Nim's Island (11 page)

‘I’m never leaving you alone a—’ and then he stopped, and couldn’t say anything more.

Alex was coming down the hill.

‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you,’ said Nim.

A
LEX KNEW IT
was unfair, but she hated Jack. She knew he hadn’t meant to leave Nim alone for so long—but he had. She knew he hadn’t wanted Nim to be lonely, worried and frightened—but she had been.

She’d lain awake for an hour the night before, thinking of all the things she was going to say when she met him.

Then this lonely, exhausted man staggered in, looking beaten as a Jack Russell who’d picked a fight with a Rottweiler. He sat and stared at his daughter, and Alex knew there was nothing she could say that was half as nasty as what he was saying to himself.

And when some of the shock had gone from his face, he looked too much like Nim for Alex to hate him.

‘Who?’ he said finally. ‘And how?’

‘It’s a long story,’ said Nim. ‘Tell us yours first: did the storm hit you?’

‘Not the way it hit the island,’ Jack said, staring at the tumbles of shattered trees, ‘but fast enough that I hadn’t put my life-jacket and lifeline on yet, and strong enough to blow me overboard. The boat raced ahead; there was no
land in sight . . . but floating in the current just ahead of me was a raft made of coconuts! What’s so funny?’

Nim and Alex couldn’t answer. They were laughing so hard that they fell over and rolled around on the ground like sea lion pups. ‘That’s Alex’s story!’ Nim finally choked, and then they started from the beginning.

A
LL THE NEXT WEEK
, the three of them worked together: cleaning up the island, fishing and digging clams, collecting coconuts and saving the garden. Every night they built a bonfire with the broken branches they’d cleaned up during the day, and Alex told them stories.

Nim listened hard so that she could remember the stories forever, after Alex left, and tried not to think about when that would happen.

But it wasn’t Alex who talked first about leaving.

‘When are we going to build a new hut?’ Nim asked one morning, when the island was starting to look like her home again, just with not so many trees.

‘Maybe we shouldn’t,’ Jack said. ‘It’s time I stopped being so selfish. Maybe we should go back to civilisation so you can have a normal life.’

‘This
is
my normal life!’ Nim shouted. ‘It’s the one I want!’

She ran down the hill to Selkie, who left the king and snuggled comfortingly around her. Fred curled across her shoulders.

Alex and Jack went for a walk in the other direction, around the point to Turtle Beach.

‘They’re talking about what’s going to happen,’ Nim told her friends. ‘But if Jack makes me leave the island, I’ll run away and live here with you like I did before!

‘Jack only wants to go because he thinks that’s what a good father should do, but I don’t want a good father—I just want Jack, and I know he wants to stay on the island as much as I do!’

She wasn’t even going to wish the other part because it was too much to hope for.

The morning changed to noon; the rock got hot; Selkie, Nim and Fred went for a swim, climbed out to dry and went for a quicker swim; and still Alex and Jack hadn’t come back. Nim was hungry but the knots in her stomach were too tight for food.

The king barked for Selkie. Selkie looked miserable, and then she looked confused.

‘You can go,’ Nim said. ‘I’m okay.’

Selkie snuggled beside her a moment longer, but when the king barked again, she slid off the rock and into the sea.

Fred scuttled off to find some seaweed.

Alex and Jack came around the point and waded in the shallow water across to Nim.

They were smiling.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Wednesday 21 April, 15:00

Subject: Really, this is Alex Rover

Dear Delia

I have a small favour to ask you.

All right, it’s small like a giant squid, and you might think it’s about as easy to handle, but when I tell you the whole story and why I’m writing it on a borrowed internet address (on a borrowed computer, wearing my new banana-leaf dress), you’ll not only understand why I need a favour, you’ll have a brand-new book. I promise you’ll love it.

So . . . could you please go to my flat and pack up all my clothes, books, papers and anything else you think would be useful on a small tropical island?

I’m attaching a shopping list. You’ll need to find a good gardening and hardware store and a marine or boat suppliers as well as a department and grocery store.

The second attachment is a map. Please send the parcels by supply ship, parachute-drop or helicopter, whichever works out best. You can take the cost out of the huge amount of money you’ll want to pay me for this next book.

Yours, Alex