And then, in an instant, her expression changed back to the sneer I was more used to seeing. "Well, look what the tide's dragged in," she said, leaning back on her hips. And with those few words, the slight hope I'd had that she would remember our friendship sank like a stone in a murky sea.

"Hi, Mandy," I said glumly, and kept on walking. I wasn't in the mood to hang around and listen to her taunts. I thought she'd call after me, but she didn't. I quickly looked back before turning toward the cottages. She was still there, staring after me. Then she shook her head and set off back toward the pier. It could have been worse, I suppose. Still, it would be nice if something could go right soon.

I got to the cottage, and Aaron grinned as soon as he saw me. "Guess what?" he said. "Mom says I don't need to start at Brightport High till the fall!"

"Me too!"

Something had gone right!

"Come on," Aaron joined me outside. "Mom's watching TV. Let's go for a walk."

I laughed. "I wouldn't have thought your mom was the TV type."

"We've never had a television before, so it's her new toy. She's hooked on the game shows. Says she's learning all sorts of things from them. Who Wants to Be a Millionaire just started. She won't even notice I've gone!" He stuck his head around the door anyway. "Just heading out with Emily, Mom."

"No, it's B, you idiot!" she shouted at the television.

Aaron smiled as he shut the door behind us. "Told you!"

The sun was setting as we walked along the beach. Aaron chatted happily away about all sorts of things. My mind was too full of the events of the day to concentrate all that much on what he was saying.

"Doesn't it bother you?" I broke in at one point.

He turned to me. "What?"

"You know. Today. What happened."

Aaron shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "In a way, yes, of course it does. In another way, I don't mind all that much. For one thing, everything about my life is a million times better than it was when all I could do was rattle around in a dark spooky castle with just my mom for company."

"And what's the other thing?" I prompted him.

He kicked at the sand and carried on walking. Looking down, he said, "Well, you know. I get to hang out with you for a few weeks." Then he looked up. "I mean, not that you have to spend all your time with me. You've probably got lots of friends here that you want to catch up with."

Suddenly I realized I was feeling just as happy as Aaron. "Actually, the hanging out with you thing is the best part of it for me, too," I said shyly. I felt a tiny little flutter in my stomach. What was the matter with me? I'd never been like this with any other friends. What was so different about Aaron?

"Come on," I said, pulling off my sandals. I started running along the beach. "Race you to the pier!"

Aaron pulled off his sandals too, and we ran through the sand. It was still warm from the day's sun, and even though you didn't melt into it like on the beaches at Allpoints Island, the softness of the sand on my feet made me want to run and run and run.

Except for what we ran into.

"Well, well, well. And she's got a little friend with her, too." Mandy stood under the pier, arms folded, sneer fully in place. She must have spied on me and come after us. What did she have in store for me now?

Aaron marched right up to her and stood facing her. "You must be Mandy, then," he said, looking her square in the eyes.

For a flicker of a second, Mandy was thrown off guard. She clearly hadn't expected that. She recovered pretty quickly, though. "Aww, has fish girl been telling tales about nasty-wasty Mandy Wushton?" she said in a mock baby voice.

"Actually, she hasn't been telling tales at all," Aaron replied. "In fact, she even thought you might remember that you and her made -"

"Aaron, no," I said, stepping forward and pulling him away.

He turned to me. "Why?"

Mandy was looking at me, too. Her expression had changed a little. There was just a tiny hint of doubt in the sneer. "Made what?" she asked, her tone slightly less harsh.

"Nothing," I said. "Come on, Aaron, let's go. She's not worth it."

I thought for a minute that she was going to follow us down the beach so she could continue taunting and insulting us. But she didn't. She stayed where she was. "Yeah, run away," she called after us. "Like the cowards you are." We didn't turn around, and she gave up after that.

"Well, we got off pretty lightly there, I'd say," Aaron said as we walked up the other side of the pier.

"Thanks to you, we did."

"Don't be silly," he said. "Anyway, at least you know what she's going to be like now."

I nodded. Yeah. At least I knew.

I woke up with a feeling of heaviness. What was it?

Then I remembered the events of the previous day. Oh, yes. All that.

Mom and Dad were in the saloon, where we've got the biggest trapdoor. They were sitting on it together, Mom's feet dangling in the water, Dad's tail swishing gently backward and forward.

"Morning, sausage," Mom said.

Dad looked up. "Morning, little 'un."

I sat down to join them. "What's up?"

Mom shook her head.

"It's what we were talking about yesterday," Dad said gently. "It's made your mom think about her parents again. She's just a bit sad. But she'll be OK, won't you, love?" He stroked her knee.

Maybe this was my chance to find out a bit more about my grandparents.

"Mom," I said carefully. "What were they like, Nan and Granddad?"

Mom turned her sad eyes toward me. She opened her mouth, but before she could reply, there was a sharp rap on the door.

"Only me!" An uninvited head popped around the door. Mr. Beeston. "Just dropping by for a duty call with my colleague, ha, ha," he said, winking at Dad. Now that the two of them were working together, he clearly saw it as a permanent invitation to stop by. Mom and Dad didn't seem to mind him anymore, but I still couldn't relax while he was around.

"Come on in, Charles," Mom said. "The kettle's just boiled. Help yourself to some tea."

Mr. Beeston rubbed his hands together and rummaged through our cupboards for a tea bag and a mug. "Very well," he said. "Don't mind if I do."

He brought his tea over and sat down on the shabby sofa. "Not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked in his usual completely oblivious way.

Durr! Er, yes. Our lives!

"Mary P. was just talking about her parents," Dad said.

For some reason, Mr. Beeston shifted awkwardly on the sofa. He must have hit one of the loose springs. It's not the comfiest sofa in the world. "Oh. Ah. Well, I'll leave you alone then. Don't want me hanging around, do you?" he said, and started getting up.

"Don't be silly, Charles," Mom said. "You're virtually one of the family now. Sit down."

It was just as well I didn't have a drink of my own or I would have spluttered it everywhere. One of the family? I don't think so!

"I was just going to tell Emily a bit more about them," she said. "In fact, you remember them yourself, don't you? Perhaps you can help out."

"Me?" Mr. Beeston bl.u.s.tered, almost spilling his tea in his lap. "What can I tell you? I don't know anything!" His face had practically turned purple, and he looked even more uncomfortable than people generally look on that sofa. What was his problem?

Mom shrugged off his reply and turned to me. "You remember what I told you, don't you? Why they moved away?"

"They thought you were going crazy because you told them you were in love with a merman."

Mom nodded. "That's right. They thought I was delusional or that I was making it all up because I didn't want to tell them who was the real father of my baby."

"Didn't they try to get you to leave Brightport and go and live with them somewhere else?" I asked.

Mom nodded. "But I wouldn't. I didn't even know why - I just knew I couldn't leave. There are all sorts of things about it all that I've never understood."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well, for one thing, like why Granddad left me the boat when they went off without me."

"Why don't you understand that?" I asked.

Mom shook her head. "There was just something about it that didn't fit. I used to tell myself it meant that a small part of him forgave me, or even believed me. That maybe when things had calmed down a bit, they'd get back in touch."

"But they didn't?" I prompted.

"No. Not once. Nothing. Apart from the cards they sent for birthdays and Christmas. That was it. They never even wrote more than their names. Not even Love. Just Mom and Dad, or Nan and Granddad on yours." She smiled sadly at me. "It was so strange, so unlike them. They were always so warm and friendly. Everyone knew that about them. But what could I do? They just didn't want to know me."

Mom fell silent. There wasn't much any of us could say. Dad held tightly on to her hand. Mr. Beeston was still fidgeting and twitching. All the time Mom was talking, he'd been sitting there looking around the room, pulling at a loose thread on his jacket, tapping his foot nervously. It was as though he were trying not to listen.

Oh, I'm sorry, I felt like saying. Are we boring you? His life was obviously much more important than anyone else's.

The second Mom stopped talking, he slurped his tea down in one final glug and jumped up from the sofa. Pulling up his sleeve, he looked at his watch. "Gosh, is that the time?" he said in his I've-got-much-more-important-things-to-do-than-waste-my-time-with-you-people tone of voice. "I'd better get going."

And before we could say "Oh, really, do you have to? Won't you stay for another cup of tea?"- as if!- he'd shuffled over to the door, nodded quickly at the three of us, and made his exit.

"Whoops, sorry, didn't see you there!" we heard him exclaim. "Good grief, what the blazes are you doing here? Anyway, can't stop - things to do and all that. Catch you later."

Who was he talking to? I jumped up and ran to the door. I don't know who I was expecting, but when I saw who it was, it was the most welcome surprise I'd had since we'd gotten here.

I threw myself into the arms that were waiting wide open for me.

"Millie!" I hugged her tightly as she laughed and squeezed me back.

Then she let go and clambered through the door. "Looks like I got here just in time," she said, looking around and tutting loudly. "Can't you folks go five minutes without getting yourselves mixed up in some sort of trouble?"

Mom leaped to her feet. "Millie! What on earth are you doing here?"

Millie threw her arms around Mom. "Couldn't stand it without you," she said. "Archie said I was the biggest misery fins he'd ever seen. There was another team heading out this way for a couple of weeks, so he arranged for me to hitch a ride."

"I thought you couldn't bear to be parted from him," Dad said with a mischievous grin.

"Yes. Well, turns out I can't bear to be parted from you all even more." She pursed her lips. "And from the sound of things, it seems like you're not much good without me, either."

"From the sound of things? You mean you've been listening outside the door?" I said.

Millie flushed slightly. "I was trying to work out the perfect moment to make a grand entrance," she admitted. "Except Beeston ruined that one for me, didn't he? Typical." She headed for the kitchen. "Now, what does a weary traveler have to do to get a cup of Earl Grey around here?"

"If you ask me, it's time to stop whining about your parents and do something about it," Millie said with her usual bluntness. She'd plonked herself down on the same sofa Mr. Beeston had been on. Somehow she made it look a lot smaller.

"What do you mean, Millie?" Mom asked, her voice strained and raw. "How can I do anything about it? I don't even know where they went."

Millie blew on her tea. "Yes, you do," she remarked, then took a loud slurp from her cup.

"You know where they are?" I burst out. "But I thought -"

"I don't know where they are at all. Millie, what are you talking about?"

"Postmarks," she said simply.

"Postmarks?" I repeated.

Millie sighed. "Come on, Mary P. You're telling me you didn't hold on to every card, every envelope?"

Mom shook her head. "Well, actually, no. I didn't," she said, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice. "They weren't exactly full of touching sentiment."

"And you never looked at the postmarks?"

Mom didn't reply.

"I know you did, Mary P. Because you showed them to me. We talked about it. We looked it up on a map. Remember?"

Mom looked down. "Yes, I remember," she said eventually.

"Where was it, now? Bridge something, wasn't it? Bridgehaven? Bridgemeadows?" Millie tapped her lip and furrowed her forehead in concentration.

"Bridgefield," Mom said flatly. "Not that it matters." She got up and walked over to the kitchen. "Who would like something to eat? I'm starving."

"Mom, why doesn't it matter?" I said, biting my lip while I waited for her to reply. Mom doesn't take kindly to being pushed on a subject that she's decided is closed.

"Because I'm not planning to try to get in touch."

"Why not?" I persevered.