The Tide Knot (28 page)

  Rainbow climbed down again, collected our duvets and pillows, and pushed them up through the trapdoor, one by one. We spread them out on the floor, and then we lay down to rest just for a while. We must have fall en asleep.

  The candle is on top of a packing case, where Rainbow put it so that it couldn’t set fire to anything. Mum said this candle should last for forty hours. Forty hours! What if we have to wait for forty hours before anybody rescues us? This loft isn’t meant for human beings. It’s cramped and low, full of spiderwebs and dust. Maybe there are mice too. I don’t really mind mice, as long as there aren’t any rats.

  I wish I was still asleep like Mum and Sadie and Rainbow. They look so peaceful. I wonder if I can crawl over to the window without waking them; then I’ll be able to look out and see what’s happening. Surely they’ll be sending boats out soon? We heard a helicopter go over while we were helping Mum up the ladder. Rainbow and I thought it was a rescue helicopter. It came down low, beating the air, and we saw the flash of a searchlight. But then it went away again. I thought all the rescue services would be here by now. That’s what happens on TV when there’s a flood.

  Helicopters everywhere, and boats, and even TV and radio crews to cover the drama. I can only think of one reason why they aren’t here, and it’s alarming. Maybe this flood is so big that there just aren’t enough rescue vehicles and helicopters to cover all the flooded towns and vil ages up and down the coast.

  I shiver.
Ingo has broken her bounds.
Did the Mer understand what would happen when the sea flooded in?  

  Did Faro? Is this devastation what they wanted?

  The little square window in the eaves is like Conor’s window in our cottage. It’s full of moonlight. Can I get to it without disturbing Sadie?

  And then I hear the sound. Straightaway I know it’s the same sound that woke me. A whistle. Somebody’s whistling.

  Cautiously I wriggle to the trapdoor. Sadie doesn’t even twitch, although usual y I can’t move without her wanting to come with me. I’m so close to her that I can feel the warmth of her body and hear her breathing. It’s the deep, regular breathing of a dog who is lost in dreams of sunlit fields full of rabbits. I reach the open trapdoor and peer down. Nobody’s there. How could there be anybody whistling inside a flooded house?

  The ladder stands in water now. The flood has come up onto the landing, and it’s swil ing ominously against the lower rungs of the ladder. A stab of terror runs through me.

 
No, Sapphire, you are not going to panic. The water can’t
keep on and on rising. It’s got to stop soon. We’re safe up
here in the loft. No flood is ever going to come right over
the top of a house. Sadie wouldn’t be sleeping so
peacefully if we were really in danger.
 

  I tell  myself all these things, and then I turn away from the trapdoor and the dark, threatening water and try to shut them out of my mind. I’ve got to think, got to make a plan. If no one’s coming to rescue us, then we’ll have to find a way of rescuing ourselves.  

  That whistle again! But louder this time. Closer. Two notes—one long, one short. My heart lurches with excitement. Surely no one else whistles in exactly that way.

  It’s a signal. It’s Conor. It must be. It’s got to be Conor.

  But where? Surely he can’t be outside, in the flood. He’s bound to be safe somewhere. Roger wouldn’t let Conor take any risks.

  Maybe Roger’s here with him! Maybe they’ve come in Roger’s boat. That must be it. Roger has come to take us to safety on high ground. I open my mouth to wake Mum and Rainbow with the good news, then shut it again. What if there’s no boat and the whistle was what Dad used to call “a figment of Sapphire’s lively imagination”?

  I turn and crawl over the rough, splintery floor, pushing aside boxes that send clouds of dust into my face. Mustn’t cough or sneeze. The window is filthy, but strong moonlight still pours through it. I brace my elbows on the window frame and stare down.

  Water. Black, oily water, gulping up the walls. The houses opposite are almost swallowed now. That side of the street stands lower than this. The sea is right up to the top of their bedroom windows. Their roofs and chimneys are sharp and black.

  And then the moonlight glints on two faces, upturned, in the water beneath me. It’s them. Not Roger with a boat, but Conor and Faro, swimming.

  For a moment I can’t believe it. It must be a dream that I’m having because I so much want it to be true. I blink to see if the faces vanish. But when I look again, they are clearer than ever. Faro and Conor, looking up at the window. I wave, and they see the movement. Faro waves back, then dips down beneath the surface to breathe. I fumble the rusty window catch. My fingers shake so much that I can’t undo it at first. Even when I do, the window is stuck tight. It probably hasn’t been opened for about a hundred years. I glance behind me. There they are, Mum and Rainbow and Sadie, fast asleep. I decide to take the risk and bang the window as hard as I can. It flies open. Another backward glance. No one has moved.

  “Is Mum there?” Conor calls up. “Is she all right?” I look to see if Mum and Rainbow are stirring at the sound of his voice. But no, they lie still , as if a spell has been laid on them. Ingo is strong tonight, and Earth is weak.

  Sadie whines and shivers all over, then sinks back into sleep.

  “Mum’s here, Conor,” I call back as softly as I can. “She’s okay. Rainbow’s here too. They’re all asleep.”

  “Don’t wake them. Roger’s on his way with an inflatable.

  He’ll be here soon. His boat’s smashed. But Saph, it’s you we’ve come for. It’s you we need.”

  “What for, Conor?”

  “Is that window big enough for you to climb out?”

  “Yes, I—”

  “Climb out quick. We’ll catch you.”  

  “But—”

  “Don’t be afraid, little sister,” says Faro’s teasing voice.

  “I’m not
afraid
,” I whisper angrily. “I just want to know what’s going on.” I glance behind me again. Mum, Rainbow, and Sadie are sunk so deep in sleep that even if I went over and shook them, I don’t believe they’d wake.

  “Quick, Saph!” Conor urges me. “Saldowr has called us.

  He wants us to come. He needs our help.”

  “Saldowr!”

  “Yes,” says Faro quietly, and now there’s no teasing in his voice. I look down at them. With their wet hair slicked back, their faces are strangely similar. “It’s the first time I’ve known Saldowr to ask for help,” Faro goes on. “He has called you both to the Tide Knot and asked me to be your companion on the journey. You must hurry.” How far below me is the water? About three meters, maybe less. If I climb out of the window feet first and then twist round when I’m sitting on the sil , I’ll be able to lower myself from the ledge and drop into the water. It won’t make too big a splash, and Conor and Faro are there waiting.

  They won’t let the flood sweep me away.

  But is it really Ingo down there? It looks so dark, so unfriendly. Not like the sea I know so well . It’s as if Ingo changed her nature when she broke her bounds. But I’ve got no choice. I can’t wait for Roger and the inflatable to rescue me if Saldowr has called us.  

 
Mum, will you be all right? You’ll be terrified again when
you wake up and find I’m not there. And poor Sadie will run
up and down the loft, barking frantically. She’ll know where
I’ve gone. But I can’t do anything about that. I’m not
abandoning you, my darling Sadie; I’m trying to help us all.
 

 
Please stay asleep, and then you won’t be frightened.
 

 
Mum, don’t be afraid. Nothing bad is going to happen to
me and Conor. We have to go; we’ve got no choice. Sadie
and Rainbow will look after you.

  Once I’m down in the water with Conor and Faro, there’s no time for talk. It’s too dangerous. Just by our house the water is relatively calm, but as soon as we swim away, there are swirls and currents and eddies and whirlpools that want to buffet us against buildings and drag us into doorways and trap us inside houses. It takes all my strength to swim against the flow of the water. Faro dives, but Conor and I swim on the surface, our mouths just above the water. I’m not sure if I dare dive. Is this Ingo or not Ingo? Is it an enemy or a friend? At the moment it looks more like an enemy. It has swept into town and conquered.

  A cat floats by on an upturned table, its back arched, its wet fur flattened against its body.

  “Oh, Conor, look at the cat! Can’t we rescue it?”

  “No,” says Conor shortly.

  I’ve never known moonlight as strong as this. It makes everything look as unearthly as a dream, but the pitiful yowling of the cat is all too real. It stares back at us while the flood carries it away, as if asking why we don’t help it.

  Conor and I swim close together. I’m afraid to lose him in this mess of debris. I’ve never tried to swim through water like this. It carries a swirling mass of rubbish: furniture, traffic cones, apples, diapers, plastic bags, sodden plants and flowers. In the distance we see a car, half full of water, spinning slowly round on the current. At that moment Faro surfaces by my side. “Dive!” he says urgently. “That car’s going to hit us—”

  There’s no choice. The three of us plunge into the murk and swim down as deep as we can. We flip onto our backs and watch the car pass overhead like a shark, outlined in moonlight.

  “Swim away!” says Faro sharply.

  Things are happening too fast. Houses loom to the right and the left, windows gaping like eyes. Where are all the people? What has happened to them? This is like the drowned island Faro took me to. I never guessed that the same thing could happen here in St. Pirans. The water pushes against us like a giant hand as we try to swim around the corner of the street.

  “Dive deeper,” says Faro. His voice is tense. “We’ve got to go deeper; then we’ll be under the current.” We swim down. The current weakens, but just as I think we’re out of its power, it grabs me, tears me away from the others, and slams me savagely against a granite wall . The pain is so fierce that I scream, and Conor seizes my hand as we are swept into a backwater beside the sea-wall.  

  There’s no current here.

  “You all right, Saph?”

  I can’t speak. They are on either side of me, holding me up.

  “Are you okay, Saph? Saph, say something!” I make a huge effort and pulls myself together. “’M all right.

  Hurt my leg.”

  “I can’t see—is it bleeding?”

  “Think so.”

  “Is it broken?”

  Cautiously I move my leg. It hurts, but not in the way I think a broken leg would hurt.

  “Do you want to go back?” asks Conor.

  “Saldowr told me to fetch
both
of you. This is no time for weakness,” interrupts Faro. Tears rush to my eyes, partly because of the pain but mostly because of what Faro’s just said.

  “I’m not weak.”

  “He knows you’re not,” says Conor, and gives my hand a squeeze. “Everyone knows you’re tough, Saph. But can you still swim? It’s a long journey.”

  “’M okay.”  

  “Sure?”

  I think of Mum and Sadie and Rainbow, sleeping as the water rises. Is Roger there by now? And all the other people whose houses are being swallowed one by one…Can Saldowr really help them? Can the tides ever return to their knot, so that the water will stop rising and drowning more and more homes? Compared with that, nothing else matters. I can swim.

  “Hold her wrist, Faro,” says Conor. “I’ll swim on her other side.”

  “But you won’t—you won’t be able to breathe, Con, unless Faro’s helping you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. This isn’t too bad. Not like being deep in Ingo. More like—half-and-half—half Air, half Ingo.” It’s wonderful to have them there, so close, one at each side of me like bodyguards against the flood. Suddenly I know where I am. We’re close to where the cottages look out over the slipway and the beach. Rainbow’s home is near here. All these cottages are completely underwater now.

  Even their chimneys are covered. They loom dimly through the water.

  We swim low, grazing the road. I put my hand down and feel tarmac. It’s almost impossible to see through this water now. It’s so filthy and full of rubbish. Trying to draw oxygen through it is like trying to breathe in a garage with the car engine belching out exhaust. I can’t believe that Conor thinks this is easier than breathing deep in Ingo.  

  This is what it must be like to be a seabird when there’s an oil leak. This is what it must be like to be a fish gasping in water that’s full of chemicals. This is what it must be like to be a dolphin thrashing in a tuna net.

  “Hold on,” says Faro in my ear.

  Suddenly the color of what is beneath us changes. It’s not tarmac anymore. It’s white sand, glinting in reflected moonlight. The water grows wilder, but cleaner. We’re in the sea, the real sea at last. This is true Ingo, not the robber Ingo that has stolen our town. Hope floods into me. Maybe Ingo is still herself, after all . That means that our world can return to itself too.

  “Look out!” yells Conor, dragging me sideways. An ice-cream van rears up a few meters away, lunging toward us. It misses us by less than an arm’s length, as we dive for the sand.

  “Usually I’m happy to see an ice-cream van,” says Conor, once we’ve recovered a little, “but I’m not in the mood today.”

  “Conor, you’ve got to hold on to Faro. This is true Ingo now.”

  “I know,” says Conor. “Can you manage without me, Saph?”

  “I think so.”

  I want to look at my leg and my side, but it’s too dark down here. The moon gives only a faint glimmer of light. I think my leg is bleeding, maybe bleeding heavily. I feel think my leg is bleeding, maybe bleeding heavily. I feel strange, as if my body doesn’t belong to me. I wish I didn’t feel so dizzy.
Don’t be stupid, Sapphire; you are safe in
Ingo. Ingo, remember?