Midnight Dolphin (21 page)

‘
Oh’ was all
Lucy could think to say. ‘I’m sorry.’ After Mum’s death, Dad had
buried himself in his work. It had been like a suit of armour for
him. Now she wondered what he would do without it. It didn’t
explain why he was suddenly willing to return to Cornwall though.
It was only a few months before that he’d dragged her away from the
sea and her friends the dolphins. Maybe now that he thought she’d
already lost her gift he reckoned it didn’t matter. Maybe he
thought that she would be paying her respects to her own past as
much as Thelma’s memory.

Lucy didn’t
care though. If she could return to Cornwall, somehow she might be
able to find out more about the three green caves. She might be
able to do something to determine her own destiny.

Bethany said
that the funeral would be the day after tomorrow. Lucy guessed it
would be at the little church at the end of Bussey Lane.
Gravestones huddled around the squat, honey-coloured church,
encircled in turn by a crumbling stone wall. In the summer there
had been a profusion of tall grass and meadow flowers growing
between the graves. She wondered what it would be like there now in
the depths of the hard winter.

‘
I was going
to go of course’ said Bethany, ‘but I’m sure Nate would appreciate
it if you both came too. I’d like it if you did. Maybe you could
stay for a few days, for Christmas even’ she added,
smiling.

They sat and
sipped at the hot drinks that Dad had made. Bethany told them again
about the time that the tyre of her Land Rover had blown out and
how Nate had come to her rescue. She’d found herself sitting
chatting to Thelma in their kitchen drinking tea while Nate changed
the wheel for her. Lucy said how Nate would talk affectionately
about Thelma and his boat the Lady Thelma and how you could never
quite tell which was which. Dad talked about the extraordinary
amount of cake and sandwiches that Thelma had pressed upon him when
he went to visit one time. No one talked about dolphins, though
they were all thinking about what Thelma had said about
them.

‘
Well I
suppose I can drive all three of us back down to Cornwall tomorrow’
said Bethany. Lucy blanched at the idea of a long drive in
Bethany’s draughty old car, but didn’t say anything. Dad announced
that he’d better get some washing in the machine if they were going
to set off the next day, and started to make himself busy. Bethany
asked if she could check her email on the computer. Lucy drifted
upstairs to her room. She looked at the drawings of dolphins, seals
and sea-birds that she’d done and stuck to her wall with Blu-tack.
It felt as though she’d done them a lifetime ago. Her thoughts
returned to Spirit again. She yearned to be back with him. She
could only hope that somehow that would happen. Dad wouldn’t
approve of her bringing her wet suit, but she’d sneak it into the
Land Rover somehow when he wasn’t looking.

Before long,
the afternoon gave way to evening. The clouds had cleared and a
thin disk of red sun was descending towards the horizon.
‘
Red sky at night, shepherds
delight
’ she said to herself. Lucy never
was quite sure what was so good about a red sky at night, not that
it mattered. She got out her photos and spent an hour or so looking
at old snaps of her, Mum and Dad. Sometimes she felt an aching
sense of loss when she looked at old pictures of Mum. Now though
she had a feeling of sweet melancholy. She felt emotionally drained
after hearing about Thelma. Now she was simply glad to be peaceful.
One way and another it had been an eventful few days.

The next
morning Bethany insisted that they all got up early and got on the
road before the start of rush-hour traffic. When Lucy opened her
blinds, it had only just grown light. There was a thick frost on
the ground and it looked bleak and cold outside. Bethany, who had
been sleeping on the sofa bed again was already up and dressed in
her jeans and misshapen and colourful old pullover. Lucy was still
ravenous after her days of not eating in the hospital and forced
down as much toast and cereals as she could.

When Dad
opened the front door to take the hold-all containing his clothes
and hers to the car, an icy wind blew into the house. Lucy was glad
to huddle into her ski jacket again before going outside to climb
into the chilly car. Dad closed the front door and double-locked
it. They all cambered into the Land Rover and slammed the car doors
shut. Bethany turned the key in the ignition and the car spluttered
into life.

‘
Right’ she
said. ‘Let’s hit the road.’

Chapter
Thirteen
:

Megan slept
restlessly that night. It was hot in the cottage and she insisted
on opening the bedroom window, though Bethany complained that
mosquitos would fly in and bite her. Megan said that the sea breeze
would blow them away, but there was no wind and the air was hot and
humid around them. Megan couldn’t settle and turned from one side
to another, trying to get comfortable. Instead her mind raced with
thoughts about their visit to Toby Smith’s house and what Rachel
had found in the Reverend Jeremiah’s journal. The more she tried to
think things through as she lay there staring at the ceiling, the
less sense everything seemed to make.

Eventually
Megan closed her eyes and slept. Her dreams were blurry and it was
hard to tell where she was. Eventually she realised that she was
walking through an endless cave that seemed to stretch on in front
of her for ever. The roof of the cave rose higher and higher until
it merged with the night sky and she could see stars above her.
Megan looked down. At her feet there was a perfectly round pool of
water in the rock, illuminated by the moonlight. Megan looked in to
the pool, expecting to see her own reflection in the calm surface
of the water.

The girl
looking back at her from underneath the surface of the pool looked
similar, yet subtly different to how her reflection should have
looked. Megan noticed that the girl was wearing different clothes
and that the girl’s hair was darker than her own. Megan brushed a
strand of hair from out of her eyes, yet the girls hands remained
calmly at her sides. Megan leant over the pool and peered intently
into the still water. At the same time the girl bent to look more
closely at her as well. Megan felt certain that she knew the girl
but was equally sure that they had never met before. Instinctively
she plunged her hand into the calm pool and as she did so the image
of the girl was lost amidst the ripples of the disturbed surface of
the dark water.

Suddenly there
was a loud buzzing from above her head and she felt something
uncomfortable on her neck. Then she was half awake again, swotting
away a mosquito that had just settled on her skin to drink her
blood. Megan turned over again in bed and pulled the sheet up so
that it entirely covered her head. Those mosquitos wouldn’t get
another chance to bite her if she could help it. Megan hoped that
her dreams would take her back to Jet and the other dolphins in his
pod. Instead all she could see were tails, flitting briefly before
disappearing into the inky murk of the sea at night. When Megan
awoke to the morning light streaming in through the thin curtains
of the cottage window, she felt as though she hadn’t slept at
all.

Megan sat up
in bed and pulled out the slim volume that she had bought from Owl
Books. It suddenly occurred to her that the
Flora and Fauna of the Cornish Coast
might have something to say about well-known caves in the
area. Megan flicked through the book idly, but her thoughts
returned again to the day before.

‘
No I’ve never
heard of Trinity Caves’ Toby Smith answered Rachel
matter-of-factly. ‘But I’m intrigued to know more. Come on
downstairs and I’ll fix you both a glass of orange and lemonade
with ice. I fancy a Gin & Tonic myself. Looks like you both
need a touch of light refreshment. And bring those journals with
you’ he added, unnecessarily.

Megan looked
at Rachel curiously. What had she found? Rachel looked back at
Megan with a conspiratorial smile.

‘
I think I’ve
just come across some good stuff’ she whispered with a wink as they
followed the two adults down the stairs.

Back in the
spacious living room, Megan, Rachel’s Mum and Toby Smith all turned
to look expectantly at Rachel who sat dustily at one edge of the
sofa, drink in one hand, journal in the other.

‘
Well’ she
said, putting her drink down, you know Jeremiah Smith wrote his
book, ‘A description of the Lives of the Inhabitants of the County
of Cornwall’? He must have based the book on what he had written in
his journals. I’m guessing that this journal’, she raised the slim
volume in her hand, ‘must have been written after his book was
published.’

‘
So what does
the good Rev say?’ asked Toby Smith.

‘
The journal
that Mum has at the shop talks about coming across a young girl of
fifteen years who hadn’t lost the gift of speaking to dolphins when
she turned thirteen or so. He said that this girl wouldn’t tell him
how she had avoided losing the gift.’ Rachel paused. Megan felt the
eyes of Toby Smith focused on her for a moment and imagined that he
must have guessed why she was interested.

‘
Well
basically the Reverend wouldn’t take no for an answer when it comes
to getting to the nub of the story. He kept pestering her to spill
the beans and tell him how she did it. Here, for example, look at
this entry.’ Rachel started reading.

‘
I have found
out that the young woman who retained her gift as a Dolphin-Child
goes by the name of Mary Pewsey
.’ Rachel
coughed, clearing some of the dust of the attic out of her
lungs.

‘
Having
determined to winkle the secret from her, this very Sunday
afternoon I visited the cottage where Miss Pewsey resides with her
mother and father and sister, a short distance up the hill from the
harbour. I chose Sunday to be sure that the family would be at home
and so that I could speak to the young woman in the presence of her
parents without any impropriety or fear of approbation.’

‘
I engaged the
good people in polite conversation in their modest dwelling and
asked if I might converse with their daughter Mary. The parents
were most accommodating and brought their daughter forth for my
inspection, but young Mary was taciturn and refused to engage in
conversation with me, to the consternation of her parents. I
enquired if she was to be wed, but her mother answered with much
disapproval that her daughter has little interest in such matters.
Mary Pewsey herself has a refined face and a slender figure that I
would not expect of folk of such a lowly station. I left their
dwelling vexed and dissatisfied with the paltry progress that I had
made, but determined to engage Miss Pewsey in conversation once
again when the opportunity arose.
’

‘
So the Rev
found out nothing, is that it?’ asked Toby Smith, taking a sip from
his glass.

‘
A couple of
weeks later he had another bash at poor Mary Pewsey’
said Rachel, glancing up from the page and
smiling.

‘
As it is
summer and the light awakens me early, I am oft to be found
striding along the cliffs at dawn, before many of my parishioners
have arisen. So doing I happened upon young Mary Pewsey, hastening
home along the cliff path from Old Man’s Cove. Miss Pewsey was most
startled to see me there and I sought to reassure her that as both
a pastor and a gentleman I meant her no harm. Again she refused to
engage in conversation and bustled on past me as soon as she was
able. Yet I was most struck by the fact that her hair had evidently
recently been immersed in the briny water of the sea and it
appeared as though her clothes were damp. I surmised that she must
have been swimming in the sea with dolphins as she had been known
to be a Dolphin-Child. I was naturally concerned that the
reputation of a young Christian woman might be tainted by such
activities and decided to speak to her mother alone to voice my
fears.
’

‘
What a
ghastly old hypocrite’ exclaimed Toby Smith
disapprovingly.

‘
Well you know
what the Victorians were like’ replied Rachel’s Mum.

‘
What happened
next?’ asked Megan eagerly. Rachel took another sip from her drink
and flicked a few pages onwards.

‘
I paid a
visit to the Pewsey cottage this morning and discovered some most
interesting facts’
Rachel read on.
‘John Pewsey, a fisherman, was out on his vessel.
Mary Pewsey and her sister were fortunately elsewhere. Only old
mother Pewsey was at home at the cottage, scrubbing the doorstep of
her cottage with a brush. She was embarrassed to be visited by a
gentleman whilst engaged in such domestic chores but I put her at
her ease saying that as her vicar she need feel no such concern and
entreating her to put a copper on the hearth and make
tea.

I informed the
good woman of my encounter with her daughter on the cliff tops and
of my belief that unusually she had retained her gift beyond the
normal age of twelve or thirteen. Mother Pewsey confirmed that
indeed it was true. To my surprise she combined the sentiments of
both apprehension and pride at her daughter’s achievement which
naturally I considered unbecoming for a young woman of this parish.
I queried how young Mary had achieved this remarkable feat. She
hesitated for a moment and then told me that she believed that it
was due to a visit to “them Trinity Caves”. She did not know more
than that. I bade Mrs Pewsey a good afternoon a short while later,
determined both to visit Trinity Caves myself and to find a further
opportunity to interrogate Mary Pewsey again on the
subject.’
Rachel paused and took a gulp
from the glass next to her.