When Harry and I went down, Mum had said goodbye to the builders and was ready to lock up. Bella was on the beach, building a city out of twigs, shells, stones and sea-glass.

  ‘Mum,’ I said. ‘Did you know that you can climb up to the tower? You can see the whole island from up there!’

  ‘I thought that might cheer you up,’ said Mum.

  ‘We saw a pod of dolphins down in the cove,’ added Harry. ‘One of them was jumping and smiling at us.’

  Mum beamed at us both. ‘I wish I’d seen that. But it’s a good omen, don’t you think? Dolphins are super-lucky.’

  I hoped so. My family needed all the luck we could get right now.

  My grandparents, Mimi and Papa, live in a gorgeous whitewashed stone cottage halfway along the ocean beach, surrounded by a big, lush tropical garden. Most of the houses in Kira Cove are painted the colour of vanilla ice-cream.

  While the house is super-cute, it is tiny, so the four of us were sleeping in an old caravan in the backyard. There is a double bed at one end, which Mum and Bella share, then double bunks at the other end. I’m on the top bunk and Harry’s down below. In the middle there’s a tiny table and bench seats, a gas stove, a sink and a miniature fridge.

  When we got back to the caravan, we all did our own activities until dinnertime. Bella and Mum were reading together, while Harry was practising his magic tricks in the garden. I was drawing the leaping dolphin in my notebook, trying to capture his cheeky smile.

  Then Papa called us for dinner. We usually ate out on the patio under the frangipani tree. Mimi had made a big pot of her famous spaghetti bolognaise. When we were on holidays, I often helped Mimi cook, but with our first day at school and working at the boatshed and the excitement of the dolphins, the day had whizzed past.

  Papa ladled sauce onto our pasta and Mimi handed the plates around. We told them all about our first day at school while we slurped up the long, stringy spaghetti.

  ‘I found a shark egg washed up on the beach, with a tiny baby shark inside,’ said Bella. ‘Mum said I can take it to school for show-and-tell tomorrow. And there was a wicked witch that came to the boatshed today.’

  ‘A wicked witch?’ asked Mimi with a repressed smile.

  ‘We met one of our new neighbours,’ said Mum. ‘Mrs Beecham, who hates builders and hates noise.’

  ‘And hates kids,’ I added. ‘Careful, Bella. She might take you for a ride on her broomstick.’

  Mimi put her hand over mine. ‘Mrs Beecham doesn’t hate anyone. She’s just lonely and in pain with her arthritis.’

  I felt a tiny flicker of remorse.

  Papa turned to Mum. ‘And how was your day? Did the builders get much done?’

  Mum looked worried for a moment. ‘Oh, yes. It seems to be going okay, and the kids helped me clean out all the rubbish from the bottom level, so we can get a good sense of the space now.’

  ‘So do you think it will be ready in time for the planned opening celebration?’ asked Mimi. Mum wanted to throw a party to officially launch the cafe when it was finished.

  ‘I hope so,’ said Mum. ‘The books are all ordered and the furniture’s on its way. But Jason, the builder, warned me that deliveries to the island can sometimes be unreliable. So let’s hope nothing else gets delayed.’

  ‘Else?’ asked Mimi. ‘Has something gone wrong already?’

  Mum sighed. ‘We’re waiting on a big delivery of timber that was meant to arrive a few days ago, but apparently it went to the wrong island.’

  ‘How could it go to the wrong island?’ I asked. ‘That’s crazy.’

  ‘It was loaded on the wrong ferry, unloaded on the other end and is still sitting there. Jason said it will probably turn up eventually.’

  Papa laughed. ‘That’s one of the charming things about Kira. Island time runs differently to the rest of the busy world.’

  ‘But I promised the bank we’d open in three weeks,’ said Mum. ‘We need to start earning money as soon as possible.’

  Money had been very tight in our family since we left London. Mum was pinning all her hopes on the cafe being a huge success.

  Mimi raised her glass in a toast. ‘Don’t worry, darling. Things will work out.’

  I just hoped she was right. It didn’t look very promising to me at the moment.

  The next few days at school were better, as I settled into the routine and started to remember faces and names. That was until the last class on Thursday, which was dance with Miss Demi. Miss Demi was a young teacher in a black singlet and leggings who was brimming with energy and enthusiasm.

  Back home I enjoyed dancing but I must confess I’d never been the best at it. I always struggled to remember the steps and my rhythm was way off. When I was learning the piano in London, I was hopeless at it (although my music teacher told Mum a little practice would help). So you can imagine how hard it was for me in Miss Demi’s class, where all the other kids had been learning the routine for weeks already. It was truly awful!

  I felt like a baby elephant as I tried to pick up the moves. I was stretching to the sky while everyone else was sweeping to the ground, or I was jumping left, while everyone else was hopping right.

  Miss Demi had me behind Olivia, copying her. But Olivia seemed so graceful and polished that it just made me feel more hopeless.

  The worst part was when I jumped the wrong way and crashed right into the boy next to me. My outstretched arm smashed into the poor boy’s nose.

  ‘Oowww,’ he cried, tears of pain filling his eyes as he clutched his nose. Everyone stopped dancing and turned to look. What a disaster!

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ I cried, blushing the colour of a Kira Island sunset.

  ‘Alex, are you okay?’ asked Olivia, rushing over to help him.

  Alex garbled a muffled response. Olivia turned to the teacher. ‘Miss Demi, should I take Alex to see the nurse? He might have broken his nose.’

  Miss Demi came over, looking worried. She checked Alex’s nose. It was bright red and swollen. ‘Good idea, Olivia. Thank you – that’s very kind.’

  Olivia and Alex headed out of the hall.

  ‘Come on, 5M,’ said Miss Demi. ‘Let’s get back to work. Pippa, perhaps you should just sit and watch for a while. I’m sure you’ll pick it up soon.’

  I wanted to shrink inside myself like a turtle. I sat up the back on my own, watching and trying to memorise the choreography.

  After school, we planned to go to Meg’s to work on our science project. But first I had to meet Bella and Harry and walk them to the boatshed.

  Mum had decided that instead of picking us up as she had always done in London, she wanted me to walk my brother and sister home. She said it would be good for me to have some extra responsibility now that she had so much to do at the building site. Of course, because Mum wasn’t there it took ages to chase up Bella and herd her out of the playground. She was having too much fun playing with all her new friends on the monkey bars.

  By the time I’d extracted Bella, Harry had disappeared. It was very frustrating. I was a bit annoyed with Mum. Really, it would have been so much easier if she’d come by the school.

  In the end we all walked down to the beach together – Harry, Bella, Charlie, Meg, Cici and me. The boatshed was a busy, noisy scene of builders bustling around sawing and hammering. I paused outside, hoping the girls would want to wait for me there.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ I said. ‘I’ll just tell Mum where I’m going.’

  ‘No rush,’ said Meg. ‘What are they building?’

  ‘In London, Mum worked as a stockbroker,’ I said. ‘But there are no jobs like that here on Kira Island. So Mum has this crazy plan of turning the shed into a cafe and bookshop.’

  ‘That sounds great,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Maybe,’ I said gloomily. ‘But the place is a wreck.’

  The girls followed me inside and stared around. Mum was standing at a trestle table, poring over plans and lists. Behind her, the builders had partially erected some walls and a counter.

  ‘Hello, girls,’ said Mum. ‘Have you come to help with the sanding?’

  I introduced the girls to Mum and, before I knew it, Mum was giving them the guided tour, pointing out where everything would be. She did make it sound promising.

  ‘The cafe will be like a gorgeous living room, with comfy sofas, squashy cushions, bookshelves and buckets of fresh flowers,’ said Mum, waving her hand around like a magic wand. ‘Then outside on the jetty, we’ll have pretty tables and chairs in the sunshine so customers can enjoy the views.’

  ‘It’s just like one of those TV shows,’ said Cici. Her brown eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. ‘You know, where they take a ramshackle old building, and turn it into an amazingly stylish home.’

  ‘Won’t it be great to have a cafe so close to school?’ said Charlie. ‘We could meet here in the afternoon. Everyone will love having somewhere to go.’

  ‘Especially a cafe with yummy cupcakes and mango smoothies,’ added Cici.

  ‘I think we can manage that, can’t we, Pipkin?’ said Mum.

  Charlie, Meg and Cici beamed at me.

  ‘I guess so,’ I said. For the first time since we’d left London, weeks ago, I felt a flicker of excitement. Perhaps their enthusiasm was contagious.

  Mum wanted me to drop some mail into the postbox, so the girls and I waited out the front while Mum finished getting organised. Our boatshed was built on a wooden pier that jutted above the sandy beach and over the water. An esplanade ran alongside the beach in both directions with a wide strip of lawn lined with palm trees.

  The paved pathway was busy with kids riding bikes, parents pushing prams and people walking their dogs. I looked longingly at all the dogs, imagining which kind I’d love to have. A golden retriever with a lolling tongue, a cute spotted beagle, a shaggy terrier or a big, goofy labrador? In London, I’d always loved fussing over the dogs being walked in Batter-sea Park near our home. But even though I’d begged and begged to have our own dog, Mum said that our terrace courtyard was way too tiny.

  A group of boys from our class cruised past on their skateboards. They waved at us. I suddenly realised that one of them was Alex, the boy I’d smashed in the face during dance class. The girls called out hello.

  I felt my cheeks reddening and quickly glanced out to sea, remembering the humiliation of dance with Miss Demi.

  ‘Poor Alex,’ said Charlie. ‘His nose still looks a bit puffy.’

  ‘At least it wasn’t really broken,’ said Meg. ‘Just a bit swollen.’

  I winced. ‘Don’t remind me. I thought I’d die of embarrassment.’

  ‘It was pretty funny,’ said Cici, with a grin. She did a little impersonation of me awkwardly dancing, pretending to knock Meg over.

  Meg looked at me with understanding. ‘It’s hard to learn a new dance when everyone else knows it.’

  Charlie flicked her long hair over her shoulder. ‘We should practise with you. It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it.’

  ‘I don’t even recognise the song,’ I confessed.

  ‘It’s one of our favourites,’ said Cici. ‘It’s called “Love and Laughter”, by Ruby Starr. She’s a famous singer who went to our school when she was younger.’

  ‘I adore her music,’ said Charlie. ‘I can play nearly all Ruby’s songs on the guitar.’ Charlie began to sing the song, playing an invisible guitar. She had a lovely voice.

  ‘Dance positions,’ urged Cici.

  Charlie, Cici and Meg crouched down on the lawn, their heads curled to their chests.

  ‘And one, two, three, four … and up,’ instructed Cici.

  The three girls leapt to their feet. Cici called out the directions as they danced. ‘And step, one, two, three and twist …’ Charlie kept singing the words. I began to copy them, concentrating hard to memorise the steps. It went really well for the first two minutes.

  We all joined in singing the song, dancing on the grass in the hot summer sunshine. Then, of course, I miscalculated and jumped to my right as the girls jumped to their left. Meg, Charlie and I ended up in a tumble of arms and legs on the ground, howling with laughter.

  ‘Well, that didn’t go so well,’ joked Cici, flopping down on the ground beside us. ‘More like baby hippos than graceful gazelles.’

  I sat up, my cheeks aching with merriment.

  ‘What on earth is this ruckus?’ boomed a familiar voice. It was Mrs Beecham, our crotchety new neighbour, glaring at me.

  ‘We … we were just laughing,’ I tried to explain. A giggle bubbled up, threatening to burst free. ‘I mean, we were singing and then we fell over … and …’

  ‘Don’t you be sassy with me, Philippa Hamilton,’ snapped Mrs Beecham, leaning on her stick. ‘I’ve already told your mother that I won’t tolerate rambunctious children or deafening builders destroying the peace of my neighbourhood. It’s a disgrace.’

  I remembered Mrs Beecham’s threat to report Mum to the council. That would be a huge worry that Mum didn’t need right now. I felt crushed.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Beecham,’ I mumbled. ‘We were practising something for school.’

  ‘Where’s your mother?’ Mrs Beecham demanded. ‘I need a word with her.’

  The old lady stormed off in the direction of the boatshed, huffing and puffing her annoyance.

  ‘What was her problem?’ asked Meg, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘She just hates kids,’ I replied. ‘Especially noisy kids.’

  ‘You mean rambunctious kids?’ said Cici with a grin.

  ‘Or is it sassy kids she hates most?’ suggested Charlie.

  We all giggled some more.

  A few minutes later, Mum escorted Mrs Beecham back out the door. She looked harried as she gave me the mail to post on the way to Meg’s. Before we could cause any more ruckus, the four of us headed off.

  Meg’s yacht was about five minutes away, moored off a jetty in the bay. The yacht was sleek and white, with a timber deck, a tall mast and the sails furled along the boom. Some washing flapped on a line strung across the stern. We scrambled aboard across a narrow plank and onto the bow of the yacht.

  Further back was the cockpit, set low into the deck. It had narrow benches along each side and the large steering wheel at the back. A door was open, leading down a ladder into the main cabin.

  ‘Hi, Mum, are you home?’ called Meg.

  ‘Down below,’ answered a voice.

  We all followed Meg down into the cabin. Meg’s mum was sitting at the small dining table working on her laptop. She looked up with a welcoming smile.

  ‘Mum, this is Pippa Hamilton,’ said Meg. ‘She started at school with us last week. Pippa, this is my mum, Mariana.’

  We all said hello.

  A grey tabby cat came and wound his way around Meg’s legs, meowing loudly. She picked him up and gave him a rub on the head.

  ‘This is our ship’s cat, Neptune,’ said Meg. ‘He visits the trawlers every morning to beg for a fishy treat. Everyone who works on the harbour knows him.’

  Meg showed us around. It reminded me a bit of our caravan, with a narrow cabin for Meg’s parents in the front, a tiny kitchen and dining table in the middle and two tiny beds at the back, tucked one on either side of the steps under the deck. Next to the kitchen was a bank of complicated-looking machinery with dials, screens and lights. Above it was a shelf laden with cameras, binoculars and cables.

  ‘What’s all this for?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s the equipment for Mum’s research,’ replied Meg. She picked up a flat, round microphone with a long cable. ‘Mum swims in the ocean with wild dolphins, using hydrophones like this and underwater video cameras to record their different noises.’

  Mariana looked up, her face alight with enthusiasm. ‘There are so many ways that dolphins communicate. They squeak, click and whistle, and use body language. It’s fascinating.’

  ‘Did you know that every dolphin has an individual whistle, which is like a name?’ Meg asked me. ‘If you record that noise and play it back, the dolphin responds, just like you would if I called out Pippa.’

  ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘So you can actually speak with the dolphins.’

  Mariana nodded. ‘On a simple level for now, but perhaps in years to come we might be able to truly communicate.’

  Meg looked proud. ‘The dolphins even have a special whistle for Mum. They have a game they like to play where they steal a rope from us and toss it back and forth from snout to snout, like they’re playing catch.’

  ‘That’s my dog Muffin’s favourite game too,’ said Cici, with a grin. ‘Only Meg, the Wildlife Whisperer, would have pet dolphins that play catch.’

  Charlie and I giggled. I imagined a dolphin coming to Meg’s whistle and wagging its tail.

  ‘They’re not pets,’ said Meg, looking serious. ‘They’re wild creatures. We’re really careful not to feed the dolphins or handle them unnecessarily.’

  ‘I’d love to play with wild dolphins,’ Charlie said, wistfully.

  ‘One day I’ll take you girls out with me on a research trip,’ Mariana promised.

  ‘That would be amazing,’ I said. I looked around the yacht with a thrill of excitement. Meg certainly had an interesting life.

  ‘Speaking of studying animals,’ said Meg, ‘perhaps we should go and do some research of our own.’

  The four of us went back up and sat on the benches in the cockpit. Meg brought the laptop with her so we could look up fun facts for our game.

  ‘Could you toss me a cushion, please, Meg?’ asked Cici. Meg opened a hatch under the bench seat and passed out four navy cushions.

  ‘Everything is so tidy on your yacht,’ I said. ‘Our place seems to get messy so fast.’

  ‘We’ve lived on a yacht for years now, so it’s just easier if everyone keeps it tidy,’ said Meg. ‘Besides, there’s not much storage space so we don’t actually have much stuff.’

 

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