Fear the Drowning Deep(18)
I grabbed the paraffin lamp Mam kept near the door and lifted the glass chimney to light the wick. While I waited for the lamp to warm to full brightness, I carried it to the shelf that held Da’s mess of maps.
Beneath crumpled papers documenting his best fishing grounds, a treasure waited: Non-native Birds of the British Isles. A tourist had left it on the dock one day, and Lugh had claimed it, wrapping it in white paper and giving it to me on my fourteenth birthday. He thought the gift was clever because of my nickname, Bridey-bird.
I considered it special because it was the only book I owned. The scent of its yellowing pages and the crinkle they made when turned were a constant reminder of why I needed to leave the island.
The lamp flared like a small sun, revealing the corner of Non-native Birds. I picked it up and reclaimed my spot on the sofa, setting the lamp at my feet. If I angled the book toward the light, the words were fuzzy but readable.
I flipped to a random page and began in a low voice, “The Barnacle Goose was first introduced to Great Britain in …” I yawned, but Fynn had stopped shifting, so I continued on. “It is dis … dis-tin-guished by its white face and black plumage….”
The black-and-white sketch of the goose blurred as my eyes drifted shut. I curled up, clutching the book to my chest, Fynn’s hair tickling my feet. Somewhere in the distance—or perhaps on the fringes of the dream world—someone played a tune as soft as a lullaby. A small voice in the back of my mind wondered who would be fiddling at this hour, and urged me toward the nearest window, but sleep claimed me before I could turn thought into action.
CHAPTER SIX
“Bridey Reynylt Corkill!” Mam’s sharp voice shattered my dreamless sleep.
Panic coursed through me as I opened my eyes. Had someone else been attacked? Or disappeared?
“What is it?” I sat upright, displacing Fynn’s head from my lap in the process.
He continued to snore softly, content as a babe. How had he gotten so close without waking me?
Mam loomed over the sofa, an ominous crease between her brows. The paraffin lamp dangled from her hand, its wick charred. One of her feet tapped my book on the floor. “What on earth are you doing? Liss said you never came to bed last night!”
“I was reading to Fynn like you do when I’m sick, and fell asleep.” I risked a glance at Fynn, whose eyes were still closed. It was a wonder he could sleep through all this commotion.
Mam’s expression softened. “Oh. Of course you were reading, bird.”
Her words had an odd lilt to them. Did I seem so innocent it was impossible to imagine me doing anything more with a lad in the wee hours than reading? Finding Fynn yesterday had certainly given me new ideas to contemplate, but I’d considered lads as something to be desired before now. There was Lugh, for one. The lad I hadn’t thought of since Fynn’s rescue.
Mam interrupted my thoughts. “You should change your dress and be off to Morag’s.”
Guilt twisted my insides in agreement. Though I wasn’t supposed to work today, I ought to go see Morag and explain why I’d never finished my errand. Hopefully, she’d agree that saving a life was a reasonable excuse for not bringing her any snigs.
“And you best—”
“Ask if I can work extra to make up the time.” I sighed heavily as Mam turned away.
My gaze traveled to Fynn, who shifted restlessly again. Maybe he’d had a nightmare about his attack. I wanted to reach out to him, to rest my fingers on his arm, perhaps, or to find a cool cloth to place on his forehead. One glance at Mam, though, told me I’d better leave the matter of Fynn’s health to her.
Still, I refused to leave without answers. “What’ll happen to him?”
Mam frowned. “He’s not on death’s door, if that’s what you’re thinking. They’re nasty scratches, to be sure, but Mally’s salve should keep the infection out.”
“No, I mean, where will he stay? What if his wounds heal but he still can’t remember who he is?” I didn’t like the thought of returning from Morag’s to find the sofa bare, and Fynn thrust onto a neighbor with a spare bed and no curious daughters.
Mam smiled and waved a hand dismissively. “He’ll stay with us until he’s sound in body, mind, and spirit. The Corkills don’t turn their backs on anyone in need. And never mind the inconven—”
The front door swung open with a low groan, and Da stumbled inside, his lunch pail and fishing poles in hand.
“Peddyr, you’re home early!” A crease formed between Mam’s brows as she swept over to kiss his cheek. Da had been away at sea as usual, and we hadn’t expected him back until suppertime.
“Something wrong with the boat?” I asked through a yawn.
“It’s not that.” Da didn’t meet my eyes as he answered. “I saw some commotion on the beach, and the fellas and I decided to head in early in case there was trouble. It’s not like we were catching much anyway. Danell Gill met us at the harbor.”
“And …?” Mam demanded.
Da brushed a hand over his beard. “Eveleen Kinry disappeared last night. Danell said her parents found her bedroom window open. They followed her footsteps to the cliffs, but if she jumped, there’s no sign of a body.”
Cold prickled along my arms as I thought of Grandad’s cliff dive, of Nessa Daley, then of Eveleen. I’d barely known Nessa, but Eveleen had only been a year ahead of me in school—the few years of it I’d attended, anyway, before Mam got pregnant with Grayse and needed me home to help with the housework. Eveleen had skinned her knee outside my house once, and cried all afternoon while my mam held her. And we shared a birthday at the end of summer. She’d been so close to seventeen. Just like me.