5

Despite what Jem thought afterwards, I’d not done it on purpose. When I started paying attention to where we were, the wind and tide had already nudged us into deeper water. The sea beneath us no longer looked green: it was a dark inky-blue. All I felt of the shore-bound waves was a little lift, then a dip. It was as peaceful and gentle as a lullaby. Had it been just me, I’d have stayed out here forever, but Jem was sitting opposite me, sweating.

‘You promised to only go waist-deep,’ he muttered.

‘Don’t fret. We’re only a little way off course.’

‘Yes, with one oar and a leaky boat.’

I thought Jem was overreacting, rather, and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to stop being so lily-livered. But when I saw just how far from the shore we were, I grew uneasy myself. The beach had shrunk to a narrow sandy strip, the hill of common land beyond a green blur, dotted with cows. We’d come a decent sixty yards or more into open sea. Away from the shelter of the cove, the wind was picking up, pushing us further out.

‘Right,’ I said briskly. ‘Let go of the sides. I need you to help.’

Thrusting the oar at him, I leaned over the opposite side of the boat, using my hands to scull the water. A few minutes of it and my arms burned with the effort. Then we swapped over – Jem using his hands, me with the oar. It was exhausting, and Jem wouldn’t lean out far, but it seemed to work. We made slow, faltering progress back towards land.

By the time we reached the breakers, Jem already had one leg out of the boat. He jumped down into the shallows, before turning on me.

‘You promised we’d not go too far!’ he cried, his fear turning to temper. ‘What on earth were you thinking, when we can barely swim!’

‘But we made it back, brother, so calm yourself,’ I replied, grinning. ‘We rowed a boat! You and me! We did it, together!’

He shook his head. ‘You’re reckless, you are! You never think things through. You just do them and expect me to follow on behind.’

That pulled me up short.

‘I thought you liked us doing things together,’ I replied. ‘I thought going out in the boat would be fun.’

‘If we’d stuck to the shallow water, maybe. But we could’ve drowned!’

‘It’ll be better next time with two oars, honest it will,’ I tried to convince him.

Jem scrunched up his shirt hem, wringing the water from it. ‘There won’t be a next time! I’m not going anywhere in a boat with you again, so don’t—’ He stopped, mid-rant, staring towards the top of the beach. ‘Who’s that? Up there, look!’

A figure was standing at the place where the river ran across the rocks before soaking into the sand. My first thought was: Mother! Her warning about making trouble was still fresh in my ears.

It wasn’t her.

It wasn’t a woman, even, but a round-bellied man in a black cloak that blew sideways in the wind. On his head was a tall dark hat. The last time I’d seen a man dressed like that was when Old Margaret was taken.

Two children, fooling about in a home-made boat. On a Sunday. We were in big trouble.

There was no point in running when we’d been so squarely caught. Nor did my legs have an ounce of strength left in them. I felt suddenly close to tears. Yet by the time we’d dragged the boat ashore, the man had vanished.

‘We’d better go home,’ Jem said miserably.

Though we left the boat where it was, our quarrel came with us. Thankfully, Mother and Abigail were out when we arrived, so we could at least swap our clothes for dry ones before Mother’s questioning began.

‘What are you two fighting about?’ She demanded, the moment she returned.

With Jem writing at one end of the room, and me whittling wood at the other, it was clear as day we’d had cross words.

‘Ask her, she’s the fool,’ Jem snapped.

‘Well?’ Mother turned to me, hands on hips. ‘What have you done now?’

I bit my lip, on the brink of tears again. I’d wanted to do something useful for the hamlet, and for Jem and me to have fun together like we used to, that was all. But saying so would make me cry and then I’d be like Abigail, who regularly sobbed her way out of trouble.

Instead, I pushed the damp hair off my face and said, as proud as I could, ‘We made a dugout boat and took it to sea, and it almost worked.’

Jem spluttered. ‘We almost perished, more like.’

‘You got scared, that was the problem,’ I pointed out.

‘And you didn’t get scared in the slightest. You didn’t even think we might drown!’

It was true, I hadn’t. But Jem was making me feel like a halfwit and it angered me.

‘Just because I’m braver than you,’ I retorted. ‘Imagine it – a girl with more courage than the Great Leader of our hamlet!’

‘That’ll do, Fortune,’ Mother warned.

I picked up my whittling again, my hands shaking. It took a lot for me to lose my temper, but I’d truly had enough.

‘Tell Mother who saw us down on the beach – go on,’ Jem goaded. ‘Then we’ll see how brave you are.’

Mother looked between us, frowning. ‘Who saw you?’

I put down my knife. I might as well tell her: she’d only wheedle it out of me in the end.

‘A man,’ I said. ‘In a cloak, wearing a black hat. He was watching us from up on the cliff.’

Mother went very still. ‘What did I tell you about keeping out of mischief?’

I could see her panic and felt it rise up in me too. The boat, the risk we’d taken was one line we’d crossed: this went beyond it. For the man was one of those landowners and he’d seen us breaking the Sabbath.

‘I know we’re in trouble, so punish us and get it over with,’ I said.

But it was Jem Mother turned on. ‘Stop bickering with your sister and start acting like the young man you are! I demand it!’

Jem reddened. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and went out instead, slamming the door behind him.

I stayed in my seat, whittling, for the rest of the day. Yet for all the harsh words and sour tempers that thundered in my brain, I kept thinking about the boat. Jem was right: I hadn’t been scared. Out there on the sea, I’d felt as if I belonged. There would be a next time: I’d make sure of it.