Joel’s still here as I stumble out of the lake. He’s sitting on the ground, looking lost.
‘Gave up on the swimming idea, huh?’ he asks.
I don’t answer because I’m concentrating on getting the water out of my ears: it buys me a moment to take in what’s just happened. I glance at my wet clothes and think I should be wearing a cap and costume because Nellie wouldn’t be impressed. I still feel Lena’s hand holding mine, and can hear Nate calling out ‘old thing!’ in his funny posh voice. So the fact it’s Joel talking to me, and I’m Polly again, takes a minute to get used to. The door handle is in my pocket: from the feel of it, it’s closed. The time travel, I’m understanding now, happens at two in the morning because that’s when the village had to be emptied, and 165when Nate’s Channel swim was due to start.
An ending and a beginning.
‘You had something to tell me, Joel,’ I remember. ‘About why you’ve been miserable.’
‘So I did.’
‘It’s not about Mum, is it? Her being ill?’
‘What?’ He looks momentarily puzzled. ‘No, not that.’
I’m relieved.
‘That night we went to the beach, Pol,’ he begins.
My stomach drops. This again.
‘I wasn’t just going swimming,’ he says. ‘Afterwards, I was planning on getting the early morning train to London.’
‘London?’ But he doesn’t know anyone in London. ‘What for?’
‘To get away from Brighton. To go to college.’
I’m confused. ‘Hang on. You were leaving us? Leaving home?’
He half shrugs, half nods. ‘There’s a college in London I want to try out.’
I feel slightly dizzy. I’ve never heard about any college. Never heard Mum and Dad speaking about it. Anyway, Joel’s only fifteen. And who leaves for a college course in the middle of the night? 166
‘I don’t get it,’ I say.
Joel leans back on his hands. ‘I don’t want to go to school any more, Pol.’
‘Well, you definitely can’t leave home!’ I say, on the brink of tears.
‘I’m still here, aren’t I?’
But in my mind’s eye I see him climbing over our balcony. As well as the towel, he was carrying a bag – an overnight bag. The same one he said was already packed when we were getting ready to come here. I’m in pieces.
‘You’re not going to try it again, are you? Tell me you’re not!’ I beg. Though why wouldn’t he run away when everything’s been awful since the clip got posted.
There’s a horribly long pause.
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ Joel admits.
‘Arrrgghhh!’ I scream. This is all so rubbish and stupid and wrong. At least in Syndercombe, Nate ran away back to his family. ‘You can’t just leave Mum and Dad, or me!’
‘You’re forgetting someone. The person who has to put up with the snide comments, being made to feel like nothing.’ He points to himself. ‘Me.’
I actually can’t think what to say.
Joel gets to his feet. ‘Come on. It’s easier to talk when you’re walking.’
We make our way across the lake bed, back towards 167Jessie’s, and sure enough, it seems to loosen Joel’s tongue.
‘If you had a special talent,’ he begins, ‘and it was important to you – I’m talking serious, fire-in-the-belly, can’t-live-without-it important – what would you do?’
‘As you know, I’m pretty average at most things,’ I admit, though I’m not sure how underwater time travelling fits into this. With Nellie, her talent’s obviously swimming. But Nate’s good at all sorts: cooking eggs, swimming, knowing the right thing to say to our new downstairs neighbour, getting decent grades.
‘Go on, then,’ I say. ‘What’s your “fire-in-the- belly” talent?’
‘Dance.’
I glance at him in case he’s joking. But his face is serious, unsmiling.
‘What, like tap, ballet, ballroom—’ I can’t think of any more types, though I do remember going to dance classes with Joel when we were little, and him being so much better at it than me. I’d no idea he still did dance: I suppose it must be at school.
‘All of it,’ he says.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
‘Oh … I mean … wow, that’s pretty amazing.’ 168
‘Go on, say it – it’s not exactly a useful talent.’
‘Don’t put words into my mouth! I just didn’t know you were into dance, that’s all.’
He stuffs his hands into his pockets. ‘Well, I am, all right?’
It occurs to me that this is what he’s been up to in his room all summer, headphones on, counting beats, jumping about until Miss Gee complains and tell us we have feet like Clydesdale horses – like Perry and Sage, I think.
‘So this college in London—’ I begin.
‘Is a specialist dance school,’ he finishes. ‘And it costs money.’
‘Which Mum and Dad don’t have,’ I say, following. ‘But Joel – you haven’t got money, either.’
‘No, but there’s this scholarship I can get next year—’
‘Next year?’
‘So this year I’d have to get a job or something.’
I pull a baffled face.
‘I know it’s a stupid idea! Thanks for pointing that out!’ Joel cries in frustration. ‘But I’m not going back to that school, Pol. No. Way.’
He means it.
So did Nate, who was so desperate he took on a swimming challenge that was way beyond him. Luckily 169he had Nellie and Lena wanting to help. There must be some way I can make things better for Joel.
‘What can I do?’ I ask. ‘Anything. Tell me.’
Joel gives a miserable half shrug. ‘Just keep it to yourself, all right? I’m trusting you with this one.’
We walk on, the quiet tense between us. I feel sick and panicky. Really, I should warn Mum and Dad that he’s refusing to go back to school next week, but if I do I’m letting Joel down.
It’s then I remember: Joel knew who was on the pier that night, didn’t he? Or at least, he had an idea. This wasn’t really about my terrible swimming; it never was. It’s about my brother being good at something, and someone else not liking it. That someone, I wouldn’t mind betting, is the same person whose name he couldn’t give the teachers, who’s been bullying him all this time at school.
*
When I open my eyes the next morning, the light is different. For the first time in ages the sun isn’t shining. It’s already too hot to breathe. In the kitchen, I’m relieved to see Joel at the breakfast table. He’s still here, I think. Except it’s not that straightforward, is it? My brother’s 170got big dreams, and if there’s one thing Nellie’s taught me it’s that he’s right to want to go after them. Even if it is complicated.
‘The forecast says it’s going to thunder,’ says Jessie.
‘And rain?’ I ask.
‘Fingers crossed.’
‘Petrichor,’ Joel mumbles into his cereal, before lifting his bowl to drink the sludge at the bottom. ‘It’s that smell you get when it’s been dry for ages and then it rains.’
‘Is that right, Einstein?’ Jessie gets up and ruffles his hair, which he normally hates.
This morning he doesn’t duck away from her hand, which makes me hope he’s feeling better now he’s told me what’s been happening, and think that maybe I should, in the spirit of trading secrets, tell him about Syndercombe. Perhaps it might help him to hear about Nate, and know that you don’t have to put up with bullies, that the best people are the ones on your side. The jazzy ringtone on Jessie’s device interrupts my thinking.
‘Hi, Liz,’ she says. It’s a video call from Mum. ‘Wait a sec … you’re in hospital?’
I leap up, rush to Jessie’s side. Joel does the same, and the three of us crowd around the screen. Last time we saw Mum she was heading back to bed: it’s a bit of a jump 171to now be seeing her in a hospital gown with a drip in the back of her hand.
‘What’s happened?’ I cry.
‘Is it heatstroke?’ Joel asks.
‘Are you really, seriously ill?’ I’m suddenly thinking of Nellie’s mother. ‘Because if you’re going to die then could you please at least warn us so we can try to be ready.’
‘Pol, love, I got dehydrated, that’s all. I was never this sick with you two, and I wasn’t going to tell you yet, until we were sure everything was okay. But …’ Mum falters. ‘… I’m pregnant.’
Jessie stiffens. ‘Oh, Liz, you’re not!’
It’s only now I begin to take this in. Mum doesn’t look especially ill. In fact she’s smiling, in a slightly embarrassed way. Dad’s there with her, and has the same expression on his face.
‘I know what I said about having babies, Jessie,’ Mum admits. ‘We didn’t plan for it to happen.’
She lays her hand – the one that’s all taped up with the needle in it – on her tummy. Despite the rest of her being very slim, her tummy is round and tight … and totally, utterly, surprisingly HUGE. I can’t believe I’d not noticed it before. I’m in shock. I’m laughing too because this is amazing. I’ve always wanted a little 172brother or sister, but it never occurred to me our family might get bigger.
I stare at Mum’s belly. ‘So there’s really a baby in there?’
Joel rolls his eyes at me. My parents laugh. It’s only Jessie who doesn’t seem delighted at the news.
‘Here.’ She hands me the device. ‘I’ve got to get ready for work, sorry.’
Once she’s out of the room, Mum holds a blurry, black-and-white scan picture up to the screen. I’m trying to focus and hold the device steady. It’s a heck of a lot to get my head round.
‘She’s got your dad’s knobbly knees,’ Mum says.
‘She?’ Joel groans. ‘Not another sister?’
Joel and I pore over the photo. We can clearly see her skull, her nose and lips, her legs bunched against her chest. Mixed in with the surprise of all this, I’m over the moon.
‘Hope she hasn’t got your curly mop, poor kid,’ Joel says, laughing.
For once I don’t mind the mention of my hair. All I think is: I’ve got a sister! Wow!
‘Yeah, well, yours is the same, curly-wurly,’ I remind him.
The call ends soon after that, and Joel and I sit down, stunned. Jessie reappears, hair pinned up ready for work, 173her nurse ID swinging from her neck. She looks upset, I think, red cheeked and angry, and thumps about the kitchen, filling her water bottle and choosing fruit from the bowl.
‘It’s irresponsible, that’s what it is,’ she says, obviously meaning the new baby. ‘Liz has already got you two, which should be enough, shouldn’t it?’
Joel shrugs, embarrassed. He takes his bowl to the sink, washes it and goes outside. I’m left facing my aunt alone, already knowing what she thinks about people bringing babies into our overheating, overcrowded world.
‘I am quite excited about having a little sister,’ I admit. ‘I know it’s another mouth to feed and—’
‘Another mouth?’ Jessie turns to me. ‘You do realise that by the time your little sister is your age these heatwaves will be happening every single summer, and it’ll probably be too hot for people to keep living on the south coast of England?’
I gulp. No, I didn’t realise, not this soon.
‘It’s going to happen, Pol, all across the world – places becoming too hot to live in, and millions of people on the move, trying to find somewhere cooler, trying to survive.’
‘You’re making it sound like what happened to Syndercombe!’ I cry. 174
Jessie throws up her arms. ‘It is like Syndercombe! That’s exactly what happens when our world gets too greedy and people want too much!’
‘But didn’t the towns need fresh water? Isn’t that why the reservoir was built?’ I argue, because most of the villagers seemed to accept this was the case, eventually.
‘Towns that, after the war, were being filled with young families having babies, do you mean?’ Jessie retorts, then sighs. ‘I’m sorry, Pol, but babies aren’t just cute and squishy. They don’t make problems go away: they can cause them too.’
‘So you’re not happy for Mum?’
‘I’m not happy for the baby,’ she replies. ‘Climate situation aside, your sister is going to be growing up in a tiny flat in Brighton with stressed-out parents who are trying to save their business. It’s not exactly good timing, is it?’
Maybe not. But that’s not my sister’s fault, and I’m going to do all I can to make sure she feels welcomed into the world, and totally and utterly loved.
*
I go and find Joel in the garden. He, at least, seems happy at our baby sister news. 175
‘It’s a good reason to stick around,’ I remind him. ‘She’ll need her big brother, Joel.’
Just like that his face closes, tight as a fist.
‘Give it a rest, Pol, will you?’ he says.
I go back inside. It’s too hot to argue.
To turn down the noise in my head, I try doing my homework. It’s hard to believe we’ll be back at school in a few days, and since I have all my lessons with Sasha, I can’t help wondering what that’s going to be like if we’re still not speaking. Not as bad as what Joel’s going through, sure, but I’m not exactly looking forward to it.
I stare at the homework task:
Question 1: Looking back on your life, what have you achieved that you’re proud of?
Question 2: Is there something in your life that you regret or that you’d change?
Mary, I think, would be perfect for this task. It’s so frustrating not being able to ask her. In my head I put the questions to Nellie instead: being a brilliant swimmer she’d say for question one, I reckon, and having to leave Syndercombe, for question two. I still don’t know if she ever did swim the Channel, or what happened after Syndercombe, or who was leaving the yellow roses.
Nor do I really know why all this is happening to me.
Sure, Nellie had great friends and an incredible talent 176for swimming, and Nate – wealthy, privileged Nate – ran away from school because people there made fun of him for struggling with his literacy. If this whole strange experience is making me realise anything, it’s that anyone’s life, at any time, is going to have its tough times, even if it’s not always obvious to everyone else.
I think about Sasha, who lives with her sister, mum and dad in a nice house, in a nice part of town. When’s life ever been tough for her? Or maybe it has, and I’ve just not noticed. Perhaps that’s what she meant when she said it wasn’t all about me, and why she’s disappeared online. I don’t know.
Yet I do know, quite clearly, that if we, as people, don’t look after each other and our animals and our countryside, then what else do we have? What else matters?
My mind flips back to my baby sister – already, I love her fiercely.
Two in the morning: a beginning and an ending.
Perhaps the baby is our family’s new beginning. And if it is, then how does all this end? First, I need to know what happens to Nellie.
*
177Just before two o’clock, when the house is asleep, I go down to the lake. It’s darker tonight, the sky heavy, the moon hazy behind the clouds. Thankfully, at the water’s edge there’s no Joel this time, and I swim out to the deepest part, my stroke feeling surprisingly steady and strong. When my feet find the church roof, it almost feels warm, as if the sun has been shining on it. In my pocket, the door handle turns.