Free Breathing Underwater by Julia Green Page B

from a piece of old fishing net. She threads two small shells either side of the pebble, then ties a knot. She places the necklace on the sand version of me, then comes to stand next to me. She puts her arm round my shoulders.
    â€˜There you go,’ she says, in her lilting voice. ‘A talisman, to cure you of sadness. Now you will start to feel better.’
    I almost believe her.
    I want to believe her.
    If only it could happen like that.
    We stay there, not really talking or anything, but it feels nice, like something really special and important has happened between us. The sea slowly ebbs. It leaves stretches of glistening silver sand.
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    We both look up when we hear voices. Two figures are making their way down the path to the beach. The spell Izzy has put over me is abruptly broken. I’m suddenly cold and hungry, and very, very tired.
    â€˜I’m going back now, ’ I say.
    â€˜OK.’
    I’m sort of expecting Izzy to come too, but she doesn’t. That brief, intense conversation is already in the past. It’s as if she’s forgotten all about it now. She’s moved on. She starts doing cartwheels along the beach, spinning further and further away.
    I wave at her as I leave the beach.
    â€˜See you!’ Her voice comes back faintly across the sand as she spirals away.
    Almost as an afterthought, I snatch up the talisman necklace and kick the sand figure until it’s just a pile of loose sand, then I start running back to Evie and Gramps’ house.
    It’s late, much later than I’d meant to be. No one’s in the kitchen, even though it must be supper time. I call up the stairs. ‘Hello?’
    Evie comes to the landing. Her face looks strained. ‘Gramps isn’t well,’ she says. ‘He’s resting in bed now. Why didn’t you come back with him? Where’ve you been all this time?’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ I say over and over. ‘I didn’t realise how late it was. Gramps said he didn’t mind me going with Izzy . . .’
    By the time she comes downstairs Evie’s calmed down. We make supper together and she takes a tray up to Gramps, and then we sit together in the front room.
    â€˜He’ll be all right, won’t he?’
    â€˜He’s exhausted,’ Evie says. ‘He’s all shaky. He’s not talking sense, half the time. I’ll phone the doctor in the morning.’
    â€˜Is it my fault?’ I ask eventually.
    â€˜Of course not,’ Evie says. ‘You mustn’t think that. I’m sorry I was cross before, when you came in. That was just worry, making me like that. Forgive me, Freya.’
    I can’t bear to see Evie like this. It makes me nervous. I can’t settle. When Evie starts reading her book I go and stand at the window but we’ve already turned the lamps on, so all I can see is my own reflection in the glass and darkness behind.
    â€˜I’m going to bed.’
    â€˜OK, love. I’ll be up shortly.’
    I go along the landing to say goodnight to Gramps, but I can hear him, snuffling and snoring, already asleep, so instead I go further along, to Joe’s door. I push it open and stand in the middle of the room, alone in the dark.
    Someone’s been in here: the window is open a little. I move forward, closer. The view through his window is the same as from mine, more or less. I can make out the dark shapes of trees and the black line of the sea, darker than the grey-black of the sky. The wind in the leaves makes a sound like water, and underneath, always there, is the rhythm of the sea itself, pounding the rocky shore.

Fourteen
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    Last summer
    The summer wears on. It’s unusually hot, day after day. Joe seems to be out all the time. Sam has stopped coming to the house for baths and stuff; she must’ve got used to the shower block or something. There haven’t been any more