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Conor puts on the beekeeper’s hat and veil. Granny Carne adjusts it, and stands back to check he is completely protected.
“You’ll do.”
We walk in single file up a little path on to the highest part of the Downs. Granny Carne first, then Conor, then me. The sun blazes on us. The buttery, coconut scent of gorse fills the air, and sparrows flit out of the bushes as we go by. We tread heavily, to warn any snakes there may be. It’s the kind of day an adder would come out to bask on a stone.
The ground dips, and there in a protected hollow ahead of us is a beehive. Even from this distance I can see a smoky blur of bees going in and out, and hear the low hum of their busyness.
“We won’t go any closer, Sapphire,” says Granny Carne, “and you keep nice and still now, and talk soft.”
She steps forward a pace and stands there, listening. “Yes, you can visit them,” she says to Conor after a while. “There’s no trouble in the hive. They’re happy.”
“What do I do?”
“Walk forward slowly. Don’t worry if some of them settle on you. They’ll want to know what you’re made of.”
“Won’t they think Conor is you, if he’s wearing your clothes?”
“No. You can’t fool the bees. Then when they’re used to you, go right up to the hive and tell them what you want to tell them. Only go gentle. Bees don’t like a flurry.”
“What if it’s a question? Is that all right?”
“There aren’t many who can get an answer from the bees,” says Granny Carne seriously.
“But you can,” Conor says, and she nods.
“Me and the bees have lived together a long time. We’re like family. You go on now, show respect and they won’t harm you.”
Conor steps forward slowly. It seems a long journey to the beehive. A small cloud of bees comes out to meet him, and circles his head. Conor doesn’t seem worried. He just keeps going until he reaches the hive, and then he settles very gently on to his knees, so that his face is level with the hole where the bees are coming in and out.
I watch. Conor stays very still. I can’t see his face, only his back. I can’t hear anything but the buzz of the bees.
“Ask them now,” murmurs Granny Carne, as if to herself. But Conor seems to hear her. I hear the sound of his voice, but not what he’s saying. The steady hum of the bees dips into silence for a few moments. They’re listening! They’re really listening, just as Granny Carne said. And then the sound of the bees swells back again. Conor stays there a little while longer, then very slowly he rises and begins to move backwards, away from the hive.
“Go gentle,” mutters Granny Carne, but she doesn’t need to remind him. The bees don’t seem bothered by Conor at all.
We walk back to the cottage. I’m longing to ask Conor what happened, but Granny Carne’s silence forbids questions. He takes off all the bee-keeper’s gear in the garden, so she can put it directly into her shed.
“You asked your question then,” says Granny Carne as we’re leaving.
“Yes.”
“It’s not for me to know if you had your answer. But I can tell the bees liked you.”
Conor grins. “I liked them. I want to keep bees one day.”
“You work on that then. Anything you want will happen if you work on it. Sapphire’ll only get that dog if she makes it happen.”
“Did she mean I will get Sadie?” I burst out as soon as we’re far enough from the cottage. “Was it like a prophecy, when she sees into the future?”
“I don’t think so. I think it was just a piece of advice.”
“Oh. That’s no good then.” My curiosity gets the better of me. “Go on, Conor, tell me what you asked the bees.”
“I asked them if Dad was still alive.”
“What?”
“You heard. I asked them—”
“But why? How would they know?”
“You remember what I said about Dad coming up here last year? I thought that maybe Granny Carne had talked to the bees about Dad. Or even that Dad had talked to them. Maybe that’s how it works. Maybe the bees help her to see into the future.”
“You’d have noticed if Dad had gone up to the hive with her.”
“I might not have done. I was round the back, remember, watching the frogs. Anyway, when Granny Carne said that the bees have to be told about births and deaths, suddenly I thought that maybe they would know about Dad. And they would remember, because they keep their memories in the hive.”
I stare at Conor in dread. What have the bees told him? But surely he couldn’t look so normal if they’d said Dad was – not alive any more.
“So? What did they say?”
“Nothing,” says Conor. “I was an eejit to think they would. But there was something all the same…”
“What?”
“I don’t know. I can’t describe it. A warm feeling. A good feeling. I think they did listen to me. They didn’t mind me being there.”
“Conor, do you still really think Dad’s alive?” There. I’ve dared to say it at last. Sometimes I’m so scared that we’re just pretending to ourselves, month after month after month…
“Yes,” says Conor.
CHAPTER TWENTY (#ulink_3d727b6c-f155-5762-9d77-856762d7a0d7)
“Mum, what are you doing home already? It’s only two o’clock!”
“Are you all right, Mum?”
Mum blushes. “I thought you two were out for the day,” is all she can think of saying. There on the table is a pile of chicken and tomato sandwiches. Mum’s got the bread knife in her hand, ready to slice them. But what a huge pile: far more than Mum could ever eat. She must have made them for all of us.
I thought you two were out for the day.
No. Not for us, then. Thoughts whizz about in my head. The sandwiches are not the only food on the table. There’s a pot of olives, a straw basket of cherry tomatoes, a bag of cherries, a packet of my favourite crisps, which we hardly ever buy because they cost so much, and a bottle of wine. The kind of expensive stuff that doesn’t come into our house unless it’s left over from the restaurant. But these don’t look like leftovers.
Conor’s hand snakes into the cherry bag. Mum slaps it away.
“Get off! Those aren’t for you.”
“Who are they for, then?” asks Conor, but both of us have already guessed the answer. Roger. Roger has come home with Mum, while we were up at Granny Carne’s. Mum thought we were out of the way, so she said, Dear, darling Roger, do come to my beautiful cottage. My horrible children won’t be there.
“Won’t you lose your job if you just go home whenever you feel like it, Mum?” I ask her.
“Saph,” says Conor in a quiet, watch-what-you’re-saying voice, but I take no notice of him.
“So where’s Roger, then?” I ask.
“Right,” says Mum, dropping her knife with a clatter. “That’s it. I’ve finally had enough. You don’t want me to have any life at all, do you, Sapphire? As long as I’m working all the hours God sends and looking after you the rest of the time, you’re happy. But if I try to go out – or have a friend – oh no, that’s not allowed. Well, I’ve got news for you, my lady—”
Don’t say it, Mum, I beg inside myself. Don’t tell me you’re going to marry Roger.
“—I’ve got news for you.” Mum’s finger stabs the air. “I have got a life, not much I grant you, and just for once I’m going to do something for myself. Yes, I know those are your favourite crisps but just for once you’re not having them, and Conor’s not having those cherries either. I’m going on a picnic and it is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS,” yells Mum, and now her finger is stabbing right in my face. I jump back. The pile of sandwiches wobbles and begins to collapse. Conor leaps forward, but he’s too late. Chicken and tomato filling spatters over the floor.
I dive down to help but Mum shouts, “Leave them! I’m not giving anyone sandwiches that have been on this floor. Look at the state of it. I’ve asked you a dozen times to clean it, Sapphire.”
An evil spirit jumps into my mouth. “If we had a dog, the sandwiches wouldn’t be wasted,” I say. Mum’s hand slaps down on the table.
“Saph, go out. Just go outside,” urges Conor. But I can’t. I can’t even find the door, I’m crying so much.
“Oh Sapphy.” The next moment Mum’s arms are around me and I can feel that she’s starting to cry too. “Why do you do it? Why do you always make things so hard for everyone?”
“I don’t, it’s you that does—”
“It’s both of you,” says Conor flatly. “You’re both just as bad as each other.”
Mum pushes my tangly hair back and holds my face between her hands so that I’ve got to look at her.
“Listen to me. I wasn’t planning to come back, that’s why I didn’t tell you. What happened is that Roger came in while we were setting up for lunches, and said he was going to do his first dive today,” she says, in a voice which I know is meant to be soothing. “The weather’s perfect for it, and the tide. Gray was there too – he’s Roger’s dive buddy for this trip. They’re going to do an exploratory dive out by the Bawns. And Roger said he’d already asked Alissa at work if she’d swap shifts with me, and she was OK about it. So I’m going in to work tomorrow, on Alissa’s shift, instead of having my day off then.”
If Mum thinks I’m going to be distracted by details of her shifts, she’s mistaken. “But you don’t ever come down to the cove, Mum. You hate the sea.”
I feel as if Mum’s betraying everything. She’s turning into a different person. Dad always wanted her to come down to the water, and she never would. We never went out in the boat together. But now, because of Roger, suddenly everything’s changed and Mum’s longing to go for a seaside picnic.
“You won’t really go down to the cove, will you?” I ask disbelievingly.
“Oh yes, I will,” says Mum. “It’s all gone on long enough. It’s time to open up my life a bit.”
“You’re never going out in the boat with Roger and Gray!”
“No,” says Mum. “I can’t push myself as far as that yet. But maybe one day I will. Roger’ll help me.”
“Roger,” I say, trying to put everything I feel into the name.
“You shouldn’t be so dead against him,” says Mum.
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t know what he’s like. You don’t even want to find out. He’s a good man. He cares about both of you. He even—”
“Even what?”
“Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Mum! What shouldn’t you have said anything about?”
Mum glances at Conor for help, but Conor’s not saying anything.
“All right, then. Roger thinks – for some unknown reason – that I’m not being fair to you about the dog business. He reckons you’re old enough and responsible enough to have a dog. But if he’d seen today’s carry-on, he might change his mind.”
“Mum!” My thoughts are not just whizzing around now, they are performing loops and swoops and dives and turning back on themselves. Roger – Roger – thinks Mum’s not being fair about Sadie. And he’s trying to get her to change her mind. Trying to persuade her that we can have a dog…
Pictures crowd into my head. Sadie, in our house, in her own basket. Sadie, padding upstairs to my room to wake me in the mornings – or maybe even sleeping in my room. Me taking Sadie for long walks whenever I want. Taking Sadie on the coast path, up on the Downs, checking her paws for thorns, brushing her coat, giving her a bath outside, taking her to the vet, whistling for her when she’s roaming around outside…
Come on in, Sadie girl, Conor’s gone up to Jack’s so it’s just you and me this evening, but we don’t mind, do we? We’ve got each other.
“Don’t look at me like that, Sapphy. It’s not decided yet.”
“Oh, Mum.”
“I’m still thinking about it. Mary Thomas says she’d keep an eye on the dog during the day, when you were back at school.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Take it easy, Saph,” says Conor.
“We won’t say any more about it now,” says Mum. “I must get on with this picnic. They’ll be here soon.”
“You’re really going down there, then, Mum?” Conor asks. He sounds like an adult, not a boy. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“Maybe she’ll take up diving,” I say, before I can stop myself. Mum shudders.
“One day at a time,” she says. She lets go of me, and I step back.
“One day at a time, sweet Jesus,” I sing, then I continue, because Dad always did, “One drink at a time, sweet Jesus.”
“I’d be angry if I thought you knew what you were singing, Sapphire,” says Mum severely. “Making mock like that.”
“She’s only singing what Dad used to sing,” says Conor. Dad’s name falls awkwardly, and conversation stops. Mum looks from one of us to the other.
“I’d better get on,” she says at last. “Roger and Gray are bringing the boat around,” and she begins to butter more bread.
Conor and I look at each other. For the first time, what’s about to happen seems real. I’d rather keep on thinking about Sadie, but I can’t. Roger and Gray are coming here. They’re going to dive. An exploratory dive by the Bawns, Mum said.
Roger thinks it’s an ordinary dive, like he’s done a hundred times before. Him and his dive buddy and his powerful boat and all his wonderful equipment. Roger, Mr Experienced Diver.
But Faro’s there. The Mer. All of it. The tiny bit of Ingo that I’ve seen, and everything else that lies hidden. It’s hidden because it wants to be hidden. The Mer don’t want Air People there. The Bawns mean something that I don’t understand. Faro said so. It was when we were talking about the Bawns that he got so angry. Faro said that Roger would never go there. All of Ingo will prevent it – was that what he said? Or was it something about protecting the Bawns? All of Ingo will protect them. Whatever his exact words were, Faro meant every one of them. His face was like the sea when a storm’s whipping up on it.
“Me and Saph’ll go on down to the cove then, Mum, unless you need us here,” says Conor. “Sure you’ll be all right climbing down?”
“I can manage,” says Mum. “It’s not the climb down that worries me.” She makes herself smile and I know how afraid of the sea she still is. How hard she’s trying, because of Roger. “I’ve got to do it on my own.”
