Captain John Seaman gazed contently out of the small window in the ship’s cabin. He kept his hands firm on the steering wheel, which controlled his small ship, The Sea John. His boat bobbed up and down on the waves, so minuscule next to the giant cruisers and even the fishing boats. The window was round, like a porthole, with a rim of orange metal nailed around the edge, to keep the water out. Usually, the captain could see for miles across the shimmering azure sea, but as curious fog swirled around him, it was hard to see anything. This made it particularly hard to steer a ship, even one as small as John’s.
The Captain was a sturdy man, you could say, with hands a wrinkly as an elephants skin. Sharp emeralds gleamed in his eyes, and what was left of his hair was slowly turning grey and thinning. In despite of his ageing looks, he was a genuinely kind man with a golden heart. The only unnerving thing about his appearance was the purple scar set deep into the skin of his neck, and it struck from the top of his neck to his waist.
He breathed in slowly, deeply. It was so cold that when he began to breathe out, he could see his breath in front of him, as a smoker could see the smoke. John Seaman tried to focus on deciphering the mist and sailing to safety, back to the shores of Skegness. The shores where his cosy cottage lay, almost silent, until he could open it up and sniff the scent of the apple pie waiting for him, golden brown and delicious. He couldn’t wait to get home.
Just as the captain could begin to see the coastline of his hometown, he heard something. A distant cry for help, a wail of pain, and a scream of loneliness – he investigated. It was a girl, ghostly pale, about nine years old. She was shivering in the cold, cold sea. He couldn’t bear to see her die. He had grandchildren of his own, about that age, and oh, how he adored them.
“Are you alright, little girl?” John called out in concern.
“No…I’m freezing!” replied the girl, teeth chattering.
John thought for a moment. Should he help the poor girl?
“Would you like to come aboard my ship and warm up?” He couldn’t leave her.
“Yes please!” answered the girl, swimming as best as she could to the side of The Sea John. Her long, slender legs seemed unnatural compared to her tiny frame.
The Captain offered her his hand, and hauled her up the side of the boat. Luckily, it wasn’t very tall, and with a bit of pulling, the girl managed to get up onto the warmth of the deck and sit down cautiously on one wooden bench. John sat down on the other.
“So, what’s your name?” John asked politely, holding out his hand for her to shake.
“Sara,” she replied, shaking has hand cheerfully. It made John smile just to see this joy of a girl so happy, even after such a terrifying experience.
“Well, nice to meet you Sara, I’m Captain John Seaman, but you can call me John,” he told her, with a kind smile.
But John was still wondering something, and was too afraid to ask. Why was he scared of a nine year old girl?
He finally plucked up the courage to ask.
“Sara?” he started, “Where did you come from?”
Sara shrugged and said, “I came from the sea.”
“You did?” questioned John.
“I did. There’s no doubt about it. I grew up in the sea, I lived in the sea. But the sea is getting far too cold and I can’t survive anymore.”
“Well, how about you come home with me, and stay with me for a while, until the summer?” offered John, because he was a caring grandfather.
“I shall! Thank you very much, John!” exclaimed Sara, hugging him.
John beamed with pleasure, children were such lovely people – the world needed a lot more of them.
The captain settled Sara down on her bench, and gave her a faded green cushion. In a matter of minutes, she had laid her head of short blonde curls on the pillow and fallen into a deep sleep. John understood why. The young girl was exhausted from such a strange and unreal day. He could hear her soft breathing as The Sea John sliced through the rapidly disappearing fog.
When The Sea John arrived at the port, John carefully shook little Sara awake. She followed him carefully through the port, up the grassy hill and to the rosy red front door of his cottage. The cottage was a typical seaside one, with a bright front door and peeling white paint, with maybe a terracotta tile or two missing from the roof. Ivy twisted up and down the front of the cottage, and there was a pot of pansies perched precariously on the windowsill.
“I like your house,” admitted Sara, staring up at the cockerel sculpture on the rooftop, as she was only a small girl.
“Why thank you!” answered John, giving the golden polished letterbox a sharp rap.
The door swung open with a happy creak. An elderly woman was standing at the door, her ginger hair in curlers and a stripy apron tied around her waist, with a tray of gingerbread in her arms. The gingerbread smelled delicious.
“Hello John,” she welcomed him, “How was work? Ooh… and who do we have here?”
“Meg, this is Sara,” John introduced as Sara stood quiet as a mouse, “And Sara, this is my wife Meg.”
Meg said, in surprise, “Where did you find her? She’s gorgeous!”
And indeed she was. Her hair was short, only just reaching her chin, in tight blonde ringlets, so tight that if you straightened one, it would bounce straight back up. Her eyes were curious, large and green, with the longest fluttery lashes anyone had ever seen. Her skin was pale and smooth and she had a slim figure but she wasn’t very tall.
“I got her from the sea,” John replied, grinning and ruffling Sara’s curls.
“The sea? What do you mean ‘the sea’?” said Meg, appalled and confused.
For the first time, Sara spoke to Meg, softly yet so clearly.
“He said it. I came from the sea and there’s nothing else to it.”
“All right, all right!” laughed Meg, “I believe you! Now come inside, Sara and have something to eat!”
And they sat down at the long wooden table and they ate. They ate plates and plates of Meg’s wonderful homemade food. There were crispy duck sandwiches, slender brown chips, and best of all, slices and slices of golden brown pastry, and inside were slices of soft apple and gorgeously runny sauce. Sara ate the delicious offerings until she was sure she would burst if she ate anymore.
She enjoyed a lovely evening in Meg and John’s living room. The fire burned softly, shadowed by a marble fireplace, polished until Sara could see her face in it. The telly blared, but not loudly, and they watched a family film, The Wizard of Oz. Sara envied Dorothy’s amazing glimmering ruby slippers. Oh, if one day, she could own a pair a breath-taking as them! And then she noticed it. It lay in perfect peace on the mantelpiece, in its silver frame of crowning glory. It was a painting, so delicate and so brilliant. The painting showed a young mother, her hair entwined around her, wisps falling gently in her face. She cradled a baby, wrapped in a shawl of white, its tiny eyes blinking; its mouth puckered open in a wail, although you could not hear it cry. Sara gazed up at its splendour in awe. Sara pulled all her courage from inside, and she had a lot, and spoke.
“Please, may I ask, what is that painting you have there?” There was an edge of sweetness to her voice.
“It’s a very special painting! I found it on the seashore about nine years ago, and I’ve kept it ever since. Why do you ask?” John replied, nestling down in the old blue armchair.
“I just wondered, that’s all,” Sara told him, “It’s very pretty!”
“Why, thank you!” answered John, “I rather like it myself.” He brought the painting down, so Sara could have a better look at it.
And so Sara, John and Meg had a peaceful evening in the living room by the fire. But ever so soon, it was nearly 10 o’clock. Meg stood up slowly and brushed herself down as their cat, Mason had been curled up on her lap. She turned to Sara and said,
“Sara, honey its five to ten. I think it’s time for bed. You can sleep in the spare room, there’s a single bed in there.”
Sara forced herself to the room. It was very little girly, but she loved it. Frilly pink and white gingham curtains danced at the windows, and the bedcover was a matching design, as was the lampshade and beanbag. There were fluffy white pillows plumped on the bed, and a white lamp on the wooden beside table. On the rosy pink walls were framed pictures of dolls, in pink frocks with long straight blonde hair and big blinking blue eyes with fluttery lashes. They were as beautiful as the room.
Sara wanted to hop into bed straight away, but she couldn’t. She brushed her teeth with Meg’s spare toothbrush and washed her face with the blue flannel, but she had no pyjamas.
“Meg?” Sara called, as Meg came running in a fluster, “I have no pyjamas!”
“Oh that’s all right you silly!” Meg smiled, “You can borrow one of my nighties!”
Meg showed Sara a long white cotton dress with pink ruffled sleeves and embroidered roses. Sara slipped it on. It was huge, reaching down to the floor, but Sara loved it because she felt like a princess. She was read a short bedtime story by John and Meg, and then they switched off the light. The minute Sara’s dozy head touched the pillow, she was sleeping quietly.
Light streamed through the window and a soft breeze whistled. Sara stretched and yawned. She jumped out of bed, put on the white slippers Meg had left for her, and padded into the kitchen.
A delicious, mouth-watering smell came from the kitchen. Meg was toasting bread and cooking crispy brown bacon – bacon butties! Sara scoffed one down and then Meg and John came and sat down opposite her looking very serious. Oh oh, what could be happening?
John started, “Look Sara, it’s been great having you to stay, but we’re not sure whether we can look after you properly.”
“Maybe we’re not the right people for the job,” Meg sighed.
Sara felt a tear drip down her cheek. She had only known them a day, so why did she feel so close to them?
“But we said, who cares about that!” grinned John. Sara looked confused.
Meg laughed at her and said, smiling from ear to ear, “We want to keep you!”
Sara couldn’t believe her ears! They all hugged for a long moment and Meg said,
“We’re going to have to buy you some clothes, darling!”
So off they went.
They had a brilliant day in Skegness town centre. They bought Sara all the usual essentials, clothes, shoes, underwear, toothbrush, coat, pyjamas, etc, but then John went into a toyshop and came out with a cuddly teddy-bear. It was bright pink with white ribbons tied around its ears. It wore a floral frock and a cute expression. Sara clasped it close to her chest and called it Rose. But the surprises weren’t over yet. Meg took Sara into Clarks, a special shoe shop, and had her feet properly measured. She was a size 2. Meg then bought Sara a pair of shoes on a black velvet box. When Sara opened the box, inside were a pair of dazzling ruby red slippers with tiny heels, exactly like Dorothy’s in The Wizard of Oz. Sara pulled them on, they fitted like a dream, they were perfect!
“Thank you ever so much for a wonderful day!” Sara thanked John and Meg. Meg let out a howl of laughter.
“That’s okay, sweetie. How about we stop by a Fish and Chip shop to have some tea?” John suggested. They all agreed!
After a tasty treat for tea and a cosy evening by the fire, Sara went to bed.
There would be many more wonderful days out like that through Sara’s childhood with the Seamans. She spent ten enjoyable years in the cottage by the seafront, and had numerous days out and holidays. By the time she was nineteen, she had been to Edinburgh Zoo, The Tower of London, and Buckingham palace and even to Spain and Italy. But the time came when Sara received a place at Oxford University and accepted it. It was finally time to leave Skegness.
Sara packed her little suitcase and left a single week later.
On the day she left, Meg and John accompanied her to the station. They hugged goodbye and as Sara climbed onto the train, John presented her with a parting gift. The painting, the one of the mother and child that she had admired so much on her first day with her new family. She started to cry, it had been so special. Clutching the delicate painting, she waved until she could no longer see her family. She slid the painting down the side of the seat to protect it, and read for the rest of the journey. At Oxford Station she was eager to get to her new home, so she rushed off the train, leaving the painting behind!
Sara, not even realising she had lost her most prized possession, walked briskly in the direction of her new university, but she found herself walking even quicker in the direction of the far-off sea. She walked and walked for days and she couldn’t stop herself, until she came to the sea. She was being forced to walk in. It got deeper and deeper until she was underwater, so she couldn’t breathe.
Suddenly, an emerald green tail sprouted from her waist, replacing her feet, and she found she could breathe. Her once short blonde hair had grown into long flowing curls. Sara swam off into the depths of the ocean. The painting had been keeping her alive while she was out of water, but when she no longer had it, she had to go back to the sea. And the woman and her children who were sunbathing on the beach were the last humans ever to catch a glimpse of Sara.
Because Sara was a mermaid.
