LITMIR.BIZ

CHAPTER THREE

       I Didn’t Know There Was a Meire in West Lothian

      Myla’s bedroom was right at the top of Kittiwake Keep. She liked the quiet for studying, but a few weeks ago, she’d admitted to Molly that she sometimes felt hurt that nobody went to visit her up there. Molly had been making more effort ever since, bringing Myla cups of milky tea and asking what subject she was revising, even though she understood precisely none of the answers.

      Considering how sensible she was, Myla was surprisingly messy. Tonight her bed was covered in wrinkled clothes, dog-eared textbooks and random pieces of half-eaten toast. Molly tried to clear a small corner of duvet to perch on. As she did, something tiny and furry scurried out from under a navy school sweater.

      Molly screamed at the top of her lungs. ‘A rat! A rat! It’s after your toast!’

      Myla laughed and scooped the little grey furball up from its terrified spot on the wooden floor. ‘It’s a rabbit. She’s called Boudicca.’

      ‘Right,’ said Molly after a moment. ‘Of course. Boudicca. I . . . where did Boudicca come from, exactly?’

      ‘She was queen of the Iceni people of East Anglia.’

      Molly fought with all her might, but her eyes rolled regardless. ‘I meant rabbit Boudicca.’

      ‘Ah, yes. I should’ve deduced that from context,’ Myla said in her very best Sherlock voice.

      ‘Don’t beat yourself up,’ Molly muttered. ‘Not everyone can be as intelligent as me.’

      ‘Rabbit Boudicca is a rescue. I adopted her two months ago. Nobody has noticed yet.’

      Molly gaped at her. ‘But I’ve been in your room loads in the last two months!’

      ‘You never were that observant. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t notice the smell.’

      ‘I did. I just thought you were too busy studying to wash your hair.’

      Myla smirked, stroking Boudicca absent-mindedly. ‘That too.’

      With no subtle way to segue into what she really wanted to talk about, Molly plonked herself down – watching out for any other rogue mammals nesting in the chaos – and said, ‘Do you ever study Meire?’

      ‘Meire?’ Myla blinked. ‘The mermaid queendom?’

      ‘No, Myla. Meire in West Lothian.’

      Myla frowned. ‘How interesting. I didn’t know there was a Meire in West Lothian.’

      Molly snorted. ‘Myla.’

      ‘Oh. It’s that sarcasm thing you do.’

      ‘Yes. I am famously the only person in the world to use sarcasm.’

      Myla peered disapprovingly over her thick-rimmed glasses. Boudicca purred in her lap. ‘I read about Meire a lot. The books beneath the trapdoor are an endless source of knowledge.’

      There was an ancient library hidden below the lighthouse, underneath the broken dishwasher. Molly remembered running a finger over those dusty tomes as though it were yesterday, although it hadn’t occurred to her to revisit them. She was no good at reading long, complicated things.

      Plucking at some stray crumbs on the bedsheets, Molly mumbled, ‘Maybe . . . maybe we could talk about Meire sometime. I’m not good at reading, but I’d love for you to teach me some cool stuff.’

      Myla grinned then, as though all her nerdy dreams had come true at once. ‘I can do more than teach you about Meire. I can show you.’

      Heart skipping a beat, Molly asked, ‘What?’

      ‘I’ve found a place. A little shelf of seabed from which you can just make out Balaena, the old capital of Meire.’ Eyes glittering with a kind of mischief Molly had never seen in her big sister, Myla added, ‘I have a special underwater telescope which was passed down by our ancestors.’

      Molly’s chest was pounding with excitement now. ‘But won’t we get in trouble? Mum doesn’t like us going in the sea. And you of all people hate breaking the rules.’

      Then it was Myla’s turn to roll her eyes. ‘I’m smart, Mol, not a goody-goody. That’s Melissa. In fact, my curiosity often wreaks havoc with my moral compass. I’m happy to bend the rules if it means discovering something new.’

      Molly beamed. ‘You know, I really like you, Myla.’

      ‘I like you too, kid. So what do you say? Meire at midnight?’