Really Weird Removals.com (10 page)

“Another sunny day,” I say to myself, as I open the blind in my room, and then the window, to breathe in the fresh salty sea air.

The summer has truly arrived in Eilean. Hordes of tourists are walking up and down the main street and stopping on the pier to take pictures of the seals, and the beach is full of families swimming and sunbathing. Heaven.

We’re going to spend the whole summer at home. Sometimes we fly to Italy to see my mum’s family, but this year Nonna Rina has come to us instead.
It’s barely nine o’clock, but I know for sure that my mum and Nonna are already cooking. Nonna Rina loves anything to do with food: food shopping, reading cookbooks, watching cookery programmes on the TV and, of course, cooking. She’s always concerned that we are too thin, and feeds us huge portions at every meal.

“
Ciao Luca, vuoi la colazione
?” she says with a smile as I step into the kitchen. It means, hello and do I want my breakfast?

“
Si Nonna, grazie!
” Mmmm. Home-made bread and honey, brioche and chocolate milk. Valentina is already sitting at the table, tucking in happily.

“Morning, children.” Mum comes in from the shop, laden with grocery bags. “I met your Uncle Alistair on the way back. He says if you want to, go over and see him this morning.”

Great! Something’s up. A new adventure.

I look at Valentina. She’s smiling from ear to ear. We’ve only been back from Edinburgh two days. In spite of several showers, our hair still smells of pickled onion, which we had to explain by saying we stayed above a fish shop and ate a lot of the stuff. We’d also stopped at the Museum of Scotland quickly on the way to the Nicols’, to gather some brochures and postcards and a few pocket-money toys, so we could get away with our cover story.

Valentina and I eat breakfast as quickly as we can, managing to consume everything on the table, and then we run out.

“
Ciao Nonna, ciao Mamma!
”

“But they haven’t eaten a thing!” I hear my Nonna saying. Valentina and I look at each other and laugh. We could never eat enough for Nonna.

Both Valentina and I are wearing t-shirts and shorts; it’s great to step out and feel the sun and the fresh air on my skin. We run all the way to Weird HQ, and we’re breathless when we get there.

“GOOD MORNING CHILDREN!” booms Uncle Alistair, loud as ever. He’s at the computer, and the
Paranormal Database
is on the screen. Camilla is lying on the sofa, reading a book. She can’t hold the book, or turn the pages, of course, because her hands just go through them, but, she’s explained, she can move things with her mind. Only very light things though, like paper or sand or feathers.

“Come into the kitchen, I’ll make sausage rolls,” shouts Uncle Alistair. We follow him. “I got a call this morning,” he begins, while cutting and buttering bread. “Luca, sausage roll?”

“No thanks, I couldn’t eat a thing more,” I reply. Not after Nonna’s breakfast.

“Yes, please!” says Valentina, and bites into one.

“Anyway. Two mermaids were spotted in the river Clyde last night, in Glasgow. It’s far, far too crowded a waterway for them. We need to go get them and take them somewhere safe.”

“If someone else sees them, they might be taken to a zoo, or worse!” Valentina’s brown eyes are full of concern.

“Don’t forget that very few people can See them. Most people only see some big fish. The mermaids’ real danger is not so much being spotted, but the motor
boats.” Valentina gasps. “There’s a lot of river traffic on the Clyde. Imagine the mermaids as people with not much experience of cars wandering in the middle of a motorway. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“They’ll never let us. Nonna has just arrived, she wants to spend time with us…” says Valentina, torn between wanting time with Nonna and the adventure in prospect.

“How long will she be here for?”

“Three weeks.”

“What if I return you by tomorrow at lunchtime?”

“It’s worth a try” I say, but I doubt it will work.

“Why not? It’s a great opportunity to take Nonna to Glasgow. We can go shopping. The Buchanan Galleries, lunch in Prince’s Square…” My mum’s eyes are shining.

Disaster. How, how are we going to handle this? How can we save the mermaids with Mum and Nonna in tow?

It’s impossible.

“That’s settled, then,” says Uncle Alistair, beaming.

Is it
? I look at him disbelievingly.

He winks at me.

A couple of hours later, we are ready. Uncle Alistair, Mum, Nonna Rina, Valentina and I, all packed up like sardines in the van, with Camilla floating alongside us. We can hardly close the boot for bags. We all have a small one each, but Uncle Alistair is bringing a heavy, clunking trunk, which, I suspect, contains
more than a change of underwear and a toothbrush.

On the ferry to Glasgow we stand in a line on the deck, looking out for dolphins and seals. Nonna is wrapped up in a woollen coat and kitted in a hat and scarf, drawing a few amused glances from the tourists in shorts and t-shirts. When my Italian family come over to Eilean, they always look like they’re going on an Arctic expedition.

Uncle Alistair is standing a bit away from us, making phone calls. The wind is blowing hard on the deck, so I can’t hear what he’s saying.

“He’s spending a lot of time on the phone,” I say to Valentina. She shrugs.

“You just never know what he’s up to!” she replies philosophically.

Glasgow is busier than ever, this lovely summer evening. On the way to the hotel, my mum and Nonna are beside themselves with excitement, planning all they’re going to do tomorrow in the big city, and I’m enthralled at the hustle and bustle of the streets in the evening. The shops are open, the sky is still light and it seems that half the city are out enjoying themselves.

Valentina and I are so excited to be staying in a hotel. We stay up as long as we can, chatting with Camilla, but soon we’re too tired to stay awake. I’m in deep sleep when a sudden noise wakes me with a jolt.

“LUCA! WAKE UP!”

I sit up at once. Uncle Alistair is in our room, and he’s standing beside my bed, fully clothed, with his big black clunking bag in one hand and his phone in the other.

“What is it?” I groan.

“Time to go. Come on, get dressed. I’ll help you downstairs.”

“Eurgh…” I’m really tired after the long day. Valentina must be too, but she shows no sign of it, getting dressed quickly, her eyes shining in anticipation.

My head spins from the rude awakening as we head out. I hope and pray that Mum and Nonna won’t notice we’re gone, or we’ll be in the worst trouble of our lives.

We drive to the river in our blue van. The night is warm and windless; the city is now deserted, except for occasional late-night party-goers. Orange light from the lamp-posts reflects on the black streets, and the sky is tinged with orange too, not like our beautiful black velvety sky on Eilean.

We get to the river-bank. The Clyde is grey, flowing slowly, its waters completely opaque. I can’t see how we’ll ever find the mermaids. Do we just sit here and hope they appear?

We watch intently while Uncle Alistair opens his huge clunky bag and takes out a few blue-ish bottles – they’re the ones I’d seen in his fridge! He lines them up on the pavement, carefully, one by one.

Next out of the bag is something that looks like a whistle. Uncle Alistair puts it in his pocket, ready for use. Finally, he presses a button on his phone. The
screen glows green in the darkness.

“We’re here. Ok,” says Uncle Alistair in what he thinks is a whisper, but is really quite loud. It’s so funny when he
tries
to speak quietly.

A few minutes of silence. We stand, waiting.

Then, all of a sudden, we’re blinded by a strong white light. It’s so bright that I can’t make out any shapes, though I shade my eyes with my hands. Slowly, as I get used to the glare, I make out the shape of a van, a black one, three times the size of ours. Two shadows appear, silhouetted against the light. I blink, over and over again. It’s a boy and a girl, and they’re walking towards us.

Uncle Alistair greets them, his arms outstretched.

“Sorley! Mairi!” he exclaims, hugging them.

“Alistair, great to see you again,” says Sorley.

“These are Vally and Luca, my niece and nephew.”

“Cool, nice to meet you.” Sorley smiles.

“Nice to meet you, guys,” echoes Mairi.

“Wow!” whispers Valentina in an awed voice.

“Wow!” echoes Camilla. They’re mesmerised by Mairi.

She’s about fifteen and has bright red hair tied back in a ponytail and huge shiny grey eyes. She’s wearing jeans tucked into big boots, a waterproof jacket, and she has all sorts of equipment hanging off her: binoculars around her neck, a rope under her arm and a
walkie-talkie
around her wrist. She looks exactly like the action heroine Valentina and Camilla long to be, and her outfit is like one they’d invent on Valentina’s DS. No wonder they’re gazing at her like they’re dreaming.

Sorley is slightly older – he must be about eighteen.
He looks so cool, like he should be on TV, or in a music video. He’s wearing skinny jeans, a zip-up fleece and yellow baseball boots. His black hair is long and windswept, and his eyes are a deep ocean-blue. When I grow up, I want to be
exactly
like him.

He’s carrying a big black bag under his arm, and he’s smiling brightly. He seems delighted to see us. Mairi, instead, is scowling a bit. She’s not giving anything away, which, in a way, makes her even cooler.

“Bait ready, then.” Sorley puts his bag down on the concrete carefully, just beside Uncle Alistair’s bottles.

Bait
, I think, remembering that was what Uncle Alistair said to me when I asked him about the fish he got from Donald.

“The best fish juice in the Western Isles. With a touch of… something else,” Uncle Alistair replies. Sorley smiles and nods. He knows what Uncle Alistair is talking about. Some secret ingredient, probably.

The next ten minutes rush by amid frantic activity. Valentina, Camilla and I stand fascinated, watching them work. Sorley zips open his bag and takes out a wetsuit. He quickly takes his clothes off, revealing trunks underneath, and slips the wetsuit on. He disappears into the van, re-emerging with two oxygen tanks and a mask. Meanwhile, Mairi is standing at the edge of the concrete wall with her arm raised. The thing around her wrist, which I thought was a walkie-talkie, starts beeping: a rhythmic, quiet beep.

“What is that?” whispers Camilla.

“I don’t know, but I want one!” sighs Valentina.

“
There they are
,” whispers Mairi, as the beeping gets
louder. They? Is that the mermaids?

“What’s that at your wrist, Mairi?” I ask.

“A radar,” she replies, without looking at me.

Sorley opens the sliding door at the side of the van, while Mairi disappears into the driving cabin.

“She’s driving! She’s DRIVING THE VAN!” Valentina is beside herself. “I’m SO going to ask Uncle Alistair to teach me to drive.”

“He certainly will!” exclaims Camilla. Yeah, right, I think to myself.

They stand close to each other, admiring Mairi as she pulls and lifts and presses buttons in the cabin.

There’s a small metallic
whirr
, and something like a forklift folds out inside the van. Sorley and Uncle Alistair jump in and slide something square and transparent onto the metal arms. Another
whirr
, and the arms slide out and come to rest slowly on the pavement, then retreat.

The big square object looks like a huge aquarium. I’m getting a clearer idea of what’s about to happen.

Mairi turns off the lights, and for a second everything is dark again, until she jumps down from the van with a hand torch.

“Camilla!” whispers Uncle Alistair, and gives her a nod. Camilla knows what to do. She floats down towards the black waters, her translucent little body becoming smaller and smaller as she glides downriver.

“Whenever you’re ready,” says Sorley to my uncle.

“Luca, Vally?”

“YES!” says Valentina excitedly. She’s so delighted
to be called upon, that she’s nearly jumping up and down.

“Pour the bottles into the water.”

We kneel down, and pour the contents of the bottles into the black river, one by one. The liquid coming out is blue-ish, viscous and smells strongly of seaweed. Yes, if anything looks – and smells – like mermaid bait, this does.

From my kneeling position I see Sorley’s
black-clad
, wet-suited feet beside me, and I gasp slightly when he sits on the bank and jumps into the water.

Mairi is standing on the edge again, her arm raised and her radar beeping steadily. Uncle Alistair is by her side, blowing his metal whistle. No sound is coming out of it.

A few minutes pass when everybody is still. Silence, but for the rhythmic beeping of Mairi’s radar. Uncle Alistair keeps blowing the whistle noiselessly. A little fluorescent light, marking Sorley’s position, is floating on the still waters.

Suddenly, I can make out a silver glow in the distance, coming closer. It’s Camilla on her way back.

“They’re nearly here!” she announces.

We hold our breath. The radar on Mairi’s wrist is beeping faster, faster, faster, until the beeps merge into a thin, high-pitched sound. At that point, she switches it off, and she switches her torch off too. Sorley’s light has also disappeared. Everything is dark and still and quiet.