Owen Zed and the Cormorants

1. Auflage 2021
ISBN: 978-1-909208-89-6
Verlag: Arachne Press
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 184 Seiten

Winner of the Holyer An Gof YA award 2022 and the 2022 Ann Trevenen Jenkin Cup Zed and her family move unwillingly form London to Cornwall to support her mother's mental health. Gradually the family falls apart and it is only when Zed realises the local Cormorants have something to do with the disasters that consume them, and that they are attempting to right an ancient wrong, that she and her sister Amy start working together to find a solution and call a truce. A really haunting story - in more ways than one. I shall often think of those riverbanks, the birds, the town and the relationship between man and nature - it's a clever weaving of history with contemporary issues. A compelling story, full of mystery and enchantment, and readers will love it, the perfect book to get lost in on a hot summer's day. Sophia Bennett

After working as an actor and arts administrator in London, Clare Owen married a boat builder and moved to Cornwall.  She promptly had three children and set up an improvised theatre company, re-enacting the stories of their audiences around the county.  More recently she has co-written and performed with the all women ensemble, 'Riot of the Freelance Mind' and she regularly reads her short fiction at spoken word events and local festivals.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Owen, Clare

Weitere Mitwirkende

Aldred, Sophie

Atkins, Sally

Leseproben

One

There was a huge bird glaring down from the roof.

It wasn’t pale sea green, like the metal sculptures on the Liver Building near where Nanny Pam lived, but it had the same long neck and the same wings, angled like coat hangers. The birds in Liverpool seemed friendly though. They kept watch over the sea and the city and the football club, but this one was only watching them. And it was black.

The colour made all the difference.

Zed lifted her phone and took a picture. It turned its head, in a series of tiny jerks, like the CCTV cameras at her school. Correction. Her old school. She zoomed in on its profile, the hooked beak and snake-green eye, the warning flash of yellow on the side of its head.

Maybe she’d send it to Bethany, if she ever found a signal, with a caption like, ‘A warm welcome from the locals!’ She could see her best friend’s lopsided smile, that one dimple appearing just below where her freckles stopped. She could see her so clearly, typing her reply while twisting a lock of thick dark hair around her finger, the way she always did when she was focused on her phone, that it was impossible to believe she was over two hundred and fifty miles away. Two hundred and fifty miles! She was probably doing that now. Sitting cross-legged, her elbow resting on her knee, sending endless messages out into space, into the huge blank space between them.

Messages that couldn’t bridge the gap.

Zed walked backwards across the lawn, trying to fit her new home into the screen. It looked better from this side. From the road it was too close and too wide and seemed cobbled together, as if bits kept being added whenever another room was needed, but from the back garden Tremelin House was big and square and framed by trees. It had three large sash windows along the top, and two on either side of a lead porch with wrought iron posts. Up close you saw that the paint was peeling, and the windowsills were beginning to rot, but from a distance at least, it didn’t seem quite so run down. ‘A project,’ was how Dad described it.

‘I hate it here!’ Amy was screaming. Again.

They’d opened all the windows to try to get rid of the musty smell and Amy’s voice seemed to bounce off the wide, deep stone steps that led down from the drive. They were perfectly designed for such a purpose, like a Greek amphitheatre.

‘I promised Luke I’d call at six-thirty. He’ll be waiting for me. How can there be no internet? How can there be no phone signal? Why are you doing this to me?’

‘Right now, the internet’s not my priority,’ said Dad calmly. ‘Right now I want to make sure everyone has something to sleep on for the night.’

But this seemed to wind up Amy even more.

‘I don’t want to sleep here! I don’t want to stay in this hellhole! It’s the middle of nowhere. You’re doing your absolute best to ruin my life!’

Dad put the vacuum down on the path and stood awkwardly in front of Zed.

For a moment she wondered if he was going to ask her what she thought of it. As if. Instead he said, ‘Do you mind taking the bedding up?’

Mum was in the kitchen, if you could call it that, leaning against an old butler sink that looked more like a bath. She was clutching a large glass of wine. There were no fitted cupboards, just a filthy cast-iron range under the window and big slate flagstones on the floor. Zed had never seen a range before their holiday down here last Easter. The one in the rented cottage was dark green with shiny polished lids over the hot plates. This one was rusting and coated with a thick layer of grease and dust.

Dad came in, bouncing up and down on his toes and running his hand over his bald patch.

‘Isn’t it great, Lucy?’ he said. ‘There is so much potential. So many things we can do–’

‘Well, why don’t you start by putting the beds together?’ said Mum. ‘I’m proper shattered.’

Zed was shattered too. They’d been up early, really early, and driven all day. And Dad had gone on and on about their ‘fresh start’ the entire way.

‘No more tasteless, cellophane wrapped, pesticide-infused vegetables for us!’ he said, banging the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. ‘We’ll be growing our own! This is all about choosing a better way, a simpler life, breathing fresh sea air and living off the land.’

‘Sea air? I thought you told us we were five miles from the beach?’ said Zed.

‘Five miles is nothing! Besides we’re only a few hundred yards from the river. And you can swim there. I spoke to the farmer about renting the little boathouse by the water. We can store things in it, towels, sun cream–’

Zed glanced at her sister, poised to roll her eyes, but the days when they laughed at Dad’s random enthusiasms seemed eons ago. Most of Amy’s face was hidden behind a curtain of super straight, blue-black hair, but the white of her one visible eye, was pink, and the thick kohl circle she’d drawn around it, even more smudged than normal. She was facing the window, but staring at nothing, lost in the lyrics of another tragic song.

‘He’s the one that told me all about the house,’ said Dad. ‘Built by a miller, apparently. Got the original bread oven too. Hasn’t been used for years, but I’m going to get it started and–’

Zed shut her eyes and did her best to zone out.

*

Beth, Kabir and Caitlin understood. They were shocked and outraged when she told them. They actually saw it from her point of view.

‘So, he’s dragging you away, just like that? Without any discussion?’ said Caitlin. ‘That really sucks!’

‘What? You’re going for good?’ Blotches of red appeared on Beth’s neck. Zed watched them merge together and lurch towards her cheeks.

‘Why did they even bother to let Amy sit her exams?’ asked Kab. ‘It’s not as if she’s done any work, or is going to pass any of them, she’s too busy hanging out with that bunch of miserable freaks.’

‘Well, I guess they needed some time to get things sorted,’ replied Zed. ‘And Amy did actually start doing some work. Finally. That’s why they didn’t tell us until now, in case she stopped again.’

She was so relieved that she’d told them, so glad she hadn’t wimped out and messaged them instead, that she talked way too fast.

‘Apparently, they’ve known since Easter, when we were on holiday down there. They sneaked off to see the house one afternoon, then sat up all night debating whether it was the right thing to do. Didn’t think to talk it over with us, obviously, decided ‘yes’, and Dad put in an offer the next day.’

‘It’s about everyone else except you, isn’t it?’ said Beth. Zed loved the way her best friend always got it. Straight away. No messing.

‘So as soon as Amy was done, they wanted to get her away from the evil Luke, and you can see their point,’ said Caitlin, ‘but Cornwall? It’s a bit extreme isn’t it?’

‘Wow!’ said Kab grinning. ‘She might get a suntan! She might eat a pasty! She might even,’ he did a drum roll on his lunch box, ‘put on a pair of shorts!’ He was always going on about how white and skinny Amy was. And how he’d only ever seen her wearing tight ripped black jeans. Even when she was allegedly in uniform.

‘You know my dad. No half measures. Now that he’s accepted redundancy, he wants to change his whole life. It’s not really about him or Amy though–’ Zed paused and took a deep breath. ‘He’s trying really hard to make Mum happy again. She had some really nice holidays down there, as a child and–’

‘But do you think she’ll actually go? Amy, I mean,’ said Caitlin. ‘Don’t you think, like, she’ll try and run away or something?’

‘Yeah, didn’t Luke want her to go and live with him in his uncle’s caravan anyway?’ said Kab. ‘He’s got big plans for them, oooh yeah, a life hanging out in a trailer, smoking spliffs and spending his dole on getting their backs tattooed!’

‘And what about you?’ said Caitlin. ‘Just say no! It’s really simple. They can’t make you, Amy won’t go, and neither should you.’

‘They have to go!’ said Beth. She locked eyes with Zed and the other voices faded into white noise. ‘They can’t risk disappointing her mum, not if it’s what she wants, not after what happened. What if she tried to do it again and–’

She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Yep, as always, Beth had got it. Straight away. No messing.

*

Zed left her parents searching for a screwdriver in the kitchen, and found two pillows and her duvet in a ziplock bag by the front door. She dragged them across the wooden floor and up the stairs. There were boxes piled at the bottom, leaning against the wall, the flaps taped up with gaffer tape. There were boxes half way up, on the wide ledge under the big, arched window, and more boxes on the top landing.

Zed’s room was at the far end. It was L-shaped and overlooked what the estate agents’ particulars had...