Ghosts on Board by Fleur Hitchcock Page A

a lever long enough and a pivot on which to place it and I will move the world.
δῶς μοι πᾶ στῶ καὶ τὰν γᾶν κινάσω. It’s Greek, you know.’
    â€˜Ah,’ I say. ‘Of course.’
    We splash at the water, slowly finding a rhythm, until we’re deep in the mist, a fine drizzle coating Eric’s glasses.
    â€˜You’re doing frightfully well,’ says a voice above us in the fog.
    â€˜Flora Rose,’ says Eric. ‘Are you coming with us?’
    â€˜Naturally,’ she says. ‘We can’t leave you without help – and anyway, who’d want to stay there on the island when there’s so much fun and warmth on the mainland?’
    There’s almost silence as our makeshift oars plip in the sea, moving us forward little by little.
    â€˜Victor wouldn’t have helped you rescue Jacob, you know. He was just trying to get that rock to do its thing.’
    â€˜Why’d you say that?’ I ask.
    â€˜Because,’ says Flora Rose, ‘I just wanted you to know what he’s really like. He’d have let Jacob drown.’
    â€˜So what changed his mind?’ I ask.
    â€˜I reminded him  … ’ She pauses. ‘That Jacob’s the one with the spark.’
    â€˜What?’ says Tilly. ‘Are you saying I’m boring?’
    â€˜No,’ says Flora Rose. ‘I don’t mean that. I mean, he gives off sparks and that’s the thing that Victor wants. He’s never seen the rest of you do anything – well, anything useful – except for the inflatable oar this morning.’
    â€˜Is Billy there with you?’ asks Eric, staring vaguely upwards.
    â€˜Oh yes, he’s the one who insisted we come. He’s really very sweet – such a shame you can’t hear what he says.’
    â€˜Surely you could just fly over? Couldn’t you?’ asks Tilly, dangling her fingers in the water alongside the raft.
    â€˜Not really,’ says Flora Rose. ‘We need something to hang on to. We might just blow away if there wasn’t something solid nearby.’
    â€˜Interesting,’ says Eric. ‘You need a corporeal mass for anchorage.’
    No one quite knows how to reply so we struggle on through the mist in more silence.
    It’s raining hard now, possibly getting dark, and I’m completely tired with the rowing lark.
    â€˜Tom,’ says Tilly, creeping across the raft. ‘I’m scared.’
    â€˜Don’t be,’ says Flora Rose. ‘I can see the harbour.’
    â€˜Really?’ Tilly stands up, rocking the raft until I nearly drop my piece of shed-door oar in the sea. ‘Where? Where? Hurry up you useless pair! We could be home in time for lunch.’
    â€˜Well, more like tea,’ says Flora Rose. ‘It’s quite a long way, and I’m quite high up.’
    â€˜Yes – triangulation can give a deceptive sense of distance,’ says Eric from the darkness on the other side of the raft.
    â€˜But it’s so wet,’ moans Tilly. ‘I don’t like it.’
    Slowly, above our heads, something like a huge jellyfish appears, glowing against the thunderous sky.
    â€˜Oh Billy, how sweet,’ says Flora Rose.
    The sky jellyfish wriggles and bounces and I see that it’s surrounded by the faint purple outline of a boy.
    It is comforting, if completely useless as an umbrella.

Chapter 17
    â€˜So you’re not going to help then?’ I call after Tilly as she marches up the hill from the harbour.
    â€˜Certainly not,’ she says without even turning to look. ‘It’s all your fault, Tom – everything about everything is your fault.’
    Eric stares at her back, disappearing amongst the afternoon day trippers. ‘I’m quite glad I don’t have a sister.’
    I don’t say anything. I expect that if Eric had a sister she’d be