Nain and John, bearing towels, found them just as the lifeboat turned into the bay. Dad and Zosia joined the group once the boat was set to rights, and Gruff began to feel as flat as a pancake from all the hugging.
‘It was the strangest thing,’ Zosia said, ‘but there was a seal out there, believe it or not. What it was doing, swimming so close to the boats in that storm, I don’t know. I think it was our lucky seal. Every time I saw it, it was as though the waves got calmer.’
Gruff caught Mat’s eye.
‘Matylda,’ Zosia gasped, properly registering the state of her towel-wrapped daughter for the first time. ‘You’re soaked! You weren’t outside in that storm? And … are you wearing a wetsuit?’
‘Um,’ Mat said.
‘Now’s the time, Matty,’ John smiled. ‘I think we might need to know all.’
Gruff left Mat to it and pulled Dad and Nain on ahead as they began the walk back to the farmhouse. ‘What was that all about?’ Dad asked. He looked sideways at Gruff. ‘And I’m really hoping you’re not wearing your wetsuit because you went in the sea.’
‘Er…’
‘All right, Gruffydd ap Owain,’ Nain said sternly. ‘Out with it.’
So Gruff came out with it.
*
Everyone mucked in for the Great Clean-Up. Furniture was dragged out of the fishermen’s cottages and cleaned and treated to rescue it from the salt water; walls were repaired, roofs re-tiled, chimneys rebuilt. Two builders travelled over from the mainland for the trickier bits, paid for by the disaster fund that everyone on the island contributed to in case of times like this. Protected by cliffs, the town side of the island had fared much better. Although all the boats in the harbour needed bailing out and the pub’s sign was blown down, the inhabitants (apart from those on the lifeboat crew) had not realised just how ferocious the storm had been.
The weaker lambs had to be helped to eat until they were strong enough to stand. Three of the adult sheep – Frank, Greta and Hetty – came down with pneumonia. Dad went to the vets on the mainland and bought antibiotics, which had to be administered every day. Gruff also administered crusts of bread. Frank, Greta and Hetty decided they liked him a lot.
Two bags of fleece in the wool barn had been drenched when a window blew in. Gruff discovered this soon after the storm and unpacked the bags, letting the fleeces dry out before they rotted like the bags of Gotland fleeces had the winter before. Roof tiles were down, three of the solar panels were beyond repair and the barn door needed fixing. The dry stone wall that the seventh Sleeper had ploughed through had to be rebuilt. The farm’s share of the disaster fund helped them with some of the things, but did not stretch to all of it. And every day spent helping out at the fishermen’s cottages was a day that the wool barn stood empty and the fleece preparation stood still – but then, Gruff found himself thinking, without customers the fleece might as well remain untouched.
He knew that the farm was hanging on by a thread, and he could see Dad and Nain knew it too. They did not talk about it. They helped with the Great Clean-Up and enjoyed what time they had left.
On the fifth morning after the storm, Mat found Gruff waterproofing Iolo’s windowsill and thrust a piece of paper into his hand.
Gruff stared blankly at it. It looked like a draft copy of a poster or a leaflet. There were no pictures, but blank squares had things like ‘History of the farm’ and ‘Order form’ written inside them. ‘What is it?’ Gruff asked, putting his paintbrush down.
‘It’s a website.’ Mat was fizzing with excitement. ‘Mama and John do online marketing, right?’
‘Er … okay.’ Gruff didn’t really know what Zosia and John did. He just knew that computer programming was involved.
‘This storm,’ Mat said, ‘is the best thing that could have happened to you.’
Gruff snorted.
‘No, really.’ Mat pointed to a box that said ‘Storm Dylan’. ‘It’s perfect! You have an angle.’
Gruff made a face. ‘An angle?’
‘Mama and John are always looking for the ‘angle’ in stuff, and I knew you were really worried about the farm, and I just thought…’ She began to trail off, sounding more unsure. ‘I mean, it seemed like a good idea. I thought of it yesterday, when I was helping Rosie rebuild her chimney … and it’s just, well … if you get your story out there, people will notice you and might want to buy from you. The storm’s a good story. And so’s the fact you farm on an island, and you try really hard to be carbon neutral. I talked to Mama and John, and they’re happy to help you create a website, and social media accounts.’
Gruff shook his head, feeling suddenly hot and embarrassed. He gave Mat the website draft and picked up his paintbrush, turning back to the windowsill. ‘We can’t pay for that. Sorry.’
‘But you don’t need to pay for it.’
Gruff paused with his paintbrush dipped in the waterproofing paint. ‘What?’
‘Mama and John know everything,’ Mat said. ‘Not just about me being a morgen; they know what happened at the jetty, too.’ She fiddled with one of her plaits and her voice grew quieter. ‘I nearly swam away and forgot about everyone I love. But you stopped me.’
Gruff didn’t like to think about what had happened at the jetty. The memory of those terrible moments after Mat had stopped breathing through her gills and before she had begun to breathe through her mouth and nose leapt out at him whenever he had a moment alone.
Mat saw the look on his face. ‘Stop worrying,’ she said. They had already had many conversations about what had happened that day – and what might have happened. ‘I was the one who made the choice that meant my gills closed up. But you reminded me I had a choice. You saved me.’ She shrugged and smiled. ‘I told Mama and John about that, and now they think you can do no wrong. Anyway, they liked you and your family before any of this happened. They don’t want you to lose the farm.’ She grinned and waved the website draft under his nose. ‘So. What do you think?’
Gruff felt a smile tugging at his mouth, and he gave in to a flicker of hope. ‘I think we’re really lucky you came to live here.’
Mat laughed. ‘I think so too!’