Ingo by Helen Dunmore
“Tell them I can’t, Faro. I haven’t learned their language yet. Tell them I’m sorry.”
“They want you to climb on. Lay your body against her back, Sapphire. No, not like that. You’re too stiff; she won’t be able to hold you. Watch.”
I watch Faro. The dolphin dips to let him climb on, and then he lies on its back. Faro’s whole body seems to melt as he relaxes against the glistening dark skin of the dolphin. I can’t even see where Faro’s tail ends and the dolphin’s body begins. I touch the shoulder of the dolphin who is butting gently against my legs, and she dips down, ready to carry me.
“But Faro! Dolphins don’t swim underwater all the time, do they? They show their backs above the water. They’ll take you into the Air. It’ll hurt you.”
“As long as I’m with her, riding on her back, I’m still in Ingo,” says Faro, not lifting his face from the dolphin’s skin. “Dolphins are always part of Ingo. Come on, Sapphire. Hurry. We have to go as fast as we can.”
I lean gently forward onto the dolphin’s back, and as my skin touches hers, I’m held firm, as if some suction is gripping me. The clicks and whistles of the dolphins seem to be pouring through my body, turning into a language I nearly understand. I almost know what the two dolphins are saying to each other.
The dolphins move apart. They balance themselves in the water and then spring forward with a rush that plasters my hair over my face. I can’t see anything. I don’t know where I’m going or even where Faro is. But I have never felt so safe. My dolphin speaks to me, and I wish I could answer, but I think she can tell through her skin that I trust her. I’m sure I can hear her heartbeat. The closeness of her is like a cradle.
“I know you’re my friend,” I say, and I don’t know what language I’m speaking or if it’s only thoughts in my head. I peep at my arms, and they’re wearing a coat of bubbles from the dolphin’s speed. The water round us churns white, but our rush is effortless. All at once we are going up, and before I know what’s happening, we’ve flashed through the skin of the sea and we’re out in a shock of dazzling sunlight. We crash back into the dark water and I can feel my dolphin laughing. Again and again and again we rise and dive, going faster and faster, the dolphin jumping higher each time. Faro’s dolphin jumps at our side, and I know the two dolphins are racing, urging each other on, laughing with us and with each other.
“Faro!” I shout, not because I want him to answer but because nothing as wonderful as this has ever happened to me before. Our speed is like time unzipping and running backward. Hope surges in me that where the dolphin’s journey ends I’ll find everything that time has destroyed. Dad’ll be home again. Dad’ll come down to the shore to meet me, saying, “Well now, Sapphire, have you been a good girl while I’ve been away? Should we give school a miss tomorrow and go fishing instead?” There won’t be any Roger, or games of cards, or Mum looking new and different with another man sitting at our kitchen table instead of Dad. The dolphins have the magic to take away everything that’s gone wrong and bring back everything I love.
“Faro!” I shout again, wanting to tell him how great it’s all going to be. And he yells back something I can’t hear before we plunge back into the sea and down, down, skimming along a fast rope of current. And then the white sand zooms up to meet us, and I know we’re coming to the borders of Ingo, where the earth and water meet.
Our dolphins slow down. I feel my body peeling away from the dolphin’s back. She is letting go of me, and I have to let go of her. But I want to stay with her, so much.
“Can I see you again? Please?” I ask her, but she pushes against me, shoving me gently toward the shore as if she’s telling me that that is where I belong. I must leave Ingo. I’m human, not Mer.
“But I belong in Ingo too,” I whisper, and she looks at me with her small, thoughtful eyes, as if she’s considering the question.
“Don’t go,” I plead, but I already know she’s leaving and taking her magic with her. She turns to her companion, and they point their blunt noses to the deep water and spring away from us. The clicks and whistles fade. The dolphins are gone.
“I wanted to thank them,” I say, but Faro takes no notice.
“You can swim in from here. Hurry,” he says.
He won’t come any farther inshore because the water’s too shallow. But I’m not going to leave without asking Faro something that’s been troubling me more and more. “Faro, why is it that I only ever see you? Where are all the other Mer? I don’t even see Elvira.”
“You saw the dolphins just now.”
“Yes, but I mean people. Mer People.”
Faro throws back his head angrily. “That is so typical of Air, Sapphire! People, people, people, as if people are all that matter.”
“I didn’t mean that. I liked the dolphins—” I argue, but even to me it sounds pathetic.
“You think you can have everything, don’t you, Sapphire?” demands Faro. He sounds nearly as angry now as he was when he was talking about oil spills and dead seabirds. “Do you think you can have a tour of Ingo, stare at us all as if we’re creatures in a zoo—yes, believe me, I know all about your zoos!—find out all our secrets and then go home? Ingo is not like that. As long as you belong to Air, you’ll only see this much of Ingo,” and he dives to the seafloor, takes up a handful of sand, and pours it through his fingers until there’s one grain left. He holds out the single grain to me. “This much.”
“I’ve got some Mer in me,” I say sulkily. “You told me so yourself.”
“I know.” Faro looks at me, his eyes serious, not so angry now. “Listen, Sapphire, that’s why we can meet. You and I. It’s because you’ve got some Mer in you. But I still don’t know how much or how strong it is. You don’t either, do you?”
“Sometimes, when I talk to you, Faro, I feel as if I don’t know anything anymore. I’m so confused.”
Faro lets go of the grain of sand, and it spins down through the water to join its brothers and sisters on the seabed. “We can’t talk about it now. You must hurry. But you have got Mer in you, Sapphire. And I”—he hesitates and looks at me intently, as if he’s deciding whether or not to trust me—“I’ve got—”
But at that moment noise hits the water like a bomb. My ears sting with pain. The sea throbs as if it’s got thunder in it.
“Quick, Sapphire, swim for the shore! It’s the boat coming!”
As soon as Faro says it, I recognize the sound of an engine. Faro grabs my wrist, grips tight for a second, and then launches me toward the shore. I ride on the wave he’s made for me, and it hurls me up, swooshes me in, and throws me flat on the sand. I struggle to my feet, coughing and choking, my eyes blind with salt. My ears are full of sand. I can’t see and I can’t hear. I’m back in the Air, where I belong.
Faro has disappeared. The boat is chugging round the other side of the rocks, toward its mooring. The noise of its engine thuds around the cove like a warning of danger.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“PLEASE DON’T GO OFF like that again without telling me where you’re going, Sapphire,” says Mum. “If Conor hadn’t said you were taking Sadie for a walk, I’d have been worried.”
“Sorry, Mum. It was so hot that I took Sadie to play in the stream.”
“I can see that. You’re soaked through. You’ve been gone hours.”
Only hours, I think. So Mer time and human time haven’t been so different from each other this time. If time is a fan, then for once it hasn’t opened wide enough to separate Mum’s time from mine. Clever Conor, to think of saying that I’d taken Sadie out. Mum wouldn’t doubt what he said, because Conor doesn’t lie.
But Conor’s just told a lie for my sake. Or maybe it was for Mum’s sake? Conor wouldn’t want Mum to be frightened.
I don’t always tell the truth, I must admit. When I was little, I used to scream and yell if people didn’t believe what I told them about fairies living in a cave I’d made for them under the rosemary bush. And I had an imaginary kitten which h
“Sapphy has a vivid imagination,” Dad said.
“Stop humoring her, Mathew. She’s got to learn the difference between what’s real and what’s not,” said Mum.
But sometimes real and not-real are hard to tell apart, and life is easier if you bend the truth just a little.
“Where’s Conor now, Mum?” I ask casually.
“He’s gone out in Roger’s boat. They were planning to take it right out, to test the new engine, and then Roger’s going to come in to take soundings by the Bawns. You know, he needs to prepare for diving there. Now, Sapphy, why don’t you go up and change and tidy your room while I finish this ironing? And then maybe you’d sort the washing for me. I need to put another load in the machine before the boys get back. The trouble with Sundays is that there’s always so much to do.”
The boys, I think angrily. As if Roger is part of our family. I go slowly upstairs, thinking hard. I know what soundings are. Roger’s trying to find out how deep the water is in different places and how difficult it will be to dive there. The Bawns are part of a reef about a mile offshore. Most of the reef is underwater, but the Bawn rocks show above the surface. The part of the rocks that you can see is black and jagged, but what you can’t see is the line of the Bawns that runs beneath the surface, like teeth. These hidden rocks are the most dangerous. In the old days, when shipping routes ran closer inshore than they do now, ships would lose their way in storms. The wind and tide would drive them onto the rocks. Sometimes, at night or in fog, a ship would break her back on the Bawns.
When the weather’s bad, the Bawns are lost in a white thunder of waves. Spray breaks and tosses high, as if the rocks themselves are spouting water, like whales. It makes me shiver to think of having to swim in those seas. Dad told me that a boy was found in our cove one morning after a wreck. He was thrown up onto the sand, still clinging to a piece of slimy wood. The people who climbed down to rescue him couldn’t get the wood out of his grasp at first.
The miracle was that the boy was still alive. They wrapped him in blankets and carried him up the cliff path and put him in front of a fire and poured brandy down him. He couldn’t speak a word that anybody understood. They never found where he came from or what language he was speaking. They named him Paul, because St. Paul in the Bible was rescued after a shipwreck too. The Treveals took the boy in, and he grew up with their children. His grave is in the churchyard.
Shipwrecked Paul was my age. He was the only person who survived that wreck. No one ever knew where his ship came from or what cargo it was carrying. Even when he learned to speak English, he never talked about the wreck or what his life was like before he was found in the cove. On his gravestone it says that he died in 1852. He married Miriam Treveal, and they had eight children. And then maybe those eight children had eight children, and then those eight children had eight children, Dad said. So no doubt all of us around here have got a drop of that shipwrecked boy’s blood in us somewhere.
Dad won’t go near the Bawns, even on a calm day.
And don’t you ever go there, Sapphire, when you’re old enough to take the boat out by yourself. Those rocks are a powerful place, and they’ve got a bad appetite for boats and human flesh. To sail near them is like putting your head into a wolf ’s jaws. After Dad said that, I could always see the shape of a wolf ’s head in the farthest of the Bawns. We never went in close, not even for fishing. But now Roger has taken Conor there. Conor must have agreed, even though he knows how bad the Bawns are.
I rush downstairs. “Mum! Did you tell Roger not to take Conor close to the Bawns?”
“Roger’s a very experienced diver, Sapphy. He knows all about risk assessment.”
“Oh, Mum! He doesn’t know this coast like we do. It’s dangerous by the Bawns.”
A shadow of fear crosses Mum’s face, but she makes a big effort and answers cheerfully. “Conor’s safe with Roger. And look how calm it is today. Now, have you sorted the washing? I want the whites first.”
“Mum, it’s the Bawns; they shouldn’t go there—” But Mum’s closed her ears. I can’t believe that this is Mum, who hates the sea and fears for everyone who goes on it. And now, the one time she should be frightened, she isn’t. Mum, who used to issue storm warnings every time Dad took me out. I can remember when I was little the way Mum used to pick me up and hug me tight after I’d come back from fishing or taking photos with Dad. She would squeeze the breath out of me with relief.
Mum even chose the back bedroom for herself and Dad, because it faced inland.
Now she lets Conor go off in Roger’s boat, even though he’s almost a stranger, and he doesn’t know a zillionth of what Dad knew about the coast and the currents here. Dad knew the sea almost as well as the Mer.
I mustn’t think about it now. I mustn’t let Mum guess about the Mer, or Ingo, or any of it. She wouldn’t understand, and it would only make her more afraid of the sea than ever.
“How long have they been gone, Mum?”
“For heaven’s sake, Sapphy, stop fussing! Conor will be fine with Roger. Roger’s got full safety equipment and his mobile phone.”
“There’s no reception out there.”
“All they’re doing is testing the engine, taking the boat near the Bawns, doing some soundings, and coming back. And then we’ll all have tea.”
I can’t believe it. Mum’s making it sound like an Enid Blyton story: have a nice adventure and then home for tea. But Ingo isn’t like that. They weren’t anywhere near the Bawns when I saw Roger, I want to say. They were much farther out than that. Testing the engine, eh? But never in a million years can I tell Mum about lying in the sunwater, far out to sea, and feeling the shadow of Roger’s boat come over me.
“There they are now!” says Mum, going to the door. She can’t stop herself from sounding relieved. She heard the sound of footsteps and voices before I did. Roger’s deep voice says something muffled, and Conor answers. Mum flushes slightly. A little smile grows at the corners of her mouth, and I know she’s happy because Roger and Conor are getting on well. But that’s what Conor is like. He’s the easy one, who makes friends everywhere he goes.
Conor and Roger take off their shoes outside the door. I stay inside.
“Is Saph back yet?” calls Conor. I can hear the anxiety in his voice, and I wonder if Mum can.
“Yes, she’s in the kitchen,” says Mum casually, going out to meet them.
“When did she get back?”
“Oh, just a little while ago. You were right; she was out walking Sadie. You two sound as if you’ve had a good time.”
“We have,” says Roger heartily. “Or at least I have. It was a pleasure to have you along, Conor.”
What a creep. But then I hear Conor. “Yes, it was good. Can we go out again next time you’re down?”
“No problem,” agrees Roger. “I’m grateful for the local knowledge. I’d have scraped when we came off the mooring, Jennie, but for Conor.”
Conor protests that Roger would have done fine without him, and they all laugh. And now they come in through the dark doorway, blinking as people do when they’ve been out on the bright sea for hours. My eyes are already used to the indoors, and so I see Roger’s face clearly. He startles when he sees me, just a little. He wants to hide it, but he can’t. He comes farther into the room, trying to look as if he isn’t staring at me. But he is. He’s measuring my face against something in his mind. He’s trying to tell himself that what he thinks he’s seen out on the deep water can’t possibly be true.
“Hi, Roger,” I say cheerfully. Mum gives me a pleased look, because I’m being friendly at last and forgetting all that nonsense about not liking Roger.
“Let’s all have some tea,” she says. “I’ve made a coffee-and-walnut cake.”
“Wow, coffee and walnut, my favorite,” says
Roger’s not the only one who is watching me. Conor sends me a meaningful look. “Upstairs,” he mouths silently. Aloud, he says, “Be down in just a minute, Mum. Got to change my jeans—there was water in the bottom of the boat.”
But Conor’s jeans are dry. Another lie for Conor. I follow him upstairs. If he keeps on lying like this, how long will it be before people stop always believing him?
“What are you playing at?” whispers Conor angrily as soon as we get to the top of the stairs. He grabs my arms so I have to turn and face him.
“What d’you mean? Shut up, Conor, they’ll hear! You’re hurting my arms.”
“No, I’m not,” says Conor. “I never hurt you. Saph, you must be crazy. First of all you go to Ingo again, and on your own. How many times do I have to warn you?”
“It was all right, Con. Their time was nearly the same as ours today.”
“Today, maybe,” says Conor grimly. “You were lucky. I had a feeling it would be okay, though, I don’t know why. I wasn’t as frightened as I was the time before. So I made up some stuff for Mum about Jack calling to ask if you’d walk Sadie because he was going surfing.”
“Conor, you’re such a bad liar. The sea’s flat.”
“Yes, but Mum didn’t think of that. You got away with it this time. Or at least you nearly did. Roger saw you. Now he’s trying to convince himself it was some weird refraction of your image. You know, like a mirror image of you got beamed up into the air and reflected underwater, because of freak weather conditions.”
“He can’t believe that. It’s impossible.”
“Not as impossible as looking over the side of the boat and seeing you relaxing underwater with a big smile on your face. And seeing that you didn’t need to breathe. And you were miles out as well.”