Aurabel Read online

  ‘It’s time!’ Marco shrieks.

  Opal feels sick. She is really about to do this, isn’t she? It is too soon. She still aches. It is all happening so fast.

  Her security carries her to a perch at the top of the Riviere Noir as the lights go down. The humans scream! The UV lights up. And the music stops. Completely.

  The rapper in the mic shouts, ‘Please … allow me to reintroduce to you, breaking history, the one and only, the global sensation that is … Miss Opal Zeal!’

  ‘AAAAAAHHHHHHH!’ the fans scream; they can’t believe it, a REAL mermaid! Drinks and cameras at the ready, they fight to the front. Elbows, arm bands, blow-up flamingos …

  And down she flies, out of the slide, rebirthed into the salt lake of the pool beneath: Opal Zeal. The lights come on as she lands. A washed-up mermaid.

  But this time …

  She has no mermaid tail. She is wearing legs.

  SURPRISE!

  MERMAID AND MERMEN APPRECIATION TRIBE – aka ‘MAMAT’

  This site is dedicated to the memory of Charlotte Wood. R.I.P. We luv u babe. We wil NEVA 4GET U. U wil ALWAYZ remain a mermaid in r eyes. <3 <3

  THS IS ACTUALLY THE WRST DAY OF MY NTIRE LFE. NO JKES. NOT EVN FNNY. LITRLLY. Waiting 4 sum1 PLZ 2 tll me tht this is sum EVIL screwd up April Fools prnk n it ain’t even APRIL!

  NO! NO! Wht the actual earth is gng on? Im sry bt no! Cnt evn tlk. So dpressed. Opal Zeal is selfish. I will neva 4get what she’s done 2 me. Afta all I hve dne 4 her. Litrlly fl so betrayd rite now. I am done. LEGS! L-E-G-S! LEGS! WTF? WT THE ACTUAL F? I can’t. I literally can NOT. Can I live? No. Dead. Goodbye.

  MermaidFanGirl_1: I have no words. Literally like not a single word. But OMG. Thre I am literally waiting 4 my Frapps in Starbucks and wot do I see? What on earth was she thinking? Did she have SURGERY? What kind of INSANE DKHEAD doctor performs such an operation on somebody so perfect? WTF?

  Vampfish: @MermaidFanGirl_1 Must have been paid a LOT of money.

  OpalsBFF: I think it’s so sad that she felt she had to conform. Society puts such pressure on us to look exactly the same – like robots. Like we have to be so tanned and skinny and have big lips and big bums and big boobs and a manicure. It’s exhausting and it’s unrealistic. AND expensive! Celebrity culture is even worse. Even more pressurised. Look at the magazines. They are constantly drawing those red circles around her bum all the time. It’s like ‘errrr she has a TAIL!’ She probs just wanted to fit in. And now she’s JUST the same as everybody else. The one thing that made her special is now gone. She’s no different from the rest of us. Devastated.

  SexSeaOpal: The magazines have a LOT to answer to. TRAGIC!

  TwistedTail2: Wonder where her tail has gone? I am CRYIN MY EYES OUT.

  FishOUTofH2O: WHAT IS THE POINT OF ANYTHING ANY MORE? FML. FML. FML.

  SexSeaOpal: @TwistedTail2 so true. Pbs in sum dustbin sumwhere. Let’s go find it. I wud LITERALLY sew it 2 my own skin.

  MYBABELORALI: Sry but I am unsubscribing. Mermaids no longer exist. Full stop.

  Vampfish: I just watched the clip from GUSH online. She looks hot. But the scars look bad. Ouch. The legs are fresh tho!

  WhereisLorali: I am takin the day off school for this shit.

  Vampfish: DESIGNA VAGINA!

  CoralCaroline: *designer

  MermaidFanGirl_1: @Vampfish obvs hasn’t healed yet. Imagine having half your body chopped off just for the sake of fashion. Yikes.

  Vampfish: Apparently Opal stones are bad luck! Just saying!

  MerBaby3000: Does anybody have a contact for @Anonymous if so can you DM me?

  CoralCaroline: This is so fucked. You lot love this.

  A CROWN WITHOUT A HEAD

  Another small council meeting takes place in the gardens of the palace. A plush stretch of seagrass and water lilies, orchids and silver bells sprinkle the perimeter. A monument, which happens to be what Walkers use to keep their fires inside … a fireplace, I believe is the term for it (although how Walkers keep a fire inside one’s home without burning the whole place down, I will never know), is the centrepiece for the meeting.

  Myrtle is first to arrive. She has made honeycomb from sap and brought it in blocks that look like crumbling gold. They need sweetening, these bitter Mer. She holds Keppel’s head to her breasts in comfort. ‘At least you can rest,’ she sighs reassuringly. Myrtle’s thick red curls drape down her back, her healthy green tail glowing like a fancy apple.

  Sienna arrives next. She is on her best behaviour, even deliberately letting her fangs and claws grow out slightly to demonstrate that she has been distracted, in turmoil. Grieving even. Her devious mind averted from the poker-straight lines she likes to live her life inside.

  And Carmine with the candyfloss hair and marshmallow-sweet heart topples in last.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m late, I’m sorry!’ she squeaks, darting about like a bumblebee that doesn’t know which puddle of pollen to settle itself upon.

  Bingo serves Myrtle’s honeycomb, sliced, with sea-hibiscus tea, and Zar is kind to them all, proudly showing off Kai, and the talk of his resolution engages the council. Kai reddens and beams in delight and pride. The council seems small to him. He had imagined a bigger group. But when talk of the throne begins Kai knows to go upstairs with his seal pups – but he also knows he will go to a window where he is able to peer down on his father, holding court, stroking his beard, being a selfless giant.

  ‘I’ve decided to step down from my throne,’ he announces.

  ‘Zar, no!’ Carmine gasps. ‘You are king.’

  ‘Yes, but not a very good one.’ He almost cracks a smile as he turns to Keppel for support. ‘I’ve barely managed to look after my own family, let alone protect the Whirl. After losing Lorali I now need to focus on what’s important: little Kai, my mind and, of course, my mate.’

  Keppel folds herself into Zar, as though somebody has woken her from a dream after all this time.

  ‘Your Majesty, I really don’t think that’s a –’ Of course Sienna has to protest; it seems more convincing that way.

  ‘Drop the act, Sienna, we all know I’m not up to it. After Kai’s resolution I will step down as king officially.’ The relief of the words gives him great freedom. Sienna finds it hard to keep a smile in. ‘You will make a wonderful queen,’ Zar offers.

  Greedy Sienna, be careful, with your crystal eyes and sharp claws. Be careful not to stumble over your swelling dark thoughts. Be careful not to stumble.

  ‘Who said anything about Sienna being queen?’ Myrtle throws a spanner in the works. Sienna wants to punch that fat whale right in the face but she thinks quickly.

  ‘I was just about to nominate you, Myrtle.’ Clever, clever – try to throw the scent off your ambition. But you still reek.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I cannot be paralysed by authority. Heavy the head and all that, and I think my lower half is heavy enough!’ she jokes. ‘Carmine, have you an interest in the throne?’

  Carmine doesn’t have to speak. One wince and shake of her head, like politely trying to refuse a canapé at a formal event.

  ‘Very well. Let us cast a vote.’ Here we go. ‘Quite simply, a show of hands for Sienna in position of the throne. If you do not agree then keep your hand down and we will think of an alternative solution.’

  Zar and Keppel raise their hands, wanting the title to be taken from them as swiftly as possible. Carmine can’t help but shudder at the thought.

  ‘Very well.’ Myrtle gives a smile that soothes everyone, even though it is clear she is not best pleased with the decision. They urgently need some more council members. Sienna as queen? They may as well hand the role to the monster Nevermind.

  Sienna is finding it really hard not to cackle in celebratory evilness. Her nostrils flaring at the stench of success is proving too difficult to stop. But Myrtle isn’t giving in that easily.

  ‘However,’ Myrtle adds, ‘given the circumstances, after our many moons of hardship, and your rep
utation – no offence, Sienna – I think it best if we, the council, nominate you but the vote goes to the Mer public.’

  SMUG BITCH! Sienna thinks, but nods, even managing a smile – but it is the sort of smile a shark might give a Walker before it tears its head off.

  Anyway … Sienna has anticipated this development, which is why she has taken Tip Murray under her wing. The folk of Tippi adore Murray and if Murray loves Sienna, well … they’ll surely think she is a hero. A true leader.

  ‘I agree,’ Carmine adds. ‘Perhaps after Kai resolves we could cast a vote.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Keppel nods. ‘Let the projections decide; the spirits will be high.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Myrtle agrees. ‘No voice speaks louder than the colours of a resolution. No clearer a day to see the future.’

  ‘Very well,’ Sienna lisps. She has to bring out her trump card now. ‘Which reminds me … I have a salvage to resolve myself.’

  The council spin around, shocked.

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘But we had no idea! Is this recent?’

  ‘A while. A long while. I guess I was nervous.’ Sneaky thing; keep on lying. ‘I wanted to keep it to myself – you know me; I like to ponder on these things before I pursue them. Besides, my maternal side was never the strongest. The salvage was so instant, and he was so vulnerable …’

  ‘Ah! It’s a male!’ Carmine shrieked, clapping. ‘Even better!’

  Sienna blushes. ‘I couldn’t just leave this withered boy – I acted before I thought.’ She bites her lip. Be careful, Sienna, you nearly let yourself show. ‘I’ve named him Victor.’

  ‘Why, how wonderful!’ Myrtle is chuffed for her. ‘Of course this will make your campaign for the throne very appealing. As you know, to resolve is a power that shows nurturing, and selflessness. The public will warm to you. Well done.’

  Sienna knew this. Which is why she said it.

  ‘We should resolve Kai and Victor on the same day!’ Carmine jumps excitedly.

  ‘That will be perfect.’ Zar hugs Keppel’s shoulders. ‘Bind us all back together – what a celebration that will be.’

  ‘The making of two boys; the passing of a title,’ Carmine squeals. ‘I’m sure the boys will get on famously!’

  Sienna feigns excitement, even though every time she smiles she feels as though she hears the ghostly grave song of Lorali echoing off the garden flowers and crawling into her ears.

  ‘So it is.’ Myrtle claps.

  ‘So it is.’ Sienna mimics the same clap, but it is out of rhythm and completely out of time.

  IRON LUNGS

  I’ve never tried to bring anybody back from the dead before. Unless you count myself, I guess.

  I don’t even know where to begin. The only thing I have is metal. An abundance of it. And my strength. I have to be strong. See her just like I see a ray I have to gut, although I’m not gonna eat her afterwards. Ha ha. No. Ah. What the hell am I doing?

  Rummaging through my trusty scrapheap I find pipes, an old funnel thing and this pump-like device with a little tube thing at the end. I take whatever screws and bolts I can find.

  And then I don’t think about it. I just cut. Slicing so carefully on the marked lines down the centre of her chest.

  I carve quick. A flash of red immediately appears and I regret this instantly. Still, I think I’d more regret not trying. What is the worst that can happen? She is already dead, isn’t she?

  And then I begin. Plumbing away at Lorali’s chest. It feels wrong. Cos she is a Mer but not just any Mer. Raw red on my fingertips and it’s so slippery and soft, like I’ve ripped open a pillowcase and released a thousand red feathers into the sea. And the metal is so old and cold and dirty next to her pure warmth. I have to work quick, quivering collapsed lungs in my palm, juddering like jellyfish.

  I fix the piping up, using the tubes – like a throat, I guess. I can make the pipes work pretty easy but it’s about making it look decent too. I mean, the girl’s gonna have to live with this in her chest. I want to be delicate; this isn’t a rough job. But I need something that can expand and deflate – everything seems either too strong or too delicate …

  Think, Aurabel. Think.

  And then it comes to me. The puppets – the four-piece band! The one with the squeezy box in his arms! It is perfect; it goes in and out, bubbles always pump out of it – surely it can act as lungs? I feel bad taking away the poor little guy’s instrument, but the band will just have to carry on without him … or break up.

  Sod it.

  It’s a perfect fit. I won’t know if it works or not until I get the air moving inside of it but it looks the part.

  It’d be ugly to ruin her skin with tacky rope. But I do have my net of hair. All woven together. We don’t need much of it. Just a few delicate strands so it doesn’t leave a big scar. I begin to sew. Seeing less and less of the industrial clamping I’ve created. Burying the factory inside her. Metal against her blood and flesh feels sore and harsh. Misplaced. Like seeing shark teeth in the mouth of a goldfish.

  Like how I must look. A mess of skin and metal.

  But I begin to feel better once I start seeing her skin lacing back together, hiding the hollowing of ribs. Hooking her back as one. Knitting together all my blue hair – my hair in princess skin. Seems too mad to be true. I hope she likes it.

  See though … I was half expecting her to just wake up, you know? Just like that. But her blue, blotchy body just seems so dull and numb still. Can’t see her ever breathing in and out again anytime soon. Talking. Seeing. Swimming. Doing all her princessy things. I feel crazy now. Like some nutty doctor, hacking up bodies and left with some sad soul on an operating table who I couldn’t save.

  But no, I’m not done yet. We’ve got these two red glove things that are attached to metal arms that go in and out. Gloves. For fighting, maybe? They come away easy because the metal is all rusty and worn down. I fix the boxing arms to the big wheel machine but with a smaller wheel lying flat. OK, now I need a … I rummage through all our scrap metal. I need a cone to go over her nose and mouth. Once I find a piece of malleable metal, I bend it, like a beak. It takes a while to get it right. All this cranking and bolting and it needs to be tight to work properly. Otherwise the air will get lost.

  I think about me. Learning to swim again. Learning to start again – that’s how I know to not give up. That’s how I know that anything is possible. Even saving a life. Because I saved my own.

  Once the beak is affixed to her face and the punching gloves are above her chest, I say to the sleeping princess, ‘Wish me luck.’ And I climb the rungs of the big wheel, the carts filled with water, and begin turning like always, scooping and plopping up water. Pulling and sucking. I turn and turn and turn. And it begins to happen. The wheel is spinning the smaller wheel, powering the punching red gloves like a mill, pounding on her chest, energy raining on her heart. Meanwhile, the funnel using the air from the turning is chugging up all the fuel from the motoring action and throwing it down into her throat. The gust of air. The air she needs. I keep turning, trying not to get too excited. Her body whips as the gloves smash her ribs. I’m using all my strength, hoisting my bulky industrial tapestry of metal with me, my fingers and wrists gripping as I move robotically. Rung after rung. Her chest rising and falling.

  And then – BOOM!

  Her eyes open. They are even more beautiful in real, up-close life.

  Oh my fucking cod. She’s alive. I only went and did it. Lorali’s alive.

  PART III

  BLUE THREAD

  NO. NOT BACK HERE. I –

  Howl. What is this metal over my face? Try to lift my head, my body.

  But too heavy. Beating. Punching my ribs and chest. Pound. Smash. And RAAAAAAAAHHHHH. RIPPING. PAIN. BLINDING. HAS MY BODY BEEN TORN INTO TWO HALVES? Blood. Hurts to – What is this metal that covers my face? The sea. Salt. Everywhere. Water. Gasp. Choke. My eyes. AGH. Throb. NO. Breathe. Pan
ic. Heart. Thrash. No. WHY DID I COME BACK? Remember … can’t you? Brain freeze. I have a … where are my legs?

  WHERE ARE MY LEGS?

  MY FEET? I have a – wait.

  A tail. Tapestry.

  Blackout.

  I’m going to … My back. Stabbing pain. Eeeeeeeeesh. Flooding back. It comes. It all … In a second I realise. Rory! I splash up.

  ‘RORY!’

  I shout but the noise is contained. I throw this tight metal cone off my face – what is it? Get it off. Pressure. Worse now. ‘I have to get to him!’ I roar. Fight. My voice. Muffled. Not mine again. I’ve been captured. Stolen. No.

  Who is this?

  She speaks:

  ‘At first I wasn’t sure if it even was you, but I’ve seen you a couple of times before you … you know … and the painting in the palace … Sorry if I’m talking a lot. I do that when I’m nervous.’ She breathes. ‘I’m just so happy to see you.’ She pushes me down. With the shaved head and the big eyes, she is strong. ‘You can’t get up just yet, ’kay?’

  ‘Where am I? Please? Please,’ I beg. I shake. ‘I need to get up to him.’

  How do you know me? Does everybody know me?

  ‘I know you wanna get on but you are too weak. Your breath is connected to this wheel for now.’

  NO! NO! IDIOT. NO! THE WHEEL? ISN’T THAT A WHEEL FROM A FLIPPING FUNFAIR? NO! These Mer. How ignorant they are. Just like how I used to be. I’d forgotten how backwards we all are down here.