The Complete Ingo Chronicles: Ingo, The Tide Knot, The Deep, The Crossing of Ingo, Stormswept. Helen Dunmore

to my surprise Conor seizes on the idea. “You’re right, Saph! That’s what we’ll do. I should have thought of it before.”

      “You mean we should go up there now?”

      “Yeah, why not? Let’s go up there as soon as Mum’s gone off to work.”

      Mum’s in her bedroom, brushing her hair and twisting it into a shiny knot for work. She smiles at my reflection in the mirror.

      “There you are. You were sleeping so heavy this morning. I crept up and took a peep at you and you never even stirred. You look a lot better for the rest. Roger said he had a chat with you while you were making the tea yesterday.”

      “Yes.”

      “That’s good. He thinks you’re a bright girl. I said that he ought to see your school reports. It’s the same every time. ‘Bright, but can’t be bothered’.”

      “You didn’t tell him about my reports, Mum!”

      “No, I didn’t. I’m too kind, that’s my trouble. But Mr Carthew’s always saying that you don’t do justice to your intelligence in your schoolwork. You could do really well, Sapphy, if you made an effort. You could get yourself to university, get a good job, get out of this place.”

      “I don’t want to get out. I want to be here.”

      Mum sighs, and lays down her brush. “I know. You think you want to spend the rest of your life swimming in the cove and running about with Conor. I don’t blame you, I was the same at your age. I failed all my exams and I didn’t care. But I don’t want you to end up like me, Sapphy, counting up your tips at the end of the night and hoping you’ll be able to pay the electricity bill.”

      “But Mum, I thought you liked it in the restaurant.”

      “It’s all right. But I want more for you. Don’t you see that? I want you to have a different life. Everyone wants more for their kids, it’s human nature.”

      I wonder if it’s Mer nature too, I think, and hope that the thought won’t show on my face.

      “Conor’ll be all right,” Mum goes on. “He works hard, and he knows what he wants. But you’re such a mazeyhead, Sapphy, sometimes I want to spifflicate you to make you see sense.”

      Mum laughs, and I laugh too.

      “Roger’s a good man,” goes on Mum abruptly. “I only want what’s best for you and Con.”

      “Mum, you sound like you’re going to marry him!”

      A flush rises in Mum’s face. She looks so like Conor. “Nobody said anything about marriage, did they?” she says. “We’ve only known each other five minutes. All I mean is, give Roger half a chance, Sapphy. He wants to be a friend to you, if you’ll let him.”

      I can’t think of anything to say about Roger. I don’t even want to discuss him. “Why’s your hair so much shinier than mine, Mum?”

      “Because I brush it from time to time,” says Mum.

      “I keep asking you to do a henna wax for me, but you never have time.”

      “I will, Sapphire, I promise. Now stop fiddling with my hair and let me get on. I’m going to be late. Oh, these school holidays, they go on for ever and ever amen. I’ll be glad when you’re back in school and I can stop worrying about you all day long. Be good, Sapphy, and don’t go off on your own. Stick with Conor.”

      “But Mum—”

      “What?”

      “Mum, do people ever hear voices – of things that aren’t there?”

      “What sort of voices?”

      “Voices calling, but there’s no one there. Maybe calling your name.”

      Mum puts one hand on each side of my face, framing it. Her fingers are soft and cool. “I think there are more things that happen than we know about,” she says. “You remember I told you that I was working upcountry in Plymouth, when my Mum died?”

      “Yes.”

      “No one was expecting her to die. She had a chest infection, but she was on antibiotics and people hardly ever die of chest infections. But she got an embolism in her lungs and she died at three o’clock in the morning. Dad rang me at four.”

      I don’t know what an embolism is, but I’m not about to ask.

      “So I never saw her again before she died,” says Mum. “But about two weeks later, after the funeral, when I was in the garden of our house – I hadn’t gone back to work yet, I was helping Dad – I heard Mum’s voice. She said, ‘Jennie?’ and I said, ‘Yes.’ And then she said, ‘Don’t worry about me, Jennie, I’m fine.’”

      I stare at Mum. She’s never told me anything like that before.

      “Did she say anything else, Mum?”

      “No. But I felt her come up close. I didn’t see her, but she patted my cheek just like she used to when I was little. It was as real as that.”

      “Was she a ghost, then?”

      “No. She was Mum, same as always. And then she wasn’t there. Do you know, Sapphy, I’ve never told anyone about it until this minute.”

      I look at Mum. She’s smiling, but her eyes are shiny. “Does it make you sad,” I ask, “when you remember your mum?”

      Mum shakes her head. “No, I like talking about her. Come here, Sapphy, give me a big hug.”

      I hug Mum tight, squeezing her until she gasps for breath. What if Mum died, and all I had was a ghost who walked up a path and then disappeared? Mum seems to be happy about her mum doing that, but I certainly wouldn’t be.

      “Promise me you won’t,” I whisper.

      “Won’t what?”

      “You know. Promise. You won’t ever just—”

      “Ever just what?”

      “Disappear.”

      Mum takes a deep breath. I can feel her ribs rise as her lungs fill with air.

      “I promise, Sapphy,” she says.

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

      As soon as Mum’s left for work, we’re on our way to Granny Carne’s. Her cottage is up on the Downs, tucked into the hillside, half hidden. The grey granite walls look like part of the hill until you get close. There’s no track, only a narrow path, so even a Jeep can’t get up here. The path is steep, and the sun beats on our backs so that we’re sweaty and out of breath by the time we get up to the cottage.

      We stand side by side in front of Granny Carne’s door.

      “Go on, knock.”

      Conor’s knock is loud in the stillness. A few bees buzz and the wind riffles. The knock echoes, but nothing moves. He knocks again, more loudly.

      “She’s not there.”

      “Oh.” We stare at each other in disappointment. All that climb for nothing.

      “What shall we do?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Go back?”

      “No, let’s wait. She might come back soon.”

      We sit on the rough grass. This is where people come when they have troubles. They talk to Granny Carne and she tells them things no one else knows. Things about the future, and the past too. People say she can look into the future, like a fortune-teller. Dad used to say that the doors that