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Authors: Jean Flitcroft
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herself â at least in her dream or premonition or whatever it was. But whoever had painted these pictures knew the monster very well indeed.
Vanessa looked at her watch. It was twenty to five. Her dad had said that Lee would take them out in the boat on Loch Ness at half past four. It was time to go â with or without Lee. If she waited much longer it would get too dark.
She pulled on her jacket over her warm fleece and went downstairs. There was no sign of the boys or of Maggie, thank God. The air was crisp and cool when she stepped into the garden and the boat was sitting quite still in the water. It was like a millpond, perfectly safe. She would take it out 50 metres or so around the corner and probably be back in before Alan and Lee arrived home.
She untied the boat easily enough and pushed off with the oar. To her dismay, she found that she wasnât a very good rower. It was usually Luke or her dad who rowed when they went fishing in Ireland.
Vanessa put the oars in the oarlocks and pulled hard. They were surprisingly heavy and too deep in the water to pull. They should be closer to the surface, she decided, but when she tried that, she skimmed the top of the water and splashed herself. It took a couple of minutes to work out, but soon she managed a few small but even strokes and moved off from the bank. Keeping the rhythm going, she felt very pleased with herself. It was really quite easy when you got the hang of it. Once she rounded the corner, out of sight of the cottage, her determination evaporated. Dad would kill her if he caught her.
The silence was eerie out on the loch. She had expected to see birds or other boats on the water, but there was nothing. All she could hear was the gentle lap of water on the oars. Every muscle in her body felt rigid as she crouched over, sweating with the effort, trying to decide whether to continue or to go back.
Something moved at great speed from behind the bank of trees, making Vanessa look up with a start. The hawk again â silent and predatory, it circled high over the boat. She felt sure it was the same one that had frightened her in the abbey before. Had it been watching and waiting for her? She stretched her neck backwards, following its every move, terrified it would swoop down on her again. And then she saw it dive and lift a small fish in its beak, soaring back up high into the sky and off behind the trees. How ridiculous she was being! It was simply a hawk, doing what hawks do.
Vanessa tightened her grip on the left oar and then noticed that the right oar was gone. She must have let go as she watched the hawk. Standing up cautiously in the boat, she looked around in the water for it. Relieved, she saw that it was floating about 3 metres away to the right. She could easily punt over to it.
It was slower progress than Vanessa imagined and she could feel a small knot of anxiety in her chest. She would be fine, she told herself. The last thing she needed now was an asthma attack. She couldnât swim to the oar, as she would never be able to get back in the boat, so she would just have to paddle slowly.
It seemed as if the oar was drifting away at exactly the same speed as she was moving towards it. The gap just wouldnât close. She was quite a distance from Maggieâs now, and nobody could see her even if they were out in the garden. No panicking, just paddle harder she told herself.
Finally, Vanessaâs efforts paid off. Using the other oar she pulled the one in the water in to the side of the boat. It would be difficult to get it up out of the water. Her hands were aching and her left palm was beginning to blister. She stood up again and with less caution this time leaned over the side of the boat, balancing on her stomach to pull it up.
In that moment, as Vanessa balanced on the edge, not wanting to let go of the oar again, she saw what would happen before it actually did. In slow motion, the boat tipped further over under her
Vanessa looked at her watch. It was twenty to five. Her dad had said that Lee would take them out in the boat on Loch Ness at half past four. It was time to go â with or without Lee. If she waited much longer it would get too dark.
She pulled on her jacket over her warm fleece and went downstairs. There was no sign of the boys or of Maggie, thank God. The air was crisp and cool when she stepped into the garden and the boat was sitting quite still in the water. It was like a millpond, perfectly safe. She would take it out 50 metres or so around the corner and probably be back in before Alan and Lee arrived home.
She untied the boat easily enough and pushed off with the oar. To her dismay, she found that she wasnât a very good rower. It was usually Luke or her dad who rowed when they went fishing in Ireland.
Vanessa put the oars in the oarlocks and pulled hard. They were surprisingly heavy and too deep in the water to pull. They should be closer to the surface, she decided, but when she tried that, she skimmed the top of the water and splashed herself. It took a couple of minutes to work out, but soon she managed a few small but even strokes and moved off from the bank. Keeping the rhythm going, she felt very pleased with herself. It was really quite easy when you got the hang of it. Once she rounded the corner, out of sight of the cottage, her determination evaporated. Dad would kill her if he caught her.
The silence was eerie out on the loch. She had expected to see birds or other boats on the water, but there was nothing. All she could hear was the gentle lap of water on the oars. Every muscle in her body felt rigid as she crouched over, sweating with the effort, trying to decide whether to continue or to go back.
Something moved at great speed from behind the bank of trees, making Vanessa look up with a start. The hawk again â silent and predatory, it circled high over the boat. She felt sure it was the same one that had frightened her in the abbey before. Had it been watching and waiting for her? She stretched her neck backwards, following its every move, terrified it would swoop down on her again. And then she saw it dive and lift a small fish in its beak, soaring back up high into the sky and off behind the trees. How ridiculous she was being! It was simply a hawk, doing what hawks do.
Vanessa tightened her grip on the left oar and then noticed that the right oar was gone. She must have let go as she watched the hawk. Standing up cautiously in the boat, she looked around in the water for it. Relieved, she saw that it was floating about 3 metres away to the right. She could easily punt over to it.
It was slower progress than Vanessa imagined and she could feel a small knot of anxiety in her chest. She would be fine, she told herself. The last thing she needed now was an asthma attack. She couldnât swim to the oar, as she would never be able to get back in the boat, so she would just have to paddle slowly.
It seemed as if the oar was drifting away at exactly the same speed as she was moving towards it. The gap just wouldnât close. She was quite a distance from Maggieâs now, and nobody could see her even if they were out in the garden. No panicking, just paddle harder she told herself.
Finally, Vanessaâs efforts paid off. Using the other oar she pulled the one in the water in to the side of the boat. It would be difficult to get it up out of the water. Her hands were aching and her left palm was beginning to blister. She stood up again and with less caution this time leaned over the side of the boat, balancing on her stomach to pull it up.
In that moment, as Vanessa balanced on the edge, not wanting to let go of the oar again, she saw what would happen before it actually did. In slow motion, the boat tipped further over under her
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