Don't Let Them Leave

At the far end, Black Island. At its top, our grandmother’s home. A seeming mishmash of shapes and styles. Half castle, half house. Windows at different heights, and walls that seemed to slope one way and then another. An interesting piece of architecture, as our father would say.

And still no sign of steps leading up to it.

‘We shouldn’t delay,’ I said to Jack and Emily. And myself. ‘We’ll cross quickly but carefully. And we should be there before the sun disappears.’

They said nothing. Just nodded.

My anger had disappeared. I was left with fear and pity.

For all three of us.

‘Let’s go,’ I said. And we set off.

The path was easy to walk. The sand was still wet and compact. But as we made our way along, I noticed how the island didn’t seem to be getting any closer. In fact, at first, I could have sworn it was receding.

Either side of us, the cold sea rippled against the rocks. As we cleared the adjacent headland, the wind found us, bringing with it an icy chill. To our right, the sky was dark. A golden path of sparkling ripples danced below the darkness, all the way to the headland. And when I looked to the west, I saw that the sun was only half there. In fact, so much of it had gone that I could now stare directly at it. The clouds in that direction had almost cleared, but they were still above us, and the whole scene looked ghostly, a watercolour wash upon a dying canvas.

‘There aren’t any lights on in the house,’ said Jack.

No lights. No smoke rising from any of the chimneys. No grandmother upon the rocks, waving and beckoning us on. The house, the island, were in darkness. Black brick upon black rock.

And suddenly I knew. This was a mistake. What were we doing? Heading for a strange island on a dark night. Somewhere we had never been to meet a person we had never met.

‘We’re going back,’ I said.

‘But we’re almost there,’ said Jack.

Were we? I stared back the way we had come. Then at the island again. It was so hard to tell.

Up until then, I had been worried about scaring them. Had wanted to absorb the fears myself, give off an air of confidence, of knowing all would be well. To protect them. Even if I didn’t feel it myself. Now I didn’t care. In fact, I needed to scare them. To get them to turn around.

‘There’s something not right,’ I said. ‘We should go back.’

‘Back where?’ asked Jack. ‘There’s just . . . a cliff.’

‘There,’ I said. I hadn’t noticed it before. But, further west, tucked into a cove between two headlands, was a village, the dying sun reflecting off white cottage walls.

‘It’s too far,’ said Jack. ‘And we don’t know anybody.’

‘My shoes are wet,’ said Emily calmly. Jack and I stared at her. Then down at her feet. Then at our own. I hadn’t noticed. The water had been much lower only moments ago. And the coachman had said we’d be alright if we hurried. How long had we been walking?

‘We’re cut off,’ said Jack. His voice was up a pitch. Something I rarely heard from him. I followed his gaze. The first quarter of the causeway had disappeared. Despite me thinking it was level earlier, it must have been on an incline. And we were on higher ground. I turned back toward the island again, and the line of rock, sand and seaweed leading up to it. The way ahead, the only way for us now, was still above water. But even as I looked, small waves began to ripple over the rocks on either side of the path.

Despite my fears, there was no going back.

‘Hurry,’ I said, gathering Jack and Emily and pushing them ahead of me. The speed with which the tide had risen terrified me. The water lapped at the sides of the causeway and, every now and then, a swell broke over it and washed across our feet. Then our ankles.

‘It’s getting deeper!’ yelled Emily.

‘Give me your hand,’ said Jack. He was trying to remain calm, but I could hear the fear beneath his words, could feel it in my chest.

To the west, the last diamond of sun held on to the sky like a child to the edge of a cliff.

‘Keep running!’ I shouted, hearing the water slosh below my feet and picking them up higher with each step.

Jack, case in one hand, holding on to Emily with the other, began to sprint ahead. I followed, pushing my little sister with her case, making sure I didn’t topple her over. She began to cry.

The water was above our ankles constantly now. I could feel it beginning to tug at me as we splashed through it. Three-quarters of the way there. Maybe.

Past my ankles now, and halfway to Emily’s knees. The cold seawater was being flung up at my waist from Emily’s feet and up my back from my own. Jack was struggling, I could see, the case he was carrying dipping in and out of the water, which was now a foot deep.

And we could no longer run. Or they couldn’t. They were just too small. Even I was struggling. We were wading, long strides. The water was cold. And now I was crying. We all were. We weren’t going to make it.

‘We have to leave our cases,’ I screamed. But even as I said the words, my hands refused to let go of the two I was holding. They contained all our worldly possessions.

‘I can’t swim!’ sobbed Emily, turning to face me. ‘Charlotte, I can’t . . .’ And then she went over, her hand being torn from Jack’s. Over and under the water. Trying to stand up, but washed to the right, off the causeway, by a wave. Coughing and spluttering as she tried to regain her feet. The sun was as good as gone, just a faint wisp of light in the western sky, and now I did let the cases go. I had to. I had to reach out and grab my little sister. Jack did too and we were all in the water, holding on to each other as the waves lifted us off the causeway, washed us this way and that and our cases floated away from us.

‘Munchkin!’ yelled Emily, and I realised she had let go of the rabbit. ‘Munchkin!’

It wasn’t a priority, but still I found myself panicking, searching for the toy. There! Six feet away, and getting further. I found my feet, but the rocks were slippery. I picked up Emily, but my legs were washed out beneath me. I went down and under. The salt water was in my eyes, my ears. Up my nose. Not yet in my throat. A small mercy. I stood again, and when I came above the surface, dragging a coughing, spluttering Emily with me, there was no sign of Jack.

‘Jack! Jack!’ I no longer cared about Munchkin. It was almost pitch-dark now. The mainland was no longer in sight, the island a black shadow against the sky.

No stars, I thought, irrationally. No stars and no moon. ‘I can’t stand!’ screamed Emily. ‘Charlotte, I can’t . . .’

And then we both went under because my feet had gone off the edge of the causeway again. My clothes were so heavy. My coat. My dress. And I had Emily too. I still had Emily.

‘Jack!’ And now I did swallow a mouthful of water and Emily was sinking and surfacing, sinking and surfacing. I was freezing, but I didn’t care about that. I only had hold of Emily by one hand. Then a couple of fingers. The drift of the water was dragging her away.

She disappeared below the surface.

And then Jack was there, hoisting her up. He was clinging on to something else. My case, I realised. It was floating. Emily threw her hands over it.

‘Behind you!’ he shouted, and I trod water and turned. His case bumped into me and I reached for it. That was good. A reprieve. For now. But they wouldn’t keep us afloat forever.

‘Where’s the island?’ I asked. Up and down, up and down. But we were staying above the waves. Jack and I turned. This way and that. Emily held on.

‘Over there,’ he shouted.

‘Too far,’ I said. ‘Too far.’ And it was. We were drifting away. We were going to drown here. All three of us. Be with our parents once more. And Mabel. All together for the first time.

‘Help!’ shouted Jack at the top of his voice. And it was as good an idea as any.

‘Help!’ I joined in. ‘Help! Help!’

‘Look!’ said Emily, but I ignored her. ‘Look!’

I did. But I couldn’t see anything. ‘Help!’

And then a shape, bobbing up and down in the darkness, heading toward us. Slowly. Twenty feet away. But were we drifting away quicker? What was it?

‘It’s a boat!’ yelled Jack.

I wiped the water from my eyes. He was right. A small rowboat.

‘Kick your legs!’ I screamed. And we did. For all we were worth. This was our only chance.

It was working.

‘Over here!’ I yelled and then Jack and Emily joined in. But nobody responded. We were getting closer, and when we were ten feet or so from it, I could tell why. It was empty. The boat suddenly stopped moving toward us, as if it had hit something. Emily slipped off the case and went under once more. Jack grabbed her and pulled her back, but in doing so, he let go of it. I kicked toward them, feeling the last of my energy wasting away. Past being cold. Nearing exhaustion.

But I fought it. I reached for Jack first, pulled him back to my case.

‘Grab Emily!’ He did so. Our cases were together now. As were we. One floating and thrashing island of cases and children. ‘Now, kick!’

We worked together. Back to ten feet away from the boat. Eight. Four. One

I reached out and tried to grasp the edge of the boat. Missed and went under. Tried again. And this time I had it. With my other hand I pulled the cases and Jack and Emily toward me until we were all holding onto the bobbing bow. It wasn’t a big boat, which was good. Otherwise, Emily would never have been able to reach up and over the side to hold on.

I considered lifting Emily up onto it first. But I had nothing to push against.

‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘A few more seconds.’ I let go of the case and pulled myself up. All my strength going into it. Onto my stomach, half on, half off. Then I rolled over and into the small wooden hull. Immediately I was up, leaning over the side, grabbing Emily’s arms and pulling her in. She landed hard on the bottom of the boat, but I didn’t care. Neither did she, for we were safe, or relatively so. And we were both there to pull Jack in. He was able to help and finally we were there, all in the boat together.

‘Our cases!’ yelled Emily, but they were floating away into the darkness. I didn’t care. We had been saved.

We all lay there for what could have been minutes, but was probably seconds. Then the shock and the cold and the wet began to set in and I realised we needed to get to land. ‘Paddles!’ I yelled, searching the small boat when there so obviously were none.

‘We can use our hands,’ said Jack, shivering. I didn’t know whether we could paddle against the tide with just our hands.

‘Munchkin!’ sobbed Emily over the side of the boat, as if she was expecting the rabbit to answer.

The boat jerked. We all fell back. Then we began to move.

‘Look,’ said Jack, pointing to the front of the boat.

Emily and I followed his gaze. To the rope tied to the bow. The rope that had been let out to its full extent, but was now pulling us in.

Toward Black Island.