Monkie Business by Thomas Debbie;

Author:Thomas, Debbie;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mercier Press

14

The Hiding Place

Abbie strolled along the beach to the right of the lake. The shrieks and splashes of the swimmers faded beneath the buzz of flies and hush of tiny waves against the shore. Sunlight danced tiptoe on the trembling water.

She walked faster. Her back straightened; her lungs filled with soft, warm air. ‘It’s OK,’ she told a bramble bush, ‘it really is.’ So what if she’d lost her best friend? The sun would still rise. Leaves would still fall. And a Pringle would still nearly fit on her tongue. It wasn’t the end of the world, just the tiny part she’d shared with Perdita. ‘And good riddance to that,’ she said, swinging her arms. ‘I’d had enough anyway.’

For a moment the bramble believed her.

Beyond the spot she’d reached with Dad yesterday, the lake curved round to the right. A new sound joined the murmuring afternoon: a low roar like distant traffic. Shielding her eyes with her hand, Abbie gazed up at the mountain on the right. About halfway up a waterfall burst from the rock, spilling down in thick white lines like paint.

Sweat tickled her forehead. The back of her neck burned. Her head was beginning to throb. I should go back. But she’d come this far. Might as well get a proper view.

A little further on she reached the bottom. The waterfall bounced into a pool to the right of the beach. In front of the fizzing wall the water lay dark and deep. It flowed out into lacy streams, strewn with large stones, that rattled across the beach and fed the lake.

Abbie knelt by the pool. Bending over, she scooped water into her mouth. Then she lay on her back beside the water, perched her notebook on her stomach and tucked her hands behind her head. Bliss.

The roar of the waterfall was strangely soothing: a duvet of sound round her ears. Spray pecked her face. She looked up. High clouds drifted like cigarette smoke. A seagull wheeled in the echoing blue.

And suddenly she was wheeling too, looking down on the island – on herself and the others, plotting and scheming over treasure that didn’t exist. ‘How sad are we?’ she asked a fly as it landed on her stomach.

The fly rubbed its front legs as if to say, ‘Where shall I start?’

She sat up and opened her notebook.

I hereby vow, she wrote, to stop this wild goblet chase and spend the rest of the trip treating every living thing with love and respect.

The fly flew onto the page. She squashed it.

She gazed into the pool, gleaming and calm before the waterfall’s fury. Her shoulders sank with sudden exhaustion. All the bickering and trickery of the last few days; all the nights interrupted by lumpy beds and Terrifo-snores; all the fresh air and mushy food … a huge yawn tumbled out. But I can’t sleep here. What if it’s dark when I wake up?

There was one way to stay awake. Laying her notebook on the beach, she slipped off her sandals and stood up.

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