimetres, then he’s still again. I’ve got to breathe. I push upwards and burst through the surface, shuddering with cold.
“Morveren! Come out! You’ll get cramp.”
“Just – just one more dive—”
I steady myself, draw in the biggest breath I can take and dive again. I swim to Malin. He’s turned a little now, on to his side. I can see the gash in his tail.
Suddenly Malin’s body quivers from end to end, as if a current is running through it. He hangs still, then his tail moves. With one stroke, he is in the deepest shadow of the rock. I want to follow him, but I can’t stay underwater any longer. I rise to the surface, and this time I know that Jenna’s right, I’ve got to come out. If I stay in any longer I’ll be too weak to climb out.
I swim slowly to the edge. Jenna’s scrambled round to help me, and soon I’m lying on the rock, so exhausted that I hardly feel the cold. She takes off her own T-shirt and rubs me hard.
“I’ve brought your clothes round. Get them on quick, Mor, you’re all blue.”
My hands shake so much I can hardly get my hoodie over my head.
“Put your hood up, that’ll keep you warm.”
“Have you – got any – chocolate?”
Jenna shakes her head. “We’ve got to get home straight away, you’re freezing. I thought you weren’t going to come up, the second time. I was all ready to dive in after you.”
“That was s-s-stupid—”
“I saw him move, Mor. He’s all right.”
I nod. I’m not sure that “all right” is really the correct description of how Malin is, but at least he’s not dead, and he must be conscious or he wouldn’t have been able to swim to the side. He wanted us to put him in the water, and we did. We couldn’t do any more. But that gash in his tail, gaping under the water—
“You’re shaking, Mor. Come on.”
It starts to rain again on the way home. I don’t feel cold any more, but my head doesn’t seem to belong to my body. I have to concentrate hard to put one foot in front of the other.
Digory’s not in the cottage, but he’s left a note: i am Gon to sea Mum.
“I hope n-n-not,” I say.
“What?”
“G-g-gone to sea. We’ve g-g-got enough – to worry about w-w-w-without that.”
“Your teeth are making a horrible noise, Mor.”
She’s right. They are chattering. I’ve read about it in books but never thought it could happen in real life. My teeth are clashing together so hard I’m afraid bits will chip off.
Jen rushes upstairs and runs a bath. It’s so hot that it hurts to get in, and she pours in half Mum’s lavender bubble bath so that bubbles come right up the edge.
“I’m going to make you some hot chocolate. Don’t fall asleep, Mor.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to drown in the bath after not drowning in the pool.”
My teeth have stopped chattering. Jenna brings me a massive mug of hot chocolate and sits on the edge of the bath while I drink it. It’s so sweet I feel the sugar rushing through me.
“Yum, that’s amazing. Don’t watch me like a nurse, Jenna. I’m fine. I just got a bit cold.”
“You were all covered in blue patches. I nearly called Dr Kemp. I thought you were going to have an asthma attack.”
I used to have asthma when I was little, but I don’t any more and I hate it when people go on about it. I sink back into the bubbles. The mention of Dr Kemp has given me an idea.
“I’m going to ask Dr Kemp what’s the best thing to do for a gash like Malin’s, that can’t be stitched.”
“You can’t do that, Mor! She’s bound to ask who it is that’s injured.”
“I’ll make an appointment for something else, then I’ll just sort of slip in the question.”
“You can’t do that. Mum always makes our appointments.”
“I can. Malin can’t go to a doctor, can he? So I’ll go for him.”
