Tiger Moth (20 page)

‘Mum, what were you going to tell me that night? What happened on the beach when you were younger?’

It was ages before Mum answered. She turned on her back so that I could just see the outline of her face and, for the first time ever, she found a way to speak softly, slowly in a voice that was
like she was almost whispering.

‘It was always just the five of us. Five of us together. No one else was allowed to join in and no one tried to leave. Just the five of us. Tom, David, Aggy, me and Kirran. Kirran Moore.
The kindest, sweetest boy. The gentlest, most patient boy. The best of all of us.

‘Tom was the bravest one, that’s for sure. Nothing ever seemed to frighten him. A spider the size of a saucer, a jellyfish the size of a football, a rat the size of a small cat.
Before it happened, we all practically lived up at Culver. The winters were spent hiding out in the attic and every dry summer’s day we went down to the cove. We were always careful and never
broken the golden rule: don’t try and swim round the headland.

‘Every day of the summer holidays I would meet Kirran at the little stone bridge near our cottage and the two of us would race up to the manor with his little dog Spice. He loved that dog.
Not that Spice liked anyone but Kirran though. We’d run up to Culver, through the gates and down to the secret door. Aggy always needed help jumping over the ledge and Kirran was a bit scared
too, but Tom wasn’t scared of anything and would leap over it with his eyes shut, and everything that Tom did David did too.

‘That day we got to the beach later than normal. The tide was already in and then an argument began. Tom and Kirran were playing tennis or something and then started bickering about a
point. At first it was just a jokey fight, but then it got louder and more serious until I looked up and saw Tom throw the tennis ball into the water. He threw it really hard and it went far out to
sea. Wherever a tennis ball went, Spice was sure to follow. I remember seeing Spice practically fly off the rocks after the yellow ball and splash loudly into the water. Kirran shouted after him to
come back, but the poor dog was determined to get his ball back.

‘David started yelling at Tom for being stupid, saying that Spice wouldn’t be able to reach the ball; he was so cross with him. We all watched Spice swim right out into the cove.
Kirran was so worried about him . . .’ Mum paused and wiped a tear from her face. ‘Then Kirran ran into the water too and desperately started to swim towards Spice. None of us knew what
to do. Kirran wasn’t a strong swimmer, but he wouldn’t just leave Spice out there.

‘I was screaming at the boys to do something, and Aggy was doing the same. Tom was the only one of us who stood a chance of reaching Kirran and we all knew that, so he ran into the water
after him. He swam out towards the headland, but it was too late . . . Spice and Kirran were pulled under, we saw their heads bob below the water from the beach, but even then Tom didn’t give
up; he just kept going. And then . . . then the current got him too. He was pulled under. Gone. Spice, Kirran and Tom, all just gone. There one moment, not the next. It was terrible. We went to the
beach that day as five friends and we came back as three.

‘After that, the family closed the beach off. Culver Manor got gloomier and gloomier. David’s mum and dad became sadder and sadder until one day they shut the house up and never came
back. I snuck in through the gates one day. I think it was the day before I left for university. I couldn’t believe how overgrown it was. How sad it looked. That’s when I took the
photograph I showed you.’

Mum paused, but kept staring at the sky.

I looked at her and even in the darkness I could see the tears glistening in her eyes. I lay there silently and thought of Alice. Did she know this story too? Is that why she was so afraid of
being discovered?

So that night, the day after I turned thirteen, Mum and I fell asleep in the camper van to the sound of crickets and crashing waves, and a million thoughts swam around my head.

When we got home, I ran upstairs to put my stuff away and I spotted my new school uniform hanging up. I’d forgotten all about starting school on Monday and suddenly all
the good feelings I had went away. I just felt totally sick instead. I sat down on the bed and wanted to stop the day from going any further. If my dad was still alive, I wouldn’t have to be
doing all this.

Mum said I had to be brave. She always says I’m really like him, but most of the time I think I can’t be anything like him because I get really frightened of stuff all the time. And
now I’ll never get to fly across the Channel just like he did because he isn’t here to show me, is he? And I’ve decided that being super brave, being really brave like my dad was
or like the man I was named after, is not something that you can learn. I think it’s something that you either are or aren’t and, as I was too scared to go up in an aeroplane again, I
must be the least brave boy on the whole planet.

I looked down at the name tag that Mum had sewn into my new school jumper and felt myself get upset. I didn’t deserve to be named after someone so amazing after all.

I went downstairs and when Mum saw my miserable face she said we should go for a walk, but instead of walking along the beach towards the headland we turned right along the bay. There was a
little footpath that went all the way alongside it and, as we crossed a little stone bridge, I saw David and Alice just ahead.

‘Hey, Zack!’ she shouted and the two of us ran ahead along the marshes, but I didn’t really feel like saying much so I let Alice chatter on about her sister. Rebecca this,
Rebecca that, on and on she went, and when she offered me one of her Haribos I still felt sort of too sick.

I just looked down at the ground and shook my head.

‘Are
you
going to stop talking now?’ she asked me with a grin.

For some reason it made me stop and I just stared back at her angrily.

‘Haribos?’ she said, holding out the packet, and I don’t know why, but I just snatched the whole bag off her, threw it as far as I could.

‘I already said I don’t want any of your stupid sweets, ALICE! FOR GOD’S SAKE!’ I shouted at her.

I thought she’d run away or something, but she didn’t. So I decided that I didn’t actually want to be with anyone at all and I walked away from her, off the path and out of
sight. Actually, I almost slipped out of sight because the marshes were really muddy. I could hear Alice shouting my name and when I turned back I could see the bay curving back towards the
village, and I could just make out the back of our cottage and my bedroom window.

I ran up the steps of a little wooden bridge, but as I reached the other side my foot sort of slipped and I went flying forward. I went flying, flying, landing kind of on my knees, and when I
pulled myself up I saw it. At first I had no clue what I was looking at because it just looked like a sort of gravestone. I must have been staring at it for ages when I heard Alice catch up with
me, and when she saw what I was staring at she looked a bit worried.

I turned back to the stone and read the sign that was next to it.

‘Dad says they were real war heroes,’ Alice whispered.

I read the names.

I read the names again and that was when I felt something. I read the names out loud and I heard my dad shouting for me. His little yellow plane flashed in front of my eyes and I felt like I was
falling. I saw the tiny pots of paint and the model that we had tried to make together. I saw Dad laughing when he saw I’d stuck the wing of an F14 on to a Harrier. I saw Dad’s plane as
it hit the ground that day. I saw him carving the roast chicken and having a sneaky slice before we all sat down. I saw the yellow and orange flames. I saw him wink at me when he pretended
he’d forgotten Mum’s birthday, but he’d actually hidden the beautiful necklace inside her box of cereal. I saw him grab my skateboard and show me how not to fall off. I saw the
ambulance arriving at the airfield and the firemen racing towards the flames. I saw Dad as he ate one of Mum’s terrible mince pies and pretended that it was nice. I saw his face upside down
as we both did backflips off the boat. I saw his plane explode as the flames reached the fuel tank. I felt his huge hands round my waist as he lifted me up to put the little robin on top of the
Christmas tree. The prickle of his face against mine. The smell of the outdoors on his skin. His widest smile and the little chip on his front tooth. The sound of his deep voice as he read me
bedtime stories which he always used to change. He’d always change the names so that I was in the story. ‘This is our story,’ he’d tell me, ‘and we can make it into
anything we want.’

I looked up at the sign once again.
Sole survivor
. One of them had made it. I suddenly dropped down to my knees. I felt the cool marsh mud on my skin and, with a heaving swell of pain
that pressed down on my chest, I cried. I cried for the first time and I didn’t ever think I would stop.

Zack looked up at me and I watched the tears roll down his cheeks. I saw his body shake.

‘I’ll never be like Dad,’ he sobbed.

I saw his hands clench at the muddy ground and I knew what I had to do. I turned round and ran back to Dad and Jane. They had stopped on the far side of the little wooden bridge and were
chatting. I could see Dad was laughing at something Jane had just said, and I knew that by the time I had finished he would not be smiling or laughing at all. I had to do it, I told myself. I had
to tell my dad the amazing thing that Zack had done, even if it meant telling him I had almost drowned like his brother, Kirran and Spice. I had to tell the truth even if it meant telling Mum and
Dad that the reason I had got so poorly wasn’t just because I’d been for a swim, but because I’d tried to swim round the headland.

I just knew I had to tell the truth, but as I reached them I started to slow down. What would he say? What would he do? I walked slowly across the bridge and waited. I opened my mouth to speak,
but the words got stuck. I felt my heart beat faster and faster, and in the end I stayed sort of stuck on the middle of the bridge, stuck halfway between speaking and not speaking.

I turned my head back in the direction of Zack and I thought of him kneeling in the mud. I thought of him crying like I’d never seen anyone cry, so I turned back to Dad and told him as
quickly and simply as I could.

Dad stared. Jane stared and for a moment I was terrified.

‘You did what?’ Dad said, walking towards me. ‘You did what?’ he said, looking puzzled.

‘I didn’t mean to. I hadn’t meant to. Please don’t be mad,’ I begged.

‘You tried to swim round the headland?’ he said, kneeling in front of me, and then I whispered into his ear. I told my dad the truth. I told him mine and Zack’s secret and he
looked more shocked than he ever had. I looked up at Jane and I told her too.

‘He did what?’ I watched her and Dad suddenly look at each other and shake their heads.

We all sort of ran across the marshes together and, when we finally got to Zack, Jane was running so fast she sort of skidded the last bit and got covered in marsh mud. Zack was exactly where I
had left him. His face was red and swollen, and his whole body kind of jerked back and forth as the last of his tears left his body. Jane walked over and knelt down beside him.

‘I’m not brave, M . . . M . . . Mum,’ he sobbed. ‘I’m scared. I’ll never be as brave as D . . . Dad,’ he cried and she helped him to his feet. He seemed
to sort of crumple into her arms and his whole body seemed to shrink in towards her so that Zack looked like a tiny little child, and it made me feel so sad I tugged on Dad’s sleeve and
looked up at him as if to say, ‘Do something, make it better.’

‘Zack,’ my dad said slowly. ‘Zack Ethan Drake,’ he said, taking my hand and walking over to them.

Zack’s red and tear-stained face turned to us and when I looked at my dad I could see that there was a tear running down his cheek too. ‘Zack Ethan Drake,’ he said softly.
‘Did you save my daughter’s life?’

Zack’s eyes darted to mine with a look of fear and almost anger, but I smiled back and willed him to tell the truth. He looked up at my dad and slowly nodded.

‘Well, Zack, I’d say that you are just about the bravest person I have ever met.’

And he was.

I think Alice is probably my best friend, but I haven’t decided yet. She keeps telling me that I’m
her
best friend so it might be true.

The night before my first day at school I lay awake for ages.
I’ll probably get beaten up. I’ll probably trip over in front of everyone or do something stupid
. In the end I
got out of bed and went downstairs, but Mum was still up. She was sitting at the table with a towel wrapped round her head and a kind of magazine with lots of pictures of women with strange-looking
hair.
Great
, I thought,
Mum’s hair will be, like, pink or something and she’ll wear one of those crazy dresses she always wears
.

I went back upstairs and knelt down beside the bed. I scrabbled around under it until my hands reached the corner of the photograph frame that I’d kicked under the bed when I was really
cross. I grabbed at it with my hand and when I pulled it out I kind of smiled. Dad.
Dad, why did you let Mum wear such stupid clothes?
It made me laugh a bit and I put the photograph frame
on the table by my bed and climbed in. This time I fell asleep straight away and I dreamt of mountains that were sort of purple and a beach with silver sand.

And in the morning I got the biggest shock. Firstly my new school blazer actually has two inside pockets and Mum did not look like Mum. Her hair wasn’t pink or red or orange or
white-blonde. It wasn’t sticking up in every direction or had a million flowery hairclips in it. It was black, like mine, and it was combed so it looked really normal. I stared at her for
ages. She wasn’t wearing her board shorts, a flowery dress or those sparkly tops she sometimes does. She had on a plain, bog-standard, very dull, but so not embarrassing pair of navy trousers
and a navy jacket too.