Marina felt comforted seeing Paddy, fortified by food. She shouldn’t have fed him – he would run better on an empty stomach, but he had been so poorly, she reasoned, that she couldn’t resist. He strained at the harness. He was a good companion to have in this permanent dusk.
She concentrated on keeping moving for the next couple of hours or so (it was hard to tell how long they had been travelling in this trembling half-light). The wind had picked up, and it was coming from the north. She half skated along on the sledge to save Paddy’s strength. Her eyes streamed and she felt her tears turn to ice. Paddy started panting heavily. He still had not regained his strength. She had no idea how long they had been travelling for but watching his laboured breathing, she knew she would need to rest him.
Marina jumped off the sledge and undid Paddy’s harness. He relieved himself and then looked up at her, expectant. She mustn’t give him any more food. She pulled the lump of pemmican out of her pocket. Had she really given him such a large piece last time? She took a small lump and put it on her tongue. Cook was right; it did taste better in the cold with no hope of any other food. She licked the grease off her hand. She wanted more, but she must make the pemmican last. She shook herself. She mustn’t allow herself to feel tired and hungry. She must keep travelling. But clouds now covered the sky and she could not be sure of her direction.
She realized too, now that they had stopped, that she was bone-tired. She took one last bite of pemmican and then quickly wrapped it back up in the calico square and stuffed it back in her pocket. She dropped down on her haunches. The snow danced in flurries. She closed her eyes for a second. ‘I won’t sleep,’ she told herself. ‘I’ll just rest my eyes from the wind. I’m not sleeping. It’s just a short rest. I must find Father. So I’m not sleeping. Sleep . . . Mustn’t . . .’
Marina licked her lips. She tasted meringues and marshmallows. She should sing to keep herself awake. There was that song which Brown sang on the Sea Witch. It was very sad, but she couldn’t think of anything else. How did it go?
‘As I sailed out one day, one day,’ she half-sang, half-whispered.
‘And being not far from land,
I spied a mermaid sitting on a rock,
with a comb and a glass in her hand.’
25
The wind dropped and the clouds lifted. The stars, hard and bright, illuminated the snow.
Marina distracted herself by imagining the look of joy on her father’s face when she found him. It was better than thinking about this trembling wilderness where spirits surely roamed – she glimpsed them out of the corner of her eye, but if she turned her head, they would disappear.
Marina and Paddy went on, but they hardly seemed to make any progress. Marina got off the sledge and walked alongside the dog. Paddy’s breathing was ragged and he whimpered. With a sour taste in her mouth, Marina realized that it wasn’t just that he hadn’t fully recovered from his sickness; her brave, funny Paddy was frightened. And his fear infected her. They were being stalked by spirits who lived under the snow, who wanted to warm themselves by drinking their hot, fresh blood. Once she had that thought in her mind, she couldn’t shake it. Her pulse quickened, she thought she would go mad with fear. Paddy howled his distress, kept looking to one side, as if he could see the dark shadow of the spirit that stalked them.
She could hear it, too.
It was under the snow. It was large. It was black. It cut through the dark sea under the ice with the grace and ease of a spear through the air. It was horrifying – and it was making straight for them. The spirit groaned in pleasure that it would soon have such tasty blood-filled morsels in its jaws. Marina tried to run, but Paddy was on his last legs, staggering along: only his fear kept him from falling.
The black shadow slid up to them. She was transfixed. How much longer did they have before they were snatched? She saw the ridge of ice too late. A sharp judder. She lurched to the side, then tipped backwards. A dull thud as she hit the ground.
Marina let go of Paddy’s harness. ‘Just go,’ she whispered, but Paddy would not move. ‘Just go, you stupid dog. Save yourself.’
She tasted blood. She had bitten her cheek as she fell. Her head was too heavy to move. Fear flowed through her veins. The spirit slid forward, pushing the ice apart. It rose up, blacker than night. There was a horrifying grinding and clanking noise as the jaws opened.
‘I’m sorry, Paddy.’ Marina now grabbed the dog and buried her face in his thick fur. She closed her eyes, held her breath. ‘Please let this be quick.’
‘We’ve got her!’ A woman’s voice, triumphant.
Marina opened her eyes and tried to lift herself up from the snow. She saw an extraordinary vision walking towards her. The figure wore a white fur coat, cut short to show off dainty white laced boots, the fur lining peeping over the cuff. A white-gloved hand pushed submariner’s goggles up on to a pile of auburn hair.
So this was the snow spirit who had come to take her.
The First Sea Lord’s secretary, Miss Gaby Smith.
Marina was pulled up gently from the snow. A soft fur pelt was wrapped around her shoulders. And all the while, Miss Smith looked at her with concern.
‘Oh, you’re safe, you’re safe,’ she whispered. ‘How worried I have been about you.’
‘I-I . . . saw you in Svengejar,’ Marina
