Lorali Page 9

  NETTA

  I was there on that fateful day, and I take my share of responsibility. My waters have been known to drive men mad. Its vastness, its foreverness, its boundless greatness.

  He was a drunk so that didn’t help, and the fish wised up to his laziness pretty quickly. They mocked his negligence and played on his worthlessness. What an insult he was to my oceans. He was slow. He was a pathetic lump and he was nasty. There wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t blame his wife for something.

  It began with burning his dinner and shrinking his clothes, but then these accusations became far-fetched, extreme, bizarre. Things that were out of her control, out of anybody’s control. He blamed her for the lack of fish in my water, which was why they had hungry bellies and empty purses. The hunger added pressure to their relationship. The man accused her of conjuring up the bad weather, the grey skies … they were her fault too. Oh, and if he was sick it was her mistake; if the tea was too bitter, hers too. If there was a hole in the boat, it was her wronging. She was to blame for everything. In his mind she was an omen. Bad luck. Which was bringing their marriage down. However kind and intelligent and beautiful she was, for a Walker anyway, and despite his behaviour, she remained devoted: greeting him when he got in from the cold. His wife knew he was a tired old drunk but she loved him still. She suggested she could find work in the town somewhere. She had skills: she could cook, she could sew, she could count and write. But the husband was too far gone by now. His ideas and designs too black and too … mean.

  Her suggestion knocked his pride and angered him. He took it personally. Through gritted teeth he said, ‘You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? Why don’t you just leave me? You only want to work so you can meet a new husband and leave me behind to rot.’ He said other things, wicked things. And that day when he went fishing, he locked her inside the house so she could not escape. She could not walk, she could not tend to the garden, she could not see the sky.

  That evening, when he returned after a cold day of fruitless fishing, he was empty-handed again but his head was full of alcohol. He woke his wife and he said, ‘You’ve done enough damage to us. I won’t let you do any more.’ And he drunkenly wrapped her in a sheet of fishing net and threw her screaming into his boat, sailing her to the deepest part of me that he could reach. He swigged from his bottle before kissing her for the last time and threw her out of his boat and into my arms. He watched her fall until he could no longer see her. I made sure to reflect his face in my waters, to mirror his expression, in the hope that it might sober him, change his mind. That’s all I am permitted to do. But there was nothing left.

  NETTA

  Lorali sheds big heavy tears. I find myself staring at her fingernails. They are so new and white and thin like fishbone. Why is she crying? I want to speak up. I want to tell Iris that we are not buying this crap. I don’t see what this made-up fairy tale has to do with Lorali. It was a mistake bringing her here.

  ‘I think we should stop now, Iris,’ I suggest. Her tears are making me feel ill.

  ‘Don’t stop. Please,’ she urges Iris, and he speaks again.

  Iris considers me and then clears his throat. ‘Lorali, your grandmother Netta was the first mermaid. Did you know that?’ Iris speaks in a deep gravelly voice, like this is a secret. I am too shocked to even find a voice. ‘That’s why you are royal.’

  ‘Mermaid? Wait – what? So mermaids … they exist?’ Flynn asks, interrupting, finding a voice for me, which he rarely does. ‘How does somebody become a mermaid?’

  Mermaids? WAIT. WAIT. Are we actually doing this? Is this it now? Please. I open my mouth to laugh at Iris and maybe even call him a liar but I catch my words. I don’t believe what I’m hearing but I don’t want to upset Lorali.

  Iris stares at me coldly and his pupils deepen; I feel like they go on forever without an ending. I gulp.

  He turns back to Lorali. ‘Let me finish about your grandmother, Netta … Little did the fisherman know that that night his wife was saved by hundreds of tiny blue and yellow fishes, fishes that kissed her on the mouth just like he had done, but this time for real. With each kiss blowing cool fresh air into her lungs, Netta was created.’

  WHAT? Yeah right. What a load of bull. I can’t help myself from saying, ‘OK, yeah, so mermaids exist. OK, and to become a mermaid all you need to do is dive in the sea and wait for Nemo and whass’is name, Flounder, to swim by and begin blowing air into your lungs and that’s it? OK. We are not five, thanks very much. Come on, Lorali.’

  Iris shakes his head at me.

  Lorali doesn’t move. ‘It’s true,’ she says. ‘It’s all true, Rory. You can leave if you like but I’m staying here.’

  I give Flynn a you’re not actually serious look but he seems settled. I am the outcast. I dump myself back down. They all look at me. I’m guessing I have to play along. ‘So fish turn people into mermaids?’

  ‘Ah, Rory, not any more – Mer now hunt fish. Netta reigned for many, many years. Sadly she died. Things have changed, what with the technology and advances of humans: the environment down there is not healthy, and Mer cannot survive on the greens alone. And so fish and Mer are no longer the friends they once were. I mean, they live side by side, like human and cow but … their flesh is hunted. Mer have power.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Lorali wonders aloud.

  ‘My dear Carmine. We tell each other everything.’ Iris’s voice breaks into ruins and the authenticity of his rasping voice makes me second-guess myself.

  NETTA

  This is my favourite part of the story. Weeks later, the husband of Netta was sailing, drunk, when something pulled on his line. A big fish. Almost too good to eat; a fish that would feed him for months. The shocking pink-silver colour and the weight pulled at him. He had it! He’d got it! He lifted it higher and higher, up and up into the boat. Sweat beads trickled down his head and into his eyes, and he panted his deadly alcohol breath as the pull nearly broke his back in two. The fish rose up and it made the man laugh with greed; he licked his lips at the sheer size and weight of it. It was coming tail first. It was wonderful, the tail: a work of art. He’d never seen anything like it, ever. It was better than anything he’d ever seen worn by a woman. Nature can be so generous. He pulled, more and more, until he’d got the fish by the fan of the tail – an unusual fluke. Then he saw the hips, the nipples, the breasts, the arms and the face he knew so well. The lips he had silenced, the face of the woman he had loved and then accused, and her eyes, dissecting him, mirroring him like the belly of the milky moon. It was all too much and collapsed his fragile heart to nothing more than miserable, wispy, soupy scum. Weak. He was so afraid he couldn’t speak or even begin to mouth the words of terror that he felt. He begged, clasping his palms, tears streaming down his sorry cheeks. The boat beneath him started to rock violently. He wailed now and reached his arms out for balance and forgiveness but instead, this creature spat a salty wash at him and capsized his boat.

  She was strong and although he was stronger no muscle can contend with rage of the brain. He struggled at first before allowing his body to fold into the ice-cold fierce water. I was cold that day, I made sure of it, and I snaked into his eardrum and my thaw freezed his warmth from the inside out. The fishes rushed to nibble on this banquet, devouring him slowly to shreds. Netta swam back into my blue and down to my Whirl.

  NETTA

  ‘Netta. Drowned by the net. That’s why she got that name.’

  Iris spirals his story to an end. ‘… and that was your grandmother, Lorali. What a powerful woman.’ Iris wipes his nose and mouth with the rag.

  I wish I could touch her again. Netta. Hear her laugh.

  My grandmother and I would roam the Whirl together. She used to tell me that I was special and different and treasured and that I wasn’t just any baby. I was a baby that belonged to magic. She would stroke my face. Plait my hair. Wink at me whilst Mother disciplined me. It’s OK, little one, she would smile. It w
ill all be OK. Dancing her fingers on my palm she would walk her hands up my arms with her fingertips. Her nails like broken shell creeping up my neck, and then tickling me until we both laughed. Our joy rang through the ocean’s passages.

  Suddenly I feel like the floor has fallen through, leaving me midair, and I look round to see Rory and Flynn staring at me like I am harmful. Disgusting. I don’t like their expressions.

  Iris nudges me. ‘The boys are just shocked. You’re a mermaid and that’s a lot to take in. They’ll get over it. Flynn, please pass me that blue book, the snakeskin one.’ He flicks through the pages. ‘I’ve made this diagram. It’s a family tree. There’s your name.’

  ‘Is that how my name appears written down?’

  ‘Yes, my dear. Do you not like it?’

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Yes, well, the boys, once they’ve got their tongues back, will teach you how to read, I’m sure, then you can look over all of these articles. Of course, they only show life on land; they won’t say anything about your family, because nobody knows. Nobody believed. Everybody thought I was crazy.’

  ‘I still reckon you’re pretty crazy, Granddad.’ Flynn laughs but it isn’t nasty.

  ‘You’re probably right. I like it that way. I get around town twice as quick as everybody else; they all make a nice big space for a madman to get his errands done. All right, where were we? Ah yes … and you … you’re different from the others. You’re special.’

  ‘Wait … wait …’ Rory suddenly says. ‘This is all too fast.’

  Iris chuckles. ‘Well, try catching up!’

  I watch Rory. The way the information from Iris washes over him like the tide. Or maybe he is drowning in it all but trying to stay afloat.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rory. I should never have brought you into this. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted to hear. Or if you think I’m too strange.’

  Rory shakes his head, his cheeks reddening in a blush, and he looks up at me to say, ‘I think you’re amazing.’

  My heart. Bash. Bash. Thump. Ouch. Nice. Nice. Moving down. Inside. Belly. Flipping. Darting.

  ‘So mermaids, Granddad, are made from a Mer saving a human being? So we could become mermen, for example?’ Flynn asks.

  Iris nods. ‘If they like you, yes. When a person drowns – accidently or deliberately – they let off a strange aura … Think of it like when bacon is cooking and you are in bed and the smell wakes you … It does that same thing for a Mer. Sends them a message. The Mer now have a choice. They can feel the pull of a person – are they strong? Full of heart? Powerful? Magnetic? Do they deserve another chance? What will they bring to the Whirl? There is a lot to consider; once they salvage a person they are completely responsible for them. When somebody is salvaged, lifted through into their new life, their life can begin again; their saver becomes the parent. Their mentor, their … guide.’

  ‘So … Lorali has been here before? As a human? Like Netta?’ Rory asks.

  Agh. No. No. Too close. Not now. Not ready. Words too loud. Room too small. Out. Out. But I want to hear from Iris. His take on it. On me. I have no memory at all of myself.

  Iris looks upset but I don’t know why. ‘This is the bit that gets me every time. I should tell you that once a human is salvaged, to the best of my knowledge, they have no direct memory of what their life was like as a human. Their only reflection or portal to their past is through their tapestry – tail, if you like – the scrapbook to their soul. The tapestry does the work, like photographs or a diary, bearing the scars every day. Little clues and messages can be found in the tapestry but it is very abstract and unclear. It is about interpretation really but mostly it is a new beginning. They are Mer now.’

  ‘So Lorali wouldn’t even remember if she had been here before?’ Rory suggests. He cares for me. I can see this now. I feel a rush of unexplainable warmth towards him.

  ‘Not unless it shows up on her tapestry, if something, you know, came up. Did it, Lorali? Did something show on your resolution?’

  And at that I burst into a sea of uncontrollable tears.

  THE DAY THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN

  ‘My name is Opal Zeal. I am of the Mer species. This is not a hoax. You may have many questions, which I will do my best to answer in due course.

  ‘It is my dream that Walkers and Mer can co-exist and live in peace and harmony. I hope we can unite and respect one another. I wish that budding relationship to blossom with a big ask: we need your help. One of our kind is missing. Her name is Lorali, though she may not be using that name. She is sixteen years of age with fair skin; her hair will be unusually light as the spectrum of colours in the ocean is heightened and can create more – no offence – developed tones. Her eyes are most probably purple. It is thought she may have been in or around the Sussex coast. Any information on her well-being will be greatly appreciated, and, of course, if anybody knows where Lorali is and can return her to us, there will be a handsome reward.’

  I have to laugh. ‘Heightened’ colours. Whatever next.

  I am there. In a tank with her. Keeping her tapestry hydrated. Perky. Even though I know of the consequence. The tsunami that will follow an act such as this. I watch the cameras pan down her tail, zooming in on the seamless shift between her midriff, hips and where the tail begins. Those high-quality lenses are crawling up every scale, every pattern, line, shape and shade. The Prime Minister splutters something breathy and sweaty into the microphone after Opal has finished. The cameras are twitching, snapping, snatching, blinding Opal. People call her name. Ask about the ‘purple’ eyes. The colours of me. Where has she come from? Nobody has ever seen anything like this before. This is breaking history. Or is it just breaking?

  Opal takes the Harlequin Suite at London’s Dorchester Hotel for ‘as long as she needs’, where she is promised that everything will be taken care of. She lies, smiling, in a free-standing bathtub filled with specially sourced natural seawater – more work for me – and faces a television, learning about chat shows. Opal orders room service. A cheeseburger. Fries. A Caesar salad and a ‘whatever wine you do’.

  THE FASCINATOR

  The fierce girl’s online destination

  THE TAIL EVERYBODY IS TALKING ABOUT …

  Here at The Fascinator we just cannot get enough of mermaid spokeswoman Opal Zeal, and here is why. The mythical beauty quite literally washed up onto a London riverbank and has already become a viral sensation and celebrity. Opal is the first ever correspondent between life on land and the extraordinary marine Mer life that is now flooding our television and Internet screens. That girl can WERK!

  Lo and behold, already haters be hating. Politicians and Hater-ade drinkers are screw-facing Miss Opal Zeal, damning our girl as a fraud and a freak. Meanwhile, we think she is the coolest girl on the block – or should we say rock? With a sun-kissed body and abs to die for we scream ALL ABOARD THE OPAL DIET! We ain’t never eating a battered haddock again. Damn. She is easily the sexiest merwoman we’ve seen (not that we’ve seen any others!). With her washed-out green grunge hair wrap, pierced nose chain and jawline that could slice sushi (hilare! LOLS!), Opal is fast becoming a genuine style icon. So reach for Grandymama’s sewing machine and stitch yourself a sequined tail pronto, b*****s! If only they had the Internet underwater so that this girl could see how much of an impression her fashion has made on our readers. Other than her stunningly attractive features and bang-on-the-nail style, all we know about Opal is that she is smart, exotic and unusual and that she wants world peace. Who knows … maybe she could be the next Miss World with those principles? If co-existence means slumber parties and wardrobe raids at Opal’s house – baby-crab-cake, bring it ON!

  Opal is also pleading with ‘Walkers’ as she calls us (OMG TOO cute) to help her find missing member of the Mer clan, Lorali. Appaz there is a reward – hopefully it’s getting to chill with Opal babe. So keep an eye on the prize.

  All hail Opal Zeal!

  MERMAID AND MERMEN APPRECIAT
ION TRIBE – aka ‘MAMAT’

  YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WE R THE MERMAID AND MERMAN APPRECIATION TRIBE STARTED BY MerBaby3000 AND SexSeaOpal. WE EXIST BECUZ WE LOVE MERMAIDS AND EVRYTHG ABT AND 2 DO WITH THEM AND ALRDY HVE THOUSANDS OF HITS SO THERZ OBVS A BIG INTEREST. OBVS. AND OMG. OMG. OMG. DYIN. WE HVE JST SEEN A LIVE SPEECH FROM ACTUAL REAL-LIFE MERMAID OPAL ZEAL HERSELF AND WE ARE LITERALLY ACTUALLY DYIN! OMG! RIGHT, SO TO ALL THM HATERZ THAT BE GIVIN US AND R USERS GRIEF. KMT. FFS. FGS. HA. HA. HA. HA. WSE LAUGHING NOW? DCK HDZ! ROFL!

  THE SITE CONTAINS EVERYTHING U NEED 2 NO ABOUT MERMAIDS AS WELL AS UPDATES AND COMMENTARY ON THIS AMAZING AND EXCITING TIME! STICK WIV US 4EVA AND WE WILL STICK WIV U! IF U DIG MERMAIDS 2, U CN FOLLOW US, CLICK THE LIKE BUTTON, BABY, AND SEND US A MESSAGE. ADD UR NAME 2 THE FORUM IF YOU WANT TO JOIN OUR CHAT ROOM.

  MerBaby3000: Jst Wantd 2 sy, thnx u guyz 4 all the lov3 and support with MAMAT. I know that there is guna be a LOT of exctment cuz of Opal’s TV appearance today and this site is most probs gonna totes pop off! But I will neva eva 4get that u lot r the originals. Leave a comment or reply below. Plz fllw me on Twits and I’ll fllw u bk asap. As always its difficult to reply to everybdy bt will do my best as u guyz are so worth it.

  SexSeaOpal: Awwww, bbz, u r 2 much. Luv u bk. Opal wud b so proud of us rite now. I jst no it.

  HASTINGS GAZETTE

  1 September

  MERMAID DROWNS OUT MYTH!

  A real-life mermaid arrived in London yesterday, travelling up the River Thames from the sea to the Houses of Parliament. Witnesses reported seeing ‘a strange-looking female riding whale-back’. Others said the sight was ‘overwhelming’, ‘magnificent’ and ‘distressing’. At first assumed to be a hoax, Ms Zeal, age unknown, met with the Prime Minister before appearing live on television. In a statement she reported a second mermaid missing. Princess Lorali, a mermaid of the royal family, is thought to have fled to the Sussex coast from her underwater home. Zeal states that the royal Mer family will offer a reward for the safe return of the lost princess.