Do Not Click Do Not Click Do Not Click
Dolphins
Back

By Jessica

“Goodbye Cyllia! I'll be back by four! Tell your mother! Make sure she doesn't burn the spaghetti!” I watched as father hopped into a boat with a couple of men from our new town. Duke, our family supervisor, pushed them off. He wandered up beside me and announced, “I'll tell you if there's any news, or if he comes back early. Your father is a great man, you should be proud of him. He would be a great fisherman for my team!” I smiled and nodded. “Bye.”
I wandered along the old worn path beside the beach. Moving houses was difficult, a messy and confusing job, I thought.
“Cyllia, darling,” I heard mother call in her high squeaky voice, from the house. Mother (Grace) has a poof of black hair, brown eyes, pale lips (she never wears lipstick), and a small innocent look on her face all the time. It also seemed she was shrinking. I honestly think I've grown more than an inch taller than her in the last 5 minutes. I fumbled up the driveway, kicking stones, and mumbling to myself.
Our new house is right beside the beach in Corence. It's front door is just to the left of the driveway and it has an orange tiled roof. As you walk in the front door you come to a long corridor. The first room on the left is mine and this afternoon I am going to show it to father. (It is rather messy at the moment!) Straight down the hall is the dining room/kitchen. This is where I was heading. Mother spoke again from the sink. “It's lunch-time! Tuna and cucumber sandwiches!” Nooooooooooooo! I hate it when mum attempts to make some new supposedly “in fashion” meal. They usually taste like polystyrene. Well not that I have ever had polystyrene to eat, but anyway.
I wander into the house, look at the food and say, “Um, I'll be fine. I'm... not really hungry.” The sandwiches consisted of some mushy pink stuff, probably the tuna, and some lumps of green, obviously the cucumber. Rambling on about a diet I supposedly talked about with a fishermen during my walk along the beach, I stumbled into my room.
A few minutes later someone knocked at the door. “I'll get it,” I yelled toward the dining room. I opened the door to a man breathing heavily and saying, “Your mother, your mother, I need your mother.” I sighed and smiled at Duke. “Don't worry, she'll be here in a minute.” As I fetched mother I wondered why Duke would be here. He said he'd only come if there was news about father. “Who is it?” Mother called. “Duke..” but before I finished mother was past me and at the door. “What is it? What happened? Is he alright?”
“No. He's... he's...”
“God man, hurry up and say it!” I had never seen mother so urgent for news. The last time I saw her near this urgent was when news came about her arch enemy, Lucinda.
“Missing.” I couldn't believe my ears. Father was, is such a careful man. I can't start thinking about him like he's, he's, dead. “He went out, said he'd be back by 4, but he's not, and I knew I could trust him not to steal it,” I overheard as I stumbled back into my room. My room I was going to show father but never did. And, now he's missing, probably never will. I threw myself down on my bed and sobbed, but no tears came out. Mother walked in, treading carefully, quietly, as not to disturb me, but I heard her and sat up. “I know he's alive.” She cuddled me for a while, but I was so shocked I was restricted from affection. She eventually became overcome herself and walked out of the room. As soon as I could not feel her presence I ran to the door and streaked outside, to the place where mother had told me to stand if I wanted a whole view of the bay. She would not let me go on the beach. I stood with the necklace, looking out at the still waters, and mentally bringing father in through the waves with my head. I suddenly saw a boat's bow coming round the point! I strained my eyes, but it had a different stripe round the outside. My heart sank.

ONE DAY LATER (before breakfast)
Hopefully breakfast is at least suitable this morning, I thought. As I walked towards the kitchen I heard muttering voices. “Shh, she's coming.” I kept walking, and when I arrived in the kitchen I pulled a chair out of beneath the kitchen bench noisily. Then I tip-toed back to the door where the noises had come from. “You need to remarry. It is important for your sake.” The mysterious man's voice was a rasping, scratchy murmer. And as I heard the word remarry I let out a squeal, quickly clamping my hand over my mouth. Luckily, he had been talking at the time, so I was safe. “I recommend, hmm, let's see, Norman Harvey. He is perfect for you!” He let out a long evil laugh. Mother didn't seem swayed. “Alright, Norman then. When's the wedding?”...



Brian Falkner Books