The Drowning by Valerie Mendes Read Free Book Online Page A

over her.
    She blinked at the light shining from the landing behind him.
    She sat up. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
    He knelt beside her,took her hands in his. “Mum’s gone straight to bed.”
    Her voice hoarse and rasping, Jenna said, “How could you leave me here, all on my own?”
    “I’m sorry, Jenn.” Dad hung his head. “You know what Mum’s like when—”
    “You’re scared of her.” She pulled her hands away. “You never have the guts to stand up to her, no matter what she does.” Desperately, she forced the words out of her dry mouth. “Now I’ll never see Benjie again.”
    “Why are we fighting?” Dad’s mouth trembled. “We shouldn’t be. Not now. Not over this . . . Please, Jenn . . . I haven’t got the strength.”
    Jenna looked at him. She’d never seen such misery in his eyes. She held out her arms.
    They clung to each other although no tears came.
    Jenna lay sleepless on her bed, on top of it, in her pyjamas.
    It was too hot even for a sheet.
    She stared at a sliver of moon which shone, still and quiet, in its inky sky. Its thin, clear light filtered through her attic window, floating the room in blue-black shadows.
    Round and round in her head, in hideous repetitive swirls, spun the same questions.
    What had happened to Benjie?
    Who had he gone off with?
    Why had he gone so far round the craggy boulders of the Island? Cold, often surprisingly deep, their pools were hard to wade in. Once he’d turned the corner, he must have known he could not be seen by people on the beach, nor could he see them.
    Was he on his own by that time, and if so why?
    If he’d got into trouble, why hadn’t he shouted for help? If he’d been with friends, why hadn’t they fetched someone when they saw there was a problem?
    And then the final question, the one that refused to let Jenna’s eyelids close.
    Why had she broken her promise to Benjie not to let him out of her sight?
    As the moon’s light faded and dawn broke, Jenna sat up. She felt aching and cold, her heart hardening to the tasks she had to do, that had to be done.
    Stiffly, she climbed into jeans and a cotton sweater, scraped her hair into a ponytail. As she crossed the landing, she heard rustling coming from Benjie’s room. Shivers of surprise and dread leapt down her spine. She pushed at the door.
    Klunk had somehow managed to escape. He was on the bed, beavering his way across a pillow, weird, lumpy, like a large black-and-white mouse, looking for food – maybe looking for Benjie himself.
    Jenna flushed. After several vain attempts she managed to catch him in the palms of her hands, felt his tiny feet scrabbling against her skin. She put him back in his cage, watched as Splat emerged from the igloo to greet him.
    I forgot to feed them last night. They must be starving.
    She picked up the cage and carried it downstairs to the inner courtyard.
    It’s cooler down here. Benjie kept their food in a special cupboard in the kitchen. I’ll remember to feed them. I’ll be able to keep an eye on them, say hello to them every now and again . . . Poor little things.
    Dusty sniffed at the bars and mewed against her legs.
    She bent to pick him up.
    “Mouths to feed,” she murmured into his fur. “But not Benjie’s. Not ever again.”
    “Mum’s still in bed,” Dad said an hour later. “The hospital doctor gave her a sedative. It’s knocked her out.”
    He stood in the middle of the tearoom kitchen, looking bewildered.
    “Thought I’d bake some special walnut bread . . . Where did I put the flour?” His voice broke. “Can’t remember . . . Can’t seem to get my act together.”
    “I’ve stuck a piece of paper on the tearoom door,” Jenna said firmly. “It says, ‘Sorry, we’re closed until further notice. ’”
    Dad said wildly, “You can’t do that.”
    “I just have.”
    “We’ll lose all our customers.”
    “No, we won’t. The tourists can find somewhere else to eat for a couple of weeks. St Ives is crawling with