He knew exactly where there was a fold of sailcloth and a coil of white rope—they were by the old silver washing machine in Marty’s back garden. He knew precisely where they were, but that, of course, would mean going home …

TWENTY

GRACIE HAD ASKED Mr. Phillpotts, the geography teacher, around two hundred and twenty-six questions about tides and shipping lanes. He was delighted, as you couldn’t usually hear anything in his class except the sound of children snoring. As it was the last day of school before the summer holidays, he’d brought in a game of Capital City Bingo to play, and all the other kids were glad of Gracie’s distraction so they could just go off into their summer holiday plans in their heads. Marty and Gracie had been at the deserted library all lunchtime, doing some research on the school computer. As long as the “boat” was seaworthy, there was nothing in the law to stop them. They smiled at each other when they read this, and as they had a free lesson after lunch, they had the whole place to themselves for another hour.

They found out that rubbing duck fat on the bottom of the pumpkin would protect it from the salt in the sea and were glad when Gracie also pointed out that sharks weren’t vegetarians, so it was looking good on the old “fish eating the boat” scenario too. The more they talked about it, the more real it began to seem. Gracie and Marty sat in the echoing library thinking. Their minds whirring.

“Are you going to tell your mum?” Gracie asked, biting her bottom lip, not wanting to intrude.

Marty shook his head.

“I thought about it … but then … what difference would it make? I’m going to be with Grandad…”

“Fair enough.”

“What about you?” Marty asked. Gracie looked down. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to. It’ll be during the holidays, and I’ll never get away with saying it’s a school trip or anything.”

“Do you want Grandad to talk to your dad?”

Gracie laughed.

“God, no!” She shrugged. “I’ll work it out. Nearer the time…”

They sat in silence a moment.

“You’re really lucky, you know…”

Now, Marty would describe himself in a lot of different ways, but lucky wasn’t one of them.

“You think?”

“Your family, they’re not boring…”

Marty laughed out loud.

“Ha! Well, you’re right there!”

“But you don’t realize how lucky you are … mine, they’re…” Gracie’s voice trailed off.

Marty’s face fell. There was real pain in her eyes.