The Binding Read online

  He didn’t. Which meant Mum kind of had to push on.

  ‘The children will have to come with me, of course. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to look after them up here on your own.’

  He’d have to say it now, otherwise he’d be breaking up their very first family holiday together, plus he’d have to stay up here in the middle of nowhere with no-one to keep him company.

  But he still didn’t say anything.

  ‘This is your chance!’ Tressa hissed at me, trying to steer me into the kitchen. I shook my arm free.

  ‘I’m not saying it hasn’t been good,’ Mum said to Matt. ‘It’s been. . . well. . .’

  Matt found his tongue.

  ‘But the children are having a lovely time.’

  He was going to argue it!

  ‘Come on!’ Tressa said, grabbing my arm again.

  I shook her off. She shrugged and disappeared into the kitchen. We could hear Milo foraging out there and she probably wanted to stop him before he taste-tested anything else, such as, for example, the raw dirty vegetables.

  ‘The children always enjoy their summer,’ Mum said to Matt, ‘even when we don’t go anywhere.’

  I thought she was going to mention Dad. That would be a low move, to say we’d be happier at home because we could get to see him, when here we were on our first ever family holiday with Matt. Besides, Dad was totally cool with us spending the summer holidays here; we were going to spend every weekend in September together instead.

  If she mentioned Dad, what would Matt say? I couldn’t guess because I didn’t know him well enough yet.

  ‘But we’re here now,’ Matt said. ‘And everyone’s happy. . .except you.’

  Was he going to say she should make an effort, for the sake of the children if not for him? That would be his low move, suggesting she didn’t care about her children as much as herself. Dad had tried that when she got Head of Department and, believe me, it hadn’t turned out to be a good idea.

  ‘Look, I don’t want us to fall out over this,’ Mum said.

  I pretended I was Googling stuff on Mum’s laptop and not sticky-beaking their conversation, waiting for everything to kick off. I didn’t really need to pretend though—they seemed to have forgotten I was there.

  That’s how it felt before Dad left to live with Donna. He and Mum couldn’t even talk about what to have for tea without it turning into a massive row, and when they were yelling at each other they didn’t seem to notice us at all.

  That was when Nee-na got superglued into Milo’s fist, and Tressa started doing those deep-dives into books. I had A thousand super-funny jokes for kids that Uncle Max had given me for my birthday, and it wasn’t like a story, where your mind could wander, but pictures you could see straight away in your head, like the flea prowling on the hairy and the elephant eating the candle and the rabbits wearing glasses.

  What’s more, with jokes, you didn’t need the book. You could remember them, and make those pictures in your head whenever you wanted to. By the time Dad left, I knew all the thousand super-funny jokes by heart.

  Matt said, ‘Look, I get it, Dee. This isn’t your kind of holiday. But it is mine. What say we stay here now and do whatever you’d like to do next year?’

  ‘But we’ve already been here a couple of weeks, and that’s enough for a holiday.’

  Matt said he didn’t understand why Mum was in such a hurry—they had the whole summer. ‘Like you always say, it’s the one good thing about teaching.’

  What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire? That’s what I was thinking. Frostbite! Why did the traffic light turn red? You would too if you had to change in the middle of the street!

  ‘Well, I think we should be at home for at least some of the holiday because. . .’

  No, Mum—don’t!

  ‘. . .because the children are missing their days out with their father.’

  Matt looked stunned, as if she’d slapped him in the face.

  What do you call a doctor with eight arms? A doctopus! Imagine that. An octopus in a white coat, wearing a stethoscope. He could listen to your heart at the same time as taking your pulse, feeling the glands in your neck, answering the phone, scratching his chin and writing a prescription.

  ‘Are you sure that’s what this is about?’ Matt asked. ‘If you think the children want to go home, let’s ask them. Jack?’

  I glanced up from the computer, trying to look as if I had no idea what they’d been talking about.

  ‘I’m looking for. . .’ An ad for cupcakes popped up on the screen. ‘I’m looking for a recipe.’

  ‘A recipe?’

  ‘Yes, I want to make a cake. Can you show me how?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Mum. ‘We can do it later, when Matt and I have finished talking.’

  I didn’t like them talking. I didn’t want them to go back to talking.

  ‘But I have to do it right now.’

  ‘Why? What’s the rush?’

  I felt like I was running into trouble, same as when you’re dribbling up the field, eyes on the ball, not noticing you’re heading straight for a defender.

  ‘I need it for later on.’

  ‘You need it?’

  ‘Yes. . .’ I glimpsed Tressa in the doorway out of the corner of my eye.

  ‘Why?’ said Mum.

  I had to have a reason and, come to think of it, I did have a reason. I needed to get some food and I didn’t want to steal it, especially when Mum and Matt were arguing.

  ‘We’re having a feast.’

  As soon as the words were out, it was like the huge birds came swooping down again. My heart raced and my stomach lurched, but it was too late to run away.

  Mum got up with a sigh. She wanted to keep on talking to Matt nearly as much as I wanted her not to. I Googled ‘cakes’ and clicked on a recipe site, so I had a coffee sponge up on the screen when she came over. I tilted the laptop towards her.

  ‘No need for that!’ she said. ‘It’s very simple. Eggs, flour, sugar and marge—we’ve got everything we need in the cupboard.’

  There were little spills of flour on the shelf around the bag. Really, Milo—flour? Mum absent-mindedly wiped them up and then went on to wipe up the sprinkles around the sugar.

  These days, she said, you would use the food-mixer to make a cake, but as there wasn’t one in Jean’s house, it was a good thing she remembered how to do it by hand, the way her own mother had taught her.

  We weighed out some sugar and marge and took turns beating them together with a wooden spoon. Mum could do it really fast, but the spoon didn’t seem to work for me. I felt slow and clumsy.

  We measured the flour and beat the eggs in a jug, and added them bit by bit, alternately, until the mixture was thick and creamy. Then Mum divided it between two tins and let me lick the bowl. She asked me if it was someone’s birthday and that was why we were having a feast, but I said no and changed the subject.

  ‘What can we decorate it with?’

  ‘We’ll need some icing sugar and perhaps some sweets from the shop. You could ask Matt to pop down there with you while I stay and watch the oven. He loves going out in all this drizzle and rain.’

  Milo was having a snooze on the bedroom floor among his cars, probably worn out from the excitement of turning into a sneaky little thief, but Tressa wanted to come with us. I thought she was on the snoop, in case I gave her anything else to tell on me for. But as it turned out, she had a different reason for coming.

  Matt bought some icing sugar and a packet of chocolate buttons, plus a tube of coloured sprinkles which we found out when we got home were four years over the date stamp. Then he stood around chatting to the shopkeeper while I had a look through the books and games on the shelves by the door.

  Instead of looking through them with me, Tressa stayed beside Matt, pretending to be interested in what he was saying. It was odd. I mean, being polite and doing what you’re told was one thing, but there was absolutely nothing in the rules that s
aid you had to suck up.

  I was wondering what she was up to when I saw her hand drop down from inside her coat cuff, scoop up a carrot from the sack on the floor and pull it up inside her sleeve. Matt noticed the movement, but didn’t see what she’d done.

  ‘You look a bit flushed, Tress,’ he said.

  She hates it when he calls her that.

  ‘It’s being out in all this lovely weather!’ said the shopkeeper, smiling.

  There were only a few spots of rain as we walked back up to the house, and the sky was looking brighter. Matt asked us what was the most amazing place the island children had shown us, because he was going to have to get out the big guns if he was going to persuade Mum that she wanted to stay.

  ‘The beach with the seals,’ Tressa said, without hesitation. ‘We can show you on the map.’

  She did that when we got home. There she was, chatting to Matt, as if all this creeping around being good and pretending had magically made her really like him.

  Me and Mum decorated the cake and when we’d finished I found Tressa lurking in the hallway, waiting for a chance to get in and peel her stolen carrot, chop it up and put the pieces in a sandwich bag.

  But after all our distractions, by lunchtime they were back at it again. Matt mentioned the seal beach and Mum told him that the queen of the seals herself, all dressed up in diamonds and furs, could not entice her outside in this filthy weather.

  ‘Enough’s enough,’ she said. ‘We’re leaving.’

  Matt looked at her. Then he glanced at each of us.

  ‘OK, if that’s what you want,’ he said. ‘But I think, if it’s all right with you, I’ll stay on.’

  Chapter 7

  Hidden things

  ‘I’m not going home!’ Milo said, through a mouthful of beans.

  Tressa shot him a warning look. You could see she didn’t want to go either, but we had to do what our parents told us, that was the rule. I know Duncan said Matt counted as a parent, but if they didn’t agree about what we should do, surely Mum would count more?

  Before the birds, I would definitely have wanted to stay, too. The bothy, the candles, the sea-pool, the beach, the Binding—it was weird and exciting and you just wanted to keep going back. But now, it didn’t feel safe. At any moment, you could think you were doing the right thing and find yourself out in the cold, waiting for your punishment. You could think, ‘Walking across a field—that’s no punishment!’ and find yourself down on your knees in the mud, with everyone laughing at you.

  ‘Will you be all right here on your own?’ Mum asked Matt.

  I suddenly imagined it—all of us getting on the boat except Matt, and him waving to us from the beach. If that happened, it might be the beginning of the end for him and Mum, and although Tressa made such a fuss about it, the fact was that things had been much better since he had moved in. Whatever we decided about staying or going, the most important thing was that we all did it together.

  Milo abandoned his beans and got down, which we’re not normally allowed to do without asking, but Mum didn’t tell him off. In fact, she got up to clear the table, so Tressa and me had to wolf down our last few mouthfuls.

  ‘Can I leave the washing up to you two?’ asked Mum.

  ‘Of course,’ said Tressa.

  ‘Who are you, and what have you done with my daughter?’ said Mum, with a smile.

  After we’d done the washing up, Tressa went upstairs and I was about to follow, when I heard Mum and Matt talking in the living room. I felt bad about eavesdropping, but I told myself it wasn’t really listening behind the door so much as overhearing something and not moving away.

  Mum was saying, ‘I shouldn’t have said that about the children missing their father.’

  ‘No, it was a fair point,’ said Matt. ‘I should have thought about it myself. This is all a bit new to me.’

  Mum said whether it was a fair point or not, she still wished she hadn’t said it. It was just that she’d thought her wanting to go home would be enough to persuade him to come too, and when it wasn’t, well. . .

  I couldn’t catch the next bit, so I moved up really close and put my ear to the door.

  ‘I didn’t want to say anything in front of the children,’ said Mum, ‘but I’m feeling uncomfortable about them going off on their own all the time. I know it’s irrational because what harm can they come to, but it just feels odd.’

  ‘You’re used to being more in control,’ said Matt.

  ‘I’m supposed to be—I’m their mother.’

  They were talking much more quietly now, and I had to really press my ear against the wood.

  ‘I think something’s going on,’ Mum said. ‘I just can’t put my finger on it.’

  Matt said he had to bow to her greater knowledge, what with him not even being a parent, let alone our parent. He hadn’t spotted anything different, except that Tressa seemed to be warming to him, which was actually another reason he quite wanted to stay.

  ‘So, what are we going to do?’ asked Mum. ‘Let’s either both stay here or both go home.’

  I started breathing again, then stopped, in case they heard me.

  ‘You love being here so much and you’re right, the children do seem to be having a wonderful time. . .’

  ‘Yes, but you know your children better than I do. . .’

  They went even quieter, and I tried to move closer to the door, but then everything went fuzzy like it does when you hold a seashell over your ear, you just hear a whooshing of waves. I suddenly realised they’d actually stopped talking, which meant they might be on the move any minute. I backed away and slipped upstairs to my bedroom.

  I know you shouldn’t earwig a private conversation, but I wasn’t sorry I did. It was a big relief to know that Mum and Matt wanted to stick together, either staying or leaving early, so now it was simply a case of which one was going to back down. I might not know Matt very well, but knowing Mum, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be her.

  So this feast might be one of the last times we went to the Binding, and I wanted it to be nice. It was a shame, but I couldn’t take the cake because there was no way I could have smuggled a whole cake out without Mum knowing; everyone would know I’d asked instead of stealing, and then things could get nasty again.

  Tressa might still tell on me, of course, but Milo couldn’t because he didn’t even know I’d told Mum about the feast, being as how he was busy sampling all the stuff in the cupboards at the time.

  So I put the cake in a Tupperware box and hid it in one of the sheds, in the grass-box of an old lawn-mower. Later, when Tressa gave me her and Milo’s stash to put in Matt’s day-sack, neither of us mentioned it.

  We found Duncan and the others sitting on the grass outside the bothy. It wasn’t raining, and there were little patches of clear sky between the shifting clouds. They had laid all the food out on an old cupboard door that had been washed up on the beach a few days before.

  As well as the food, there were six cans of cola that Duncan had brought from the hotel bar and two empty plates, waiting for our offerings. I handed the sandwich bags to Tressa and Milo, and they arranged the food on the plates. Then she looked at me expectantly.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  She frowned, but she didn’t say anything. We went down onto the sand and helped Duncan, Hamish and Elspeth to make a ring of big stones. Then we gathered armfuls of driftwood from the pile behind the bothy and stacked it up nearby.

  Duncan gave Milo his stick and told him he was in charge of keeping the seagulls away from the food while the rest of us were building the fire. Hamish put a match to half a dozen sticks inside the ring of stones, and we sat round waiting for it to catch. As the fire grew from a few pale flames to a warm red glow, we took turns adding larger pieces of wood.

  When the fire was burning strongly, we carried the old door with all the food on it down onto the sand, and we had the feast, and still Tressa didn’t say anything. Milo told the others proudly about all the things
he’d found, and his adventures in taste-testing. He said Tressa had made the cheese sandwich, and they’d both saved their crisps and bananas instead of eating them.

  ‘What about Jack?’ Duncan asked. Then, turning to me, ‘What did you bring?’

  Tressa straight away cut in.

  ‘Jack got the carrot. He took it from right under their noses in the shop this morning. He stuffed it up his sleeve!’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ Milo said.

  ‘You were asleep on your car mat,’ said Tressa.

  You’d have thought Duncan would be impressed by my apparent shoplifting, but he just looked at me steadily. I tried to look straight back, but his eyes were like blue searchlights that could see right inside your brain.

  When all the food was gone, we gathered more closely around the fire, and Duncan told us stories about Morna from across the mists of time. He told us about the monks who came from the mainland, putting out to sea in an open boat with no oars, trusting God to bring them safely to land. Wherever they landed, he said, they believed that was where God wanted them to be.

  He told us about the Vikings who came with their three great leaders, Haakon the Hairy, Olaf the Unyielding and One-eyed Erik. He described them so well that we could almost see them, coming up the beach with their horned helmets and shields gleaming in the fading light.

  He told us about his own ancestor who came over the sea from Ireland to rule as the first king of Morna. He built his castle on the site where the hotel was now, and although the castle was long gone, there was still a dungeon underneath the ground that you could get to through a secret passage.

  Duncan said that one of his ancestors was a seer, which meant he could tell the future, and he could also look right into a person’s soul and see all the things they tried to keep hidden. Such abilities, he said, could be passed down.

  The fire burned red and the beach grew darker, and the moon appeared in a patch of sky where the clouds had opened up. I hadn’t even realised it was there.