Midnight Dolphin (29 page)

‘
Ooh, can I
come too?’ implored Bethany eagerly. Megan looked at her kid
sister. She could hardly say no after the help that Bethany had
just given her.

‘
Oh go on
then’ she replied.

Bethany drove
very carefully down the coastal road into Merwater, but as she
explained to Lucy, the gritter lorries had been out and it was
relatively safe on the highway. Dirty snow was piled to each side
of the road and Lucy spotted three snowmen on the outskirts of
town. Somebody had even built what looked like an igloo in one of
the front gardens that they passed. In Merwater itself the
Christmas decorations were weighed down by real snow. Lucy half
expected to see a sledge with reindeer tied up to a lamppost and
Santa emerging from the local newsagent.

As they got
closer, Lucy became more nervous.

‘
Why do you
think that Rachel Greenwood is still here in town?’ she asked.
‘After all, Thelma’s funeral was two days ago. She could easily
have gone home to her family by now.’

‘
Well, she
used to live here remember’ replied Bethany. ‘Maybe she was
visiting friends or family.
Maybe
, Bethany thought to herself,
she’s waiting here to see you Lucy.

They parked
the car and walked up to the Arts Café. To Lucy’s dismay, the door
was firmly locked and on it was pinned a notice ‘Closed due to the
weather’.

‘
What shall we
do now?’ asked Lucy disconsolately.

‘
There she is’
replied Bethany, looking around. Rachel Greenwood stood across the
road in a heavy coat with the collar up. She crossed over to greet
them.

‘
I thought we
could go to the Anchor since the Arts Café’s closed’ she said. She
smiled at Bethany. ‘I can hardly believe you were a child the last
time I saw you. Come on.’

The Anchor was
on the other side of the road down some steps. Bethany had to stoop
to go through the low crooked doorway and Lucy entered nervously,
stamping the snow off her feet and wondering whether the Landlord
would tell them that children weren’t allowed in pubs. Despite the
flagstones on the floor, the pub was warm and a huge fire had been
lit in the hearth. In the summer, the pub’s low ceilings and dark
oak beams felt claustrophobic. In the depths of winter it was a
cosy retreat from the bitter weather outside.

Rachel
Greenwood offered to buy them drinks and Bethany surprised Lucy by
ordering half a pint of bitter. They sat and looked into the glow
of the coals as they waited for her to return from the
bar.

‘
This pub
can’t have changed much in over a hundred and forty years’ said
Rachel Greenwood conversationally, setting down the drinks. ‘Have
you heard of Mary Pewsey? I imagine her coming in here as a girl
for a jug of ale to carry home to her father.’

‘
Mary Pewsey?’
asked Lucy.

‘
Oh she’s
someone I’ve studied as part of my research’ replied Rachel
Greenwood casually. ‘She became quite a well-respected figure in
her lifetime. I’ll tell you about her some time if you like.’
Bethany brushed back a few strands of curly blond hair from her
face and cleared her throat.

‘
Rachel. It’s
been a long time. But enough of these pleasantries. What is the
nature of your interest in my niece?’ Lucy glanced sideways at her
aunt. She’d never heard Bethany speak so formally or forcefully
before. ‘You’ve been seen standing over Lucy’s bed at the hospital,
and then again at Thelma’s funeral. And now you’re inviting her to
the Arts Café. Rachel, what’s going on?’ Rachel Greenwood looked at
Bethany for a long moment with serious eyes.

‘
For many
years Dolphin-Children such as Mary Penhaligon, Mary Pewsey, your
sister Megan and now Lucy have been the subject of my research’ she
replied quietly. ‘I am a Reader in Biology at the University, which
means I lecture and I carry out research. But I have always been
fascinated by local folk lore too. That is part of the reason I
started studying Dolphin-Children.’

‘
You mean
you’ve been studying Megan and Lucy?’ asked Bethany
incredulously.

‘
I got to know
Megan as you know all those years ago when she was a girl down here
on her holidays, and I was an undergraduate. Years later she agreed
to help me with my studies, and we worked closely over ten, maybe
twelve years.’

‘
But Mum never
mentioned you’ Lucy cut in. Rachel smiled quietly, and Lucy noticed
the nest of wrinkles in the corners of her eyes.

‘
Yes I know.
We decided to keep our researches to ourselves. Your father was not
exactly … supportive let’s say. But Megan came down to Cornwall
once or twice a year and was the subject of tests I carried out at
the lab.’

‘
But tests on
what?’ asked Lucy, increasingly confused.

‘
Well, tests
on Megan’s ability to communicate with dolphins,
telepathically
you might
say. Most recently we were using MRI scans to analyse the activity
in her brain when she was projecting out with her mind.’

‘
You mean
before she died?’ asked Lucy, her voice trembling slightly. Rachel
nodded. ‘Mum never told me any of this. What was the name of her
dolphin?’

‘
Your mother
called him Jet’ Rachel replied. ‘She allowed me to swim with him
once or twice. He was such a beautiful creature...’

‘
Is Jet dead
now?’ asked Lucy. Rachel nodded again.

‘
I suppose
dolphins don’t live as long as humans…’ murmured Bethany. Rachel
turned her gaze to Bethany, as though surprised that she had not
grasped some important and obvious fact.

‘
And you’re
studying me now?’ asked Lucy.

‘
Not as such’
replied Rachel. ‘It’s true I came to see you in the hospital when
you were in your coma. Megan was my good friend. I was devastated
when she died. I couldn’t help but come and see you when I knew
you’d been hurt. Your father saw me but there was no reason why he
should recognise me as we’d never actually met.’

‘
But how did
you know?’ asked Lucy.

‘
I also knew
Thelma Merryweather. Thelma told me a good deal about local
folklore, and people like her sister who also had the gift, though
she grew out of it, of course. It was Thelma who told me all about
your accident Lucy. She also told me about your own experiences
with dolphins. And now poor Thelma is dead.’

‘
It was Thelma
who told Dad that I’d grow out of my gift … that I’d never see
Spirit again’ replied Lucy, her voice coloured with emotion. ‘Is
that what you think?’ Rachel looked at her quietly for a long
moment.

‘
Listen Lucy.
Your mother paid a high price for her gift. Your father loves you
and I believe he wants to save you from all that. He does have your
best interests at heart you know. All things must pass.’

‘
But you
posted me the book. You wanted me to find out more!’

‘
It’s true I
did’ replied Rachel. ‘But now I think I was wrong. I think I can
guess why you were unconscious for so long at the hospital. Perhaps
that last time should be your last goodbye to Spirit.’

‘
But how did
Mum do it? How did Mum keep her gift as a grown up when Thelma says
everyone else loses it?’ Rachel Greenwood shook her head
slowly.

‘
I cannot
explain it with science’ she replied cautiously.

‘
But you
know?’

‘
I believe I
have an idea’ Rachel answered.

‘
Then tell me
then!’ Lucy implored her. Rachel shook her head again.

‘
I don’t think
I should’ she answered quietly. ‘I don’t think your father would
want me to. Besides, anything I can tell you will only give you
half the answer.’

‘
Then why ask
me here today?’ demanded Lucy angrily.

‘
I…I wanted to
tell you…’ replied Rachel falteringly, ‘that I was the last person
to see Megan alive and that when I did she told me how much she
loved you… I wanted to tell you that.’ Lucy felt completely
shocked.

‘
You were the
last person to see Mum alive?’ she asked. ‘Before her car
accident?’

‘
Car
accident?’ Rachel asked, evidently thrown for a moment by the
comment.

‘
Yes the car
accident that killed Megan’ Bethany replied. Rachel
frowned.

‘
Is that
what…?’ A look of comprehension broke across her face. ‘I see. Your
father told you that…’ Rachel stopped. Bethany could sense
immediately that something was wrong. Rachel had no idea at all
about the car accident, yet she had just said that she was the last
person to see Megan alive. Rachel looked at her watch
uneasily.

‘
Look, maybe
this was a mistake. I really should be going. I have to get back
home to Exeter.’

‘
What really
happened to Mum?’ demanded Lucy. Her heart was racing and she felt
almost dizzy with anxiety. Rachel looked down into her lap,
gathering her thoughts.

‘
Listen Lucy.
Megan, your mother died far too young. She deserved many more years
of life. Your father just wants to protect you. When I sent you
that book in the post … I didn’t know what I was doing. It was
stupid of me. I thought I was helping you, but now I realise that I
was wrong.’ Rachel stood up. ‘I really must be going.’

‘
No!’ cried
out Lucy, loud enough to make the few occupants of the pub look her
way. ‘How did Mum die?’ She glanced at Bethany, but her aunt was
evidently as shocked and disturbed as she was. Rachel seemed almost
scared by the turn their conversation had taken.

‘
I, I cannot
come between you and your father Lucy’ she answered unhappily. ‘You
must speak to him.’

‘
You won’t
tell me anything at all!’ cried Lucy. Her eyes stung with the
pressure of a million pent up tears. She felt as though she could
bear it no more. Lucy got up suddenly and with her head down,
pushed her way from the table where they were sitting and ran
towards the pub’s low door.

‘
Lucy!’ she
heard Bethany call out behind her. Lucy ran outside into the cold.
Snow-flakes were fluttering down again. Lucy ran up the street,
great sobs welling up in her lungs and throat. Lucy knew she would
miss Mum more at Christmas, but this felt like torture. Everything
she thought she knew was wrong. She didn’t even know how Mum died.
Lucy ran up icy pavements with no idea of where she was headed. All
she wanted was to be as far away as possible.

Finally, when
Lucy came to a halt, her chest was hurting and her eyes were
smarting. She was in the recreation ground near Paul’s house. There
he was, clad in his hat and gloves, standing with a friend next to
a half-built igloo. Paul walked over to her.

‘
What’s up
Luce?’ he asked. Lucy didn’t know what to say. She felt as terrible
now as Paul must have done earlier in the year when he was being
bullied so badly by Baz and Mike. All she could do was sniff. ‘Hey,
I’ve got a torch’ he said, pulling one out of his coat pocket. ‘Do
you want to go back to the tunnels?’ Lucy nodded.

‘
Let’s go’ she
said. They crunched through the pristine snow, out of the
recreation ground, across the road, into the orchard and then off
to the left to the blocked up entrances to the tin
mines.

‘
You know it’s
supposed to be really dangerous down there’ said Paul as they went
along. My mum said that when she was a child some kid got stuck
down there and died.’

‘
People are
always telling me not to do things, not to ask things’ replied Lucy
with a steely edge to her voice, ‘I just don’t care anymore.’ It
was still, silent and cold. The buddleia bushes were bent down
almost to the ground by the weight of the snow which almost
entirely covered up the iron grates that covered the entrances to
the tunnels. At first they couldn’t find the one with the caved in
side, but eventually Paul had brushed away enough snow to find the
gap and they eased their way in.

Lucy switched
on Paul’s torch, and flashed it around the tunnel. The light wasn’t
bad but it still wasn’t enough to clearly illuminate the way. The
light seemed to throw up looming shadows that made the tunnel seem
more scary than it actually was. The tunnel ceiling was low and
Lucy had to bow her head to avoid the damp stone above her. Even
so, wet grit soon seemed to accumulate uncomfortably in her hair
and try as she might she could not brush all of it out with her
hand.

Cautiously,
they walked down the tunnel, flashing the torch down at their feet
and then out in front of them. The tunnel descended at a gentle
gradient and the ceiling even rose a few centimetres so that Lucy
didn’t have to duck her head anymore. The air felt warm compared
with the icy chill outside and she began to walk with more
confidence.

‘
This doesn’t
seem too bad’ said Paul behind Lucy, echoing her own thoughts.
Barely had the words left his mouth, when Lucy tripped and stumbled
on a loose stone and fell heavily onto her hands and knees, grazing
them painfully.

‘
You okay?’
asked Paul.

‘
I think so’
she replied, looking at her hands in the light of the
torch.