The Tail of Emily Windsnap - Liz Kessler [39]
“Emily, please don’t make this worse than it is.”
“Mom, listen to me,” I snapped.
She caught my eyes for just a second, but then looked at Mr. Beeston. “We should see how he is.” Mom shook herself free from my grasp and stumbled along the deck to him.
“He’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry about him.”
Mom ignored me and crouched down next to him. I crouched down beside her as she leaned over his chest and listened. Then she looked up at me, her face paler than the million stars shining above us.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “I think we’ve killed him.”
“There’s no heartbeat,” Mom said, rocking back on her heels.
I opened my mouth. What could I say? A second later, the side door suddenly swung open with a bang. Mom and I grabbed each other’s arms.
Millie’s face appeared in the doorway.
“Do you think there’s anything either of you would like to share with me?” she asked as she hitched up her long skirt and clambered out onto the deck.
Mom and I looked at each other.
“I’m sensing some . . . disorientation.”
“No time now,” Mom said, beckoning Millie over. “We have to do something. Mr. Beeston has had an accident. I think he’s dead.” She clapped a fist to her mouth.
Millie struggled over to join us, slipping and swaying on the wet deck. “Let’s have a look,” she said, kneeling down beside Mr. Beeston. She undid his coat and lifted up his sweater. He was wearing a thick, padded jacket of some sort underneath. I flinched as I noticed a picture of Neptune’s trident sewn onto a pocket.
“Armored vest?” Millie murmured. “Now why in the blinking cosmos would he need something like that?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Well, that’s your answer, anyway, Mary P.” Millie turned to Mom. “You wouldn’t hear a ten-ton truck through that.”
Just then, the boat jolted to the side. I slid across the deck and bumped against the bench seat.
“Emily, get the tiller!” Millie ordered, suddenly in charge.
I did what she said, not that it made much difference. The boat dipped and swayed helplessly in the waves.
Millie reached under Mr. Beeston’s back and unbuckled the vest. Lifting it off, she bent over him, her ear to his chest. Mom came over and grabbed my hand while we waited.
“Absolutely fine,” Millie announced a few seconds later.
“Oh, thank heavens.” Mom hugged me. “I’d never have forgiven myself if anything had happ —”
“He just needs his chakras realigned,” Millie continued. “A bit of reflexology should do it.”
She pulled off Mr. Beeston’s shoes and socks and settled herself at his feet. Placing her hands across her large chest, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Then she lifted his right foot and started to massage it. A moment later, his foot twitched. She carried on massaging. He twitched again, this time his leg jerking about in the air. The twitching and jerking spread up his body until it reached his face and he started giggling. He was soon laughing loudly. Eventually, he leaped up, screaming, “Stop, stop!”
Millie released his foot and stood up. “Never fails,” she said, wiping her hands on her skirt and heading back inside. “Give me a minute or two. Reflexology always drains my chi.”
Mom went over to Mr. Beeston. “Thank heavens you’re all right.”
Mr. Beeston straightened his coat as he glanced at me. “Just a scratch,” he said. “No harm done.” A red path was worming its way down the side of his head.
My hand tightened on the tiller. “No harm done? Do you think?”
“Emily, this is no time to start your nonsense again. What on earth have you got against the poor man?”
“What have I got against the poor man? Where do you want me to start?” I looked him in the eyes. “Is it the fact that he’s been wiping your memory since the day I was born, or the fact that he’s been spying on us forever?”
Mom didn’t speak for a second. Then she laughed. “Oh, Emily, I’ve never heard such —”
“It’s true.” Mr. Beeston spoke, his eyes still locked onto mine. “She’s right.”
“What?” Mom held tightly on to the mast with one hand; with the other, she clutched her chest.