Free Sky Run by Alex Shearer

fill them, do we? Wind sails alone won’t get us there, Gemma. Not this side of half-term. Limp in on wind sails, and by the time we get to City Island another set of holidays will have begun.’
    â€˜Sorry, Gran …’
    â€˜It’s all right, Martin. You weren’t to know. But you know now, right? You’ve learned something. OK?’
    â€˜I suppose so,’ he said, but he said it reluctantly.
    â€˜OK. Let’s get this mess cleared up and then we’ll get started.’
    â€˜Where’ll we head for?’
    â€˜I’ll look at the charts. The nearest friendly island.’
    I got a broom and Martin got a pan and a brush and we scraped the bits of sky-shark off the deck and tidied up the shattered solar panels.
    â€˜There’s an island about eight hours’ sailing away,’ Peggy said. ‘According to these charts. Might take us longer if we’re just using wind sails. And it’s out of our way. But never mind. Can’t be helped.’
    Peggy changed the charts around and propped the new one up by the wheel. She altered course and adjusted the sails and we set off from our bearings at about ninety degrees to port.
    â€˜Sorry, Peggy.’
    â€˜All right, Martin. Don’t keep apologising. Too much apologising makes things worse, not better.’
    â€˜Anyone want a cup of green tea?’
    Which made her smile.
    â€˜OK, Martin. Yes. Thank you.’
    He went down to the galley. Botcher followed him. Whenever anyone went down to the galley, Botcher always went there too. He didn’t necessarily get anything, but he must have felt it was worth a try.
    Ten minutes later Martin was back with three bowls of green tea and a bowl of water for you-know-who.
    â€˜Thank you, Martin.’
    â€˜So what’s the name of the island, Peggy?’ I asked.
    She was reluctant to tell me.
    â€˜I can’t really read what it says on the chart,’ she said. ‘Old eyes. I need a test and new glasses. Not had one in more than ten years. I’ll get them done at City Island.’
    â€˜Want me to look?’
    â€˜No, it’s OK. I mean, I can make out what it says. I just think it’s a mistake or something.’
    â€˜Why? What’s it say?’
    â€˜Well … it says here …’ She pointed at the shape of a small island on the sky chart. ‘Says here that it’s called Ignorance.’
    â€˜Ignorance?’
    â€˜Ignorance. But that can’t be right. Maybe a misprint or a misspelling. I think what they really meant is Innocence.’
    â€˜Innocence. Yes. That’s a nice name for an island,’ I said, getting warmed to the place already. ‘Innocence – kind of sunshine and a few trees bending in the breeze, and a natural rock spring with sweet water.’
    â€˜That’s it.’ Peggy smiled. ‘That’s the one. And that’s where we’re heading. We’ll get the solar engines fixed in no time.’
    â€˜Be a weird place if it really is called Ignorance,’ Martin chimed in, peering over Peggy’s arm to see the map.
    â€˜It’s a mistake,’ Peggy said. ‘They copied it down wrong.’
    â€˜I mean, who’d call an island Ignorance? Calling a place Ignorance, that’s just well … downright ignorant, if you ask me.’
    â€˜It’s a mistake, Martin. There’s nowhere called Ignorance, believe me. No one is going to call an island Ignorance.’
    So we drank our green tea and let the slow hours pass as the soft, poor breezes carried us interminably along through the sky. The wind was just a ripple really, not properly blowing at all, more just breathing gently, like someone asleep.
    We dozed, we played I Spy – but that sure is hard in the middle of nowhere when there is nothing much to see, and so Martin started cheating and being stupid and I got fed up with the game.
    Then, at last, we saw a distant island to which we drew