Summer Secrets (14 page)

“No, you’re not! You’re delighted. You can’t wait to get away from me. Oh, you’re nice enough when you need me, aren’t you, Clover? When there’s a
Goss
letter that needs answering or an article you need help with. I’m
always
helping people, you and Mum and Dave – but what about
me
?” I point at my chest. “What about
my
needs?”

The edges of Clover’s mouth twitch – she’d better not be laughing at me. But she just sighs. “Beanie, you’re not making much sense. It’s not my fault you can’t come to Cork with me.”

“You could have reasoned with Mum – said you couldn’t talk to Efa Valentine without me. I helped you prepare the questions, Clover, remember?”

“I know you did and I tried to talk to her, believe me. Sylvie can be very stubborn when she wants to be. It runs in the family.” She looks at me pointedly, but I ignore her. “Anyway, she’s made up her mind on this one. I really am sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You’re dying to meet Efa and ask her all my questions.” I grab at her bag. “Give them to me.”

“What?” She presses the bag against her side with her elbow.

“Go on, give me the questions. They’re mine.”

“Don’t be so unreasonable. I wrote them too.”

“Liar!” I snatch at her bag again.

“Stop it! What’s got into you?” She pushes me away.

I gasp. Now she’s done it. “You just hit me,” I say.

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did. Just like this.” I push her back, hard. She stumbles towards the door and whacks her arm against the door handle.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” She rubs the reddened flesh above her elbow. “That hurt.” She reefs open the door. “I’m going now – I hope you’ll be in a better mood when I get back.”

“Don’t bother coming back!” I yell. “No one will miss you.”

She leaves in silence, without turning round.

I collapse on the bed, utterly miserable. What is wrong with me? Why was I so mean to Clover? I start to cry; big salty tears run down my cheeks. I have this huge ball of tension swirling inside me, like a black hole gobbling up everything in its path, and I just spat a whole fur ball of it at Clover.

I have to catch her before she leaves; tell her I’m sorry. Sitting up, I wipe away the tears with my sleeve. I run downstairs and into the kitchen, shouting, “Clover. Clover!”

Mum’s on her mobile. “Yes, of course,” she’s saying. “I understand.” She puts up a finger, as if to say,
Wait there a second.
I ignore her and sprint outside.

An engine is starting up and I dash down to the beach in time to see Dave and Clover in one of the boats, speeding towards the harbour. They chug happily through the sloppy little waves, oblivious to my shouts and waves.

Shoulders dropped practically to my feet, I slope back to the house to get my mobile and try calling Clover. Nothing’s going right today.

Mum’s still standing in the kitchen, waiting for me, Evie jiggling on her hip. Mum’s sunglasses are resting on top of her newly sun-bleached hair. She’s wearing a red top, white jeans and flip-flops. She actually looks quite nice. Pity she’s such a witch.

“I was just on to your dad,” she says. “And if you hadn’t flounced off like that, you could have spoken to him in person. Shelly’s not great. Apparently, she had a bit of a scare last night. A bleed. Your dad says it’s probably nothing, but they don’t want to be too far from the maternity hospital, just in case, so they’re going to stay in Dublin.”

“Are they coming down tomorrow?”

“No, they’re not coming down at all.”

I perk up. “Does that mean I can go to Cork with Clover?”

Mum looks at me in surprise. “I’ve already said no, Amy. No means no. It’s too late now. And, frankly, you’ve been so rude to me all morning, I think it’s best if you stay here and think about your behaviour. You can help me with the babies.”

The black hole starts churning again, faster and faster. This is so unjust. “In your dreams,” I say. “Find another slave. I’m going out.” I storm out of the door.

She follows me. “Amy Green, if you leave this island, you’re in big trouble.”

I spin round on my heels. “The boats are both being used, so how am I going to do that? Swim? We’re on Alcatraz, didn’t you know? But at least in San Francisco the water is warm, so there’s some hope of escape without contracting hypothermia.”

“If you didn’t get eaten by the crocodiles and sharks first,” Mum calls after me. “Oh, for God’s sake, Amy – come back inside.”

I march down the garden and take a sharp right, out of her sight. Then I notice the old stone boathouse. Kit. At least
he
’ll be pleased to see me. I hope.

Seth’s face floats in front of my eyes. I blink it away and try not to think about last night’s phone call. Why is everything such a mess?

Chapter 24

I
knock on the bottle-green door of the boathouse. Nothing. White canvas blinds have been pulled down in the windows, so I walk towards the far end of the building. A crumbling stone ramp runs down towards the sea, and at the top of it, instead of doors, there’s a huge sheet-glass window.

It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the light, but when they do, I almost fall over in surprise. Hundreds of shards of coloured glass have been suspended from the ceiling of the boathouse. Pressed up against the window, they seem to be floating in the air.

I gaze at the rainbow of colour. The sun peeps out from behind the clouds and immediately the whole window is lit up by a spectacular wall of dancing light, like a giant kaleidoscope.

Some of the pieces start to spin and Kit appears at the window, making me jump. Spotting me, he waves down and mouths, “Other door.”

When I get back round to the green door it’s already open.

“That you knocking?” he asks when I go in. “Thought I heard something, but I was listening to my iPod. Coming in?”

I nod eagerly and step into the open-plan room. “That glass is amazing,” I say. “What is it?”

“Mam’s mobile.”

“Was she an artist?”

“Nah. She just liked glass.”

He leads me past a beaten-up leather armchair, with an old brass telescope standing beside it, and a small kitchenette just beyond. Hundreds of books are stacked in towering piles against the walls. There’s a double bed to our left. It isn’t made: the white duvet is bunched at the bottom and a book lies open on the sheet. On the cover is a photo of a guy sitting on an old-fashioned minibus.

I read the title:
Into the Wild.

“You like reading?” I ask.

“Sure.”

“What kind of books?”

“Adventures, survival books, anything about the wilderness.” He nods at the book on the bed. “That one’s about a guy who runs away and camps out in this mini-bus in Alaska. Manages to live by eating plants and stuff. It’s good. He dies at the end, though.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

He shrugs. “Says so on the first page. It’s a true story.”

“Oh.” Then, not knowing what to say next, I study the glass mobile. “Can I touch it?”

“OK. But watch your fingers. The glass is sharp.”

Now that I am closer to it, I can see that as well as the sharp slivers of glass, there are other shiny things: shards of mirror, a small hole bored in the top to secure them, and even a baby-size silver fork, polished until it gleams. And smooth, gentle curves of sea glass.

I touch a piece of blue glass. “This piece is so beautiful,” I say, dazzled by the moody, midnight colour.

“Aye, it were Mam’s favourite too. Murano glass from Venice. Like this.” He passes me what looks like a crystal ball.

“What is it?” I ask, peering at the tiny woman trapped inside. She’s sitting on a rock, her hair streaming out behind her like a sheet of silk, and although she’s no bigger than my thumb, her eyes look dark and hypnotic.

“Paperweight. Mam collected them. That one’s of a Selkie. Half-woman, half-seal. It’s an old Celtic legend. Mam was into that kind of thing – said she could hear the voices of the O’Driscolls who used to live on this island when she dug the earth. Believed in fairies too.”

“Fairies? Really?”

“Aye. Used to put a saucer of milk on all the windowsills at night to stop bad things happening to us. Said our house was on a fairy line.”

“What did your dad think?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think Da had time to be worrying about it. He spent most of his time trying to stop her hurting herself.”

I stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have said that. Stupid.” He glances at his wristwatch. “Sorry, I have to get back to work. I’ll see you around.” And then he stands by the door, holding it open.

I feel awkward, embarrassed. I want to say something, to ask him more about his mum, but I can tell the subject is closed and that now he’s trying to get rid of me. Our eyes connect. There’s a sadness behind his gaze. I want to reach out and touch him, hold him, but instead I drag my eyes away. “Thanks for showing me the glass mobile,” I say softly.

“No bother. See ya, Amy.”

I walk out of the door and he closes it firmly behind me.

That evening I open my email account and scan the inbox. There’s nothing from Seth. I wasn’t really expecting anything, not after our phone call, and I know it’s not rational, but still I’m disappointed.

However, there is an email from Mills:

Hi Amy,

How’s it going? Hope you’re not missing Seth too much. Things over here are hotting up and I don’t mean the weather!

Matt, the boy I was telling you about, has finally started to talk to me – properly – and he’s so sweet and funny. He’s mad into Ireland and wants to hear all about living in Dublin and school and everything.

But stop the lights… I’m starting to like his best friend, Ed, more and more. He’s cute and funny and a bit goofy, but in a nice way.

Now, what do I do? Yikes!

No other news really. The Costigans are out most evenings, so I’ve been hanging out with Marlon and Betty. Thrills and spills – not! Luckily, they are ridiculously easy to bribe (thank Clover for the tip!). But I’m not going to come home with much money at this rate, what with buying sweets for them and spending all my moolah in American Apparel.

Yowsers, Amy – clothes are way cheap over here, and it’s so much fun rooting around in the bargain bins. Wish you were here to share my US shopping experiences!

Miss you so much. Sob, sob. If it wasn’t for Matt and Ed I’d be going loop da loop.

Email me immediately and tell me all the goss – has Seth written you any more super-swoony poems? Spill all.

Your bestest amigo,

Mills XXXXXXXXXXX

I sit back in my seat and think. What am I going to say? I’ve broken up with Seth, I’ve had a huge fight with Clover and Mum, and now even Kit doesn’t want to talk to me. I’m basically a loser with no life. Tears spring into my eyes. Oh no, there’ve been enough weeping willows around this place with Mum and Prue. This house must be cursed. I switch off the computer and stare into space for a few minutes, blinking back the tears.

“Amy?” Mum walks into the room.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to bed.” I run past her.

“Sleep well, Amy,” she says to my back.

As if.

Chapter 25

I
sleep badly, tossing and turning all night. When I wake up, my face feels clammy and my hair’s stuck to my forehead, as though I’ve been sweating. I brush it back with my hand and rub the sleep stickiness from the edges of my mouth.

And then I notice my knickers are damp. Last night I was too tired and irritable to change into my pyjamas, so I climbed into bed in my T-shirt and underwear. I lie there in horror. No! I couldn’t have wet myself during the night. I did that a couple of times when I was little. The last time was just after Dad moved out when I was nine. But I’m thirteen now.