‘Nell!’ Vian shouted, bursting through the front door. ‘Where are you?’
‘Here.’ She was at the kitchen table, making a start on her half-term homework. She’d only arrived home from school half an hour ago.
Vian, typically, had declined to join her.
Energy radiated from him as he beckoned at her wildly. ‘There’s a duckling! It’s lost its mother! Quick!’
Nell immediately jumped up and tore after him.
They had often talked about how much fun it would be to raise a duckling, but, so far, no duckling had been unlucky enough to make itself available.
Scampi was caught up in the children’s excitement as they ran down to the water’s edge, but even over the noise of his barking, Nell could hear cheeping. She caught a glimpse of fuzzy brown and yellow in amongst the weeping willow branches.
‘Put Scampi back inside and grab the life jackets,’ Vian commanded. ‘I’ll get the boat ready.’
‘But your mum said not to disturb her,’ Nell argued.
Nell’s dad was still at work and Ruth was in the studio – the small, separate annexe building set five metres away from the main body of the cottage. It used to house an entire family centuries before, but had been renovated and turned into a playroom for her father when he was a boy.
‘We’re not going to disturb her,’ Vian replied with a cheeky grin. ‘Now hurry, before we lose sight of it.’
From the ripples on the water, Nell guessed that the tide was on its way out, and she knew that when the water drained, it happened remarkably quickly. She had never yet been banked, but there was always a first time, so she had the good sense to bring wellington boots for the journey, as well as the fishing net that they used when they went crabbing.
Although anxious about getting told off for taking the boat out on their own, Nell was buoyed by her sense of righteousness. She had seen ducklings being plucked out of the water by huge herons, so she knew there wasn’t a moment to lose. She sat at the stern, her body twisted to face the water and her net at the ready. Listening intently, she soon heard the tiny bird’s cries.
‘There!’ She pointed. The duckling was darting in and out of the tree branches that were caressing the water. It was headed in the direction of the bridge and after that it would reach the creek where no boat could follow.
Vian rowed with increased determination. Nell stretched out with her net, hoping to scoop up her prize like hook-a-duck at the funfair, but the duckling scooted away with agile speed. Once more, Vian set off after it, but again Nell’s net came back empty. A car motored by over the bridge and Nell looked up in time to see the pale face of a brown-haired boy peering down at them. When she returned her gaze to the river, the duckling was nowhere to be seen.
‘Uh-oh.’
Nell heard the panic in Vian’s voice and saw mudbanks protruding from the middle of the river, like slippery wet whales’ backs.
‘We’d better go back,’ Vian said miserably.
‘No way,’ Nell replied with nerves of steel. ‘If we have to, we’ll get out and walk.’ She scanned the water. ‘Where are you, little one?’ she asked aloud. ‘We’re trying to save you.’
‘There!’ Vian shouted, pointing towards the bridge. He rowed hard, grimacing when his oar hit the muddy riverbed. Sensing this was their last chance, Nell held onto the edge and leaned out as far as she could, almost toppling over as the boat jolted to a stop. It had run aground and would stay that way for the next six hours or so, but the children didn’t care. As Nell’s net revealed, they had caught the duckling, and they were absolutely delighted.
Ruth was standing outside the cottage with a couple and a child when the children arrived back.
As well as selling her artwork, Ruth worked as a caretaker for the owner of a row of holiday homes up in the village. This family were likely here to collect the keys.
‘What on earth?’ Ruth exclaimed at the sight of Nell and Vian.
They had had to abandon both pairs of boots and walk the rest of the way barefoot. Their legs were coated practically to their knees with thick, squelchy mud.
Nell held up their find, beaming. But her expression slipped at Ruth’s horrified face.
‘Oh, no!’ she cried. ‘Put it back!’
‘We can’t, Mum,’ Vian interjected. ‘It’ll die!’
‘Its mother must be around here somewhere,’ Ruth lamented.
‘It isn’t,’ Vian insisted fervently. ‘It was all alone. We had to save it.’
Ruth sighed, and when she spoke, she sounded weary. ‘Kate, Simon, this is Nell and Vian.’
Nell smiled at the grown-ups. She liked Kate’s dress – it was pale blue and fluttered around her ankles.
‘And this is Edward,’ Kate introduced her son, ushering him forward.
He was around the same height as Nell and had light-brown hair that framed an open, friendly face. His eyes were big and dark and reminded Nell of Bastian’s from The NeverEnding Story, which they had seen at the cinema the month before.
She had really liked that film.
‘Why are you so muddy?’ Ruth asked tersely.
Nell stared at the ground.
‘We got stuck when the tide went out,’ Vian mumbled.
‘Did you go out in the boat? Alone? Where is it?’ Ruth’s voice was going up in pitch with every question.
Vian pointed down the backwater. ‘We tied it to a branch so it wouldn’t drift out to sea.’
‘Goodness me,’ Ruth said, shaking her head. She turned to Kate and Simon. ‘I’m sorry about this.’
‘It’s no problem,’ Kate replied with a smile. ‘We appreciate you letting us come a day early.’ Saturday was technically changeover day. ‘We could go for a drive and come back?’
‘Or you could stay for a cup of tea?’ Ruth suggested. ‘The cleaners are thorough but prompt. Half an hour and you’ll certainly be able to go in.’
‘A cup of tea would be lovely,’ Kate accepted. ‘It’s been a long journey. But no rush. When you’re ready.’
Everyone looked at Nell’s cupped hands. The duckling’s eyes were opening and closing, sleepily. It seemed surprisingly content.
‘I suppose you’d better put it in the bathtub for now.’ Ruth sounded resigned. ‘I’ll set it running. You two go and get cleaned off under the outdoor tap. You’re not bringing that mud inside.’
The adults and children parted ways, the latter heading around the side of the cottage.
‘I can hold it for you,’ Edward offered to Nell when they reached the tap.
‘No, I will,’ Vian cut in sharply. ‘Hang on.’ He set about cleaning himself with the icy water. To his irritation, Edward loitered.
‘It’s so small,’ Edward said to Nell, who had opened her hands to show him the downy bundle. The duckling craned its neck and tried to stand, letting out several shrill cheeps.
‘She’s probably only a couple of days old,’ Nell replied, closing her hands and prompting the duckling to settle back down. She liked the feeling of its clammy, webbed feet on her palms.
Frankly, she still couldn’t believe their luck.
‘How far away is the beach?’ Edward asked.
‘There are lots of them,’ Nell replied. ‘We’re learning to surf at one really close by, aren’t we, Vian?’
Vian grunted.
‘Wish I could surf,’ Edward said.
‘You should come with us!’ Nell offered instantly.
‘Could I?’ Edward replied, as Vian shot Nell a look of outrage. ‘Definitely! Ask your mum and dad.’ She ignored Vian. She was good at making friends, and Vian got used to new people eventually, even if he did initially struggle with change.
‘Okay, I will,’ Edward said.
‘How old are you?’ Nell asked, making conversation while she waited for the tap to become free. Vian was taking ages and didn’t seem to have made much progress. The mud was like glue.
‘Ten, almost eleven. What about you?’
‘Ten,’ Nell replied. She nodded at Vian. ‘Vian’s ten, too. Our birthdays are two days apart.’
Edward looked confused. ‘Are you twins?’
‘How can we be twins if we’re not born on the same day?’ Vian asked narkily.
‘We’re not really brother and sister,’ Nell explained, unfazed by Vian’s tone. ‘My dad loves his mum, but my real mum lives in France and Vian’s real dad is in Australia. Where do you live?’ she asked.
‘London,’ Edward replied.
‘Me too!’ she exclaimed. ‘Well, I did, until Mum moved away. I’m going to France in the summer holidays.’
Vian seemed utterly miserable at the reminder. Nell felt a pang of empathy. She herself had been desperately lonely the year before when Ruth had taken him to Australia. It was the second time he’d gone – the first was when he’d met his father, aged seven. She knew she’d miss him while she was in France, but it was always harder on those who stayed behind.
‘That’ll do,’ Vian said, wiping his wet palms on his red T-shirt and holding them out to Nell. She carefully transferred the duckling into his cold grasp and went over to the tap, glancing round in time to see Vian walking away.
‘Wait!’ she called out with dismay as he disappeared from view. Was he going to put the duckling in the bathtub without her? ‘He’s so annoying!’ she erupted.
Edward kicked his foot awkwardly against the paving stones.
‘You’re lucky you don’t have a brother,’ Nell sniped crossly, scrubbing vigorously at the slimy muck coating her legs.
‘I did have a brother once,’ Edward replied offhandedly. ‘But he died.’
Nell was shocked. ‘What happened to him?’
‘He got sick. I was a baby, so I don’t remember him. He was two years older than me.’
Nell didn’t know what to say, but she was full of compassion.
‘My mum’s going to have a baby,’ Edward revealed. ‘We don’t know if it will be a boy or a girl, though. I’m going to be a very big brother,’ he said proudly, folding his arms across his chest. ‘New babies cry a lot, but I’ll help.’
Nell smiled at him. She could tell that he was kind. She liked him.
‘Can I get you a drink, Edward?’ Ruth called from the kitchen when they returned indoors.
‘No thanks,’ Edward responded, kicking off his trainers in the hall.
The bathroom was straight ahead and Nell looked in to see the duckling swimming around quite happily in the bathtub. Vian was dangling his hand over the side, his fingernails still rimmed with river mud.
‘Why didn’t you wait?’ Nell hissed.
Vian acted like he hadn’t heard her. She huffed and followed Edward into the kitchen.
The adults were sitting at the table and the fabric of Edward’s mother’s dress was pulled tight across her tummy so Nell could see her bump. It hadn’t been at all obvious when she had been standing in the garden.
‘When are you due?’ Ruth was asking.
‘The end of August,’ Kate replied. ‘It’ll be a bit strange going back to dirty nappies and sleepless nights after all this time.’
‘I bet,’ Ruth said.
‘Mum and Dad, can I learn to surf?’ Edward interrupted. ‘Nell and Vian are going to do lessons.’
‘Yes, at Poldhu Beach,’ Ruth chipped in. ‘It’s a ten, fifteen-minute drive from here. They start in the morning.’
‘Can I?’ Edward looked hopeful as his parents glanced at each other.
Simon turned back to Ruth. ‘Do we need to book?’
‘You could probably just turn up,’ she replied, ‘but I’ll find you the number, to be on the safe side.’
Kate pulled her son onto her lap. ‘I told you you’d make friends,’ she said in a teasing voice.
Edward blushed and stood up again, flashing Nell a shy smile.
‘Why did you have to go and invite him?’ Vian griped that night, startling Nell back to full consciousness. They were in their bunk beds and she had been nodding off.
‘He’s nice,’ Nell replied sleepily. ‘I think he looks like the boy from The NeverEnding Story.’
‘I thought you said that I looked like him,’ Vian muttered after a moment’s silence.
‘You remind me more of Atreyu, even though you’ve got short hair now.’ Atreyu’s hair came almost to his shoulders.
Nell peeked over the railings from the top bunk – they never had swapped back. ‘Edward is more like Bastian,’ she said.
Vian still looked grumpy, but Nell knew he’d be happier about that comparison. Atreyu was brave and heroic: a horse-riding, monster-hunting saver of the universe. Bastian only read about the action in a book, although he had got to ride the Luck Dragon at the end.
‘I feel sorry for him,’ she said. ‘He’s all on his own. His brother died,’ she added gravely.
Vian was stunned.
‘It was when he was a baby, but it’s still awful, don’t you think?’
Vian nodded. He stared up at Nell and his eyes filled with tears.
‘What’s wrong?’ she whispered.
‘I wish you didn’t have to go away this summer,’ he replied in a choked voice.
Nell threw back her duvet and climbed down the ladder. Scampi was lying on the floor beside Vian and his tail thumped half-heartedly as she stepped over his solid, furry body to get to the bed. Vian edged over for her and she hopped in, slipping her arm behind his shoulders. He did the same to her and they held each other tightly.
‘I wish you could come with me,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to be so bored.’
‘At least your mum has a swimming pool.’
‘That is brilliant,’ Nell conceded. ‘But I’d still rather be swimming in the sea with you.’
‘Even though it’s freezing cold?’
‘Yes, even though it’s freezing cold.’
They usually wore wetsuits, but they were such a pain to put on that sometimes they braved the water without them.
‘I hope the duckling’s okay,’ Vian said.
‘Me too,’ Nell replied. ‘I can’t believe we’ve got her!’ she said excitedly.
It was currently in a box in the kitchen with the door closed, much to Scampi’s dismay, but tomorrow they were going to fill up their old shell-shaped paddling pool with water and make a pen for it.
Nell’s dad had been surprisingly blasé and even quite accommodating when he’d come home and found out what had happened. Not only had he arranged to borrow some chick crumb from Steven and Linzie, the farmers who lived up the road, but he’d also convinced Ruth that the children were old enough and capable enough to take the boat out alone again in the future, as long as they checked with an adult first and made sure the tide was working in their favour.
‘What do you think to calling him Webster?’ Vian asked.
Nell frowned. Him? She wanted a girl, and Webster definitely sounded like a boy’s name.
Ultimately, though, Nell just wanted to make Vian happy, and if that meant their duckling had to be a boy, then a boy it would be. ‘Yes, I like Webster,’ Nell said. ‘Let’s call him that.’
Vian grinned.
They had been so deep in conversation that they hadn’t heard the footsteps on the stairs. The door creaked open and Vian whipped the bedcovers up and over their heads, staring at Nell with alarm.
Two heavy footsteps later and the covers were flipped back. ‘Get to bed!’ Geoff shouted, prompting Scampi to scarper.
Nell scooted out of Vian’s bed and hurriedly climbed back up into her own before daring to meet her father’s eyes.
‘Sorry, Daddy,’ she mumbled. He looked very cross.
‘Sorry,’ Vian echoed.
‘No more talking!’ Geoff commanded, stalking out through the door.
Later that night, Nell was again jolted from sleep. She cocked her ear to the wall and heard her father and Ruth speaking in raised voices downstairs.
‘They’re arguing,’ Vian murmured from the bottom bunk, sensing her wakefulness.
‘What are they arguing about?’ Nell asked apprehensively.
Vian slid out of bed.
‘Vian!’ she hissed. ‘Don’t!’ But he was already at the door, opening it.
She crept down the ladder and tiptoed over to where he was standing, eavesdropping.
‘I don’t want to move,’ they heard Ruth say.
‘Do you think I do?’ Geoff replied. ‘This is the house I grew up in! But they should be in their own rooms – and beds – by now.’
‘They’re only ten! You say it like they’re doing something wrong.’
‘I know it’s only innocent, but children grow up so fast. It’s only a matter of time before—’
‘Oh, stop!’ Ruth cut him off. She sounded disgusted.
Vian and Nell glanced at each other with confusion.
‘We need to think about these things,’ Geoff said wearily. ‘Maybe we could turn the studio into a bedroom,’ he suggested.
‘Where would I work?’ Ruth asked. ‘And who would want to sleep out there, anyway?’
‘Vian might like his own space.’
Vian jolted and Nell felt physical pain. Without another word, she pushed past him and ran down the stairs.
‘You can’t make him sleep outside!’ she yelled from the halfway point.
Ruth and Geoff stared up at her in shock, but a moment later her dad’s shoulders slumped. ‘We’re only talking, Nelly. This is a grown-up conversation—’
‘I don’t care!’ she yelled. ‘You can’t make him! I’ll sleep outside if someone has to, but not Vian!’ She stamped her foot.
A pale-faced Vian stumbled down the steps behind her. ‘No! Don’t make her! Why can’t we share? We want to be together!’
‘You’re growing up now, kids. You should have your own rooms,’ Geoff stated firmly.
‘Why?’ Vian asked.
‘It’s just…’ Ruth shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortably. ‘It’s not appropriate, kids. Boys and girls are not supposed to sleep together.’
Vian and Nell were stumped. Why on earth not?
‘You sleep together,’ Vian pointed out.
‘That’s different,’ Ruth replied with frustration. ‘We’re adults and we’re… Well, we’re not married,’ she acknowledged, ‘but we almost are.’
‘Nell and I are going to get married, too,’ Vian told them.
Nell nodded. They had agreed to this when they were six years old. It was an accepted fact.
Ruth threw Geoff a glance.
‘You’re far too young to be talking about that sort of thing,’ Geoff snapped, pressing on before they could argue. ‘Nothing is certain. We were discussing the possibility of moving to a bigger house and you two should not have been listening. You should have been fast asleep. Now, go back to bed.’
‘I don’t want to move!’ Nell cried.
‘Perhaps Ruth and I will end up in the studio,’ Geoff said to appease her. ‘It’s not something we need to worry about right this minute. But,’ and for this next part his voice got increasingly louder, ‘if you two don’t go to sleep immediately and stop climbing into each other’s beds and keeping each other awake, then you will be separated, and it will happen sooner rather than later!’
The threat worked. Nell and Vian ran back upstairs and not another peep was heard out of them for the rest of the night.
There was a loaded atmosphere in the cottage the next morning, but no one broached the subject of the night before. Even little Webster didn’t do much to lift the heaviness that hung around Nell’s heart.
They got ready for the beach straight after breakfast and although Nell had encouraged Edward to join them at surf school, she was now hoping he wouldn’t. She didn’t want anything else to cause Vian distress.
However, Edward was already waiting in line to register beside his parents when they arrived. He looked over his shoulder, his face breaking into a grin. Nell reached for Vian’s hand and squeezed it, but he squirmed out of her grasp. She managed only a small smile at Edward in return.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked later as they struggled into their wetsuits. Edward’s borrowed gear was still sandy and wet from its last use and looked especially awkward to pull on, but Nell and Vian had brought their own.
‘Yeah,’ Nell replied, bumping her elbow against one of the other kids’ dads. There were a dozen or so people in the class of all ages. ‘Are you?’
‘A bit nervous,’ he admitted. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Not really.’ Nell wasn’t at all. She had been excited for the last two weeks, but not nervous. She and Vian had been wanting to learn to surf for ages.
They carried their surfboards in pairs – one under each arm – down to the shore and lined up in a semicircle opposite the instructor. Vian positioned himself right at the end beside Nell and ignored Edward on the other side of her.
Nell hated that Vian was being stand-offish – not only with Edward, but with her, too. He got so jealous. He wasn’t really like this at school. At school they had their own friends and rarely played together at break. But holidays were their time, and Vian was making it clear that Edward was encroaching.
Nell felt caught in the middle. She tried to put all of her focus into the lesson, which was a lot easier once they were in the sea and doing their own thing. When Vian stood up on only his second attempt and rode the wave almost to the shore, she cheered as loudly as she could. Vian looked over his shoulder and gave her the thumbs up. It brightened him up immensely to see Edward fall off.
That afternoon it poured down, so Ruth invited the children into the studio to paint with her. Nell was more of a writer than an artist, but she enjoyed using Ruth’s watercolours and she quite liked the smell in the studio, although she couldn’t ever imagine sleeping in it. The room had four big windows with vistas straight down the river, but otherwise it was a shambles, with colour splatters all over the wooden floorboards and rows of canvases propped up against the walls.
Nell didn’t use Ruth’s expensive oils or acrylics, but Vian did. He had inherited Ruth’s artistic talent and had even had his artwork displayed in a gallery in Truro after entering a children’s art competition. The gallery owner had been impressed by his abstract sailing boats, but Nell loved his piskie drawings more than anything else.
A couple of years earlier, Ruth had taken them to a storytelling session at the library that had described different types of fairies. Nell had been motivated to come up with her own stories about Cornish pixies – or piskies, as they were called here. So she had conceived Fudge and Smudge, two cheeky piskies who lived on the Helford River and whose homes were under constant threat from the naughty Spriggens up the creek.
On Nell’s request, Vian had brought the characters from her stories to life, painting tiny scenes onto smooth pebbles that they’d found at the beach. Nell had a whole series of these pebbles lined up on the windowsill in their bedroom and she counted them amongst her favourite possessions.
Nell loved watching Vian paint. She was fascinated by the look on his face, the way his dark brows pulled together and his eyes narrowed in concentration. He focused on painting like no other task. It was the only time he appeared to be truly absorbed. She never got very far with her own work because she was usually too preoccupied by his. Even now, she kept looking over.
‘What are you painting?’ she asked eventually.
‘Don’t you recognise it?’ He didn’t take his eyes from his canvas as he spoke.
‘It looks like an upside-down Platypus.’ She meant their boat, not the animal.
‘It is an upside-down Platypus,’ he replied, adding a touch of orange to the greenish appearance.
Nell frowned. ‘Er, why?’ she asked.
He glanced at her and grinned. ‘You know how you told me that Fudge and Smudge were homeless after the Spriggens attacked their crab-apple tree?’
Fudge and Smudge had lived in the tree since the spring when they had given gifts of apple blossom to the Hedgerow Fairies in return for some of their magic flying dust. With help from the nature-loving Brownie fairies, they had cared for and cultivated the tiny apples for months. Then the bad Spriggens raided the tree, taking the shiny, ruby-red fruit for themselves. The Spriggens were obsessed with treasure and, to them, the apples looked like jewels. They had no interest in eating them – they only liked to munch on snails and slugs and leeches from the creek. All they wanted was to display them like ornaments until they turned bad, whereupon they’d wastefully cast them down the river.
As the Spriggens had stripped the crab-apple tree of both fruit and leaves – the latter purely to cause mischief – Fudge and Smudge were currently homeless. They were living in the leafless branches, shivering with cold and completely unprotected from passers-by. Fudge had almost been spotted by a human and that would have been catastrophic.
Nell stared at the picture in front of her, while Vian patiently waited for her to join the dots.
‘They live under the boat for the winter!’ she cried at last.
Vian laughed and nodded. ‘Look, I’ve even made them a little door. What do you think?’
She shook her head with amazement. ‘I love it.’ Already, her mind was ticking over, creating jeopardy in the form of the tide rolling in and a storyline that involved a flippy-flapping fish getting trapped and needing to be rescued.
Ruth came over, her curiosity piqued by the children’s conversation. She had her red hair loosely tied back with a green ribbon and she looked especially beautiful today, Nell thought.
‘The algae is incredible, Vian!’ Ruth exclaimed.
Vian blushed, proud as punch.
‘Honestly, I think you two could publish these stories. I bet there are plenty of people out there who would buy them. I could type them up for you,’ Ruth said, addressing Nell. ‘And perhaps I could help you choose some key scenes for Vian to illustrate. We could photocopy and bind them up and maybe even send some off to the people who make books to see what they say.’
Nell gawped and then jumped up and down with excitement. Ruth kissed the top of her head, but as she straightened up, her green satin ribbon slipped from her hair and fell onto the floor. Nell, who had been coveting it, swooped it up with a giggle and attempted to fasten her own hair with it. But she had recently had it cut to chin-length so the ribbon tied itself to thin air.
Ruth laughed and gave one of Nell’s locks a gentle tug. ‘You’ll have to grow it back if you want to wear it like that.’
Ruth had tried in earnest to keep Nell’s hair tangle-free over the years, beginning with that first summer that they’d all spent together. She hadn’t been entirely successful – Nell’s mother had still claimed it looked ‘like straw’ by the time Nell had returned to London. Eventually, Nell had won her battle to cut it shorter, but now, for the first time, she found herself regretting it.
‘I know what we’ll do,’ Ruth said, and she fashioned the ribbon into a hairband and fastened it around Nell’s head.
‘What colour do you want the door?’ Vian asked, bringing a delighted Nell’s attention back to his picture.
‘Green,’ Nell replied without a beat.
Vian and Ruth looked at each other and smiled. Nell was so predictable.
‘Which is your favourite green, Nell?’ Ruth asked, plucking tubes of acrylic out of a box as she spoke. ‘Ever since you were a little girl, you’ve said green is your favourite colour, but which green do you like the best? There’s lime-green, grass-green, pine-green, sage, olive, mint… Do you like jade? Or teal? Or the colour of the ribbon? I’d call that emerald.’
Nell studied the colours before her. She liked lots of them, but she was mostly drawn to mint and teal.
‘Interesting,’ Ruth said. ‘They’re not what I’d call the greenest greens. This is more of a bluey-green,’ she said of the teal. ‘What if you look out the window?’ Ruth asked, guiding her away from the box. ‘Do you like the colour of the leaves on the trees? The oak leaves are darker than the sycamore ones down by the deck. What about the colour of the grass? Or the river water?’
Nell screwed up her nose at that last one and Ruth smiled.
Nell had never questioned why green was her favourite colour. She didn’t own any green clothes, but if they played a game that had coloured counters, it was always a given that she would have the green one. Her toothbrush had always been green, and when they had got Scampi, she had begged for him to have a green collar. In the end, Vian had won the coin toss and Scampi had ended up with a red one. Not that Vian’s favourite colour had remained the same. Right now, it was yellow.
‘How about the wheat in the farmer’s field?’ Ruth asked, pointing across the river. It wouldn’t turn golden for another month or so.
Nell went closer to the window and looked out. ‘Yes, I like that colour,’ she said decisively.
‘Again, I would call that an almost bluey-green,’ Ruth commented. ‘I’d say it even has a hint of grey. It’s certainly not as bright green as the barley that grew there last year. That was lime-coloured.’
Vian sighed.
‘Am I boring you, son?’ Ruth teased.
‘Can I go and watch Inspector Gadget now?’ he asked, his shoulders slumping.
Ruth smiled and cast her eyes to the heavens. ‘Go on, then. Leave your brushes, I’ll do them with mine.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ Vian said with a grin, giving her a quick hug before running out of the door. Nell copied his actions to the letter.
There was no surf lesson the next day as it was Sunday, so Nell and Vian decided to kill time by taking Platypus across the river for a picnic. They also planned to go fishing for minnows. Webster was still being fed a diet of chick crumb, and the children thought a few tasty fish morsels might make a nice change. The duckling had really taken to the paddling pool, and Scampi had really taken to the duckling. Fortunately, Webster didn’t appear too fazed by the excited dog’s barking.
Today they took Scampi with them to give Webster some peace and quiet and, as usual, he leapt out of the boat before it had reached the shore and waited for the children to join him before shaking his wet fur in a frenzy all over them.
Whilst on the other side of the river, Nell took a closer look at the wheat.
It still just looked green to her, but she could see what Ruth meant about the stalks having a slightly blue hue.
‘I really like this colour,’ she said to Vian, who was already tucking into the biscuits that were supposed to be for dessert. ‘I think it is my favourite green. Can you do the door like this?’
He shrugged. ‘Pick some so we can take it back with us. I’ll see if I can match it.’
When the children returned home, they were taken aback to see Edward sitting inside the duckling pen, cradling Webster in his hands.
‘Hi!’ he exclaimed.
‘What are you doing here?’ Vian asked rudely, as Scampi set about, barking his head off.
‘Your dad said I could come and see her. He saw us walking down the creek.’
Nell forced a smile, trying to buffer Vian’s impoliteness. ‘He’s cute, isn’t he?’
Vian climbed into the pen and upended the contents of their bucket into the paddling pool. Tiny fish zipped in every direction.
‘Give him to me,’ he snapped.
Edward hastily handed Webster over and Vian put him in the pool. Almost immediately, the duckling bobbed underwater and zoomed, stealth-like, in search of food.
The children looked on with glee, the tension between them momentarily forgotten.
‘Have you been out in your boat?’ Edward asked Nell, crouching down to pat Scampi. Scampi immediately rolled over to give Edward access to his belly.
‘Yes, we went to the other side for a picnic.’
‘That sounds like brilliant fun.’
Before Nell could even think about inviting him along the next time they went out, Vian gave her finger a pinch.
‘I’ll see you in the studio,’ he said meaningfully. ‘I’ll get the key.’
Embarrassed by Vian’s behaviour, Nell remained where she was.
‘Your brother doesn’t like me,’ Edward said.
‘He gets jealous,’ Nell admitted, kneeling beside him and patting Scampi, too.
Edward pulled a face. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ Nell replied. It’s not like she was going anywhere.
But she felt protective of Vian. That was just the way it was. He seemed to feel things more deeply – things that, to her, were like water off a duck’s back.
She still remembered those early days of them all living together and how much he’d struggled when Ruth gave her attention. But he’d soon got used to it, because Nell became family, too, and family, to Vian, was of the utmost importance.
It hurt Nell’s heart when his father sent him postcards from Australia. Vian would be on cloud nine when one came through the letter box, but later he’d withdraw into himself and nothing Nell said could bring him out of his black mood. She had learned to simply give him a hug when that happened. They had fallen asleep together on his bottom bunk on countless occasions.
Nell felt a pang at the reminder that their parents wanted to separate them. It still didn’t make sense to her.
Vian appeared from the cottage. He stood for a moment and glared at Nell and Edward before going over to the studio to unlock it.
Ruth had taken some of her artwork to Padstow to meet with a gallery owner, so she was out for most of the day. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind Vian going into the studio alone – they weren’t actually supposed to.
‘Surfing again tomorrow?’ Edward asked casually.
‘Yeah,’ Nell replied, downcast. ‘I’d better go and give this to Vian.’ She scooped up the bundle of wheat.
‘What’s it for?’
‘He’s going to paint it for me.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I like the colour. I’m writing a book,’ she explained, feeling proud as she said the words. ‘Vian is doing the pictures.’
‘What’s it about?’ Edward asked with interest before remembering Nell had been about to leave.
‘Sorry,’ Nell mumbled, feeling bad as she walked away.
Vian was rooting around in a box in the studio, pulling out various shades of green and blue.
‘Why are you so mean to him?’ she asked crossly.
‘I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are, you’re rude!’
‘Why do you like him so much?’
‘He’s kind and he doesn’t have anyone to play with. I feel sorry for him.’
‘So go and play with him.’
Nell glared. Vian ignored her, continuing to rummage around in the box. She was infuriated.
‘Maybe I will,’ she said. ‘It’s not like you need me here.’
‘Nope,’ Vian replied.
‘Fine, then.’
He didn’t say another word as she left the studio.
Edward was still sitting on the grass, patting Scampi. He looked up as she approached.
‘Would you like to hear about my stories?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Edward replied with a smile.
It wasn’t long before Edward’s dad came to find him and said they needed to go home for tea, so Nell went to check on Vian’s progress.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked, poking her head around the studio door.
‘Yep,’ Vian replied.
She caught sight of the sheet of paper taped down on Vian’s easel – it was almost entirely covered in bluey-green paint.
‘Do you think it’s right?’ he asked her, holding up the bunch of wheat.
The colour started out bluey-green with a hint of grey at the bottom, and gradually became more of a pale-green towards the top.
‘It’s perfect!’ she said. ‘I want to stick that on my wall!’
‘You can, if you like.’ He looked pleased. ‘Hopefully I’ll be able to remember which ones I mixed together so I can do Fudge and Smudge’s door.’
She was relieved that he wasn’t still put out about Edward.
‘Can you write your name on it?’ she asked.
He rolled his brush in the last dregs of bright blue paint and Nell watched as the words appeared on the paper in cursive writing: Vian Stanley Stirling.
Ruth’s surname was Stanley. Vian’s father’s surname was Stirling. At some point during the last five years, Ruth had decided that Vian should have both.
‘What are you two up to in here?’ her dad interrupted from the door. ‘Gosh,’ he said as he spied Vian’s picture. ‘That’s a whole lot of green.’
‘It’s the colour of wheat,’ Nell told him.
Geoff frowned. ‘Wheat is yellow.’
‘No.’ Nell shook her head and gathered up the bundle she’d picked earlier. ‘Not at this time of year. Can we trim the edges so it’s all completely green?’ she asked Vian.
He nodded.
Geoff ruffled Vian’s hair fondly. ‘Want me to do that with a Stanley knife so it’s dead straight?’
‘Okay,’ Vian agreed. ‘Can you do it now?’
Ruth came home as they were finishing up.
‘Vian’s painted the colour of wheat!’ Nell parroted.
But Ruth did not look at all happy.
‘Oh, Vian, you’ve used up all my cerulean!’ she exclaimed with dismay, coming forward to inspect the paint tubes. ‘I needed that to finish my piece.’
Vian’s face fell.
‘We can get more,’ Geoff butted in softly.
‘How? When?’ Ruth demanded to know. ‘You’re out at work tomorrow and we’re at the beach – when am I going to get to Falmouth to buy more paint?’ They only had the one car between them. ‘And you’ve used up all the milk so I can’t make macaroni cheese.’
‘I’ll go to the shop right now,’ Geoff said calmly, trying to appease her.
‘It’s Sunday! The shop is closed!’ she snapped. ‘Forget it. I’ll walk up the road and ask Linzie if I can borrow some.’
‘I’ll go.’
‘No, I need the fresh air and exercise. I’ve been stuck in a car for over two hours. The traffic has been hell.’ She stormed out the door in a huff.
Geoff gave the children a small smile, but Vian still looked upset as he tidied up.
‘It’s all right, son,’ Geoff said kindly. ‘I don’t think Mum’s meeting went well, judging by her mood. We’ll cheer her up at dinner.’
Ruth was ages getting milk and Nell’s tummy started to rumble. Vian was upstairs, sulking, but she hung around the kitchen, picking at the grated cheese that her father had prepared in anticipation of dinner. Geoff’s glances at the clock were becoming more and more frequent.
‘Where is she?’ he muttered eventually. ‘I know Linzie can talk, but this is ridiculous! Maybe I should call her,’ he decided out loud, heading into the hall to look up the number for the farm.
‘Oh, hello, Steven, it’s Geoff,’ Nell heard him say. ‘Yes, very well, thank you. Yourself?’ There was a pause. ‘I’m after Ruth, actually. The children are getting a bit peckish, so I thought I’d better give her a nudge.’ Another pause. ‘Oh. She was coming up your way to ask if she could borrow some milk.’ He sounded confused. ‘Oh,’ he said again. ‘Yes, if you could. That’s a little worrying. Actually, I might get in the car and—’
The sound of a siren wailing stopped Geoff short. Nell peeked into the hall in time to see her father yank open the front door and run out. The phone, still hanging from its cord, bashed against the wall and she could hear a tinny voice coming from the receiver.
‘Geoff? Geoff?’
Nell joined her dad in time to see the blue-and-red flashing lights of an ambulance coming down the hill from the direction of the village. The sirens screamed and she pressed her hands to her ears as the vehicle passed right by the cottage and headed up the road, towards the farm. Geoff stared after it and Nell felt her stomach go cold.
‘Stay indoors,’ her dad told her in a shaky voice, hurrying past her to retrieve the car keys from the hall, his face pale. ‘Stay with Vian. I’ll be back soon.’
Nell watched with fear as he ran to the car and got in, tearing off after the ambulance.
The phone was still hanging off its hook when she returned inside, and she could hear a long, dull beep coming from the receiver. In a daze, she picked it up and put it back in its cradle, then walked through to the living room. She looked at the stairs, but didn’t want to climb them.
A moment later, their bedroom door opened and Vian’s footsteps could be heard.
‘Where’s my mum?’ he asked when he saw Nell.
Nell looked up at him and shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
He sighed. ‘I’m starving.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be back soon,’ Nell said, but her voice sounded funny.
Vian jumped down the last three steps, landing with a thud at the bottom. He wandered through to the kitchen. Nell followed, her insides prickly with dread.
‘Where’s your dad?’ he asked, looking around with a frown.
‘He heard an ambulance,’ Nell whispered.
Vian shot her a sharp look. Then all at once it dawned on him.
‘Vian, wait!’ Nell cried. ‘Dad said to stay here!’
But Vian was already pulling on his trainers.
‘Please,’ Nell begged. ‘Don’t leave me here alone.’ It was the only thing she could think to say to stop him.
‘Come with me,’ he urged, passing over her shoes.
She could tell by the look of determination on his face that she wouldn’t be able to stop him.
But she would soon wish with all of her heart that she had tried harder.