The Complete Ingo Chronicles: Ingo, The Tide Knot, The Deep, The Crossing of Ingo, Stormswept. Helen Dunmore

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      “Mum, we’re going out for a bit,” Conor calls back casually through the open kitchen door. Usually Mum would shout, “OK, see you later. Stay together,” but today she comes to the door, wiping her hands on a towel and frowning.

      “But Sapphy’s not well,” she says. “Don’t you want to stay at home with me, Saph?”

      “I’m fine, Mum! I’m OK now, really,” I say as brightly as I can. Mum looks puzzled, and a bit disappointed.

      “Come here, love. Let me have a look at you.”

      Conor drifts away across the garden. I know he’ll wait for me. Mum puts her hands on my shoulders. She smells of the rose perfume she only wears on special days. Why is today a special day? Maybe she’s going to meet Roger, I think. I frown at Mum, and try to pull away from her.

      “What’s the matter? Sapphire, look at me,” says Mum, gripping me tight as if she thinks I’m going to run away.

      Slowly, I lift my head. Mum’s eyes, close up, search my face. For once, we’re really looking at each other. We’re always rushing around these days. Mum’s off to work, Conor and I are off to school or else we’re going out somewhere, or there are loads of jobs to do. Mum worries about our clothes and our schoolwork and the house and money and everything. Sometimes it feels as if she hardly sees us. All she sees are her worries about us.

      I know it’s not Mum’s fault. She’s only one person, trying to do everything that two people used to do. She’s got to earn the money and look after us and keep the house. Even though we help as much as we can, she’s always rushing.

      We don’t even have our meals together very often, because Mum’s at work nearly every evening and often in the day as well. Mum tells us where she’ll be and what time she’ll be back and what time we’ve got to be in by, and she leaves lots of notes and we have her mobile number. But it’s a different family from the one we used to have, and sometimes it’s not much like a family at all.

      We’re just three people who live in the same house, I think. We’re not a proper family any more.

      I look down, in case Mum sees the thoughts in my eyes. She’d be so upset. She’d think I’m blaming her for working all the time, and that I don’t understand that she has to earn the money, because Dad’s gone.

      If only I could tell Mum how strange the days are when she’s gone off to St Pirans to work, and I know she won’t be back until midnight. The days are long and there’s no shape to them. Mum gone, Dad gone, the house quiet. Sometimes I go down to the kitchen at night, when Conor’s gone to sleep and I can’t. If Mum was at home, she’d come up with a glass of water for me and sit on the side of my bed and say, Don’t worry, Sapphy, just relax and you’ll soon drop off. But when Mum’s not here, I can’t make myself stop worrying.

      I listen to the fridge purring. Every so often it gives a click and stops. I wait for it to start purring again and when it does I feel glad, as if the fridge is a friend – which is so completely pathetic that I could never in a million years say that thought aloud to anyone. Certainly not to Mum.

      Visitors say that where we live is like paradise. They pay a fortune to come here on holiday. They say we don’t know how lucky we are to live here all the time. This is the best summer we’ve had for years, everyone says so. It’s hot and dry and there’s sunshine day after day after day. All the verges are brown from the heat. Mum says St Pirans is jam-packed with tourists. The restaurant is full every night, that’s why she gets back so late.

      If only I could explain to Mum how empty the days are. How scared I get when Conor wants to go out without me, even if it’s only up to Jack’s for an hour. He always asks if I’ll be OK, and I always say, “I’ll be fine. I’m going to watch TV.” Mum thinks I go and see Katie, or one of my other friends, but I don’t. I feel cut off from them, because their lives are going on the same as ever, but mine has completely changed.

      It’s all right as long as Conor’s here. When he’s at Jack’s he’s not that far away. I could get on my bike and find him if I had to. But when he went away to Ingo without me I was so afraid I thought I would die.

      I won’t stay here on my own, being scared. I won’t be the one who is left behind. I’ll leave before Conor does, this time. I’ll go far away, where I won’t need any of them.

      “You’re all right, Sapphy, aren’t you? You’d tell me if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you?” Mum asks. She smoothes down my hair. “This hair’s like a tangle of seaweed. We need to brush it all out,” she says.

      “Can you do a henna wax on it, Mum?”

      “I’m sorry, Saph. There isn’t time today.”

      I love it when Mum does a henna wax on my hair. It takes a long time. She washes my hair first, and dries it a little, then she massages henna wax all over my hair, and she wraps my head in a hot towel and we sit and chat for half an hour so that the henna has time to work. The henna’s not coloured, it’s just to make your hair soft and shiny again after you’ve been swimming in the sea every day.

      “Maybe you should have your hair cut. It’d be easier to keep it in good condition if it was short.”

      “No, Mum!”

      “All right, all right. But if you want it long, you’ve got to look after it. Some of these knots are so bad they’ll need to be cut out soon. And look how long it’s getting. It’s below your waist.”

      I’m growing it.

      Mum lets my hair fall. She looks at her watch.

      “I’m sorry, Sapphy. I’ve got to—”

      You’ve got to go. I know. But I don’t say it. I want to keep the soft look on Mum’s face.

      “Will you do my hair on your day off, Mum?”

      “Mm, maybe Sapphy, we’ll have to see—”

      I forgot. On Mum’s day off, on Sunday, Roger is coming. Maybe that’s why Mum’s got to go now. Maybe she’s meeting Roger before work, and that’s why she’s wearing the rose perfume.

      “Conor’s waiting for me, Mum. Got to go,” I say, pulling away from her. But again, she holds me tight. She strokes her hand over my rough, tangly hair again.

      “Your hair,” she says, “I really ought to do it,” and she glances again at her watch. “Come on, Sapphy, we’ve just got time.”

      But I don’t want Mum doing my hair in a big rush, glancing at her watch. I like it when we’ve got loads of time, and we sit and chat. Henna hair waxes are one of the best things I do with Mum, just the two of us.

      But not now, not while she’s really wanting to be in St Pirans, with Roger. I draw myself out of Mum’s grasp.

      “We’ll do it another time, when you’re not so busy,” I say. For some reason Mum’s eyes go shiny, as if she’s about to cry. I’m so alarmed by this that I gabble, “Got to go, Mum, see you later, have a good day,” and turn and run across the garden, so that for once it’s Mum who is left standing at the door, watching me go.

      “You didn’t tell her anything, did you?” asks Conor.

      “No.”

      “Make sure you don’t, Saph. Mum’s got