Zed and the Cormorants E-Book

Clare Owen

• Herausgeber: Arachne Press
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 306

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Winner of the Holyer An Gof YA award 2022 and the 2022 Ann Trevenen Jenkin Cup Zed and her family move unwillingly form London to Cornwall to support her mother's mental health. Gradually the family falls apart and it is only when Zed realises the local Cormorants have something to do with the disasters that consume them, and that they are attempting to right an ancient wrong, that she and her sister Amy start working together to find a solution and call a truce. A really haunting story – in more ways than one. I shall often think of those riverbanks, the birds, the town and the relationship between man and nature – it's a clever weaving of history with contemporary issues. A compelling story, full of mystery and enchantment, and readers will love it, the perfect book to get lost in on a hot summer's day. Sophia Bennett

Leseprobe

Zed

and the

Cormorants

For Tom, Esme, Edie & Ted

One

There was a huge bird glaring down from the roof.

It wasn’t pale sea green, like the metal sculptures on the Liver Building near where Nanny Pam lived, but it had the same long neck and the same wings, angled like coat hangers. The birds in Liverpool seemed friendly though. They kept watch over the sea and the city and the football club, but this one was only watching them. And it was black.

The colour made all the difference.

Zed lifted her phone and took a picture. It turned its head, in a series of tiny jerks, like the CCTV cameras at her school. Correction. Her old school. She zoomed in on its profile, the hooked beak and snake-green eye, the warning flash of yellow on the side of its head.

Maybe she’d send it to Bethany, if she ever found a signal, with a caption like, ‘A warm welcome from the locals!’ She could see her best friend’s lopsided smile, that one dimple appearing just below where her freckles stopped. She could see her so clearly, typing her reply while twisting a lock of thick dark hair around her finger, the way she always did when she was focused on her phone, that it was impossible to believe she was over two hundred and fifty miles away. Two hundred and fifty miles! She was probably doing that now. Sitting cross-legged, her elbow resting on her knee, sending endless messages out into space, into the huge blank space between them.

Messages that couldn’t bridge the gap.

Zed walked backwards across the lawn, trying to fit her new home into the screen. It looked better from this side. From the road it was too close and too wide and seemed cobbled together, as if bits kept being added whenever another room was needed, but from the back garden Tremelin House was big and square and framed by trees. It had three large sash windows along the top, and two on either side of a lead porch with wrought iron posts. Up close you saw that the paint was peeling, and the windowsills were beginning to rot, but from a distance at least, it didn’t seem quite so run down. ‘A project,’ was how Dad described it.

‘I hate it here!’ Amy was screaming. Again.

They’d opened all the windows to try to get rid of the musty smell and Amy’s voice seemed to bounce off the wide, deep stone steps that led down from the drive. They were perfectly designed for such a purpose, like a Greek amphitheatre.

‘I promised Luke I’d call at six-thirty. He’ll be waiting for me. How can there be no internet? How can there be no phone signal? Why are you doing this to me?’

‘Right now, the internet’s not my priority,’ said Dad calmly. ‘Right now I want to make sure everyone has something to sleep on for the night.’

But this seemed to wind up Amy even more.

‘I don’t want to sleep here! I don’t want to stay in this hellhole! It’s the middle of nowhere. You’re doing your absolute best to ruin my life!’

Dad put the vacuum down on the path and stood awkwardly in front of Zed.

For a moment she wondered if he was going to ask her what she thought of it. As if. Instead he said, ‘Do you mind taking the bedding up?’

Mum was in the kitchen, if you could call it that, leaning against an old butler sink that looked more like a bath. She was clutching a large glass of wine. There were no fitted cupboards, just a filthy cast-iron range under the window and big slate flagstones on the floor. Zed had never seen a range before their holiday down here last Easter. The one in the rented cottage was dark green with shiny polished lids over the hot plates. This one was rusting and coated with a thick layer of grease and dust.

Dad came in, bouncing up and down on his toes and running his hand over his bald patch.

‘Isn’t it great, Lucy?’ he said. ‘There is so much potential. So many things we can do–’

‘Well, why don’t you start by putting the beds together?’ said Mum. ‘I’m proper shattered.’

Zed was shattered too. They’d been up early, really early, and driven all day. And Dad had gone on and on about their ‘fresh start’ the entire way.

‘No more tasteless, cellophane wrapped, pesticide-infused vegetables for us!’ he said, banging the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. ‘We’ll be growing our own! This is all about choosing a better way, a simpler life, breathing fresh sea air and living off the land.’

‘Sea air? I thought you told us we were five miles from the beach?’ said Zed.

‘Five miles is nothing! Besides we’re only a few hundred yards from the river. And you can swim there. I spoke to the farmer about renting the little boathouse by the water. We can store things in it, towels, sun cream–’

Zed glanced at her sister, poised to roll her eyes, but the days when they laughed at Dad’s random enthusiasms seemed eons ago. Most of Amy’s face was hidden behind a curtain of super straight, blue-black hair, but the white of her one visible eye, was pink, and the thick kohl circle she’d drawn around it, even more smudged than normal. She was facing the window, but staring at nothing, lost in the lyrics of another tragic song.

‘He’s the one that told me all about the house,’ said Dad. ‘Built by a miller, apparently. Got the original bread oven too. Hasn’t been used for years, but I’m going to get it started and–’

Zed shut her eyes and did her best to zone out.

*

Beth, Kabir and Caitlin understood. They were shocked and outraged when she told them. They actually saw it from her point of view.

‘So, he’s dragging you away, just like that? Without any discussion?’ said Caitlin. ‘That really sucks!’

‘What? You’re going for good?’ Blotches of red appeared on Beth’s neck. Zed watched them merge together and lurch towards her cheeks.

‘Why did they even bother to let Amy sit her exams?’ asked Kab. ‘It’s not as if she’s done any work, or is going to pass any of them, she’s too busy hanging out with that bunch of miserable freaks.’

‘Well, I guess they needed some time to get things sorted,’ replied Zed. ‘And Amy did actually start doing some work. Finally. That’s why they didn’t tell us until now, in case she stopped again.’

She was so relieved that she’d told them, so glad she hadn’t wimped out and messaged them instead, that she talked way too fast.

‘Apparently, they’ve known since Easter, when we were on holiday down there. They sneaked off to see the house one afternoon, then sat up all night debating whether it was the right thing to do. Didn’t think to talk it over with us, obviously, decided ‘yes’, and Dad put in an offer the next day.’

‘It’s about everyone else except you, isn’t it?’ said Beth. Zed loved the way her best friend always got it. Straight away. No messing.

‘So as soon as Amy was done, they wanted to get her away from the evil Luke, and you can see their point,’ said Caitlin, ‘but Cornwall? It’s a bit extreme isn’t it?’

‘Wow!’ said Kab grinning. ‘She might get a suntan! She might eat a pasty! She might even,’ he did a drum roll on his lunch box, ‘put on a pair of shorts!’ He was always going on about how white and skinny Amy was. And how he’d only ever seen her wearing tight ripped black jeans. Even when she was allegedly in uniform.

‘You know my dad. No half measures. Now that he’s accepted redundancy, he wants to change his whole life. It’s not really about him or Amy though–’ Zed paused and took a deep breath. ‘He’s trying really hard to make Mum happy again. She had some really nice holidays down there, as a child and–’

‘But do you think she’ll actually go? Amy, I mean,’ said Caitlin. ‘Don’t you think, like, she’ll try and run away or something?’

‘Yeah, didn’t Luke want her to go and live with him in his uncle’s caravan anyway?’ said Kab. ‘He’s got big plans for them, oooh yeah, a life hanging out in a trailer, smoking spliffs and spending his dole on getting their backs tattooed!’

‘And what about you?’ said Caitlin. ‘Just say no! It’s really simple. They can’t make you, Amy won’t go, and neither should you.’

‘They have to go!’ said Beth. She locked eyes with Zed and the other voices faded into white noise. ‘They can’t risk disappointing her mum, not if it’s what she wants, not after what happened. What if she tried to do it again and–’

She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Yep, as always, Beth had got it. Straight away. No messing.

*

Zed left her parents searching for a screwdriver in the kitchen, and found two pillows and her duvet in a ziplock bag by the front door. She dragged them across the wooden floor and up the stairs. There were boxes piled at the bottom, leaning against the wall, the flaps taped up with gaffer tape. There were boxes half way up, on the wide ledge under the big, arched window, and more boxes on the top landing.

Zed’s room was at the far end. It was L-shaped and overlooked what the estate agents’ particulars had called ‘the kitchen garden’, presumably because once upon a time something edible had been grown in the greenhouse or in the beds that were now a tangle of nettles and brambles. She looked at the mattress on the floor. She couldn’t be bothered to go searching for a sheet, so just dumped the pillows and duvet, threw herself on top of them and stared at the ceiling. It was the same dirty yellow as the walls. There were two exposed wooden beams, bare and grimy, perfect for hanging things, though, a row of paper butterflies maybe.

She hadn’t known what to get for her friends, but without really planning it she started making origami dragons just like Granny Steph had taught her when she was little. She found a stash of squares stuffed into the back of her drawer. Just one, she thought, to see if she could remember how to do it, and then another, because she didn’t get the fold on the tail quite right. And another because one of the squares of paper had a design of Liquorice Allsorts (and Kab loved Liquorice Allsorts) and another because... because... Soon she had made one for everyone in her class, well at least all the ones who spoke to her and might not immediately rip them up and chuck them in the gutter. They would have probably preferred sweets or something, but hey... She made an origami box for her form tutor too, one that opened out into a rose. Miss Pearce hadn’t really got it at first and just said a polite ‘thank you’, thinking that was it, a square green box, but when Zed showed her how you folded back the green sides to expose the red rose underneath, she clapped her hands with delight.

No one cried before registration, but after that it was tears, snot and tissues all the way. Kab didn’t cry of course. He wouldn’t have done himself any favours if he had, especially with Liam Marks waiting to pounce on anything he could label as ‘gay’, and anyway Zed would have found that too weird. And although he had tried to kiss her that time, at Jay’s party, and she’d told him she’d rather stick pins in her eyes then allow him to shove his tongue down her throat (it was a miracle they were still friends really), he’d never hugged her before, so when he pulled her to him and she pressed her face into his blazer and could smell his deodorant and orange throat sweets, that was weird enough. Weird cool, but still weird.

They’d all clubbed together to buy her a really nice ink pen and a book of stamps. ‘So you can actually send us, like, proper postcards. You are going to the seaside after all.’

Saying goodbye to Beth was the hardest. They went for iced coffees just the two of them, and sat outside the café long after the waitress had cleared away their glasses, neither of them wanting to be the first to leave. They gripped hands across the table, but when their fingers softened and fell apart, Zed couldn’t bear it any longer.

‘I don’t want to go!’ she wailed.

‘I don’t want you to leave,’ said Beth, her voice cracking again.

‘But I have to. You get that, right?’

Beth nodded, but now that it was crunch time, she didn’t look so convinced.

‘Dad thinks Mum needs a complete lifestyle change. A new chapter. We’ll have lots of space and somewhere she can make her jewellery again, you know that always cheers her up. He’s pretty excited about it all, and, well I guess he’s been kind of depressed too, this last year, so maybe he’s right. Cornwall is–’

‘A place with happy memories and together you’ll make a lot more?’ Beth sniggered.

‘If you’d said that seriously, I’d have had to think about trading you in for–’

Zed’s eyes welled up. A new best friend would never be possible.

Beth was still laughing. She was so frickin’ beautiful when she laughed. It just wasn’t fair.

‘Any more puke-inducing, feel-good advice?’

‘Nah, think I’m done for now.’

‘Look, it’s not like we’re not going to see each other ever again. You can come and stay.’

‘Only if it’s got a power shower and under-floor heating!’

‘And I’ll be up to see Granny Steph soon – just give us a few weeks to get ourselves sorted. And we will... get ourselves sorted. We have to. Let's face it, it’s–’

‘Last-chance saloon for your mum?’

‘Well, yeah.’ Zed stared at a screwed up napkin. ‘And that’s why I’m going to do my absolute best to give it a go. She’s got to think that at least one of us is up for it. If she knows she’s making us both miserable, she’ll fall to pieces. And then–’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Do you promise?’

‘What?’

‘Do you promise that you understand?’

‘I guess...’

‘Come on Beth, pinky promise, remember?’

And the thought of linking fingers once more, even just their baby ones, for a moment, was enough to make Zed feel a bit better.

Then she got to her feet knowing this was it.

‘I’m not going to hug you again,’ she said with a wobbly grin, ‘or message you the moment I get to the bus stop. I’m just going to walk off down the road. And you’ve got to do the same.’ Beth stood up too. ‘In the opposite direction!’ said Zed. They both giggled. ‘I mean it,’ she said. ‘Please–’

‘But it’s your last night – our last night and–’

‘And what?’ asked Zed, a little too quickly.

‘Well, I live two streets away from you,’ said Bethany.

‘Then you’d better take the long route home!’

Two

Zed woke up with the sunlight. There were no blinds or curtains at the window and the first thing she felt was a warm red glow behind her eyelids. When she opened them, in the split second or two before she knew where she was, she focussed on the dust dancing around in the square streams of pale yellow light. And then – Bam! Cornwall. Furry teeth, and yesterday’s clothes.

She pushed the duvet back, slipped on her flipflops and went downstairs. In the kitchen, the window was open and she could hear crowing, the relentless cock-a-doodle-doo of a rooster over the road. Wasn’t that supposed to be your wake-up call in the country? No one else seemed to be taking any notice.

Zed yanked open the back door and wandered out into the garden. The grass was lumpy and wet with dew. On the far side of the lawn the ground fell away towards a stream and through the weeds she could just make out some flagstones marking a path down to a little wooden bridge. Her flipflops squeaked as she made her way towards two weeping willows, just like the ones on Granny Steph’s favourite china teacups, their branches draped across the bank, skimming the water. She parted the curtain of branches and stepped into the space between them and the trunk, and in a moment the thin leaves rustled back into place, enclosing her entirely. It was like being inside a glistening green tent. Green was Bethany’s favourite colour. She had green trainers, at least two green hoodies, a green bra...

Zed dipped her toe into the water, Jeez, it was cold, and as it trickled over her feet, the tingle of the nettle stings acquired on her way to the willows quickly faded into numbness. She waded out into the middle of the stream and followed it past some half-collapsed fencing, the wooden posts rotting into the reeds and two slack barbed wires lying in the mud. Outside their garden, the water got deeper and wider, so she climbed up onto a gravel path running alongside, that soon gave way to dried mud, dead leaves and twigs. It led under a huge stone viaduct, the height of at least three double-decker buses. Zed sang a few notes, as she passed under the arches. The sound swelled, but the stones, damp with gelatinous algae, didn’t echo her tune as she’d hoped they would, not like in the underpass near Beth’s house, where they’d always serenaded each other with gut-wrenching torch songs.

The path divided and Zed rejected a sharp right which rose steeply up the side of the hill, to continue parallel to the water as it opened into a creek, snaking its way through mud and marsh. New little trees, growing up through the ferns, were dwarfed by huge oaks. Dead branches, silver grey, were knotted with ivy and lay tangled in the undergrowth.

A large tree had fallen across the stream; it was covered in pea green moss. A family of ducks drifted around in lazy circles. Zed watched them for a moment before abandoning her flipflops in a tuft of ferns and tiptoeing up the trunk. To keep herself steady she turned ninety degrees, and she saw a low stone building by the water’s edge. It must be the boathouse Dad had mentioned. As she edged her way further out, her bare feet arching over the soft bark, a crumbling slipway came into view and beyond that the stream met the wide, flat river.

She eased herself down onto her bottom, shut her eyes and tilted her face to the sun.

All at once the ducks started a frenzy of quacking and beating the water with their wings. Zed jerked back and almost lost her balance.

She heard a yelping and looking up she saw a little dog running backwards and forwards on the edge of the bank. His paws were completely covered in thick brown sludge.

‘Leave them alone, Buttons!’ she heard someone shout. The dog stopped scampering for a moment when he saw Zed. He put his head on one side and twitched his ears, but there was no let-up in the yapping.

‘Buttons! Give it up!’ commanded the voice again, then, ‘Oh, it’s you he’ll be showing off to,’ and a frail looking elderly woman appeared by the roots of the fallen tree. She was wearing a shapeless knitted jumper, the shade of blue wool changing half-way down her front, filthy wellington boots and a creamy coloured hat with a brim: the type umpires wear at a cricket match.

Zed started to shimmy back down the tree trunk on her bottom. She made slow progress over the scabby bark and at no stage did the woman stop staring.

‘I bet you wish you’d worn trousers!’ she said as Zed jumped down onto the path.

If there were wishes going spare, Zed could think of a few that would bump trousers down the list.

‘Now, I was going to apologise for my rooster, but then I remembered your sister! She’s got some lungs on her, hasn’t she?’

‘She doesn’t want to be here,’ said Zed.

‘And you?’

Where to start.

‘I’m Cordelia,’ the woman said, thrusting out her hand, ‘and that look says it all!’

Cordelia’s hair was white, completely straight and cut into a short bob, not entirely level. Close up, Zed could see how old she was. Her face was covered in wrinkles and patches of darker brown skin, especially on her forehead and cheeks. Were those the age spots that Mum feared? Well, they weren’t so bad, they just looked like freckles that had joined together in clusters; a safety in numbers kind of thing.

‘And you are?’

‘Zed. Well, it’s actually short for–’

‘Hmm. Good,’ she said and started off down the path. ‘You coming then? You can throw some sticks for Buttons. That’s the quickest way to shut him up.’

They left the path and picked their way across a squelchy marsh of thick grasses that dropped onto oozing mud.

‘You know, this river used to be as busy as the A30. It was the main route to Clewmor, and beyond of course, and all sorts were taken up and down: quarried stone, tin, slate. You’d never guess to look at it now, would you?’

‘Clewmor. Is that the nearest town?’

‘Twenty minutes by boat. If you get the tides right.’

‘And by car?’

‘Well you can’t drive, can you?’ said Cordelia, ‘so that’s irrelevant! And your parents won’t want to be ferrying you about. You’ll need to get places under your own steam!’

‘Dad mentioned renting out the boathouse.’

‘Mmm – well, Dicky has cleared it all out. I know that much. Dropped a few bits round to mine, things he thought I might make use of. He’s got a grandson getting wed so, price of milk an’ all that, I guess he had to put aside any qualms–’

‘Qualms?’

‘He needs the money!’ She took a deep breath, ‘And it’s about time too, I suppose. Can’t stay empty forever.’

‘Empty?’ asked Zed, who’d been hoping it housed a speedboat.

‘No one’s used it for seventy years,’ said Cordelia. ‘Dicky’s done a few repairs now and then, but that’s it. He’s a funny chap. Cornish through and through. Never crossed the Tamar, and they're full of stories of spriggans, piskies and knockers, those that have never left.’

‘Spriggans?’ said Zed. ‘Piskies?’

‘Yes. And ghosts, of course.’ Cordelia turned and marched back towards the path.

‘Not standing there for long,’ she hollered. ‘Holes in my boots!’

‘Aren’t you Cornish then?’ Zed called after her.

‘Oh, I was born in the farm on top of the hill, but I lived in other places too,’ she shouted over her shoulder. ‘Bristol, when my daughter was little, but she wanted to come back down here to raise her child. My husband had died by then, so I followed her.’

Zed was struggling to keep up in her wet flipflops.

‘Not much changed while I was away, but I was shocked to discover that the boathouse had been empty all that time. Didn’t seem right. I mean, I can understand that no one would want to live there – after what happened, and of course it was never built to be lived in, but to not even store a boat in it?’ Cordelia trailed off.

‘Blow-ins there too!’ she said, when they got back to the road. She was pointing at the squat little cottage.

‘Blow-ins?’

‘Second homers! Probably only visit two or three times a year. That’s more than the last lot who lived in your house though. And at least they’ve given theirs a lick of paint.’ She looked up sharply. ‘You’re not second homers, are you? Not with all that stuff?’

‘No,’ replied Zed with a sigh. ‘We’re here full time.’

‘Course you are,’ Cordelia nodded with approval. ‘Hence all the shouting.’ Then she added, ‘She sounds like a proper madam, your sister.’

‘Maybe it’s harder for her than for me,’ said Zed.

‘Nonsense,’ came the reply.

They had reached Tremelin House and while Zed wrestled with the rusty gate Cordelia said, ‘The boathouse was just right for Gawen. He was a fisherman, so it was perfect really, right by the water. And Kerra would have made a lovely little home there, but it was not to be.’

‘Kerra,’ said Zed slowly rolling it around in her mouth. ‘Gawen. They have very unusual names down here.’

‘Ha!’ said Cordelia. ‘That’s rich coming from you!’

With that, she raised her arm in a wave, turned and shuffled over the road to her front door.

Mum was making breakfast in the kitchen.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I didn’t know you were up. How did you sleep in your new room?’

Dad ran in carrying a red metal toolbox.

‘Look what I’ve found!’

Mum took the toast off the range and buttered the thick slices before handing one to Zed and one to Dad.

‘No thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll hold out for the proper stuff.’

‘It’s not that bad,’ said Zed.

‘Mmm – not square and pre-sliced, but it’s still mass-produced and squashed into polythene! Now, come on. Let’s go and find Mum’s studio.’

They went out into the garden and up the steps to where the car was parked. Beyond this were the outbuildings. There was a woodshed and a stable, then a building with a lower roof, but when they pushed the door open it was filled with light, the back wall having been almost entirely replaced with glass. Laid out on a bench were Mum’s wire cutters, pliers, a soldering torch and her wooden dapping block. Dad put down the toolbox and flicked open the catch, to reveal the three tiers of compartments filled with beads and coloured stones.

‘What do you think?’ he asked nervously.

They heard footsteps outside.

‘I got a signal!’ said Amy, as she threw herself against the doorframe. She was out of breath, but almost smiling. ‘At the top of the hill, by the gate to the farm, there were three bars.’

‘Well done, love,’ said Mum. ‘Did you call anyone?’

Big mistake.

Amy scowled. ‘Duh– course I did.’

‘And how is he?’ asked Mum.

‘As if you care!’ Amy yelled and then stormed off back down to the house.

Zed spent the rest of the morning unpacking her bedroom. Lots of her things were wrapped in newspaper and when a pile of it built up in the corner of her room it gave her an idea. Papier maché. She would blow up balloons and make masks to cover her wall. Happy masks. She’d shape smiles and laughter lines, gaping, giggly mouths. Ironic? Maybe – but only she would know!

She looked into Amy’s room to ask her not to throw any newspaper away, but Amy was lying on her bed staring at the wall. She hadn’t opened a single box.

Dad was up by the outbuildings.

‘Can you put wallpaper paste on your shopping list?’

‘Ask Mum, she’s in charge of all that,’ he said. ‘But come see this – it’s a beauty.’

The Old Bakery had a concrete floor and a high ceiling with thick grey beams. In the far corner, opposite the door, was the oven, covered in cobwebs. The bottom half was square and made of large chunks of stone, and above it tapered up into a kind of dome.

‘Go on, look inside!’ said Dad, pointing to the semi-circular opening. ‘That’s the baking chamber.’ He was skipping from one foot to the other like a little boy. ‘Yes, it’s about wanting us to be more self-reliant, but I’m also going to do my best to make a business out of this. Artisan baking. And we can do it how they did. Use wood from the garden, bake every day and boat the bread up to Tremarrak and down to Clewmor. No traffic, no fuel costs, no chemicals.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Exciting, eh?’

‘If you say so, Dad.’

There was a box of eggs on the back doorstep. Zed bent over to pick them up and the door across the road swung open to reveal a girl in a tight red t-shirt, cut-off denim shorts and trainers. She leaned against the frame with her arms crossed, and stared at Zed. She had a wrist thick with friendship bands, but didn’t seem that friendly.

‘There’s lots more where they came from,’ she said. ‘She sells them in the little box by the fence.’

‘Oh, I’ll er – get some money.’

‘They’re a present!’ she snapped, flicking back a choppy blonde fringe. ‘Housewarming, apparently.’

‘Thank you. Um – how many chickens has she got?’ Zed cringed, hoping it didn’t sound as idiotic as she thought. No such luck.

‘Ooh, well, let’s see, twenty or so,’ the girl replied with a fake chirpy voice, ‘– an’ two goats, four cats, a dog an’ a roof full of bats.’

Zed laughed.

‘It’s no laughing matter,’ she scowled. ‘They crap everywhere.’

‘Do you live here as well?’

‘You must be joking. I live in Clewmor with my dad. I’d go nuts out here.’

‘Well, thanks, that’s encouraging!’ said Zed.

‘Seriously, I doubt you’ll be able to put up with it for long. We see it all the time. People rock up, think, yeah – I wanna bit of this. It’s sooo idyllic. There’s no commute and we can turn a hobby into our living, we’ll get fit and de-stress, blah, blah, blah – an’ they don’t last five minutes.’

‘Well that’s not us!’ said Zed. She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

‘It’s not like on the TV.’

‘I know that!’ said Zed.

‘It rains. A lot.’

‘It rains in cities too!’

‘Sure, but it can be bleak out here, just you wait. Does weird stuff to your head. You lot who think you can move down here for good, you’re worse than the second homers. At least they know that they can only hack it in August!’

‘Well, maybe we’re not like everyone else.’

‘Talk to her,’ said the girl, ignoring Zed and jerking her thumb back inside the cottage. ‘She’s my great-gran, but the two generations between us have scarpered. My gran ran away to Sydney, about as far from here as she could get, and her daughter – well, you ask Cordelia what it did to my mum.’

Zed didn’t know what to say.

‘Seriously, you should ask her!’

‘Um–’

‘Well, maybe best not. Look, I’m outta here.’ She sauntered off around the side of the house and came back a moment later wheeling a bike. ‘See you around, I guess.’ Then she added under her breath, but loud enough for Zed to hear, ‘If you don’t end up topping yourself.’

Now that really wasn’t funny.

Zed went into the house and slammed the door.

That evening she decided to go and collect the keys to the boathouse. After all Mum had her studio and Dad had his precious bakery, and maybe things wouldn’t seem so bad if she had somewhere to escape to, or at least somewhere to store the means to escape!

Amy had said there was a phone signal at the top of the hill and the first thing Zed did was call Beth.

‘Hey you.’ She picked up on the first ring. ‘What’s it like then?’

‘Bit rustic for your taste. I can send you some pictures now,’ said Zed, ‘and all your messages have just come through. Finally!’

‘And there was I thinking, out of sight, out of mind.’

That was a joke, right?

‘So there’s this girl across the road, a real charmer, thinks we’re going to run back to London at the first opportunity.’

‘Mmm, that’s nice. Not!’

‘Well, I guess it makes me want to prove her wrong.’

‘No, I’m looking at your photos – and I meant your house!’

The farmer came out of his front door as soon as Zed turned into the drive. He marched right up close to her before saying quickly and very quietly,

‘You come for this?’ He glanced around before pulling a key on a chain from his pocket.

‘Yes, please,’ said Zed, stepping backwards.

‘Not sure, as it be the right thing,’ he muttered. ‘You give ’em back any time you want. No need to explain.’

‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ she replied.

‘No one wanted to go anywhere near,’ he continued, shaking his head. ‘Been a long time empty.’

‘Yes, so I hear.’

‘And I really don’t like the place,’ he said, looking at his muddy boots. ‘Gives me the jitters something chronic.’

‘It’s only really for storing stuff, but I do need a boat, and I wondered if you might know where I could get–’

‘Well, best not go down there after dark.’

Zed remembered that Dad had given her an envelope of bank notes.

‘Oh,’ she said, reaching into her pocket, ‘this is for you.’

He shook his head again. More vigorously this time.

‘We’ll sort it out later. When I know that – you’re all okay.’

Zed stood there awkwardly. Cordelia said he needed the money.

‘Do me a favour instead,’ he continued, holding out a bag and shaking it, ‘I got somethin’ in ’ere that I don’t want. An’ I know Cordelia wouldn’t want it either, too many memories, but I can’t bring myself to chuck it away. Seems disrespectful somehow an’ you don’t want to disrespect ’em! Do somethin’ with it, will you? Mebbe take it to the library?’

He stuffed the bag into Zed’s hand.

‘They’re into local history an’ always looking for old photographs an’ that.’

‘Of course,’ said Zed, taking it. ‘What is it?’

The farmer wiped his hands on his trousers.

‘Best leave ’er in there,’ he replied gruffly, but Zed had already pulled out an old sepia photograph in a battered wooden frame. It was a bird like the one she’d seen on the roof, but scrawnier, almost bat-like if you ignored the long snakey neck and the nasty looking beak.

‘What is it?’ said Zed again, holding up the corner of the frame between her thumb and forefinger.

The farmer stepped back and shuddered.

‘It’s a cormorant!’ he whispered. ‘Now take it and go.’

Three

The following afternoon they all drove into Clewmor. They parked at the top of town by the Clewmor Academy. You couldn’t miss the big shiny letters drilled into the wall. It was a mixture of new red brick with a sort of swanky reflective glass and pre-fabs with tatty blue fascia boards. It didn’t seem much like a school, more like an abandoned office block. Zed squeezed her eyes shut and tried to imagine the place teeming with kids. Kids like Kab, Caitlin and Bethany – but it didn’t work.

Standing by the ticket machine, they could see over all the roofs, to the church tower, the town quay and the pontoons in the estuary, with lines of sailing boats all pointing out to sea.

Mum and Dad were fumbling around trying to find the right change, so Zed and Amy set off by themselves, down some steps, across a road and along a steep, wide passage between rows of old stone houses, each with a different arrangement of steps to get up to their front doors. At the bottom they reached Fore Street. This was the Cornwall Zed remembered: all pasties and fudge, ice cream parlours, cafés and pubs. There were galleries and gift shops too, all selling the same carved wooden seagulls, driftwood lamps and blue and white striped crockery.

‘I’m going to scout around the cafés,’ said Dad when they’d caught up, ‘and I’ve got a meeting with the head chef at Clewmor Hall at eleven thirty.’

Mum groaned.

‘Shaun, you haven’t actually made any bread yet! Shouldn’t you at least do that before you start selling yourself as a baker?’