The Shiver Stone (8 page)

CHAPTER

8

We were up and over the rocks in no time. It was about five in the afternoon so there were fewer people on the beach. It still felt like a crowd though as we raced across the sand, skirting windbreaks, sandcastles and families huddled in groups.

I was amazed at how quickly Jago had recovered. ‘It could be Tia,' I shouted to him. ‘Maybe she's missing again!'

‘It's not Tia. It's my mum. Something's happened to my mum. I know it has.' Jago's face was grim, almost angry. There was no point arguing with him.

I thought I was pretty fast, but Jago was ahead of me, his long legs pumping. We twisted in and out of traffic and hurtled along the pavement ignoring angry comments from idling holiday-makers.

Dad was waiting for us at the gate. ‘It's your mum, Jago. She's had a relapse. Let's get you to the hospital.'

I sat in the waiting room with Dad while Jago went into his mother.

‘Dylan called from the hospital. He said she was having problems breathing. It can happen sometimes after anaphylactic shock apparently. Poor woman, she's really going through it.' Dad was whispering, which made it seem more frightening, more serious.

Jago is going through it as well, I thought. I decided now wasn't a good time to tell Dad I'd almost drowned him.

There were only three other people in the waiting room. We sat on orange plastic chairs arranged in two lines, facing each other. A phone rang somewhere in another room.

A nurse called out a name and a man left, leaving an eerie quiet. Someone dropped a magazine. My bathing costume was still damp under my clothes, and so uncomfortable it made me wriggle.

Feeling thirsty, I got up and helped myself to a paper cup. The gurgling the water cooler made sounded so loud I said sorry to no one in particular.

We waited for what seemed like ages but was probably only twenty minutes or so. At last the doctor, Dad's friend, came out to speak to us.

He was smiling. I blew out my breath in relief.

‘She's okay now. We had some quite serious breathing problems for a while there. How are you fixed for looking after her son for another night or so, Dai?'

‘No problem,' Dad said. ‘Isn't there someone we should be contacting, though – family, friends?'

‘The boy says not. Says he and his mother are on their own mostly. What about the boy's father – no sign of him yet?'

Dad shook his head.

‘Someone's been calling several times a day to find out how Polly is, a woman. She won't leave her name but sounds local. Any ideas who that could be?'

Dad looked puzzled. ‘No,' he said.

Dr Dylan spoke quietly to Dad. ‘This whole thing is becoming a bit of a mystery. What do you think is going on?'

Dad rubbed his bald patch. ‘Beats me,' he said.

‘Hmm. You two can go and see her now if you want,' Dr Dylan said.

Walking into her room, I thought Polly would be angry with me. Jago must have told her I pushed him into the sea.

I felt my face burn. I was wrong, though, because she tried to smile.

At some point during the day she'd drawn her eyebrows back on, but drawn them crookedly. One of them had to avoid the stitches so it was a different shape. It gave her an odd look. While her mouth was smiling, her forehead was frowning. Very weird.

‘Hi,' she said.

‘Linette says she'll pop round later, after work, with some shampoo and stuff,' Dad said. He looked and sounded awkward, standing at the bottom of the bed rubbing his big fisherman's hands together. ‘Your boy is more than welcome to stay with us for a bit longer. As long as you need, in fact,' he added, quickly.

Jago was sitting by the bed holding his mother's hand. He didn't look up. The salt water had dried in his hair and it looked like a bird's nest. I realised my brown, tangled frizz probably looked ten times worse.

Polly nodded weakly. ‘I don't know how to thank you, Dai, and you too, Carys – and Linette, of course. You've all been so kind.' She started to cry. ‘Oh, and thank you for the flowers, too.'

Dad looked really embarrassed. ‘Flowers? Not from us, I'm afraid. Right. Well, if there's nothing we can do for the minute, I'll get Carys home. Jago, do you want to stay with your mum for a bit longer? Linette can pick you up later when she drops in the stuff.'

‘Yeah.' Jago's voice sounded strange and I realized he was trying not to cry. He didn't look at me.

Dad hates hospitals, they make him nervous, so we left as soon as we could. As we crossed the car park I thought I saw a figure dart quickly behind the wall. It was an odd thing for someone to do – suspicious.

While Dad was searching for his car keys I wandered down to where the ambulance was parked and leaned over the hedge, trying to see around the trees. There was no one there. I wondered if whoever was hiding from us knew where Tristan was and why he'd disappeared.

While Dad made his famous fishfinger and ketchup sandwiches, I took Tia for a walk along the road. People kept stopping me to make a fuss of her and say how cute she was, but I wasn't in the mood to talk. Not even about Tia. I had a lot on my mind.

So much had happened in the last couple of days. Tristan running away, Polly's bee sting, Hug Howells screaming at me, Jago nearly drowning. Then there was Kemble Sykes. What was he after? Why was he so desperate to find Tristan? And most importantly – where was Tristan?

Dad was fishing again that night, so Linette was staying at our flat. She'd brought Jago back from the hospital.

‘Pizza or fish cakes?'

‘Chicken pie,' I said. Linette frowned at me but took three pies out of the freezer.

‘Peas or sweetcorn?'

‘Yes,' I said.

‘Ah, right. We're in one of those moods, are we, Madam?'

‘I'm not. I don't know about you.' I turned the telly up.

Jago was sitting on the sofa with Tia on his lap. ‘How did you get her into the flat without Mrs Jenkins seeing?' I asked.

‘Hid her in my geology bag.'

We both laughed. I was glad he wasn't still mad at me for nearly drowning him.

Telly was boring, so after dinner Jago and I watched a DVD – the DVD was boring too.

We took Tia out onto the balcony, where she promptly peed on the new pot plant Linette had brought round. I didn't stop her.

About ten o'clock, Linette said she was going to bed and for us to remember to put the lights out.

It was cool on the balcony. Lights from the flats along the beachfront shone in squares on the sand. A group of people had lit a fire on the beach and we could hear their laughter and smell sausages frying. The sea swooshed gently. Waves left a fringe of foam on the sand.

Now that we were on our own I felt awkward. ‘So what does your mum do?' I said, to make conversation.

‘She's a Kirlian photographer.'

‘What's a Kir … Kir…?'

‘Kirlian photographer. She takes pictures of people's auras.'

‘Auras? Like a kind of light glowing around you? My friend Becca is into that. She says good people have nice-coloured auras and horrible people have grotty ones.'

‘Yeah. If you have the right equipment you can take pictures. There are auras around rocks and trees and stuff too.'

A sudden cheer from below made Jago stand and look over the balcony to see what the people on the beach were doing. I thought again how much he looked like his father with that long silver-blond hair down over his shoulders.

He sat back down and carried on talking. ‘We go to music festivals. You know Glastonbury, places like that.'

‘How does she take pictures of auras?'

‘Special camera, something to do with electricity, then Mum reads them. She can tell what that person is like, or how they're feeling, by the mix of colours and where they are on the body.'

I thought about that for a minute.

Jago nodded towards the Shiver Stone. ‘I want to go there tomorrow, for sure. Think I've had enough swimming to last me a while.'

I changed the subject quickly in case we were heading for the ‘You pushed me in' argument again. ‘Do you know the story of the Shiver Stone?' I asked him.

‘I think that, probably, like Stonehenge, the Stones were…'

‘Nooooo. I mean the story, the legend, the myth. Do you want to hear it?'

‘Yeah. But first, have you got any crisps or anything? The smell of those sausages cooking is making me hungry.'

I went to the kitchen, filled a bowl with salted peanuts and grabbed two bags of cheesy Wotsits. I brought two cans of coke too.

He'd collected cushions to sit on and the duvet off the sofa bed which we folded over our knees. Tia immediately snuggled into my lap.

There was a click, fizz as Jago tugged the ring pull. He took a big slurp of coke, staring out over the sea.

‘Right,' he said.

I dropped a cheesy Wotsit onto my lap in front of Tia's nose. She sniffed it and then licked at it gently.

‘Okay,' I said. ‘A long, long time ago lived a…'

Jago snorted with laughter and coke came out of his nose. He coughed and brushed at his t-shirt.

‘If you're gonna laugh, then…'

‘No. Sorry, sorry,' he said. ‘Go on, a long, long time ago…'

He popped a handful of peanuts in his mouth. I waited for him to chew and swallow.

The group on the beach was getting really noisy, having races and pushing each other over. Their shouts and laughter drifted out to sea.

‘I won't interrupt any more. Tell me the story, please?' he said.

So I did. And, immediately, my mind went back in time. I was five again and my mother lay in bed with me, telling me the story as we stared out through the rain at the Shiver Stone. I remember the scent of her perfume – it's called Ana
ï
s Ana
ï
s and smells like flowers. I keep the empty bottle on my dressing table.

‘King Cynwrig was a fierce soldier king who ruled Pembrokeshire.

‘Pembrokeshire was under siege from many enemies, who wanted to conquer the beautiful county, but the fiercest was the Seawitch. She would attack under cover of a storm and create havoc in the towns and villages along the coast. King Cynwrig had twenty sons and, when he left to fight somewhere else, he'd leave his sons to guard the coastline.

‘Owain, his youngest son, was put in charge of Carreg.

‘“Never leave your post,” his father told him. “If the Seawitch attacks, light the bonfire to warn the people to get out of their houses before she destroys them with her storms.”

‘On the very first night, Owain stood guard on the cliff top as the village of Carreg went to sleep. All was in darkness. Owain wasn't the bravest son and already felt frightened.

‘At midnight the temperature suddenly dropped. Dark clouds covered the moon. Rain, rippling the surface of the calm sea, drifted towards Owain. He shivered and pulled his cloak tighter around his body.

‘Then lightning blazed the sky. The rain whipped down like nails and as the sea swelled, boats in the harbour heaved and tossed in the rising tide. Waves lashed the harbour wall. The brine hissed and lashed Owain's face. He tried to raise the alarm, but shook so much he couldn't light the bonfire. A mountainous wave rose up before him. As it receded Owain saw the Seawitch's face in the sky where the moon should be. It was a mask of hatred. She looked down on Owain, opened her massive mouth and roared her terrible scream. Owain was terrified. He shook so much he dropped the burning torch over the cliff – and then he ran. Many people died that night crushed in their homes by the Seawitch's storm.

‘The king was so furious with his cowardly son that, with one stroke of his sword, he turned him to stone. “You'll never run away again. You'll stay on the cliff top guarding Carreg forever,” he said.'

I brought my voice down to a whisper. ‘And they say, if there is danger near, and you touch the stone – it will shiver as poor Owain tries to warn you – with his fear.'

‘Wow. That was pretty cool.' Jago snuggled down into the duvet and lay his head on a cushion.

Tia sniffed at my bag of cheesy Wotsits and I gave her one.

‘The Shiver Stone is special to me and Dad too,' I said quietly. ‘After Mum left I had nightmares. Dad had to go out fishing at night sometimes and leave me with a sitter. He told me, if I woke from a bad dream, to tell it to the Shiver Stone. He said that, out at sea, he'd hear me and send his love back. I knew it wasn't true, of course. But talking to Dad through the Shiver Stone, when I was scared or upset, helped.'

The party crowd on the beach had gone quiet. Someone was playing a guitar and singing. It was a soft, sad song and it floated through the air up to where we sat.

I rubbed at the tears on my cheeks and flicked my hand towards the people on the beach. ‘Sad song, huh?'