Stormswept by Helen Dunmore

one carefully. Digory is incredibly stubborn and once he sets his mind on something, he won’t give up even if it takes days and days. And he might tell Mum…
    “He’s hurt. He needs to rest. You playing would wake him up.”
    “I could make some music for him,” Digory continues, as if he hasn’t heard me. “Mer people like music. They have a band, like we do, with violins and bodhrans and flutes and—“
    “Maybe when he’s better,” I say quickly, before Digory can develop his fantasy any further.
    “Digory knows he hasn’t got to say anything to anyone,” says Jenna, in her encouraging Digory’s a big boy now voice which usually works when it’s a question of getting him to do something. Maybe it’ll work this time. Digory’s stubborn, but he’s also very secretive.
    “Do you understand, Digory? No telling Mum, no talking about it out loud to yourself when you’re playing?”
    Digory draws the last wheel on an enormous lorry in the sand, and nods.
    “How is he, then?” Jenna asks me, in almost a normal voice.
    “Sleeping.” I realise that we are both talking about Malin in the same way now. Jenna’s no longer trying to pretend he’s some kind of figment of our imaginations. He is a real person, and we have a real problem.
    “I can hear Mer music now,” announces Digory casually.
    “No you can’t,” Jenna and I say together.
    “It’s out there.” He waves his arm out where the sea flashes and sparkles in the weak sun. “But they’re a long way off so you can hardly hear it.”
    I don’t believe him, of course, but I find I’m holding my breath, straining to hear something beyond the noise of the sea. There’s nothing but waves breaking, and the cry of gulls. Or is there…?
    “They’ve gone now,” says Digory. “They must have finished their music. Can I see Malin?”
    “No, he’s asleep.”
    “And we’re going home,” says Jenna, with a closed look on her face. She takes a firm grip of Digory’s hand. “You’re going straight to the shop, Digory, and you’re staying with Mum. Mor and I have got half-term homework to do.”
    “Maths?” I ask her.
    “Yes. I need a lot of help with my maths.”
    I follow her and Digory along the beach. Just from the look of her back, I can tell she is still in a massive mood. As soon as Jenna and I are alone there’s going to be a major row.

    But the major row doesn’t happen, because when we get home after dropping off Digory, Bran Helyer is walking up from the harbour.
    “What’s he doing here? Did you ask him over?”
    “Of course I didn’t,” says Jenna, but her colour deepens. Bran has always liked her, right back from reception class. His mum is an Islander but when Bran was eight she went away upcountry. Bran’s mum wanted to take Bran with her, but she couldn’t. His dad said he had to stay and he’s not the kind of man you can easily persuade. Bran went to live with his dad in Marazance. His dad’s not an Islander and he never liked living here. Bran does see his mum’s family, but not very much even though he really loves his nan. His dad doesn’t like it.
    Bran says his dad’s “in business”. Sometimes they have loads of money and Bran comes to school with a new pair of trainers every week, and a new phone and stuff for his computer. Other times he doesn’t look as if he gets enough to eat. Bran’s dad is clever and although there are a lot of rumours about what kind of business he’s in, nobody has ever proved anything. Bran’s clever too. He used to be top of the class before he decided it wasn’t cool. If he did any work at school he’d pass all his exams brilliantly. He gets suspended instead.
    “What are you doing here?” I ask him. Bran and I never bother with being polite. I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me. I wish he’d stay away from Jenna.
    “Came over to see my nan, didn’t I?” says Bran, opening his eyes wide and putting a thick expression on his face. “Nice to see you