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it, after he boarded the loft for Conor. He let me sit on the floor and watch and pass his tools to him—
    No. Sapphire, you are not allowed to think about things like that. They only make you—
    They only make your eyes hurt. And Dad’s not dead. You know that. He’s just—
    Stop making that stupid baby noise this minute.
     
    Conor’s window. It looks straight out to sea. The sea is striped blue and purple and aquamarine in the late-afternoon light. It’s very calm, although the swell is rolling in under the surface of the water. There’s a fishing boat near the horizon.
    It’s much too hot and stuffy in Conor’s loft. If only I were down at the cove, walking into the water, feeling the delicious coldness of it move up my body. I’d walk in as deep as I could, and the buoyancy of the water would lift me off my feet, and I’d be swimming. I would swim right out into the middle of the bay and lie on my back and stare up into the clear sky. Or maybe I’d dive down, deep, deep into the water, and open my eyes and see the ridges of sand that the tide makes on the seafloor, and the tiny shells. I’d see the red and orange weed that clings to the rocks and sways to and fro as the tide comes in. I could watch the crabs, scuttling when they felt my shadow over them, and the fish in little schools, spurting this way and that. I could cup my hands into a little cave for the fish to swim in and out….
    I’m falling into a dream, even though I’m wide-awake. The sea feels stronger and more real than Conor’s loft room. The white walls seem to sway like water. The sea’s all around me, whispering to me in a voice that ebbs and flows like the tide. I want to follow its voice. I want to wade out into the water, far from everything on land. Thesea is pulling at me, like a strong current that wraps itself around your legs and lifts you off your feet.
    If only I were down at the cove. I must get there. I must go now, this minute.

CHAPTER FOUR
    I ’VE NEVER CLIMBED DOWN the rocks so fast, even though they’re wet and slippy. The sea’s only just been here, but now the tide’s turned, and it’s falling, dragging me with it.
    I jump down onto the sand. Another minute and I’ll be in the sea. I kick off my sandals. My toes are in the water, then my ankles, my knees….
    The sea is dazzling. I lift my hand to shade my eyes, and as I do, I see him. It’s Conor, far away, sitting on the rocks at the mouth of the cove. I recognize him at once, even though he’s turned away from me. His hair is slick with water. He’s been swimming! But we never swim here alone, because we know how dangerous it can be. Why did Conor come without me?
    Cold. I’m cold. I look down. Already the water is upto my waist. My hands trail in the water. That’s strange. I didn’t think I had waded so deep. And I’m still wearing my shorts and T-shirt. The tide is falling fast, and it’s pulling more and more strongly, as if it wants me to come with it. It’s like a magnet. If I didn’t dig my feet into the sand, the tide would carry me away with it.
    But what’s Conor doing, sitting on the rocks at the mouth of the cove, where the water’s deep? He must have swum out there.
    He hasn’t seen me yet. He’s still got his back to me. I open my mouth to call him. But suddenly Conor turns his head as if he’s—
    —as if he’s talking to someone.
    I push hard against the tug of the water. I’m not going to let it pull me in deeper. I’m not going to call to Conor. I turn round, and the tide sucks my legs hungrily as I force my way back into shallow water. The sea doesn’t want to let me go, but it has to. Its power is broken.
    Knee-deep in the water, I wade toward the left side of the cove. I’ll be able to see Conor better from there. I don’t want to attract his attention now. In fact, I’m hoping that he won’t see me. From over here I should be able to get a good view of the rock.
    And now I can see them clearly. No, Conor’s not