slowly drying sand and watched the sun fall alone. The horizon was heaped with clouds, their drifting underbellies snowy white. For a split second I thought I could make out shapes in those clouds, like pale birds in flight…
I sensed Gabriel’s arrival at my shoulder but neither of us spoke until the last flicker of sunlight had been doused in the sea, and the sky darkened to twilight. I sighed as I turned to look at him. His expression held traces of the same awe and melancholy I felt.
“I wonder what lies beyond the sea,” he said quietly. “Does it all end where the sun goes down? Or could there be other lands and other people there?”
“My mother taught me that birds – wild geese and swans – migrate over the ocean when the winter snows come, and fly back again in the spring,” I said, smiling. “So there must be something out there, where the sun sets. The place where wild swans fly.”
He smiled back, and reached out to take my hand. “Come on,” he said, his cheerful tone banishing sadness as he tugged me towards the cliff. “I’ve found a rock pool I want to show you. There’s some creatures in it that I want to see if I can charm.”
We explored together until yawns punctured our conversation so badly we could no longer speak, and parted with the promise of meeting again the following night.
Each morning I breakfasted with my aunt – though usually neither of us spoke above two words – and then wandered around the house, seeing no one but servants, who always hurried away, until supper. In the evening I would climb out of the window and run down to the sea to meet Gabriel. There I would stay until dawn. The sleepiness this caused made the uneventful days easier to cope with and I was doubly grateful to Gabriel for that.
I think I would have gone mad in those first weeks without him. No matter how bored or lonely I felt in the day, my nights were alive. When I was with him, there was laughter, exhilaration … joy. If I sometimes felt a twinge of guilt about the strength of the happiness Gabriel made me feel, when by rights I should have been worrying day and night for my brothers, I pushed it down. Why shouldn’t I value this unexpected gift of friendship? It was all I had; Gabriel was all I had.
He was … everything.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t spend all my time with him. So I tried to make myself more comfortable in my aunt’s home. The one room I was fond of was the library, at the very top of the house. It had a window seat overlooking the sea, and the quiet there seemed peaceful rather than dead. Though the room was meticulously dusted, I was sure that no one but me ever used it, so I decided to make it properly mine. One wall of the room was covered from ceiling to floor with books, and I started at the top left-hand corner and began reading every book there, intending to work my way through the whole lot. In the periods when reading bored me I practised the balancing tricks and tumbling that my brothers had taught me, or performed small workings like changing the colour of the carpets, or charming spiders from nooks and crannies. I reported my success and my failures – like the time all the spiders ended up hiding in my hair – to Gabriel, and we laughed about them together. Thinking of new ways to make him laugh became my main occupation in life.
The weeks passed slowly, but they did pass, and every day, I was sure, brought my brothers closer to me.
One evening I went to meet Gabriel on the beach as normal, with a story from one of my books to tell him. But though he listened with interest, his usual enthusiasm was missing.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him eventually. I saw hesitation in his face and urged, “Please tell me.”
He traced a pattern in the sand with his finger, and then looked at me, his eyes unhappy. “How long do you think you will stay here?”
I was startled by the question and blinked at him. “I – I don’t know.” It couldn’t be much
I sensed Gabriel’s arrival at my shoulder but neither of us spoke until the last flicker of sunlight had been doused in the sea, and the sky darkened to twilight. I sighed as I turned to look at him. His expression held traces of the same awe and melancholy I felt.
“I wonder what lies beyond the sea,” he said quietly. “Does it all end where the sun goes down? Or could there be other lands and other people there?”
“My mother taught me that birds – wild geese and swans – migrate over the ocean when the winter snows come, and fly back again in the spring,” I said, smiling. “So there must be something out there, where the sun sets. The place where wild swans fly.”
He smiled back, and reached out to take my hand. “Come on,” he said, his cheerful tone banishing sadness as he tugged me towards the cliff. “I’ve found a rock pool I want to show you. There’s some creatures in it that I want to see if I can charm.”
We explored together until yawns punctured our conversation so badly we could no longer speak, and parted with the promise of meeting again the following night.
Each morning I breakfasted with my aunt – though usually neither of us spoke above two words – and then wandered around the house, seeing no one but servants, who always hurried away, until supper. In the evening I would climb out of the window and run down to the sea to meet Gabriel. There I would stay until dawn. The sleepiness this caused made the uneventful days easier to cope with and I was doubly grateful to Gabriel for that.
I think I would have gone mad in those first weeks without him. No matter how bored or lonely I felt in the day, my nights were alive. When I was with him, there was laughter, exhilaration … joy. If I sometimes felt a twinge of guilt about the strength of the happiness Gabriel made me feel, when by rights I should have been worrying day and night for my brothers, I pushed it down. Why shouldn’t I value this unexpected gift of friendship? It was all I had; Gabriel was all I had.
He was … everything.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t spend all my time with him. So I tried to make myself more comfortable in my aunt’s home. The one room I was fond of was the library, at the very top of the house. It had a window seat overlooking the sea, and the quiet there seemed peaceful rather than dead. Though the room was meticulously dusted, I was sure that no one but me ever used it, so I decided to make it properly mine. One wall of the room was covered from ceiling to floor with books, and I started at the top left-hand corner and began reading every book there, intending to work my way through the whole lot. In the periods when reading bored me I practised the balancing tricks and tumbling that my brothers had taught me, or performed small workings like changing the colour of the carpets, or charming spiders from nooks and crannies. I reported my success and my failures – like the time all the spiders ended up hiding in my hair – to Gabriel, and we laughed about them together. Thinking of new ways to make him laugh became my main occupation in life.
The weeks passed slowly, but they did pass, and every day, I was sure, brought my brothers closer to me.
One evening I went to meet Gabriel on the beach as normal, with a story from one of my books to tell him. But though he listened with interest, his usual enthusiasm was missing.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him eventually. I saw hesitation in his face and urged, “Please tell me.”
He traced a pattern in the sand with his finger, and then looked at me, his eyes unhappy. “How long do you think you will stay here?”
I was startled by the question and blinked at him. “I – I don’t know.” It couldn’t be much
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