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The young workman lets fly with an expletive, blushes and barks, “You can’t go in there!” Then he breaks the news into his phone.
Within minutes we’re surrounded by personnel of all services. Hudson and Gracie arrive, but he holds her back while I keep up a long-distance exchange with their daughter.
“I can hear you, Selkie,” I call. “I’ve never met another girl with the same name as me. But there are animals called selkies.”
“You talk funny, Selkie.” She knows it’s me.
“And sometimes I’m silly, remember?”
She laughs. “Not really. And I don’t mind!”
Behind me, they’re discussing in low tones where they think she is. Someone says, “Cancel the rescue dog.”
I scan the broken building about five yards away. “I can’t see you, Selkie. Can you see me?”
“Sort of, but you’re skinny.” She must be able to see a slice of me through the gap in the barricades.
“That’s good. Where are you?”
“It’s a secret.”
Gracie whimpers.
“A secret place. I love them too. Are you hiding?”
“Not really. I’m ... waiting.”
What’s she waiting for?
While two paramedics stand by, the site foreman talks to the fire chief. “Sounds like she’s in a crawlspace under the old floor. Behind a brick pier so the cameras missed her. That makes it tricky. Before we started renovating, I ordered a termite report. The building’s too far gone and we started pulling it down this morning. Only stopped after the kid went missing.”
“I’m the smallest of anyone here,” I say. And I’m as desperate not to lose this five-year-old. “I can try to go in after her and bring her out.”
“Can’t let you do that,” the foreman says. “If anyone goes in, the whole structure could collapse.”
“And if we frighten her,” the fire chief adds, “she could crawl further in.”
“She might be cuddling a glass bottle,” Gracie wails. “What if it breaks?”
The foreman says to me, “Your job is to keep her talking while we figure out a plan. Then we know she’s still OK. And we might be able to talk her out.”
Gracie starts to speak again but Hudson hisses, “She didn’t answer our calls all morning. Yes, she might have been asleep, but so far this is working so we are going to shut up.”
Someone brings me a chair. I sit down and look through the gap in the barricades but I still can’t see Sage. Keep her talking. For how long? And have I got what it takes? One of Andrew’s jibes sounds in my head: ‘You’ve never grown up. It makes you flaky’. Then Derek passes me a bottle of water and gives me the thumbs up. He knows I can do it.
And Sage is going to help me. “What kind of animals are selkies?” She’s paying attention.
“Special fairy tale animals,” I say. “Like unicorns. Do you like unicorns?”
“Not as much as rabbits.”
Shit. Where to go with this? I’m standing on a precipice: better not be the first to mention Roxie. “I like rabbits too. And you’re good with names, Selkie. If you get a new rabbit what will you call her?”
“Pebbles.”
“That’s a fun name.”
“Pebbles was Roxie’s old rabbit,” she says. “Roxie likes pebbles and rocks. Now she’s got Noodles. Noodles is a magic rabbit.”
“Selkies are magic too. They’re seals that swim in the sea but they have special powers. Have you seen a seal at the aquarium?”
I sense the Coopers nodding. Hudson squeezes my shoulder.
“They did tricks!” She tells me about the ball games and how people clapped.
“Seals like to play,” I say. “And selkies are a very special kind of seal. They can ... turn into people!”
“How?”
“How do you think?” I ask.
“Do they keep something magic in a bottle?”
“Ooh I like the sound of that. What kind of magic would that be?”
“It’s a secret.”
“OK, don’t tell me if it’s a secret.” Secrets were special when I was five. I hope my respect builds trust.
There’s movement behind me and I overhear the words: ‘rock fall on the trail’. Before I can panic: ‘everyone’s OK’. My body is drenched in sweat, but I shiver. Is that the trail I stopped Derek from going down?
“How do selkies turn into people?” Sage asks. “Do they do somersaults?”
I laugh. “That would be a quick way, wouldn’t it? Flip over and you’re a person, and flip back into a seal. The selkies do it a little differently. Would you like to hear the story, Selkie?”
“OK.” She pauses. “No-one says my Selkie name, except you!”
Is that why she ran away?
“People might not know how to say it,” I say. “Sometimes they get mixed up if a name’s hard to say.”
“That’s not why. They like my old name.”
“The name that makes food taste delicious?”
“Yeah, it’s a herb like Rosemary. Sage is an OK name but ... I. Changed. It!” Something she’s proud of.
“Why did Rosemary change hers?” I ask.
“I told you she likes rocks, so she changed her name to Roxie.”
Sage knows Rosemary was Roxie. How? She’s been playing with rocks for the pond. Any chance it’s just imagination and wild coincidence? There’s that chill again.
Over my shoulder, Derek whispers. “Rhett Akina sent me a text. I told him where Sage is hiding. He’s coming over.”
In murmured tones, the foreman confirms this to the huddled group. “Rhett Akina – the engineering and building expert around here – is on his way. He knows this pool house. He’s just told me he quoted to restore this place when the developer first bought it. He’s the best person to give advice on the rescue.” To me, he whispers, “Keep her talking.”
Lolana bends over and whispers, “You’re doing fine, big Selkie.”
To Sage I say, “Selkie, I’m going to tell you the fairy tale about the selkies.” A sanitised version.
“I want them to do somersaults!” she shouts.
Behind me I hear suppressed chuckles but Gracie starts to weep.
“Well, sometimes stories surprise us. I’ll bet you like surprises. Let’s see what happens in this story.” I take a gulp of water and begin. “Once upon a time in a cold place far away, there was a family of special seals called selkies. Even though the water was icy, they swam in the sea every day and caught fish to eat. But every full moon, something magic happened.”
“What?”
“In the middle of the night when the moon was brightest, all the selkies swam to the beach. Then as if by magic, they peeled off their sealskins, just like we peel a banana –”
“I don’t like bananas.”
“– just like we unzip a onesie – and inside their skins, the selkies had legs and arms and bodies and heads just like people. Up the beach they went, running on their human legs –”
“When did they do somersaults?”
“– and doing the most amazing somersaults –”
“But they didn’t get dizzy because they’re magic.”
“– and under the silver light of the moon, they danced the night away.”
“I can do ballet,” she says.
“Perfect. All girls called Selkie have special dancing powers. I’m wearing my ballet flats today. When you come out of your secret place, let’s try out our powers. You can show me how to do somersaults.”
“OK. What happened to their onesies? Did they fold them up neatly?”
“I hope so. I know that when the rooster said cock-a-doodle-do to tell them it was almost morning, the selkies raced down the beach and zipped themselves into their onesie sealskins so they could dive back into the sea.”
“How did they know which skin to put on and not get mixed up? Were their names written on them?”
Like Roxie’s pearl bracelet? Is that how she discovered Roxie’s name? She’s not channelling a ghost, she’s found the bracelet with the silver name plate. In the pool house, where she found the sign? But would Audrey Davis have left Rosemary’s bracelet here?
“The selkies have their names engraved on their sealskins,” – I choose my words – “just like we have our name on a bracelet.”
When Sage goes quiet, Gracie whispers, “She doesn’t have a bracelet like that.”
Another secret?
Murmurs ripple around the gathered group and I look over my shoulder to see the weathered face of a stocky guy with silver hair who must be about seventy. The foreman is showing him the termite report. Then he introduces Rhett Akina to Gracie and Hudson.
After a quick study of the report, Rhett doesn’t need to get any closer to the building. He takes one look and says, “No-one goes in. It’s half demolished and any structural integrity that’s been holding it up is gone. The whole structure could collapse at any minute. If it goes, we’ll never get her out.” He turns towards me. “Get her to crawl out the way she went in. Hurry.”
Lolana steps in. Keeping her voice low, she speaks to me and the Coopers. “If we tell Sage to come out, there’s a danger she’ll bunker down. Then we’ll have trouble changing her mind. She didn’t come out when you were calling her and her actions have made her feel important. She trusts you, Selkie. Can you find a way for her to come out on her own terms?”
As Gracie buries her face in Hudson’s shoulder, my whole body shudders with the enormity of the task.
Just as I’m about to ask for ideas from the group, a text arrives from Wanda. Hey, ili ili means pebbles. We use them like castanets in hula, one in each hand, clapping them together.
Pebbles, the name of Roxie’s rabbit. Momi knew it. A hula word.
“I’ll dance her out.” I turn to the foreman. “I need the boombox you guys listen to all day.”
*
There’s a collective tension but their actions are calm. They want to shift the barricade further back so I’m clear of the building but it might disturb Sage, so I promise the foreman to stay close to it.
While the workers are discussing suitable music, Lolana takes charge. “Everyone stays hidden.” Her voice is soft but it carries the weight of authority. “Stand back so your feet aren’t visible underneath the barricade. We don’t know what made Sage hide, but she has to come out on her own terms. Gracie and Hudson, you must stay out of sight. This is crucial. She mustn’t think she’s in trouble – or see that you’re upset. Selkie has managed to connect with her mood and Sage trusts her. You have to trust that relationship too. It’s the best chance we have to get her out in the shortest time.”
A young guy passes me the boombox and shows me the on-off switch and the volume dial. “Zorba the Greek, OK? No heavy bass. Nice and slow at the beginning, then speeds up.”
“Perfect.” I could hug him.
Derek passes me the water bottle. It’s been refilled. As I drink, an incoming text makes me look at my phone.
Calling yourself Selkie doesn’t make you special. Try another ‘s’ word for a woman who walks out on her marriage. Shellfish.
He thinks his jibes are so clever but the text doesn’t throw me. It gives me what I need.
“Selkie,” I call, “guess what I’ve found? Some special dancing music, just for selkies. When two selkies come together, they always dance. Stay in your secret place until you hear it. When the music calls you, come out the same way you went in and we’ll do somersaults!”
Slipping through the gap in the barricade, I place the boombox on the grass where I hope Sage can see it. The silence that descends upon the group brings with it the overwhelming weight of responsibility. So many lumps in throats are willing me to get this right. And then there’s my own unspoken promise to Sage.
Even though my mother named me Selkie, I don’t know how to dance. Another legacy from Andrew’s rulebook. But when Zorba’s Dance begins its slow invitation, the tension ebbs from my shoulders, the waiting crowd disappears and I begin to sway.
The music builds. My hips are just finding their rhythm when a sudden crash from the far side of the pool house sends me onto my belly. Sage screams. More of the roof is collapsing. My new prone position reveals a crawlspace that’s only visible at grass level and I catch a glimpse of her big round eyes. She’s peeping from behind a brick pier, much further underneath than we hoped. And like Noodles in the cage, she’s frozen with fear.
I have to get her out.
Now.
We lock eyes. It’s sudden and immediate. A zap of energy connecting us. It takes us back to that moment when we first met. Kindred spirits. Two five-year-olds who believe in magic, wrapped in our own bubble.
Caught up in this shared zone, this heightened imagination, I hear myself say, “It’s time to do a magic dance, a special dance for selkies. It’s called ... the selkie-slither.”
“O ... K.” Her voice wobbles, but she drops forward onto her elbows and we both ripple like caterpillars.
“This is what selkies do,” I sing to Zorba. “The selkie-slither.”
As I undulate in place, I know she’s with me. The beat increases and my hands rest on two pebbles. Banging them together, I clap her progress towards me, inch by inch, never breaking eye contact. The way out is difficult. She slithers around fallen beams, but she doesn’t falter.
“We’ll do somersaults,” I sing.
Carried along by the rhythm and the invisible thread between us, she finally reaches the edge of the building. Just as her head and shoulders emerge into daylight, the whole structure shudders and the walls start to implode. Sage struggles to her knees, the magic suddenly broken, and bursts into deafening wails.
A rescue worker races into view to be overtaken by Hudson who snatches his daughter from the falling debris. Father and child disappear back through the gap in the barricade, and the man in fluoro grabs my hand. We run, almost making it to safety, but something hits the back of my head – and I’m eating grass once more.
*
Hands touch my body. Gentle. Firm. Rolling me onto my side, bringing my knee up. Pressure on the back of my head. And there’s the grass again.
“Good news. Her eyes are open.” Male voice. “Hello Selkie, you’ve saved little Sage and taken a cut on the head for your trouble, like a true hero. You weren’t knocked out and it’s looking like a scratch, but we’re just checking you’re OK.”
“Peb-bles,” I say.
“You’re still holding them. Let them go, if you want.” Fingers at my throat. “Pulse good. Now Selkie, I’m just going to put this brace around your neck. You’re fine. It’s for safety while we lift you onto this stretcher.” More hands. “One, two, three, lift.”
Up and floating on a bumpy ocean, then down onto a flat surface.
“And another lift, Selkie. The stretcher this time.” To the others: “One, two, three, lift. Take her to the lanai around to the right. There’s a daybed. The woman in the white capris is Dr Kelekolio. She’ll keep an eye on our patient till she’s ready to go home. There’s a friend with a car.”
As I glide past, he leans over. “Something to tell the grandchildren when they come out of the sea and dance.” A chorus of chuckles.
Gliding into a shady place. Lowered onto something soft.
Drifting off.
*
I can see pebbles. Little round white pebbles. Shiny. They’re peeping out of the grass in the shape of a circle. Has someone dropped a bracelet? I must pick it up but I’m trapped inside a sealskin and my arms won’t work. There’s a name plate. Why can’t I read it? The silver is tarnished. It must be old. Like me.