Emily Windsnap and the Siren's Secret - Liz Kessler [18]
“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.
Mom turned to face me. “They’ve made it clear that they don’t want to have anything to do with me. I’m not going to go begging them.”
“But Mom,” I insisted, “we’ve been assigned to try to bring the mer and human worlds together. Maybe this could be how we start.”
Mom drew in a breath, pausing just long enough to give me a bit of hope that she might be about to change her mind.
Then she shook her head. “No, I’ve decided. We’ll find another way to get our task started. We’ve still got this whole development thing to sort out, too. And, so far, we haven’t had any bright ideas on that. If we don’t make progress soon, we might as well give up and tell Neptune to find another family for the job.”
“But Mom —”
“No buts,” Mom said firmly. “I’m not putting myself through that again. It took me long enough to get over what they did. I don’t intend to give them the chance to do it all over again. Subject closed. Now let’s have some breakfast.”
And with that she got some bread out of the cupboard and started to slice it.
I opened my mouth to say something else, but Dad shook his head at me. “Best leave it,” he said softly. “You know what your mom’s like once she’s made up her mind.”
I looked at Millie. She was scribbling something in a velvety notebook while Mom was making breakfast. Then she shoved the notebook in her bag and winked at me. “Don’t worry, pet,” she said in a whisper. “It’ll be OK.”
I don’t know what made her think anything was going to be OK. As far as I could see, since we’d gotten to Brightport, things had just gone from bad to worse.
But there was nothing I could do now. I decided to let it drop, even though it felt as if the conversation were still hovering all around us like a heavy mist.
I suddenly had a longing to see the one person who might help me feel better. And for the first time in ages, it wasn’t Aaron. It was the person who always cheered me up, always made me look on the bright side of life, and always helped me find a solution when things were looking hopeless.
“Can I go over to Shiprock after breakfast?” I asked. I needed to see Shona.
It was still early