Emily Windsnap and the Siren's Secret - Liz Kessler [59]
“Where can we hide?” I asked, looking around the room in a panic. What was there to hide behind?
But it was too late anyway. The sound was coming closer. Whoever it was, they were just about to come into the room.
And then they did — and all five of us froze exactly where we were.
“Mr. Beeston!” I burst out. “What the — how the — why —?” Random words spilled out of my mouth. They refused to join up, and none of them could even express the depth of my shock and disgust. He’d followed us — again!
But he wasn’t looking at me. He didn’t see me; he didn’t see Aaron or Shona. He didn’t even see Morvena. He was looking at just one person in that room.
He swam slowly toward Melody. For a moment, he simply looked at her. Then with tears in his eyes matched only by the tears in hers, he whispered just one word.
“Mother?”
The room was silent. It was more than silent. You know if you’re watching a DVD and you want to go and get something from the kitchen, so you pause it, and everything freezes exactly as it is? That’s what it felt like.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. My brain seemed to have glued stuck while trying to understand what had just happened.
And then, what felt like a year later but was probably about three seconds, Melody replied.
“Charlie?” she said, her voice quivering like a tiny fish caught in a net. “Is it you? Is it really you?”
Mr. Beeston was smiling broadly as he swam another tail’s length toward Melody. “It’s me, Mother,” he said. “I’m here.”
A moment later, they were hugging and crying and laughing, and all that the rest of us could do was stare — and wonder what in the world was going on!
I swam closer to them. “Look, do either of you want to explain any of this to the rest of us?” I asked. Even Morvena was looking baffled.
Melody smiled at me. Her smile was — I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. It was more than a smile. It seemed to warm the room up and brighten the colors. Everything felt lifted and lighter when she smiled.
Mr. Beeston turned to me. “You deserve an explanation,” he said. “I’ll grant you that, child.”
“Good,” I said impatiently.
He took a breath. “You remember when I told you that my father deserted me when I was a baby and that I was brought up by a mother who hardly cared a bit about me?”
I nodded.
He glanced at Melody and then turned back to me. Pulling a loose strand of hair over his head, he went on. “Well, it turns out that wasn’t strictly true.”
Oh, what a surprise! Mr. Beeston had been telling lies again! I folded my arms and waited for him to continue.
“No — wait!” He waved a hand at me. “Don’t get me wrong. I never told you a lie. At least, I didn’t know it at the time.”
Aaron swam over to my side. I could feel his arm against my elbow. “You’re talking in riddles,” he said, somehow managing to find the words I couldn’t seem to get out. I think I was in shock. I felt as though we had just stumbled upon a jigsaw puzzle and we had all the pieces in front of us but couldn’t see how any of them fitted together.
Mr. Beeston fumbled with his hair, pulled at his jacket, all those things he always does when he’s feeling awkward about something — which, in my experience, he usually is.
“Let me start again,” he said.
“That sounds like a good idea,” said Aaron.
“The other day, when I told you I was going to talk to my mother, you remember that?”
I nodded.
“Well, that’s what I did, that very day.” He glanced at Melody, his cheeks coloring a touch. “Or at least I thought I did. But it turns out that I was brought up with a big lie.” He glanced at me. “Just like you were,” he added. “After all these years, I discovered that nothing was as I’d thought. My ‘mother’ was nothing more than a scheming siren who simply wanted to get my real mother out of the way so she could get her fins on my father.”
Melody’s eyes had darkened. “Zalia,” she said hoarsely.
Mr. Beeston nodded. “She even seemed glad I’d come. She was different from how I’d ever seen