Dazed, I watched Isolde standing in a beam of light, making soft exclamations of relief as the warmth hit her skin.
I felt pleasantly tired, fuzzy around the edges.
‘What happens next?’ said Vanessa, smiling faintly.
‘I’m not completely sure,’ I admitted.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Obediah, yawning. ‘It feels good.’
Scanlon stood slightly outside our circle, as if an invisible force was keeping him apart from us.
I looked over at him. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah,’ he said softly. ‘I’m good.’
‘Why haven’t you gone yet?’ Panic fluttered in my heart.
‘I’m going to stay here with you,’ he said, ‘until you’re all safe.’
And something unspoken passed between us. He could see something was happening, and he would keep us company until it was over.
‘And then I’m going to do all those things we talked about – and more,’ Scanlon said. ‘I promise.’
‘Fudge,’ I said sleepily.
‘That first,’ he said, and his voice cracked a little bit. My head felt so heavy. I looked at the others. Isolde had sat down against a tree, and her head rested on its trunk. Mary was clapping her hands as if she could see someone just beyond the circle. Theo and Obediah and Vanessa were simply gasping in surprise as the soft green light around us healed their injuries.
I glanced at my body. My hands were nearly transparent, my edges hard to spot.
All around me there was a great vibrating stillness, a sense that an entire universe was near, and by the happy, inward-looking smiles on the ghosts around me, I could tell they felt the same – that their times, and their people, were close. My eyelids were longing to fall. I could sense a golden time within me – my final journey.
With what energy I had left, I looked at Scanlon one last time. He was smiling and trembling all over.
‘It’s …’ My head kept dropping, but I kept my eyes on his. ‘It’s nearly here, isn’t it?’
‘I think so,’ said Scanlon. ‘You’re fading.’
‘I’ll miss you,’ I said. ‘My friend.’
He blinked. ‘I’ll miss you too. Goodbye, Frankie Ripley.’
We shared one final grin, and I thought: He has the loveliest face I have ever seen.
And
then
I
closed
my
eyes.
THAT CHILL, THAT dampness on my body, began to fade. In its place I felt a warmth, and outside me, a stillness that thrummed with magic. I wasn’t even sure any more if my eyes had closed, because instead of darkness, there was a dappled, shimmering light.
I was no longer aware of whether I was standing or sitting. The air had become very soft. Nothing caused me pain; no tension remained. A huge grin spread across my face.
This, I suddenly knew, was peace.
Out of the stillness, a bird began to sing, high up in the tree above me. And a voice said: ‘Are you ready, Frankie?’
‘Yes,’ I said softly.
Whatever happened next, I realised, I was more than ready for it. I accepted it.
Then there was the sound of footsteps walking over pine needles.
I squinted into the golden realm around me and, finally, I saw them.
Smiling at me, their arms outstretched.
Mum.
Dad.
Birdie.
And I went to them.
Thanks to:
I could not have written this book without the help of my editor, Nick Lake. You are a story shaman. Thank you for your wisdom and open-mindedness.
Flavia Sorrentino for her beautiful cover. It honestly is one of the best things about writing a book, when you see its face for the first time. One day I will come to Italy and eat all the pasta with you as a way of expressing my appreciation.
Polly, for your brilliant ‘ten-tonne tightrope walker’ joke. And for complaining about difficult button holes. And for basically being you, which you really are very good at.
Dr Kate Beeching, Director of Linguistics at UWE, Bristol, for meeting me to chat through how language might evolve over the next hundred years. Can we meet again in a hundred years and see how it all panned out?
The lovely folk at HarperCollins Children’s Books, chiefly: Jess Dean, Samantha Stewart, David the designer, Louisa Sheridan, Elorine Grant, Harriet ‘no one ever thanks sales’ WELL I DO, HARRIET, Peter with the Nice Shirt, Sam White, Philippa Poole, Jo-Anna Parkinson, Beth Maher and Ann-Janine Murtagh. Without you this book would only ever be a terribly formatted Word document. Thank you for getting stories into children’s hands.
May all your storms be loud and glittery and dramatic enough to be useful. Failing that, to just be extremely exciting.
Don’t miss Nicola Skinner’s stunning debut …
Sorrel Fallowfield is good. So good, in fact, that her teachers come to her when they need help remembering the school rules. And there are LOTS.
But when Sorrel discovers a faded packet of ‘SURPRISING SEEDS’ her world begins to flourish in all sorts of strange, terrifying – and ultimately marvelous – ways …
Click on the cover to read more.
Books by Nicola Skinner
BLOOM: THE SURPRISING SEEDS OF SORREL FALLOWFIELD
STORM
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