Emily Windsnap and the Siren's Secret by Liz Kessler Read Free Book Online Page B

nodded quickly at the three of us, and made his exit.
    “Whoops, sorry, didn’t see you there!” we heard him exclaim. “Good grief, what the blazes are you doing here? Anyway, can’t stop — things to do and all that. Catch you later.”
    Who was he talking to? I jumped up and ran to the door. I don’t know who I was expecting, but when I saw who it was, it was the most welcome surprise I’d had since we’d gotten here.
    I threw myself into the arms that were waiting wide open for me.

“Millie!” I hugged her tightly as she laughed and squeezed me back.
    Then she let go and clambered through the door. “Looks like I got here just in time,” she said, looking around and tutting loudly. “Can’t you folks go five minutes without getting yourselves mixed up in some sort of trouble?”
    Mom leaped to her feet. “Millie! What on earth are you doing here?”
    Millie threw her arms around Mom. “Couldn’t stand it without you,” she said. “Archie said I was the biggest misery fins he’d ever seen. There was another team heading out this way for a couple of weeks, so he arranged for me to hitch a ride.”
    “I thought you couldn’t bear to be parted from him,” Dad said with a mischievous grin.
    “Yes. Well, turns out I can’t bear to be parted from you all even more.” She pursed her lips. “And from the sound of things, it seems like you’re not much good without me, either.”
    “From the sound of things? You mean you’ve been listening outside the door?” I said.
    Millie flushed slightly. “I was trying to work out the perfect moment to make a grand entrance,” she admitted. “Except Beeston ruined that one for me, didn’t he? Typical.” She headed for the kitchen. “Now, what does a weary traveler have to do to get a cup of Earl Grey around here?”

    “If you ask me, it’s time to stop whining about your parents and do something about it,” Millie said with her usual bluntness. She’d plonked herself down on the same sofa Mr. Beeston had been on. Somehow she made it look a lot smaller.
    “What do you mean, Millie?” Mom asked, her voice strained and raw. “How can I do anything about it? I don’t even know where they went.”
    Millie blew on her tea. “Yes, you do,” she remarked, then took a loud slurp from her cup.
    “You know where they are?” I burst out. “But I thought —”
    “I don’t know where they are at all. Millie, what are you talking about?”
    “Postmarks,” she said simply.
    “Postmarks?” I repeated.
    Millie sighed. “Come on, Mary P. You’re telling me you didn’t hold on to every card, every envelope?”
    Mom shook her head. “Well, actually, no. I didn’t,” she said, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice. “They weren’t exactly full of touching sentiment.”
    “And you never looked at the postmarks?”
    Mom didn’t reply.
    “I know you did, Mary P. Because you showed them to me. We talked about it. We looked it up on a map. Remember?”
    Mom looked down. “Yes, I remember,” she said eventually.
    “Where was it, now? Bridge something, wasn’t it? Bridgehaven? Bridgemeadows?” Millie tapped her lip and furrowed her forehead in concentration.
    “Bridgefield,” Mom said flatly. “Not that it matters.” She got up and walked over to the kitchen. “Who would like something to eat? I’m starving.”
    “Mom, why doesn’t it matter?” I said, biting my lip while I waited for her to reply. Mom doesn’t take kindly to being pushed on a subject that she’s decided is closed.
    “Because I’m not planning to try to get in touch.”
    “Why not?” I persevered.
    Mom turned to face me. “They’ve made it clear that they don’t want to have anything to do with me. I’m not going to go begging them.”
    “But Mom,” I insisted, “we’ve been assigned to try to bring the mer and human worlds together. Maybe this could be how we start.”
    Mom drew in a breath, pausing just long enough to give me a bit of hope that she