When we arrived at the crossing the tide was so far out that we could see nothing but miles of damp sand. Aikenhead itself was invisible behind solid grey mist.
“Watch your footing, girlie.” The old man wearing the Gold Foundation jacket stood by the phone box, his thinning hair shifting in the breeze. “Those rocks are still wet.”
Carmen hid a grin but allowed him to hold her hand and guide her down to the crossing.
It was a kind of narrow road that was elevated above the level of the surrounding sand. A series of buoys marked the edge of it.
“Now, remember,” he said, “stick to Gold’s crossing. It’s strong enough for a ten-tonne lorry, so you’ll be fine, but it ain’t safe to leave it. Mind – an hour and a half an’ that tide comes back in. This whole area’ll be underwater and there’re strong currents and a helluva rip tide. You gotta be on Aikenhead by half two.”
“I’ll set an alarm to remind us when we’ve half an hour left.” Will revealed the smartwatch Mum had bought him before we left. I had Grandad’s old army watch, which worked fine.
“Ain’t gonna be none of that there Wi-Fi on Aikenhead, young man. None of yer Angry Birds.” The old man made air-quote with gnarled fingers, looking at Will’s wrist.
“We’ll be fine, thanks.” Lizzie said quickly. “Will, don’t rely on the alarm. Keep a close eye on the time for us too, please.” She turned back to the old man. “Are we the final group to arrive?”
“Aye. The last team left an hour ago. You’d better get moving. Don’t forget those currents.”
“We won’t. See you in a few days. Thanks for the help.” Carmen waved and she and Lizzie set off.
Will and Grady followed close behind.
After a couple of hundred metres, I looked back. The fog was sliding over the town and the red phone box had already vanished.
“So the crossing is only raised every three days?” I stamped and my boots made a hollow sound. Although there was a thick layer of sand beneath our feet, the road was solid.
Lizzie shrugged. “Guess he doesn’t want uninvited guests on his private island.”
“But why every three days?” Grady mused.
“I expect that’s when he has deliveries,” Will said. “The airstrip isn’t open the whole time either.”
“He doesn’t live on the island, Will.” Grady frowned. “He has houses all over the world.”
“Well, someone must be there.” Carmen shook her hair into the wind. “Why have a private island if no one’s going to be there?”
Buoys appeared just ahead of us one by one as we hiked through the haze. Invisible gulls cried overhead and the far distant trombone of whale song made us freeze and listen with our hearts in our mouths.
Finally, a shaft of sunlight cleared the mist and Aikenhead shimmered into reality. Its slate cliffs were thick with pale-coloured birds and, for the first time, we could see the strip of beach at the other side of the crossing.
“So, what will you all do with the prize money?” Lizzie asked.
“You know what I’ll do.” Carmen strode round a rock that had been deposited on the crossing. “Put myself through vet school, set up my own practice.” Her eyes went dreamy. “Specialize in horses.”
“What about you, Will?” Lizzie tilted her head. “What’ll you do?”
“Start my own business.” He adjusted his rucksack. “App design, consultancy, something like that.”
Lizzie dropped back to walk beside me. “What about you, Ben?”
My eyes slid away. “Haven’t thought about it.”
“Liar.” Lizzie nudged me. “You must have.”
I shook my head. “What are your plans?”
“Pay off my parents’ mortgage and cover my uni fees so Dad can retire. Buy a house. Come on, Ben, you must have a wish list.”
“I’d invest the money,” Grady called. “Eventually I’ll be able to … uncover some real truths.” Grady’s breath got shorter as he spoke. “Then I’d set up my … magazine. I’ve figured it all … out. It’s gonna be called … The Con: Conspiracies You Can Believe.”
I stared. “What’ve you got in that bag, Grady? It must weigh a ton!” He wasn’t that unfit, so I couldn’t see why else he’d be struggling.
“Oh … you know me.” Grady waved his hand.
“But we agreed what we were all bringing.” Light glinted from Lizzie’s glasses and nose ring. “We wrote a list.”
“I didn’t want to … forget something … important.” Grady ducked his head and shifted his bag, which clanked like an old car.
I shook my head and looked at Lizzie. She shrugged and we walked on.
“I’d give my money to Will, for his business,” I said finally, my voice so low only she could hear. “He’s the brains of the operation, after all. I’m just the brawn.”
“You’re not just the brawn.” Lizzie frowned. “Since when have you started saying that?”
“I am though. Come on, Will’s not even seventeen and he’s going to uni.”
“So are you. You’re doing engineering!”
I cleared my throat. “I … I turned the place down. Mum wants me to get a job in Oxford – to keep an eye on Will.”
Lizzie stumbled to a halt. “But … what about our plans? We were going to be close. Oxford’s nowhere near Swansea!”
I flushed. “I can still come and see you. Look, it’ll be fine. I’ve found a place offering apprenticeships for mechanics, so I’ll be earning right away.”
“But … that’s not what you wanted. What about being able to work all over the world? You were going to build better buildings, disaster-proof schools—”
“Lizzie, please. This is something I’ve got to do. And Mum’s buying me a car. I’ll be able to drive us places.”
“I don’t care about that.” She looked away. “But I guess it’s your life.”
I gripped the straps of my rucksack. “Don’t be like that.”
“I never understood the hold your mum’s got on you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You don’t have to do your dad’s job for ever. Don’t you want to see who you can be when you’re not looking after your brother?”
I didn’t reply. What could I say to that?
“I’ve got the place.” I skidded into the kitchen. “Mum, I got in!”
Mum was standing at the sink, scrubbing with single-minded focus. She didn’t reply.
I got a tea towel from the drawer and began to dry the pan on the draining board, careful not to leave streaks.
Once she had removed her gloves and set them down, I said it again. “I got in.”
“In?”
“To Cardiff, to do civil engineering.” I put the tea towel into the washing machine, closed the door and buffed my prints off the handle with my sleeve.
Mum cleared her throat and straightened a placemat. “What about Will?”
“Will?” I frowned. “He already got his results. He’s going to Oxford, like you wanted.”
“Yes.” Mum wiped an invisible stain on the table.
“And I’m going to Cardiff.”
Something wasn’t right. Hadn’t I earned a smile? I sat in the chair opposite her and gnawed at my thumbnail. “You’ll be fine. You’ll love having the house to yourself – it’ll be so tidy.”
As if I ever made a mess. I knew better. I glanced at her hands, knuckles raw from endless cleaning. Her sleeves were still pushed up from the washing and I could see her scars. I looked away quickly and she tugged her blouse down over her wrists. She still hadn’t met my eyes.
She cleared her throat. “I was hoping…”
“Hoping what?”
“That you wouldn’t get in,” she said eventually, lifting her eyes to mine. “Hoping this wouldn’t be an issue.”
My cheeks went cold. “An issue?”
“You know you can’t go.” Her eyes were defiant. “You’d be too far from your brother. He needs you.”
“But … you let him apply early.”
“I’m not holding Will back,” she snapped. “Not for…”
“Not for me.” I swallowed back the threat of tears, bitter and salty. “I’m going to Cardiff.”
“I won’t pay.”
“Dad will.”
“Hah. He can’t even afford his new family. And he’s helping with Will’s—”
“I’ll get a job, then.”
“And manage uni on top of that? Be sensible.” Mum leaned forwards and caught my hand. Her fingers were hard. “You know in your heart, Ben, that you can’t leave your brother. How would you feel if something happened?” Her eyes narrowed. “You know I’d die if something happened.” Her eyes flicked, just for a moment, to the drawer that held the packets of pills: pain relief, sleeping tablets, antidepressants. “I love you, Ben, but we have to look out for your little brother. He’s your responsibility as much as mine.”
“You could move to Oxford.” I looked up but I already knew…
She gasped. “Move?”
Mum barely left the house these days: her clean bubble, where she had total control.
She shook her head. “I’ll buy you a car. Think about it. And you can be a mechanic. That’s only what you’d end up doing in the end. This way you’ll be earning money while you learn.”
Feeling a hundred years old, I took the letter out of my pocket, balled it up and added it to the recycling.
Mum smiled. “You’re a good boy, Ben. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Most boys your age wouldn’t be as responsible as you are. I did something right bringing you up. Didn’t I?”
I nodded and went to grab my skateboard from its place by the door. “I’ll be back for dinner.”
“We need you, Ben. Remember that.” Her voice rose and I looked back. Her sleeves were pulled up and her wrists turned out. See, Ben? See what happens when you drop the ball.
How could I explain things to Lizzie? How could she understand? Eventually she pulled ahead to walk with Carmen, leaving me alone.
My foot came down with a splash. Around us, pools of water had appeared, reflecting the rain-heavy sky.
“Will, is the tide coming in?” I failed to keep the worry from my voice.
“Can’t be.” Will waved his arm without looking at it. “My alarm hasn’t gone off.”
“We had … an hour and a … half,” Grady panted.
“So how long have we got left?”
Will glanced at his wrist, then frowned. “That can’t be right.”
“It still says quarter past.” His eyes widened. “Uh…”
“What’s the matter?” Lizzie turned.
“My watch is frozen.”
“Will!” Grady’s voice was a wail. “Watching the time was your job.”
“So, what time is it actually?” Lizzie snapped.
I pushed up my sleeve. Grandad’s watch was ticking reliably. I swallowed. “Will’s alarm should have gone off ten minutes ago. We’ve already had almost an hour and a half.”
“Right.” Lizzie’s expression set into lines of grim determination. “We’ll have to pick up the pace.”
Even during the short time we’d stopped to talk, the sand on top of the crossing had become wet. When I put my left foot down again, it squelched and water dampened my socks.
Lizzie and Carmen took the lead, marching swiftly. They were lighter and their rucksacks smaller, making it easier for them to walk on the wet sand.
“This is already not fun,” Carmen called.
A fat raindrop splattered my forehead and I looked up. “Perfect.” I turned to check on Grady. He was staring back at the bank of solid grey that stretched from the island we had left to the horizon. “C’mon, Grady, get a move on.”
He took a faltering step, wobbled and fell.
“Grady, are you all right?” Carmen called.
“Grady! You’re slowing us down.” I grabbed the back of his rucksack and hauled him to his feet, trying not to lose my own balance. “Why’d you have to bring all this extra stuff.”
“We might need it.”
“Dammit, Grady.” The puddles around us had started to run together, like the parts of a movie monster, forming ominously into one. On our right, the crossing was now the same level as the water. “Swap bags with me for a bit.”
Grady brightened. “Are you sure, Ben? You don’t have to.” On his cheek a long smear of wet sand looked like camouflage paint against his black skin.
I was already undoing my chest strap. “Will, give us a hand,” I shouted.
Will had kept walking, but when I called he came back and took hold of my rucksack while I helped Grady lift off his. I grunted as I twisted it into place on my shoulders and settled into the soggy straps. I could smell Grady’s sweat on the canvas. Instantly I was heavier, my feet crunching into the road.
“Thanks, Ben. That’s better.”
“We’re changing back as soon as we’re on dry land. You brought it, you carry it.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to get comfortable. “What’ve you got in here?”
“It’ll be a bit lighter on the way back,” Grady said brightly.
“You brought extra food?”
“I can’t function without sugar,” Grady said as he marched past.
“But did you have to bring a whole sweet shop?”
“Come on, Ben,” Lizzie shouted and I followed the line of her pointing arm. Ahead of us puddles were turning into pools.
“How much longer till we reach the shore?” I muttered to Will.
Will frowned. “We’ve come three-quarters of the way and it’s taken us seventy-eight minutes.”
“So how long?”
Will barely paused. “At this pace – twenty-six minutes.”
“But the tide will be in … in twelve?”
Will nodded. “The crossing will be completely underwater.”
I looked at our route towards the island; there was a shorter way on our left, and it was drier – the crossing was holding back some of the tide. I stared at the water forming between us and the beach. The other path would put us a little bit further round the coast, but at least we wouldn’t have to finish our walk underwater.
“What if we go that way?”