hear her singing. Dad hardly ever gets angry, but when it happens you feel cold all over, and it lasts for ages.
One year, when we were little, we had our birthday party in the village hall. All the kids came. Jenna’s cake was brought out first, then mine was set in front of me, with eight of those magic candles on it. Other kids started messing about with them, blowing them out so they’d light again, and I leaned forward to blow harder than anyone else because it was my birthday. I told you that Jenna and I both have really long hair. Mine fell forward and then the flame from the candles jumped up and in a second there was a flare of fire across my head. Before anyone even screamed, Dad threw himself down the table and bashed out the flames with his bare hands.
I was fine, and Dad’s hands were only a bit burned. There was a terrible smell of burned hair, and Jenna was crying. I didn’t cry, I was too shocked. Dad came round the table and picked me up and held me tight.
I stare at Dad, thinking of this. Suddenly I want more than anything to tell him about Malin, even though I know it would be crazy and anyway I swore to Malin that I wouldn’t. But I feel somehow that Dad would know what to do.
“You all right, Morveren?”
I nod. “Yeah, fine. Loads of homework, that’s all,” I add in a fit of inspiration.
Dad raises his eyebrows. “Not like you to get too worried about homework, is it?”
“Um – we’ve got exams coming up before Christmas.”
Dad looks thoughtful. “You’ve got to try and get some qualifications, you know. Otherwise it’s a hard old world. There’s no jobs here.”
“I’ll be OK. You and Mum do all right.”
“Maybe we don’t want you and Jenna scratching round to make a living.”
“I don’t want to leave here.”
“I know you don’t. But look at Jenna. She’s no cleverer than you, but she’s going to have all the doors opening for her if she keeps on like this. Maybe she won’t leave the Island. But she’ll be the one choosing, not having her life chosen for her. You understand what I mean?”
Dad has never talked to me like this before. He makes much less fuss about my school reports than Mum does. He doesn’t go on about what the teachers have said on parents’ evening, either. But he must have been thinking like this all along.
“If I thought you couldn’t do it, Morveren, I’d never say a word. But you’re a bright girl. I don’t want you throwing away your chances just because you’re as obstinate as your dad.”
“Were you like me, Dad?”
“Course I was. I had it all worked out. I had the offer of an engineering apprenticeship up near Truro, if I passed my maths exam, but I wasn’t having it. Didn’t want to work for anyone else, didn’t want to leave the Island. Didn’t want this and didn’t want that, while those that did went after it. I messed about at school, because school didn’t matter. Well, here I am.”
“But you like it, Dad! You want to be here.” I hate the idea of Dad not liking his life.
He nods. “I do. I didn’t want to make the break with all that’s gone before, that’s the truth of it.”
All that’s gone before … There’s a row of granite headstones in the churchyard, with our name on it. I suppose that’s what Dad means. But it’s not because of them that I want to stay on the Island. Well, maybe a little bit. My DNA and the Island soil are all mixed up together.
“Well, you’d better get off to do your homework then. I suppose that’s what Jenna’s doing.”
How I’d love to tell him that in fact Jenna has gone for a walk with Bran Helyer. But, like telling Dad about Malin, it’s impossible.
Jenna and Bran are gone for a long time. I sit by the window, vaguely doing some maths because in a weird way I don’t want to lie to Dad about working. Digory’s curled up on the floor behind me, watching TV. At last I see them, walking very slowly and close together, heads bent. They are so
One year, when we were little, we had our birthday party in the village hall. All the kids came. Jenna’s cake was brought out first, then mine was set in front of me, with eight of those magic candles on it. Other kids started messing about with them, blowing them out so they’d light again, and I leaned forward to blow harder than anyone else because it was my birthday. I told you that Jenna and I both have really long hair. Mine fell forward and then the flame from the candles jumped up and in a second there was a flare of fire across my head. Before anyone even screamed, Dad threw himself down the table and bashed out the flames with his bare hands.
I was fine, and Dad’s hands were only a bit burned. There was a terrible smell of burned hair, and Jenna was crying. I didn’t cry, I was too shocked. Dad came round the table and picked me up and held me tight.
I stare at Dad, thinking of this. Suddenly I want more than anything to tell him about Malin, even though I know it would be crazy and anyway I swore to Malin that I wouldn’t. But I feel somehow that Dad would know what to do.
“You all right, Morveren?”
I nod. “Yeah, fine. Loads of homework, that’s all,” I add in a fit of inspiration.
Dad raises his eyebrows. “Not like you to get too worried about homework, is it?”
“Um – we’ve got exams coming up before Christmas.”
Dad looks thoughtful. “You’ve got to try and get some qualifications, you know. Otherwise it’s a hard old world. There’s no jobs here.”
“I’ll be OK. You and Mum do all right.”
“Maybe we don’t want you and Jenna scratching round to make a living.”
“I don’t want to leave here.”
“I know you don’t. But look at Jenna. She’s no cleverer than you, but she’s going to have all the doors opening for her if she keeps on like this. Maybe she won’t leave the Island. But she’ll be the one choosing, not having her life chosen for her. You understand what I mean?”
Dad has never talked to me like this before. He makes much less fuss about my school reports than Mum does. He doesn’t go on about what the teachers have said on parents’ evening, either. But he must have been thinking like this all along.
“If I thought you couldn’t do it, Morveren, I’d never say a word. But you’re a bright girl. I don’t want you throwing away your chances just because you’re as obstinate as your dad.”
“Were you like me, Dad?”
“Course I was. I had it all worked out. I had the offer of an engineering apprenticeship up near Truro, if I passed my maths exam, but I wasn’t having it. Didn’t want to work for anyone else, didn’t want to leave the Island. Didn’t want this and didn’t want that, while those that did went after it. I messed about at school, because school didn’t matter. Well, here I am.”
“But you like it, Dad! You want to be here.” I hate the idea of Dad not liking his life.
He nods. “I do. I didn’t want to make the break with all that’s gone before, that’s the truth of it.”
All that’s gone before … There’s a row of granite headstones in the churchyard, with our name on it. I suppose that’s what Dad means. But it’s not because of them that I want to stay on the Island. Well, maybe a little bit. My DNA and the Island soil are all mixed up together.
“Well, you’d better get off to do your homework then. I suppose that’s what Jenna’s doing.”
How I’d love to tell him that in fact Jenna has gone for a walk with Bran Helyer. But, like telling Dad about Malin, it’s impossible.
Jenna and Bran are gone for a long time. I sit by the window, vaguely doing some maths because in a weird way I don’t want to lie to Dad about working. Digory’s curled up on the floor behind me, watching TV. At last I see them, walking very slowly and close together, heads bent. They are so
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