Elevation 2: The Rising Tide. Helen Brain

that grows and flourishes. Greenhaven is abundant, and since you arrived, the crops have been growing even faster. You’ve got the gift, so just trust her, and it will be alright.”

      “But I don’t have my amulet,” I say. “I’ve lost my powers. I’ve lost Clementine.”

      “There are other amulets. You must find them.”

      I never thought I’d miss Clementine, but without her I’m like a little bird that’s fallen out of its nest. She protected me – I just had to rub my birthmark against the amulet and she’d be there with her little boy, smiling, speaking in my head. Since the amulet disappeared, she’s gone.

      Leonid stops the carriage under a tree near the entrance to the port. “We’ll have to walk from here,” he says, helping Jasmine down.

      A boy comes running up and takes the reins. He pats the horses and ties them to a hitching post. Leonid and Jasmine walk off hand in hand before the rest of us are even out of the carriage. I know what it is. He’s embarrassed to be seen with me. But then a girl comes dancing over to him. She’s got short, curly hair, a turned-up nose and a wide smile. She gives him a big hug, and then runs up to us, throwing her arms around me while I’m still climbing down from the carriage.

      “Ebba,” she laughs, hugging me tight. “My big sister Ebba. I’m Alexia.”

      She lets go and looks up into my face. I see myself in her, in the shape of her eyes, but hers are hazel and sparkling, and her hair is a pretty brown. She takes both my hands in hers and squeezes them. “I have been dying to meet you.”

      She’s the sort of person you like instantly. She’s so sunny and warm, it’s hard to imagine she’s related to Leonid.

      “Come on,” she says, taking my hand. “Let me show you everything.”

      I look back to check with Micah, who smiles and waves. “Off you go,” he says. “I’ll find you later.”

      Alexia leads me up a path, and past the houses that are built into the mountainside. The ugly grey wall looms over us, cutting off Table Island City from everyone who lives in Boat Bay. The houses here have been built out of anything and everything: scraps of wood, shipping containers, old boats.

      “How huge is this house!” I exclaim, as Alexia takes me around a corner.

      “It’s a luxury yacht,” she says. “It must have belonged to one of the super-rich in the old world. My uncle and aunt found it washed up further along the coast. It took them weeks to get it up the hillside and wedged safely here.”

      We peer through one of the windows. It looks so cosy inside, with bunk beds and wooden lockers against the sides. It reminds me of our sleeping cell in the colony.

      “What are these for?” I ask, pointing at the nets that hang between the yacht and the wooden house next door.

      “It’s foggy here in the mornings. The nets trap water in the mist and it runs into rain barrels for storage. Come on,” she says, jumping down onto one of the boardwalks that lead onto the island. “Let’s cross over to the other side.”

      I follow her curiously. Is this island really made out of thousands of plastic barrels lashed together? It doesn’t look like it. A thick layer of soil covers the floating island. Fynbos has sprouted in patches – I can see geraniums and wild rosemary, and there’s even some grass. I bend down at the end of the boardwalk and peer into the water. There they are below us: blue barrels bound together into rows with ropes. “Come on,” Alexia says, pulling me off the walkway and onto the island.

      People are milling around laughing, eating, dancing to the music of a band. The beat and the pounding of feet makes a vibration that rocks the island gently, despite it’s tethering posts. It feels like the island itself is dancing.

      I feel shy, but Alexia is so happy that it’s impossible not to be drawn in. She takes my hand and we weave across the island with the laughing crowd, which is dancing in a huge circle.

      “Come on,” she says as we reach the opposite side. “I’ll take you to meet my mother, Natasja.”

      I take a step back. “Your mother? Surely she doesn’t want to see me. She must hate me.”

      She laughs. “Of course she doesn’t. My mom’s not like that.”

      I’m not so sure. I’m filled with apprehension as she leads me across a walkway and up a steep path to a white-painted house set into the cliff face. I pause to get my breath, looking down over the hundreds of people dancing and singing below me. Maybe I should go back and find Micah. I can meet Alexia’s mom another day.

      But Alexia takes my hand. “Come in,” she says, opening the red front door to a tiny cottage made from two shipping containers.

      The first room is the kitchen. There’s a table and four chairs. Pots and pans hang on hooks on the wall above the wood stove. Through the doorway, I can see a double bed and a small cupboard.

      An older woman drops the clothing she’s washing in a bucket and comes over to greet me, drying her hands on her apron.

      “Ebba,” she says formally, holding out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you. I am Natasja.”

      I can see Leonid in her – she has the same serious face, the same strong eyebrows. I draw back a little, expecting her to be as critical as he is, but she takes my hand and squeezes it.

      “I can’t thank you enough for employing my son,” she says. “Work is scarce here at the harbour, and it’s such a relief to know he’s got a good job.”

      I feel myself blushing. It’s awkward having her thank me. “Th-thank you,” I stutter, wishing Leonid saw it that way.

      “And Jasmine too,” she says. “They were just here. Such a lovely girl. I’m sure she’s so grateful that you got her out of the colony. It can’t have been easy for you.”

      Tears prick my eyes. Natasja is the first person to appreciate how hard it’s been.

      Alexia tugs my sleeve. “Next time you’re looking for staff, will you consider me? I’m only sixteen, but I can cook and sew, and I can make things out of just about anything.”

      “Alexia, you’re my half-sister – you can’t come to the farm as my servant. Leonid was already working there when I arrived, but you’re different.” Heat is rising in my face and I turn away from her, trying to hide it.

      “It’s the only way I can leave Boat Bay,” she says. “Please. Leonid says Greenhaven is awesome. And it means one less mouth for my mom to feed.”

      Her mother is looking at me expectantly. I glance around the cottage again, at the sparse possessions, her mother’s ragged clothing. There’s clearly not much money coming into this house.

      “Of course,” I say quickly. “You can come with us today if you like?” Then, to cover my embarrassment, I say with a grin. “You can keep an eye on Leonid and Jasmine for me – make sure they don’t get up to mischief.” Then I blush deeply, because I hear myself sounding just as prudish as Aunty Figgy.

      Down on the floating island, a horn blows.

      “Food’s ready,” Natasja says, taking off her apron. “Let’s go and eat.”

      As Natasja and Alexia set off, I pause on the doorstep, searching the crowd below for Micah. He’s not among the group dancing. He’s not standing chatting around the fires, where some men are turning fish on the braais. I scan the whole island from the furthest point of the inlet to the edge where it looks out into the bay.

      Then, suddenly, I see him.

      He’s half hidden behind a rain tank, a little way down the hill below me, and he’s talking to a girl. She’s tall, with a figure like a model from the old world. Her long neck is shown off by the bright cloth she’s wound in a turban around her head.