North of Nowhere (4 page)
Authors: Liz Kessler
In the center of the spiral was the thing that had caught the sunlight: a shiny golden stone. It was beautiful. The whole book was. It felt like something from an ancient magician’s study.
I lifted the book and sniffed it. Strong, old leather. I glanced around again, feeling like a thief, and then I opened the book. Even the pages were unusual: thin, wispy paper with tiny watermarks on every page.
I’d never really written a diary, but if I’d had a book like this I bet I would have. With a book like this, you could write anything. The pages were filled with tiny, neat handwriting.
I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself. I flicked to a random page.
I’m so bored. The weather was bad today, so no school again. It’s not that I love school. It’s just something to do. And it means seeing my friends. I wish the other girls didn’t all live on the mainland. I hate being different from everyone else — and having to depend on the weather and the tides in order to get to school on time.
I wouldn’t mind missing school so much if I were allowed to sleep in and do nothing, or perhaps spend all day in front of the fire reading a book. That would be SO nice!
But, no. As soon as Father told me I wasn’t going to school, that was it. Mother had me up cooking, fixing, painting, generally helping with all the most boring chores in the world. Honestly, sometimes I feel like a servant!
I’m sorry. I know that’s unfair. And I wouldn’t say it out loud to anyone. This is the only place in the world that I can confess how I really feel. Dear diary, where would I be without you? You’re like my best friend. The best friend that I haven’t got, because who wants a best friend that you have to travel out on a choppy ocean to visit — assuming you have access to a boat in the first place?
It’s not fair. I’m thinking of going on strike. Or running away.
Exactly. Thinking of. That’s all I ever do. Think. Dream. Imagine a different life.
Oh, well. Mother’s calling. Better go.
See you later,
D
I stared at the page — and suddenly I felt worse than a thief. I shouldn’t read more — I knew I shouldn’t pry — but this “D” person sounded just like me! I felt as if I understood her completely. She was the first person I’d ever come across in Porthaven who seemed to speak my language. And the first one who sounded as fed up as I was. Maybe she’d
want
to share her thoughts with me.
I turned to the next page.
Dear Diary,
First of all, I must apologize for yesterday. I was in such a foul mood. I feel sorry for you sometimes. You get all of my tempers and grumps. I hope you forgive me!
As it happened, the day turned out wonderfully after all. When I went out to bring in the laundry, I noticed some activity down in the bay. I pulled the clothes down quickly as I could, and I called to Mother. She came to look, and we both agreed it was probably the seals — but neither of us could see what they were getting so excited about.
I left Mother with the laundry and ran down to the cove, to get a better look. And guess what! Seal pups! Right there in our bay. Oh, they were the sweetest things! A whole crowd of them, maybe twenty or more, with their mothers. All of them splashing around, popping their little heads up and then diving back down, while their mothers chased after them to feed and clean them.
I love my life so much. I never ever want to live anywhere but Luffsands!
Lots of love,
D
She loved animals as much as I did! She sounded even
more
like me! I thumbed through the diary and flicked open another random page.
It’s raining and I’m stuck inside. I can’t go out and look for interesting wildlife, or pick some early snowdrops. I’m bored. Lonely. Fed up. Sometimes I feel that there isn’t a single person in the world who I can talk to, or who understands me. I have friends, of course. But we never really talk about anything that matters, and they don’t
really
understand my life.
They
don’t have to depend on the weather and the elements and their parents just to get back and forth.
It’s not fair. I said as much to Mother the other day, but she replied that I was a lucky girl and should be grateful for the life we have. Father just laughed and shook his head. He wouldn’t want another life even if it came with a million dollars!
I wish I had a true friend here in our funny little village — and more things to do so I wouldn’t get so bored. Maybe I should write more than just a diary. Perhaps I could pretend that this room is my secret turret in a castle and that these pages are my very own novel. Then I could hide from the world and write night and day, and I wouldn’t mind so much. With this beautiful book, I feel I could write anything.
That was what I’d just thought — almost word for word! She was
exactly
like me! Only, she didn’t have a best friend. That was really sad. Maybe
I
could be her best friend, at least for the week. I didn’t have
any
friends here!
I turned to the final entry. It had today’s date on it.
So here I am, sitting in the boat in Porthaven harbor, waiting for Father again. He always takes SO long. He told me to be back promptly, so I abandoned my friends and came to meet him. Now I’m thinking I could have had another half an hour with them, as I’ve been sitting on my own waiting all that time. I’ll give him a few more minutes and then I’m going to look for him. He said he’d be back right after the auction, but I know what he’s like. He’s probably in the pub with his friends.
The pub! D’s dad was one of the men from Gran and Grandad’s pub. Maybe we knew him. Maybe I’d even seen her!
I read on.
I’m looking forward to tomorrow. Father has promised I can help him at the auction. Not that that kind of thing usually excites me, but the auction at the Sunday market is always a bit different, and my friends will be there with their families too. With any luck, we can all give our parents the slip and have some fun while they do their boring business!
OK. He should definitely be here by now. I’m going to go and look for him.
See you later, diary,
D
I closed the diary and placed it back in the locker. Suddenly, I was torn between feeling guilty for reading someone else’s private diary and being excited at the thought that I might actually have found someone in this town who I could be friends with.
“What do you think, Flake? Shall we try to find the mysterious ‘D’? Hey, that’s almost a name! I’m going to call her ‘Dee’ from now on!”
Flake looked up at me and wagged his tail. I laughed and reached down to give him a hug.
Whatever I decided to do, I had to go back to the pub first. It was starting to get dark. I must have been out for at least an hour, and Mom and Gran would be wondering where we were.
Flake and I jumped off the boat and walked back up to the beach. Flake chased seagulls and barked at seaweed while I hurried back toward town, wondering if my new friend might even be waiting for us in the pub.
“There you are! Get Flake in the back and dry him off, and then you can help us collect some glasses,” Gran said as she offered me a grateful nod and a tight smile.
I decided that Gran’s welcome was really her way of saying, “Oh, you darling girl, you’ve been gone ages. We really missed you, as we love your company more than anything and hate it when you’re not here,” and I went in the back to do as she said.
I dried Flake with an old towel that hung on the back door. I was more than happy to help collect glasses, as it gave me a chance to check out everyone in the pub and see if I could find Dee’s dad — and maybe even Dee herself.
Only, there was no one within about fifty years of my age, and I was pretty sure that none of the men were Dee’s dad, either. For one thing, they all looked too old, and for another — well, they just didn’t look how I imagined her dad to look.
I spent the next half hour helping to clear tables and wash glasses, and trying not to think too much about how slowly time passed in Porthaven.
I was just starting to feel in desperate need of an escape when Gran gave me one.
“Amelia, dear, would you empty the trash, please?” she said. “Put it in the big green garbage can at the end of the path.”
Normally, taking a bag of trash out would have been fairly near the bottom of any list of things I would be likely to get excited about, beaten only by chewing off my own toes and eating them for dinner. But on this occasion I didn’t mind.
I pulled on my coat, grabbed the smelly trash bag, and took it outside to the green waste bin.
Then I glanced down the road toward the harbor.
Maybe the boat was still there. Perhaps I’d just missed Dee and her dad leaving the pub.
I could be there and back in less than ten minutes. Gran wouldn’t even notice how long I’d been gone. And if she did, I could always say the bag split and I had to scrabble around picking up all the trash or something.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I was running back to the beach.
Dee wasn’t there — and neither was the boat. I’d missed them. I’d have to wait till the next day. Grandad had told me about the Sunday market, but we’d never been here when it was on before.
I consoled myself with the thought that we could probably go along, and with the hope that, by this time tomorrow, Grandad might have turned up and I might have found a new friend.
Surely something good had to happen at
some
point this week — didn’t it?
For once, I was up and dressed before Mom called me. She knocked softly and poked her head around the door.
“Good grief,” she said, looking at her watch. “Has my watch stopped? Or am I still asleep and dreaming?”
Yes, ha-ha, Mom. Very funny.
“It’s a nice day and I thought I’d get up early and walk the dog,” I replied.
Mom glanced at the window. Rain ran down the glass in long, wiggly streaks.
“OK, maybe it’s not a nice day. But I thought I’d get up anyway. It’s not a crime, is it?”
“I suppose, strictly speaking, it wouldn’t be classified as an
actual
crime,” she said. “But I’m fairly certain it would be listed under Highly Unusual Activity.” Then she smiled and held out her hand. “Come on, Mia, love. Let’s go and get some breakfast before you go out.”
And because she called me Mia, I decided to forgive her sarcasm.
I scarfed down my breakfast as fast as politeness and the risk of indigestion would allow, and then I took my plate to the sink and grabbed Flake’s leash from the back door. “Can I take Flake out now?” I asked.
“That would be lovely,” Gran replied, with another of her tight smiles. Actually, this one was even tighter than the ones she’d managed to squeeze out so far. She still hadn’t heard anything from Grandad.
It had been two days now.
I kept telling myself there must be a totally logical explanation for his disappearance. He couldn’t have left her. He wouldn’t have just gone like that. Not without explaining. He wouldn’t leave her, and I
knew
he wouldn’t leave me.
I didn’t want to think about it. It made my stomach tighten up and growl painfully when I did, so instead I concentrated as hard as I could on putting Flake’s leash on and grabbing a ball from his box of toys.
“See you soon,” I called over my shoulder. I shut the door behind me and turned to Flake. “OK, boy, shall we go to the harbor and see if Dee’s boat’s there? We’re going to make a new friend today!”
Flake flapped his tail excitedly on the ground. You’d really only have to look at Flake or throw a tiny piece of debris across a beach to make his day. Shame it wasn’t so easy for humans.
I threw the ball a few times for Flake. Each time he brought it back to me, he’d drop the ball, then turn and snuggle into my legs for a cuddle.
“Flake, you are definitely the best thing about this place,” I whispered into his fur as I squeezed him tightly and kissed his head. Then I put his leash on and crossed to the other side of the harbor, where the fish auction was held.
But when we arrived at the auction hall, the doors were closed. I tried to push them open, but there was a bar across them with a padlock dangling from it.
I walked all around the building, looking for another way in. There wasn’t one.
Around the back, there was a man in a canvas jacket and rain boots, sitting on a wooden container untangling a knotted-up mass of green rope. He looked up as Flake and I appeared in front of him.
“All right there? Need some help?” he asked.
“I — um, I was looking for the auction,” I said awkwardly. “I thought it was today.”
“Auction’s Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
“But the one that’s part of the Sunday market. Isn’t that here, too?”
The man shook his head. “Not this week, my dear. Auctioneer’s sick. It’ll be back on next week.”
I turned to leave. “Oh. Sorry. Thanks.”
