Ghosting Home (Strong Winds Trilogy) Read online

  The Salt-Stained Book & A Ravelled Flag

  ‘This is Swallows and Amazons for the 21st century but with a modern twist. It really is a very special book that will be enjoyed by the whole family especially those who have any experience of sailing or who love adventure and mystery.’

  – Louise Weir LoveReading4Kids

  ‘It is in short terrific; wonderfully written both tough and charming, a rare combination [...] People ask if The Salt-Stained Book is for children or grown-ups. In a sense it is both. It is one of those singularly English novels that anyone from 10 to 100 can happily read.’

  – Reggie Nadelson The Lady

  ‘This adventure story is a gripping read where you really care what happens to the hero.’

  – Jack Parker The Outlaw

  ‘The Salt-Stained Book is a multi-layered novel that sweeps readers along on an exciting adventure, but which addresses many far deeper issues.’

  – Bridget Carrington IBBYlink

  ‘This is a story full of adventure which saves its most satisfying revelations for the end.’

  – Charlie Swinbourne Action on Hearing Loss Magazine

  ‘An adventure of the type which you’d despaired of ever finding again – with an elegant nod to Swallows and Amazons and a story which is bang up to date and completely timeless.’

  – Sue Magee The Bookbag

  ‘It is an intense, absorbing read featuring iPods, swipe cards, Googling and Jimmy Choo shoes. Get on board for a very modern adventure.’

  – Gideon Spanier Evening Standard

  ‘It’s pure yachtie goodness.’

  – Peter Dowden Otago Daily Times, New Zealand

  ‘Both shocking and funny the book is a triumph; allowing a child to engage with a confusing world and feel they are not alone and an adult to reflect upon the world we foist on children... Central Ransome themes such as the banding together of children in the face of the alien adult world, a sense of freedom, excitement, responsibility and fear are all here in The Salt-Stained Book but in a contemporary and classless package that will make this book appealing to a wide range of readers.’

  – Cally Phillips indie e-book review

  ‘The plot has plenty of excellent and unexpected twists. Layering a quirky take on political correctness on top of the age-old battle between good and bad gives these first two volumes an unexpected richness.’

  – Rosie Boycott The Oldie

  ‘With Donny and Anna’s grit and determination and some unlikely new allies [...] wrapped up in ingenious plotting, suspense-filled writing and a rare warmth towards its characters, it delivers its rewards.”

  – Peter Willis The Marine Quarterly

  ‘Duffers will hate it’

  – Amanda Craig The Times

  ‘I loved it’

  – Griff Rhys Jones

  ‘The characters feel very real and the story gets more and more exciting. I can’t wait for the final resolution in Volume Three.’

  – Jan Needle Watercraft

  Ghost, ghosting (v): sailing quietly and gently in light airs

  (source: Sea Talk Nautical Dictionary)

  This book is dedicated to my mother, June Jones, who was born in the same year as Great Aunt Ellen.

  This photograph was taken by my late father, George Jones, on passage from Flushing in Barnacle Goose, a yacht that was borrowed the following year by Arthur and Evgenia Ransome for their final East Coast holiday.

  I also dedicate this book to my brother Ned and my niece Ruth who come adventuring with me in Peter Duck.

  Julia Jones

  VOLUME THREE

  OF THE Strong Winds TRILOGY

  Illustrated by Claudia Myatt

  First published in 2012 by Golden Duck (UK) Ltd.,

  Sokens,

  Green Street,

  Pleshey, near Chelmsford,

  Essex.

  CM3 1HT

  www.golden-duck.co.uk

  All rights reserved © Julia Jones, 2012

  ISBN 978-1-899262-12-0

  All illustrations © Claudia Myatt 2012

  www.claudiamyatt.co.uk

  Design by Megan Trudell

  www.emdash.me.uk

  e-book conversion by Matti Gardner

  [email protected]

  Contents

  From the Village of Living Widows

  1. Homework

  2. A New Year’s Luck

  3. Muddy Trousers

  4. Scouting

  5. Tiger on the Prowl

  6. An Empty Lair

  7. City Lights

  8. Man Overboard

  9. Reality Check

  10. Mayday!

  11. The Winch-Man

  12. Gateway

  13. Oostende

  14. Hoi Fung

  15. Defoe

  16. Buddha Jumps Over the Wall

  17. The Desolate Shores

  18. Signals or Trophies?

  19. The Eyes of Pauguk

  20. Hazards to Navigation

  21. Point Horror

  22. Donny Draws a Map

  23. HMS Beckfoot

  24. Crossing the Bar

  25. Dead Men Don’t Move Boats

  26. Sanctuary

  27. The Return of the Campfire Kettle

  From the Chart Table

  Maps

  People you may have met already...

  From The Salt-Stained Book

  Greg and Ned Palmer

  two brothers who have died during WWII.

  Donny Walker

  christened John by his Granny, nicknamed Sinbad by his great-aunt.

  Skye Walker

  Donny’s mother, nicknamed Nimblefingers.

  Edith Walker

  (formerly Palmer) Donny’s assumed Granny, aka Old Nokomis.

  Ellen Walker

  (formerly Palmer) Donny’s great-aunt, aka Gold Dragon or Polly Lee.

  Inspector Jake Flint

  the fat policeman. Not a nice person.

  Denise ‘Toxic’ Tune

  supposed to do Welfare, actually it’s Mal-fare. She makes bad worse.

  Rev Wendy

  vicar of six parishes, foster-carer.

  Gerald

  Rev Wendy’s husband, foster-carer.

  Anna Livesey

  being looked after by Wendy and Gerald at Erewhon Parva vicarage. In year 9 at Gallister High School.

  Luke and Liam Whiting

  Anna’s stepbrothers, being looked after by Wendy and Gerald at Erewhon Parva vicarage.

  Vicky Whiting

  child of Anna’s mother and Luke and Liam’s father, being looked after by Wendy and Gerald.

  Mr McMullen

  Design Technology teacher at Gallister High School and Donny’s form tutor.

  Joshua, June, Xanthe and Maggi Ribiero

  a neurosurgeon, a magistrate and their two daughters. Both at Gallister High School.

  Sandra

  a social worker.

  Mrs Everson

  lives in Swallow’s End, a cottage down river from Pin Mill.

  Mrs Everson’s daughter

  owns a rowing dinghy called the Margery.

  From A Ravelled Flag

  All the characters from The Salt-Stained Book plus:

  The Tiger

  a mysterious and violent character, frequently disguised.

  Creepy Tony

  a Social Services line-manager.

  Hawkins

  a canary.

  Ai Qin

  owner of a Chinese restaurant in Lowestoft, the Floating Lotus.

  Hoi Fung

  chef at the Floating Lotus.

  Eirene Walker

  (formerly Palmer) Skye’s m
other, aka beautiful Wenonah. Sister of Edith and Ellen, Greg and Ned.

  Henry Wadsworth

  an Ojibwa sachem (leader), aka Mudjekewis. Served with Canadian forces in World War II, married to Eirene, father of Skye.

  Seraphina Spinks

  deputy head teacher at Gallister High School.

  A Chinese Cleaner

  Professor Callum Reif

  aka Oboe. Distinguished wartime scientist and inventor. Anna’s great-uncle. Childhood friends with the Palmer family. Could have loved Ellen.

  Theodora Thorrington

  Cal Reif’s sister. A successful novelist. Died rich.

  Bill Whiting

  father of Luke, Liam and Vicky. Currently in prison.

  Edward

  a lawyer from Cambridge.

  Ben Gunn

  a crazy black terrier.

  Lottie Livesey

  Anna and Vicky’s mother.

  Boats you may have met already...

  Lively Lady

  Mirror dinghy loaned to Donny by the Ribiero family.

  The shark-boat

  Inspector Flint’s expensive power-boat. As much a bully as he is.

  Margery

  Sturdily built wooden rowing dinghy owned by Mrs Everson’s daughter.

  The ‘Hispaniola’

  Not her real name. Inhabited by the Tiger.

  Snow Goose

  Classic 1920s yawl belonging to the Ribiero family. Described by Joshua Ribiero as ‘designed by the hand of God’.

  Spray and Kingfisher

  Two laser dinghies belonging to Xanthe and Maggi Ribiero and named after yachts sailed round the world by Joshua Slocum and Ellen MacArthur.

  The Houdalinqua

  Sea-going canoe built by Henry Wadsworth, Donny’s unknown grandfather. Her name means rushing water.

  Strong Winds

  Built for Gold Dragon in Bias Bay, China.

  Vexilla

  A 16’ day boat bought by Great Aunt Ellen. Her name means flag or standard.

  Rural China, January 2007

  My father left when I was a baby. He went to the city to work for us and my mother stayed to care for me and work with my grandparents in the fields. We are rural people; we have no rights in cities. It is the classification system, the hukou.

  When I was born my father wanted the best for me. I am the only child. If he went away and worked in the new factories and lived in one room and saved all that he earned, then there would be better food for all of us and extra lessons for me. English lessons. Then one day I could take the gaokao and go to university, if I passed. Then my hukou would change and all my family would have a better life.

  My father died when I was three years old. My grandfather and my mother went to the city to find out what had happened but no-one was able to explain. He was just another rural worker. He had been strong and healthy when he left this village but he had collapsed. A heart attack, they thought. He didn’t have rights to a pension so they didn’t give my mother anything, except his ashes to bring home. The factory owner offered my mother a job but she said no. She would stay in the village and help my grandparents and when I was older I would help them too. It had been a mistake to try to change our lives, she thought then.

  There were no men in our village when I was growing up. There were the old, the young and the women. That’s how it got its nickname – the Village of Living Widows.

  Then the women began to go.

  Families are very important in China. My mother was unhappy that she could not do more for my grandparents and for me. She worked so hard but farming was changing. My mother and my grandfather began to think that my father had been right. If there was a chance for me to make a good life in this new world she would have to go away. She would earn more and it would help us all.

  She went when I was seven. But she didn’t go to the city, she went across the sea to England, where the ghosts, the gweilao, live. My grandfather gave her all his savings and they borrowed the rest from a moneylender. Then they paid a she-tou, a snakehead, for her journey. It was a long way and very expensive but the she-tou said she would do well in England. Other women had gone. As soon as they’d paid the travel debt they were sending money home to their families. He told her that she’d made a good decision.

  It was early in the morning when she left. My grandmother marinated eggs in tea for her to eat on the journey. She packed some rice balls too and small sweet biscuits. No-one said much when she’d gone. My grandparents went to work as usual and I went to school. I promised I would study hard to be ready for our new good life.

  I am fourteen now. My mother doesn’t ring us any more. I know that she’s still in England but she says that phoning will put us at risk. She has had to borrow more money. There is a new gong-tou, a gang-master. I think she’s frightened.

  My grandfather is dead and my grandmother will live with her cousin. I have made up my mind. I am leaving the Village of Living Widows and I am going to find my mother in the Country of the Ghosts.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Homework

  River Stour, Suffolk, Friday 13 April 2007

  “Your homework this week ... is to draw your dad.” The art teacher at Gallister High School looked round encouragingly at her year 9 group. “Try and catch him when he’s quite relaxed, maybe watching TV or something. You’ll need a selection of your softer pencils or you could even use charcoal. Men’s faces can display a fascinating range of textures. Sweaty if he’s been working out or jogging. Stubbly at the end of the day or maybe bags under his eyes from a heavy night.”

  She paused. Perhaps she noticed how many of the class had shoved their planners back into their bags unopened.

  “Oh,” she said. “Maybe not everyone’s dad is there for them right now. Step-dads are fine, uncles, granddads, older brothers. Everyone’s got someone, surely?”

  People stood up, put their folders away in the wide, flat drawers, pushed their chairs under the high benches or left them as they were. They shrugged their bags onto their shoulders and turned to leave. She knew she’d made a mistake.

  “Look,” she tried again, “If you’re really stuck, find me and we’ll talk it through. I might rent out one of my colleagues – the department could use some extra funding!”

  The bell had gone. They ignored her and left.

  “And if anyone doesn’t hand it in on time – anyone at all – I’m setting detentions!” she screeched.

  Donny Walker was out of his seat and heading for the door with the rest. Donny liked art. He’d put it on his list for GCSE options. But this was one homework he wouldn’t be doing. Stuff detentions.

  “Everyone’s got someone, sure-ly?” That’s what the teacher had said. Tum-ti, tum-ti tum tum, ta ta. Yup, he was a lucky one. He had his family and he had his friends. It was just that none of them happened to be male.

  Donny had to work to a Care Plan. It said he must never miss a day of school, must never be late, must always hand his homework in on time and must achieve ‘challenging’ academic targets. Or he risked being taken away from his home.

  All the same, as of today, stuff detentions!

  This was Friday afternoon. The art department was on the top floor of one of the school’s collection of greyish flat-roofed blocks and, as Donny started down the first of the concrete stairways, he was soon caught up in a stream of chattering, barging students heading out for the weekend.

  Donny’s home was Strong Winds, a Chinese junk anchored on the Suffolk side of the River Stour. The River Stour was completely beautiful but it did present problems for a boy who absolutely had to arrive for registration at the same time as everyone else – when a west or south-westerly gale was ripping down it, for instance, or when the tide was out, emptying the creeks and leaving flat gleaming expanses of soft mud on either side.

  There was no way Donny could explain the school to the river or the river to the school. So he kept an alternative timetable – the one with tide times and weather conditio
ns – running on auto in his head and sorted his own complex arrangements for fitting it to school time.

  If he hadn’t got so irritated with that art teacher he wouldn’t be rushing now. The tide had been kind to him that morning. It had been a nine am high water so he and Lively Lady had come flooding into Gallister Creek at eight with plenty of depth and plenty of time to step ashore, collect his bike, and arrive clean and correct with the rest of his tutor group.

  Getting home wasn’t going to be so easy. A three pm low water would by now have emptied the twisting channel. Donny could either hang around for a couple of hours until the water returned or he could push the dinghy across the metres of mud that separated him from his floating home, sticking and squelching. He’d get yelled at by Gold Dragon if he brought any of the gluey gunk onto her immaculately clean ship. Maybe he’d alter course and head for the DT block where his tutor, Mr McMullen, would be ending the week in a more leisurely style.

  Mr Mac had a snowy beard and beetling white eyebrows. No shortage of texture, Donny thought. Okay, so he wasn’t a relation, or exactly a friend but ... He was his tutor, the one adult in this school that Donny trusted. He wouldn’t use charcoal; maybe crayon on a tinted paper? He could do a sketch in a DT open department evening. Especially when afternoon tides were getting later ...

  “Donald!”

  They’d reached the ground floor. Donny took no notice. He put his head down and got ready for the final crush as the students surged through the exit doors to freedom.

  “Donald! Donald Walker, over here please!”

  Donny cursed. He knew that voice. Ms Spinks, one of the school deputy heads, could never be bothered to get his name right. His given name was John, not Donald. It was to do with his great-uncle Gregory who’d wanted to be a character from Swallows and Amazons. Donny had never known either of his great-uncles. They’d died in the war. He’d read some of the books though. He had one in his backpack now, We Didn’t Mean to Go To Sea. He thought it was probably his favourite.