Chapter 1: PREFACE - BEFORE THE STORM
Chapter Text
This is a story about a pair of sunglasses and a small island newspaper. Well, the main story is about 2 young outcasts falling in love - but 12 year olds haven’t quite reached that age where they begin to give up, the lucky sods still have that bright spark. Like most stories on the island of New Penzance, we start with a storm.
The distinct sound of feverish typing cut through the howling of the wind. Lynnie, a study girl with muddy brown hair, sat beneath an amber lamp - fair aisle jumper rolled up to her elbows, hand absently reaching for her cup of tea. If you could catch her attention for more than a minute, she would offer you a lopsided smile and inquisitive stare. See, any normal person would be concerned to find a stranger in their supposedly empty house, but Lynnie would be aware of the fact that the stranger would also be in an empty house with her - a captive audience.
“I’m a journalist, or a writer - depends what sort of day I’m having,” The words would fall out of her mouth with a slight laugh, usually said to the poor soul that made the mistake of sitting next to her at church. It was not a place she preferred to attend, not unless it was to watch a performance of Noye’s Fludde. One time, the person made the mistake of responding -
“I wasn’t aware there was a difference-”
Almost certainly meant as a small pleasantry, not intended to continue into a long winding conversation, but Lynnie was no stranger to trapping people into hour-long rambles that bordered on lectures.
So there she was sat, typing away on her Olivetti.
“I need a new ribbon,” she mumbled to herself, “I should probably ask the Bishops.”
Those words fell out of her mouth on a near hourly basis. No sugar? Ask the Bishops. No hot water? Ask the Bishops. In truth the only thing she would actually ask for from the Bishops was new reams of paper - the two lawyers always had plenty to hand. Finally the typing stopped. Lynnie pulled the paper release lever towards her and slipped out the page. In bright red capital letters it bore the title of -
“THE NEW PENZANCE POST”
- Followed by an overly introspective paragraph; some long winded metaphysical piece about growing up. She sat in silence, savouring the sounds of the storm. Her eyes closed as she let her head tip back, yawning and stretching until she was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.
“Marilyn, It’s Mrs Bishop.” Somehow the woman’s voice echoed through the house. Lynnie shot up, nearly slipping in her socks on the wooden floor as she rushed to the door. When she pulled it open she was met with a soaking Mrs Bishop, practically shivering in her yellow wellington boots.
“You’re parents sent me a letter a couple of days ago, they told me to come and fetch you if there was a storm.”
That was how Lynnie found herself crossing a muddy meadow in gale force winds.
INT: THE BISHOPS’ HOUSE
“ In order to show you how a big symphony orchestra is put together, Benjamin Britten has written a big piece of music…” classical music echoed through the house from Lionel’s record player - ‘A young person’s guide to the orchestra’ was closer to the end of the record so Lynnie managed to listen to it one time less than anyone else. It wasn’t long until she found herself in the Attic with Suzy. The 12 year old, as always, was sat by the window watching the rest of Black Beacon Sound through her Binoculars. Lynnie lay on her stomach on the floor beside her, typing away on a toy-typewriter she had commandeered from the boys.
“I don’t need a babysitter you know, I’m 12,” Suzy said, not looking away from the sea.
“Well I’m 17 and my parents made your parents pick me up for a storm like any other - the Grown-ups don’t trust us Suzy.”
Lynnie was used to this conversation by now, she knew Suzy wasn’t angry at her, if anything she thought the girl enjoyed having another young person to complain to.
“DO you think Jed will still deliver the mail?” Suzy asked as she broke away from the window to look down at Lynnie.
“Why? Are you expecting something?” Lynnie paused her typing to take a look at the sky, “Probably not, it’s midday but it looks like midnight - Jed might be crazy but…” Lynnie trailed off, realising that Suzy’s stare was slowly becoming a confused glare.
Lynnie resumed her typing.
“Is it from your little pen pal?” She asked. At this Suzy slipped down from her spot on the windowsill to sit, cross-legged, at the other side of the typewriter. A small silence sat with them, punctuated by a small ‘ding’.
“I’m going to tell you a secret.”
Lynnie was about to respond, but Suzy placed a hand over her mouth making her stop.
“Shh,” Suzy started, looking around to make sure none of her brothers were near, “We’re planning to run away, me and Sam, only for a few days.”
Suzy finally pulled her hand away (with some encouragement from Lynnie) revealing a wide grin.
“So he’s on The Island!”
Suzy nodded.
“He’s a Khaki scout, His troop is camping here for the Hullabaloo.”
Lynnie tilted her head and shuffled so she was sat upright.
“Isn’t that over on ST. Jacks wood?”
“Probably, it doesn’t matter anyway - we’ll be long gone by then.”
By this point, Lynnie’s chin was resting in her hands, elbows on knees.
“You guys are so lucky, It’s sort of sweet that you’ve found someone as strange as yourself -” Lynnie’s eyes lit up with a teasing glint, “Maybe I should write a story about you guys in the newspaper.” She laughed lightly as Suzy blushed and looked away. They fell back into the silence.
“I hope you find someone too,” Suzy said, catching Lynnie off guard.
“Um- I…”
“Seriously though you, you-” She looked up as she figured out her words, “You deserve someone who would pay for your writing, even though they most definitely have already heard every word before it was even fully written.”
Lynnie straightened up, pulling her jumper sleeves down her arms and over her hands as they rested in her lap.
“Thank you Suzy, That’s really nice of you to say.”
“Suzy, Marilyn - Lunch is on the table.” Mrs Bishop’s voice sounded distorted through the megaphone. The pair stood up in the middle of the room, fixing each other with a stare as they reached out their hands.
“Secret?” Suzy said.
“Pinkie,” Lynnie replied, reaching out and locking fingers with her little oddball.
They ate dinner in relative silence.
“Have you decided what books to take,” Lynnie asked, hanging upside down from Suzy’s bed.
“I couldn’t decide so I’ll just take them all.”
“If that’s what you want - Don’t forget to pack a comb.”
Suzy paused to give Lynnie the ‘you’re mothering me’ look while the kitten wandered around the room, rubbing around Suzy’s legs and pawing at Lynnie’s brown hair.
“Girls,” Mr Bishop poked his head around the door, the two girls snapping their heads to look at him, “I’ve brought up some extra blankets and pillows since the storm won’t be gone until the morning… I’ll leave them here.”
He had barely walked away before Lynnie was rolling off of the bed and chasing after him.
“Mr Bishop!”
“Miss Cronkite,” He responded, mirroring her phrasing.
“I need to ask you a question.”
She followed him into his office, hovering by the door while he sat down.
“Fire Away kiddo,” He said, taking a long sip of his drink.
“So, I’m guessing that with all the lawyering stuff you can help - I need to know if there is an easy way to make a bunch of copies of the things I’ve typed?”
He gave a thoughtful nod before rummaging through the drawers of his desk, pulling out a package the size of a page.
“This stuff right here is Carbon Paper,” he pulled out the edge of a sheet, “you put it between the pages and-” he looked at Lynnie’s keen eyes, “oh you know what, take a seat.”
He pulled over a small wooded stall and Lynnie sat next to him at his desk.
“If you would be so kind as to pass me a couple of sheets of paper,” He asked, nodding his head in thanks as he started arranging the layers.
“Now, you need to make sure you’ve got them the right way round or this isn’t going to work very well.”
Lynnie could have sworn he flashed her a small smile as he began feeding the pages into his machine and setting it just right.
“Now Miss Cronkite, What shall we type?”
Lynnie thought for a second.
“How about the name of my paper, The-”
“New Penzance Post, I’m familiar,” Mr Bishop interrupted her as he started typing. Now it was Lynnie’s turn for a ghost of a smile. Very few adults on the island remembered her little paper, but Mr Bishop was always happy to help her out with it - after all he was the one who had taught her how to type.
“You know what, you can have the rest of this pack. I’ll be heading to the mainland soon so I can pick up some more,” His eyes flicked to Lynnie’s face, noting her look, “Don’t worry, Mrs Bishop will be home, you won’t need to look after Suzy and the Boys.”
The pair sat in his office for a little while, playing around with the carbon paper until Mr Bishop insisted that she go to bed.
Chapter 2: STEP ONE - INTERVIEWS
Chapter Text
And just like that it was after the rain and onto a sunny day.
Lynnie rose early, creeping out from under the covers and leaving a note by the door - she wanted to change into some cleaner clothes which she had managed to forget in yesterday’s rush. Luckily her family's house remained untouched by the rain. She wandered through the halls into her room, glancing at the mirror before looking out of the window.
“Today feels like a day for shorts,” She stated, flashing herself a grin before she rummaged through her drawers. From the depths of her closet she pulled out a pair of brown corduroy shorts that did wonderfully at hiding mud and tea stains. Lynnie figured that today she would go out and get some pictures for the new edition - something that looked perfectly windswept by the storm. After making herself a breakfast of jam and toast, she set about brewing a flask of hot tea for the journey. Contrary to popular belief, sun does not directly correlate to heat, Lynnie herself had once made the mistake of thinking that, not that she would be likely to repeat it. After placing a new role of film in her camera, she was finally satisfied to leave.
New Penzance held a strange sort of magic in the morning, it was something that Lynnie often found herself writing about.
If I was viewed as an orphan of land - without home or heritage - then it would be safe to assume that in the eyes of this Island’s coasts I have found myself well and truly adopted. The birds wake me as they do any other and the clouds are indiscriminate with their rain - I wonder why this island doesn’t treat my parents quite the same.
If Lynnie had learned anything since moving to Black Beacon Sound, It would be the fact that New Penance had a disproportionately high number of sad adults. This of course didn’t mean there weren’t happy ones too. She must have only been out for an hour or so when she bumped into the librarian. He was an older man, always in his red coat and green hat, rather quiet but respected nonetheless.
“You ought to be careful Miss Cronkite, cap’n Sharp is whizzing around in that car of his,” His accent slipped through as he spoke. Lynnie cocked her head and raised an eyebrow.
“Hm, That’s concerning. Any idea why?”
The librarian shook his head.
“No clue, but whatever it is better get wrapped up soon, there’s a bad storm coming our way,” He looked up at the sky, “I give it about 3 days.”
After a brief conversation about good places to photograph, the two parted ways. As she walked away, Lynnie couldn’t help wondering if there was a story in whatever captain sharp was investigating.
The rest of her walk was as solitary as usual. She had, however, managed to get many pictures of the thriving local wildlife. It was only on her way back that she got flagged down by captain Sharp. The moment she heard the rumble of the car engine, she jumped to the side of the woodland lane. He pulled up and rolled down his window.
“The Bishops said that you might be of some help Marilyn,” He said, leaning out of the window.
“You haven’t happened to have come across a boy on your walk, here, He’s called Sam Shakusky.” The officer handed over a small picture of a boy dressed in a scout uniform and Lynnie had to fight back a knowing grin. She must retain journalistic integrity - or rather, stay as an observer.
“Can you give me a ride to camp Ivanhoe,” She asked, not waiting for an answer before moving round the car and getting in, “and no, I haven’t seen him - Do you really think he could get this far?”
Lynnie locked her eyes with him, flashing a cheeky smile as he took back the picture and sighed.
“Camp Ivanhoe, Next stop.”
For the most part, they spent their journey in silence, that was until eventually Sharp couldn’t take it anymore. His hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel as he glanced at the girl scribbling away in her notebook.
“Any idea when your parents will be back?”
Lynnie didn’t look up, but she was surprised that of all the questions he could possibly have right now, that was the one he chose.
“Not really, I think it was supposed to be a month but you know how they are with Steven."
“They really do dote on that brother of yours, don’t they?"
“Once a mummy’s boy, always a mummy’s boy - even if you’re 22 and in college.” Lynnie’s voice seemed almost stiff as she spoke, making Sharp finally accept the silence. After all, it wasn’t like cars had to travel far on this island.
Sharpe’s car pulled up to a small camp bordered by a log fence - the name fashioned out of various sticks and twigs. A man wearing the same uniform as the children (save for a few different patches) ran up to them while holding his hat onto his head.
“Any luck Captain Sharp?” He asked, looking like a lost puppy.
Lynnie gathered the things resting in her lap and shuffled out of the car. She pulled up her camera as she approached the man who was feverishly talking to Sharp.
“I just don’t know where on earth he could’ve gotten to, I-” He cut himself off, noticing the girl.
“Hello there young Miss, are you helping with the search ?”
Lynnie gave a thoughtful hum and tilted her head.
“Not really, I’m more interested in documenting it - like an epistolary mystery novel.”
At this point Sharp had gotten out of the car and joined briefly in the dumbfounded silence before snapping back to his senses.
“Sorry, I should have introduced you - Scoutmaster Ward, Marilyn Cronkite - Marilyn, Ward.”
Lynnie reached out her hand for the scoutmaster to take.
“Nice to meet you Ward - Captain Sharp I can make my own way home,” She said, flashing him a smile. He raised his eyebrows but moved to get back in his car.
“Just keep yourself safe. The island won’t hear the end of it from your parents if anything bad happens.” Sharp turned the key, engine coming to life.
“It never does Sharp,” Lynnie almost shouted after him as he drove off. Now she could focus her full attention on Ward.
“That accent doesn't hound from around here - you wouldn't happen to be British?" Ward asked, eyeing her curiously. Lynnie adjusted her bag and cleared her throat awkwardly.
“Sure, by birth - but I’ve lived here since I was 8, well technically 7 - I had my 8th birthday here.” At some point she had started fiddling with her camera lens.
“So well and truly one of the locals,” He started walking to the main camp, “So what brings you to camp Ivanhoe?”
“Intereviews mostly, get some information from a direct source,” Lynnie stated matter of factly and she pulled out a notebook and pencil.
Camp Ivanhoe sits on the eastern side of the island and is filled with a healthy menagerie of 12-15 year old boys. After a lengthy conversation with the boys, it was established that - as a group - they viewed RUNAWAY Sam Shakusky as ‘emotionally disturbed’ (not that his position as an orphan was not known to the group at the time of forming this opinion). Some scouts, such as WODDMASTER Skotak, show an inclination to change the way they view the escapee. While others, like SUDO EXPERT Reford, retain their hostility. SCOUTMASTER Ward provided a statement: “It’s still the first day, I just hope we find him soon-
- You know, I keep a daily log on tape, when this is all over you could borrow it and listen back.”
Ward offered, watching her feverish scribbling.
“Oh, no, I don’t have a tape player - I can only play records - It’s fine, I think I’ve got enough for now,” She responded, not looking up. The pair sat in silence until the scratching of the pencil stilled.
“It’s funny, I always wanted to be a Khaki scout - I used to get really angry it was only for boys,” She looked up at Ward with a grin, “but then I found out how tidy they had to be.”
“I do always pride myself on an organised camp.”
“You should be proud, it is very organised - I suspect most of these kids are smarter than they are given credit for.”
By this point Lynnie had been at camp Ivanhoe for the best part of an afternoon and it was beginning to get dark. Scoutmaster Ward reluctantly sent her off, handing her a small pack of food for the journey across the island.
“Wait, before you go, what are you actually interviewing us for,” Ward asked, hat in hands.
“My Newspaper - The New Penzance Post - I’m going to print a new edition tonight.”
And with that, She left.
The closer she got to Summers’s end, the darker it got until she had to rely on the moonlight. There it was again, the magic of the island. At a time where she should be deathly afraid, she couldn't help but be comforted by the fact that she wasn't alone. Mice were rustling in the hedgerows and there was an owl hooting softly in the trees. She liked this place.
Chapter 3: STEP TWO - INVESTIGATION AND TRACKING
Chapter Text
She was almost home when she heard that rumbling again, stalking her down the lane.
“I thought you already checked for the boy here,” She shouted as he slowed down, “Mr Bishop?”
In the passenger seat, looking mildly furious, Mr Bishop gave her a wide eyed stare.
“Suzy’s gone missing too,” He said, almost desperately.
“Don’t worry Mr Bishop, I’m sure she’ll be back soon - she probably saw something through her binoculars and went out looking,” Lynnie said, knowing her lie.
If anything, she was somewhat surprised at how organised the pair had been, especially when considering how inconsistent the mail system was.
“If she turns up at your house, or you see her on one of your walks, let us know,” Sharp said, fiddling with a loose cable on the ceiling of the car. Lynnie nodded and waved them off. As she began to walk, she struggled to ignore the tension that was visible between the two men, almost as if she had caught them mid-argument. Maybe it was worth another story, maybe it was not - adults didn’t like showing off their feelings.
The golden sun rises on the eve of a hunt, but not one of blood. In this rare moment - on the Isle of New Penzance - adults and children unite for one solid goal, although they do not necessarily hold the same motive.
THEY ALL STAND IN A FIELD.
Lynnie first noticed the movement at dawn - only a few small figures on the horizon, but as quickly as the sun could rise, they all swarmed. Khaki Scouts. A perimeter fence was quickly made as they started their investigations. Lynnie found herself out there too - notebook in hand and watching. Mr Bishop - aimlessly wandering, Mrs Bishop and Sharp - in a corner scheming; Scoutmaster Ward and the Switchboard lady - striking up a pleasant conversation, and the scouts - milling about.
“Kitten food,” Mr Bishop picked up a tin, “yup, that’s her.”
Lynnie was content to watch Scoutmaster Ward and Captain Sharp lay down their orders - that was until they involved her.
“Miss Cronkite, you’re a mature young lady, I need you to be this group’s responsible adult.” He beckoned her over with a polite smile.
“I think that you’re mistaken Scoutmaster Ward - I’m 17, NOT an adult,” She stammered in an attempt to avoid the duty, but Mrs Bishop stepped in.
“Only for another month, I feel that you would be perfectly fit for this job.”
“So that settles it, you will take charge of Redford’s group.”
The boys looked at her, some with smiles, others with glares.
“What’s the plan boys?”
“We know more than you,” Redford interrupted Lynnie, pulling up his motorcycle goggles.
“As I assumed, I wouldn’t ask if I already knew,” Lynnie stated flatly. It was safe to say she was not happy about this; getting stuck looking after a group of 12 year olds. She watched hopelessly as the boys huddled up, talking in hushed tones and occasionally looking back at her. Once they came to an agreement, they began to move.
“You’re at the back of the formation, they're scared you’ll give us away,” Skotak said, falling into step beside her, “I volunteered to guard you.”
Lynnie raised an eyebrow.
“I need protection?” She asked, almost amused.
“Absolutely, Shakusky may be an orphan, but he is still emotionally disturbed, there’s no knowing what he is capable of.” The boy’s voice was flat and serious but it did little to concern her, after all, she was well acquainted with Suzy Bishop.
She followed the boys through the undergrown and over the streams, marvelling at how they systematically tracked their former-fellow-khaki scout. Pretty soon she found herself scribbling away.
It is a marvel what a young man can achieve when left to his own devices. Watching these boys at work is only reassuring me further and further that, out here in the woods of this island, Suzy Bishop is in very safe and capable hands. May the Khaki Scouts of America find themselves an equally brilliant female counterpart so that we might get the chance to see such capable young girls.
Suddenly the group stopped. Lynnie watched as they huddled around a patch on the floor, her curiosity taking over as she joined them.
“Fire,” Nickleby said, kneeling down and pushing his hand through the pine needles and into the dirt, “It’s still warm.”
“They can’t be that far,” Skotak exclaimed, looking around on the horizon.
“I’ll scout ahead, the rest of you fan out and form a column.” Redford barked his orders and didn't wait for the group's shouts of understanding. Lynnie fell back behind the column, pulling up her camera to get a picture for the newspaper - it was a marvel that she hadn’t taken more. The next hour remained uneventful to say the least, the highlight being when they stopped for lunch.
Finally, they found them. Lynnie was forced by Skotak to stay behind at an agreed point, but she didn’t see any harm in sneaking a peek through the trees. It was a standoff, 2 against the majority of a troop, Sam and Suzy shared that same look that was meant as a warning and a tension sat thick in the air.
“Don’t cross this line,” The young man warns, his instincts clearly kicking in as he is threatened by his former-fellow-khaki scouts (Note that a majority of the scouts charged with his return are his elders by 1-3 years, some of whom have a notable threatening aura about them). Of course it comes as no surprise to myself when the first and only blood is drawn by the young Suzy Bishop and her skillful use of her signature ‘Lefty Scissors’. Although it does sadden me to report the death of Troop 55’s own mascot - Snoopy was shot down by one of the Scout’s arrows.
A CAR COMES TO A SCREACHING HALT AT THE BASE OF A PIER.
Redford clung to his back as he was lifted up in the stretcher, chaos filling the pier as more and more people joined. The 4 key grown ups stood arguing back and forth, Lynnie just off to the side.
“Well I at least hope you’re going to let Lynnie go with him,” Sharp said, catching her attention. It was the first time he had called her that.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” She said, stepping up to the group, “Why do I have to go?”
“Well, since you were the responsible adult, you need to fill out the injury forms,” Ward said, still cowering from Mr Bishop’s shoe. Lynnie pulled an unsure face - if truth be told, she hated sailing on small boats.
“It’s fine, you don’t have to sail over, I can make some room for you in the plane,” Jed spoke up, appearing next to her and sensing her anxiety.
“The forms are easy, I’m sure you can figure them out,” Ward said, hands on hips.
Lynnie couldn’t deny how furious she felt in this moment, being further roped into the messy events.
Jed noticed her rage on the plane, his head flicking towards her every few seconds.
“Rough day at the office?”
“First day at the office - I just wanted to write about it, not become a character.” Lynnie gestured wildly as she ranted.
“It’s because you’re growing up, the adults are beginning to trust you>”
“Not all of them.”
The pair sat in silence, save for Redford’s complaining in the back. Jed started flicking different switches before grabbing the radio. He always preferred quiet when he was trying to land.
On the ground they were met by more Khaki scouts, this time from Fort Lebanon. They quickly got Redford up and away to the medi-tent, leaving Lynnie and the pilot alone.
“You know, with you being 18 soon, if they really start annoying you when they come back you know where I keep the summer lodge key - I’m finding myself sleeping in the hangar dorms more and more these days, it’s almost like a prefer them,” Jed said, laughing to himself lightly as he lit up a cigarette.
“You get the dorms all to yourself I hope, you need that extra space for your ego,” Lynnie joked. Jed reached down, ruffling her hair as she giggled and failed to escape - she’d always been on good terms with the pilot.
“Now, go put those writing skills to use on that injury form - we’re taking off in an hour.”
Lynnie had started to walk away when Jed suddenly stopped her.
“Here, take a couple of dollars, see what you can get for us from the tuck shop.”
“Thanks Jed,” Lynnie said, grinning wildly.
She gave him one last wave before following down the trail they took Redford. In her eyes, they should have just taken the boy to the hospital on the mainland, but there was probably someone in this camp that wanted their first-aid badge.
“And who are you supposed to be?” The older man demanded as Lynnie entered the tent. She fought the urge to roll her eyes and instead put on a polite smile.
“I’m afraid I was the responsible ‘adult’. I’m here to fill out the forms.”
The Scout Chief gave her a crooked look before heaving a sigh.
“Get the Lady the paperwork.”
A sheet of paper was handed to Lynnie on a clipboard along with a pen. She began to write.
“You look pretty young, how old are you? The assistant asked.
Lynnie gave him a quick glance before slowly saying her response.
“17 years and 11 months - there abouts.”
“So…you’re not actually an adult,” he said, equally as slow, watching as she finished her signature and set down the pen.
“Nope, but under these circumstances I’m close enough,” she said, before adding under her breath, “apparently.”
She handed back the clipboard and made her leave in search of the camp shop.
“C’mon guys, I’m starting to sound like a broken record here - no money, no supplies,” An older Scout stood inside a wooden structure and was busy lecturing a group of kids. They all scrambled away as Lynnie approached.
In an instant she felt like she had lost her breath, heat rising up her skin as her heart began to race. The pair just stood there in silence.
“Sunglasses?” Lynnie managed to ask. Afterall, it was a strange choice considering the relative darkness of the shade.
“Sensitive eyes - Camera and Notepad?” he shot back, seemingly struggling just as much.
“Newspaper.”
The still silence fell again before Lynnie snapped back to herself. She pulled out the money Jed gave her and put it down on the counter, pushing it towards the scout before she pressed herself up to sit on the countertop. His head snapped up, tilting as she fixed him with a stare.
“I need some snacks for the journey back, I’m not too picky.”
He quickly got to rummaging around the stock, finding out 2 brown paper bags.
“Jelly beans and Chocolate covered Raisins,” He said, smiling and leaning on the counter. Lynnie found herself staring at him again.
“I really wanna steal your sunglasses.” The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them, leaving him in an amused silence as heat rose to her cheeks. After catching the time, Lynnie jumped down and said a hasty goodbye before running back to Jed.
“You look happy,” He remarked, waiting for her to get into the plane.
“I got us some sweets, they were free.”
“Well in that case, you can keep the money for a rainy day.”
Jed started his procedures and soon they were on their way back to New Penzance.
Aviation is the secret saviour of this island. If it wasn’t for Jed, many accidents would have become tragedies, and then of course you have the post - if you need a letter to be off quickly, he’s got you covered. The only downside is that if, like myself, you happen to be friends with him, you often get roped into helping him clean the blood from the back seat - even if it’s your own. Many on the island overlook his work, instead opting to complain about boats. If you ask nicely, you might find that Jed is surprisingly open to teaching people how to fly. I myself have had a few lessons, nothing more than serving as a co-pilot due to my age, but one day I might get the chance to cover for him during the holidays and illnesses… There I am, talking about when I’m grown up. By the time this is fully written and edited, it may be too late.
Developments regarding SUDO EXPERT Redford. He will live. They had a surprisingly comprehensive standard of care at fort Lebanon. One is almost concerned about it - where are these kids getting this training?
A question for another day.
Chapter 4: STEP THREE - UNSUPERVISED CHAOS
Notes:
this one is a little shorter,
I'll be totally honest, I never expected anyone to read this - there really isn't much Wes Anderson fan fic outside of the Grand Budapest Hotel,
So, thank you for enjoying it.
Chapter Text
Lynnie stood outside the lighthouse, picking through her sweets as she waited - what for, she didn’t know. It was strange, almost as if somebody had fogged her brain… God she wished she had Suzy to talk to right now.
“You alright kid?” Sharp asked, joining her out of nowhere.
“Why the sudden change in what you call me?” She shot back, avoiding his question. She watched as Sharp sighed, lighting up a cigarette and letting it hang from his mouth.
“I don’t really know - I think it has something to do with how long your parents have been away,” He turned to face her properly, “and you look kind of lonely.”
Unsure of how to take this, Lynnie just hummed thoughtfully and gazed out to the sea.
“I suppose they have been gone for pretty long - I don’t really pay attention to the time though.”
Sharp gave her one last hopeless stare before reluctantly putting out his cigarette.
“C’mon, inside now, you’re shivering.” He ushered her into the shed-like building, closing the door with a small slam.
“We found them, by the way,” Sharp practically mumbled, causing Lynnie to stop in her tracks. She looked up at Sharp with a near blank face.
“And how does that make you feel?” Her words were flat and unnerving, enough to physically ruffle the captain, so much so that he seemed to struggle to break away from her gaze.
“We’re through,” The switchboard lady said, passing out headphones to Sharp and Ward. She would never admit it out loud, but she really enjoyed messing with the police captain. Lynnie had to stand back and away from the conversation, suddenly deemed too young once more. She spent her time pacing up and down the post boxes, half-heartedly searching for her own.
So, the star crossed lovers were found - ripped apart by the sad grown ups of New Penzance. I have to admit, I’m sad to see it end in such an un-poetic way, but knowing the kids on this island (of which I am to become a foremember) there will be a plan, a scheme. Although I must admit, some of the adults seem less against the pairing than others.
Lynnie paused her wandering and stared intently as Sharp seemed…Unsure? It was as though he was thinking very hard, assessing every piece of information that came across his ears, but it was very clear who really had the power here - Social Services. Steadily she began to feel herself giggle, soon forming into a balance toppling laugh.
“Don’t worry about that noise, that’s just someone else in the office,” Sharp said into the headset before lowering the microphone, “Marilyn, what on earth has gotten into you?” He hissed out. Before she could reply, his attention was taken again by Social Services.
“That doesn't happen to be Marilyn Cronkite?” The woman asked, shuffling her papers.
“Um, Yes…Why?” Sharp responded, suddenly concerned.
“Ah, then I’ll be needing to see her too when I pick up the boy - I’m sure that can be arranged.”
“Might I ask Why?” Sharp was growing more and more confused by the second until his face dropped.
Lynnie had finally recovered enough to notice the three staring at her with sad eyes. She straightened up, twisted her bag strap and suddenly felt anxious.
“What is it? Why are you guys all staring at me like that?”
The three looked between each other, seemingly agreeing that Sharp should talk.
“Social services had something…of concern,” He started, watching her movements carefully. She was patiently waiting, the rosy glow of laughter still painted on her cheeks - he felt like he didn’t have the heart to do it.
“It’s Shakusky - they want to take him away to juvenile refuge. He’s only going to be on the island for one more night, in my care of course,” Sharp said, confusing the others.
“Do you even know how to look after a kid?” Lynnie asked, half mocking. In fairness, Sharp didn’t really know how.
“You make a good point Mari, why don’t you stay over too, give the kid someone to talk to or whatever.”
Lynnie seemed genuinely surprised by his suggestion yet couldn’t find it in herself to reject it, after all, she had always wanted to meet Sam.
“Why not,” She shrugged, “I have a fair amount of experience from looking after Suzy and the boys - I do have one condition though. We go to mine first so I can grab my typewriter, I really need to start writing this up,” She finished, tapping her notebook. Sharp gave in quickly and left to get the car started.
“I hope it works out between you two,” Lynnie said, catching Ward and the Switchboard lady off guard, before she followed Sharp out to the car.
The three sat around a small table. Sam opposite Sharp - the pair picking their way through their food while Lynnie happily typed away between them.
“Suzy said you never stop writing,” Said said in his flat, adult-like way.
“I have to stop sometimes, like for sleep,” Lynnie responded, not looking up.
“Suzy said that sometimes she catches your fingers trying to type in your sleep when you stay over hers."
This did make her stop, a blush rising on her cheeks.
“Okay then, I suppose I never really do stop.” The sound of typing filled the room again.
I was right to have faith in the Island’s young. On returning to my own home for my writing supplies, I discovered a letter.
DEAR MISS CRONKITE,
TROOP 55 ARE PLANNING A RESCUE MISSION TO HELP SAM AND SUZY RUN AWAY. DUE TO THE FACT THAT ALL GROWN UPS ARE AGAINST THEIR HAPPINESS, WE ARE FORMALLY REQUESTING YOUR PRESENCE AS OUR RESPONSIBLE ADULT.
IF YOU AGREE, MEET US BY THE SHORE AT 01:00.
YOURS, WOODMASTER SKOTAK.
I was almost touched by my inclusion to this scheme, but I could not deny the anxiety I felt. The troops were unaware - at least this was my understanding at the time - that this was no longer a matter of grown ups against kids, but kids against the government. It is no secret to those on the mainland that social services are a tricky group to deal with.
“Lynnie?” Sharp was staring at her.
“Yes?” She responded, suddenly aware of the darkening hour.
“You’ve been typing for ages, we’re all heading to bed,” Sharp lay down some sheets on the ground, “I’ve put you in with Sam, I hope you don’t mind the floor.”
Lynnie slipped out the page from the typewriter, shoving it into her pocket before she stood up. Her bones cracked as she stretched her arms high above her head, yawning as she finally found tiredness taking her.
“Night Sharp,” She said, slipping through to the bedroom. Sure enough Sam lay back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, and there was a mess of blankets on the floor for her.
“Don’t worry Kid, I’m sure things will get better,” She felt herself saying as she settled down into her nest.
“I doubt it,” He responded, voice flat and dead.
Lynnie felt a grin fall on her face - Oh the dramatic irony. She rolled over, deciding to take a small nap.
It surprised her when she felt the boy shake her awake, hands gripping her shoulders.
“You’re still on our side right?” He interrogated her in a whispered yell. Through her dazed confusion she managed to grumble out a yes before being dragged upright and passed her boots.
“They’re here, go up the chimney, bring only what you need.”
Lynnie suddenly snapped to full attention, remembering where she was and what she was doing. She grabbed her bag, cringing as she heard the roll of sweets - the paper bag must have torn. Her hands fumbled as she found the rope and she slowly began shimmying up - Lynnie gave a silent thanks to her tree climbing days. When she neared the top some of the scouts reached down to help pull her up. On the roof she gave the quietest excited gasp possible and pulled a girl into her arms.
“Suzy! Boy am I glad to see you, I need to ask you something.”
Suzy started nodding but was quickly distracted by the other escapee joining the group.
“Right, I know everyone wants to catch up, but it can wait for kayaks - we have a long row ahead of us tonight,” Skotak said, clearly the leader of the group.
Lynnie flashed him a grin as the group began to fall out, moving with a precise, practised skill that she had grown to recognise as a trademark of these kids.
Chapter 5: STEP FOUR - RITUALS
Chapter Text
Lynnie stood shivering next to Suzy as they watched the scouts push out their boats.
“Suzy,” she started, turning to the girl, “How did you know it would be Sam?”
Suzy fixed her with that stare before it widened into a soft realisation .
“Did you find them? Your person?” She asked back, raising her eyebrow. Lynnie blushed before staring out at the water and humming.
“Maybe, I’m not sure - it’s too early to tell.” When Lynnie finished speaking she looked back to Suzy who was grinning at her, but it quickly softened back to her natural warmth.
“When I saw Sam my head felt all fuzzy and warm, it was sort of hard to breath, like I had been running for hours - but I’m sure it’s different for everyone.” When Suzy turned away to watch Sam, Lynnie noticed a glinting at her ears.
“Nice earrings,” Lynnie said, nudging her lightly.
“My mother doesn’t like them, but Sam made them for me.”
“He’s a sweet kid…” Lynnie trailed off as it hit her - she had no idea what the plan was beyond rowing to ST. Jacks Wood.
Skotak came up to them, beckoning them closer.
“Miss Cronkite, you will be with me and the couple - Don’t worry, the boys will be rowing, we’re the smoothest rowers in the whole troop - I know you're not a fan of boats.”
“You know you can call me Lynnie, you don’t always have to be a little gentleman,” Lynnie said, patting his head fondly. He gave her a soft smile before helping her into the boat. They sat there and waited until everybody was ready to set off.
About an hour into the journey, Lynnie finally caved.
“So… What is the full plan?” She asked, fiddling with the hem of her shorts.
“We’re going to fort Lebanon to cousin Ben - He’ll know what to do,” Skotak started, keeping up his rowing pace, “He’s a falcon scout legionnaire, about your age, I wouldn’t usually trust him, but he’s the best chance we’ve got.
I suppose there is something to be said for the inherent romanticism of running away. In truth, I’ve never seen the full appeal until this moment, sitting in a boat of 12-13 year olds. The sun is just cresting over the horizon as we reach the shore and a camp is quickly erected on the beach. We all sit, lying around a fire and listening as a young SUZY BISHOP reads from one of her many acquired library books. In this time, in this place, we feel untouchable.
Lynnie’s eyes met Suzy’s across the dying embers of the fire. Most of the scouts were taking short naps while Sam and Skotak were off talking about the plan of escape.
“It was just like this, our land,” Suzy said softly, “We had a lovely little camp in a small tidal inlet.”
“You seem like you enjoyed it there,” Lynnie said. Suzy hummed and nodded.
“Where are you guys going next, what is the plan?”
Suzy thought about Lynnie’s question for a long time.
“I guess we’re just going to have to run away.” The statement was said with such conviction that Lynnie had to fight her look of mild shock, but the surprise melted into a nostalgic understanding.
I remember when I was 12. It was the first time my parents left me home alone. I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t excited - I just felt the same. At least that was what I thought. The week went by the way it usually did - I would wake up, go to school, write a story when I got home, maybe go for a walk… Nothing had changed when my parents went away. And then they came back, and then I realised, for the first time ever, that was the week where I was finally able to breathe. See, I never wanted to run away, not from this island, not from my house. For my parents it was the only thing they ever wanted to do - and as much as I knew I was supposed to resent it, I couldn’t ignore the feeling of the pure joy of being left alone and free.
A GROUP IS SNEAKING INTO FORT LEBANON.
This time Lynnie was kept to the front of the group, close to Sam and Suzy. They waited behind a fence while Skotak went to find the fabled Cousin Ben.
“The last time I was here was to fill out that silly injury form-” Lynnie cut herself off as she was handed a gumball, “Thank you.”
“You’ve been here before?” Sam asked. Lynnie started to nod but her attention was taken by a returning Skotak. She shot upright, standing in front of a familiar face.
“Sunglasses.”
“Newspaper.”
They stared at each other in the same shocked silence before snapping back to what they were supposed to be doing.
“Follow me,” He said before leading the troop through the camp. Heat rushed to Lynnie’s cheeks as Suzy flashed her a knowing grin. She wasn’t paying attention as he laid out the plan - in fact the only thing that snapped her from her daze was hearing Sam’s request to marry Suzy. Even behind those sunglasses, Lynnie could see the shock on the falcon scout’s face; They were the only two. The rest of the scouts seemed perfectly on board with the idea - not that Lynnie wasn’t entirely against it, she did want to see the pair happy but marriage… It just seemed like such a large step for 2 kids. She couldn’t help wondering, though, that if she was in their position, would she feel the same? As she thought her eyes drifted over to him again, him and his silly sunglasses. She looked at the stitching on his shirt, making out the name Mazursky.
“C’mon, everyone, spit it out,” He said, putting his hand in front of everybody’s mouths and taking the gum. Lynnie shared a look with the khaki scout next to her as they both stopped chewing but refused to relinquish their hard stolen gum - after all, if she was technically the responsible adult of the group, she could make up her own rules.
She watched the falcon scout carefully as he sent the couple away to discuss their decision. His head turned and his eyes caught her. He moved closer, standing next to Lynnie. For a brief second, all Lynnie could do was stare back at him until (thankfully) he looked away.
“So you know the fugitives?” He asked. Lynnie started to nod before realising he couldn’t see her.
“I’ve been babysitting Suzy since she was 5 - Shakusky is new, but he’s a good kid so far.”
“So why are you with them?” Lynnie could feel the scout staring at her.
“Skotak formally requested my presence as a responsible adult,” Lynnie looked at him, “your cousin is a bright kid, good leader - a proper gentleman too.”
“It runs in the family, I’m Benedict by the way.” He reached out his hand, “I’ve only just realised that we were never properly introduced.” His face quietly broke into a small smile.
“Nice to meet you Benedict, I’m Marilyn.” Just as her hand touched his, the couple returned.
“We’re sure about it.”
THE WEDDING
NOT FOR PRINT UNLESS WORD COUNT NOT MET.
The ritual of marriage and the unspoken bond that is reinforced has seemed to have lost its weight among the adults of our day. However it has not been lost on the island’s young. From that day onwards, in their own eyes, Sam Shakusky and Suzy Bishop are married. In the absence of both of her parents, I was elected to walk Suzy down the aisle - and despite the peculiar circumstances and complete and utter lack of legality, the ceremony was rather pleasant.
Benedict stood at the front of the Chapel tent, sunglasses off for the first time since Lynnie met him. ‘I do’s were said and the Falcon scout managed to hold a sense of solemn decorum in his words. It was all lost the second the sunglasses were put back on.
“That’s the end of the short form, Any questions or remarks?”
Skotak slowly raised his hand.
“Can we loan them the nickels? I’m worried about their future.”
Lynnie couldn’t hide the small prod smile that found its way onto her face. When she had first met the boy, he wouldn’t have thought twice about ending Shakusky’s life and now here he was caring for his peer’s future.
“That’s my fee,” Benedict exclaimed in a reluctant frustration before the scout group’s stares wore him down. He slid the can forwards and handed over the documents for the newlyweds to sign.
“Right then, let’s get going.”
Benedict stood up and directed everyone to follow Suzy and Sam down to the small dock. Lynnie was just behind, having been charged with carrying Suzy’s case - not that it lasted for long.
“Here let me take that, you’ve got your own bag to worry about,” Benedict took the suitcase with a coy smile. Lynnie let him.
“Believe me, I’ve got a lot more than my bag to worry about.”
“Oh, Like what?”
Lynnie looked him dead in the eyes, the urge to steal his sunglasses filling her again, before she looked away.
“Well, somehow I’m going to have to explain to Mr and Mrs Bishop how I was at their 12 year old daughter’s wedding and did nothing to stop it - or the fact that I’m actively helping her run away - and that’s not even considering the amount of paperwork I’m going to need to complete after this as the responsible adult.”
“Ah,” Benedict said as he gave a slow nod. Lynnie flashed him a small, forced, smile.
“But I’ll be fine, you can’t run away from responsibility forever.”
It didn’t take long to reach the boat, Benedict helping each of the couple into it. The scouts started to say their goodbyes to Sam and Lynnie her goodbyes to Suzy.
“And when you get there send me a letter, I’ll keep this a secret from your parents but I need to know you’re safe, and you,” she rounded on Benedict, poking him hard on his chest, “Don’t let anything happen to my kids - and this isn't even at the responsible adult, I care for them greatly and if anything happens-” Benedict nodded seriously,
“You have my word Marilyn, as long as they are in my care, they will be safe.”
They all said their final Rounds of good luck before the boat sped away from the dock.
“Do you consider all of us your kids?” Skotak asked suddenly. Lynnie hummed to herself as she thought.
“Yes, I think I do.
Chapter 6: STEP FIVE - FINALE.
Chapter Text
No sooner had the boat left before it came tearing back, Sam not waiting for it to fully stop before leaping onto the dock.
“She forgot her binoculars,” He said, racing past and back towards the Chapel tent. Lynnie watched him disappear.
“I tried to convince them to leave them behind but-”
“Their Suzy’s superpower,” Lynnie finished Benedict’s sentence and sat down on the dock. They looked at each other, Lynnie thinking hard. 2 days ago she couldn't even manage a proper conversation with this guy but here she was, sitting next to him rather comfortable and on ‘jokingly threaten’ terms. She opened her mouth to say something before a siren interrupted her.
Despite the meticulous planning involved in a great escape, nobody can predict a traitor. For our SAM SHAKUSKY this came in the form of a recovering REDFORD who had rather obviously been missing from SKOTAK’s lecture about comradeship. I personally did not have much of a liking for the child - but owing to the fact that he is still 14 it is not my place to judge his character until he is fully grown. Almost as if in a cruel act of irony, this moment was also the time in which we found out about the impending storm. The rain was already pouring down when we found Shakusky struck down in the lighting field.
Lynnie had to fight every urge in her body that wanted to fall to full on hysteria as she watched the lightning strike Sam, shooting him backwards in a mess of smoke and flames - after all, she was still emotionally tender from the snoopy incident. Her and Suzy headed the group as they rushed forwards to him, sighing in relief when he sat up. Sam cleaned his glasses and reassured the group before jumping to his shoeless feet.
“Follow me,” He said, running off towards a ladder propped against a fence. Lynnie was almost tempted to stop them, having slowly convinced herself that the whole situation was beginning to get ridiculous, and more than that, it was dangerous. Benedict seemed to have had the same idea but instead reached his arm out and stopped Lynnie from going after them, pulling her close to him.
“What the hell,” She yelled, whipping around to give a glare so vicious that Benedict recoiled in a momentary regret.
“Let them go, It’s getting too risky and they need all the concentration they’ve got. We’ll only slow them or put them in more danger.” Benedict's voice was surprisingly gentle considering the storm and along with the concerned creases in his forehead, it was enough for Lynnie to soften. She looked off towards the crowd chasing her troop.
“I suppose we aren’t exactly kids anymore, we don’t get the luxury of dumb luck,” Lynnie finished, watching the kids disappear over the fence and their hopeless persuaders gave up. Then it was quiet.
Suddenly Lynnie became aware of just how wet she was getting, the cold settling into her bones.
“Come on, let's get back to camp and wait out the storm.” Benedict started to lead them away but it was now Lynnie’s turn to stop him. Another, vicious, lightning bolt followed by rumbling thunder sent a shiver down her spine and filled her stomach with lead.
“No,” she looked up to the sky, “this is a bad one, we need to go to the shelter at the church,” she gave a hard look to him as he quickly reletend.
“Okay, but at least take this - you’re shivering,” Benedict said, grabbing a collapsible raincoat out of one of his pockets and placing it over Lynnie’s shoulders and pulling up the hood. He gave a short nod, satisfied that she at least wouldn’t get anymore wet, and they left - but not before sharing a long stare. It was like they both suddenly realised how close they were, and yet that wasn’t what shocked Lynnie the most. No, it was more the fact that she didn’t mind it.
“We should go,” She said, her voice barely a whisper.
The church, as it turned out, wasn’t too far away - although they had just barely missed the flash flood that tore its way down the island. Bursting through the front doors, they were grateful for the warmth and for the volunteers who wasted no time in handing them towels, blankets and dry clothes. The old woman gave a sympathetic look, watching as Lynnie unloaded all of her stuff onto Benedict before slipping away to the bathroom to change. When she returned, Benedict was sat down on one of the pews with something wrapped up in his lap. Lynnie bounced over to him with an amused grin, plopping down next to him and wrapping herself in a blanket.
“What’s got you so smiley?” Benedict asked, raising his eyebrow. His sunglasses were finally off and his wet hair was dripping down his face.
“This jumper - it used to be my brother’s, he must have donated it before he went off to university,” Lynnie replied, although now she was confused, “Why haven’t you used your towel?”
Benedict sucked in a breath and looked at the material in his lap.
“Promise you won’t touch…or be mad,” He said.
Lynnie nodded slowly but now she was getting worried. Gently, the towel was unfolded revealing a soggy mess.
“My notebook,” Lynnie choked out, her eyes beginning to sting with tears.
“Your notebook,” Benedict said back, folding it back up and applying a small amount of pressure, “Don’t worry though, it happened to me on camp during ‘63 - I can fix it, at least most of it,” he sighed and looked straight at Lynnie, “I’m trying my best, I promise.”
Lynnie nodded, believing every word in earnest. They sat, facing forwards into the church, in silence. Suddenly Benedict let out a small yelp as Lynnie jabbed him in his ribs.
“That’s for going through my things without permission,” she paused, leaning slightly on him, “but thank you, it really means a lot to me, that notebook, those words.”
“The last time I was in this church was to watch Noye’s Fludde,” Benedict said, to no one in particular.
“Suzy used to be the raven in that.”
“That’s probably how the couple met, all of the scouts came to see it.”
Almost as if on cue, the doors slammed open once more and children came piling in. Lynnie jumped up and ran towards them, socks slipping slightly on the wooden floors.
“Suzy, Sam, Skotak - all of you, I’m so glad you're okay.” Lynnie pulled them into one big hug, relieved would be an understatement.
“We need to hide,” Sam said when they broke apart before leading the scouts up to the gallery.
“We’ll use the costumes from the play,” Suzy said, motioning for Lynnie to follow.
“What are we doing?” Benedict asked, managing to catch the girls as they slid down one of the hallways and into a dressing room.
“Hold out your arms, we need enough for all of the scouts,” Lynnie said before handing the clothes over.
My notebook is drenched. My body is cold and stiff. My nerves are more wrecked than a sunken ship and my eyes feel as though they have not rested for days. You can almost feel the end of a story upon us. It was strange to have to go back to sitting normally in the pews as the different woodland animals stared down at us, but a disguise is vital in a moment like this. There was literal electricity in the air, a tension that was undeniably stressful - but I am glad to say that I have at least made a friend, one who is actually around my own age. BENEDICT MAZURSKY, a falcon scout legionnaire who runs the camp shop. Once you get behind the sunglasses, he’s a surprisingly nice guy - a little crass, a little stupid but he knows how to care. This was probably the first storm in Black Beacon Sound that had managed to scare me, I suppose hindsight tells me that it was a sort of foreboding sign.
It wasn’t long before the adults all piled in, all of them surprised to see Lynnie before that same sad look fell on their faces as she sauntered over.
“How did you get here?” Sharp asked, tilting his head.
Lynnie shrugged, the tiredness was really beginning to set in. She had noticed it only a few times this far, but now it was undeniable as the yawn ripped through her.
“All you need to know is that my notebook was soaked and I made a friend.” Lynnie gave scoutmaster Ward a small wave as she spoke, completely ignoring Sharp’s spluttering. Mr and Mrs Bishop were running around frantic as always but Ward seemed to be filled with an assured calm. Lynnie chalked it up to the Khaki scout mentality she had grown so used to.
The door flew open one last time, this time making Lynnie jump out of her skin. It didn’t go unnoticed. Social services stormed in first but was quickly followed by a fatigued Jed who propped himself up on the doorframe.
“Where’s the boy,” She demanded, standing in the middle of the walkway.
“We don’t know yet,” Sharp replied calmly, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt.
“That’s not acceptable.”
“What do you want me to say lady,” Sharp brushed her off, “Someone get jed a cup of coffee.” A choir boy ran off while everyone’s eyes were fixed on the exchange. Lynnie stood just behind Sharp, next to Ward, almost baffled by his newfound confidence. The woman’s face was sour and flat as she stepped forwards into his space.
“You’re captain Sharp-”
“That’s correct.”
“-I’m social services. I remanded the boy into your personal custody, you’re responsible for his safety - I’m told that he’s just been struck by lightning.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of it,” Sharp said, looking back at Lynnie and Ward. She gave a small nod while Ward sighed, admitting the truth in the report. Social services progressed closer,
“Scoutmaster Ward, I presume - your reputation precedes you.”
Sharp moved to stand next to Ward, pushing Lynnie protectively so that she was behind him. She wanted to let out a confused noise, or even a frustrated one, but something about this whole situation told her to stay quiet - it was like she needed to hide too. Social services spoke up again, her voice sharp and unforgiving.
“You two are the most appalling incompetent custodial guardians Social Services has ever had the misfortune to encounter in a twenty-seven year career.”
In that moment, every emotion that Lynnie had been feeling all converged into a small bitter rage. These two men standing in front of her quite literally risked their lives in one of the Islands worst ever recorded storms to ensure the safety of these children and all the woman could do was berate them.
“Well they're trying their damn best.” The words fell out of Lynnie's mouth before she even knew they were there - the cuss eliciting a few gasps.
“Hey now, Lynnie, Calm down, you don’t need to do that,” Sharp said, turning and putting an arm on her shoulder as though he thought she might try to pounce at any second. Social Service’s eyes were quickly trained on her.
“Marilyn Cronkite?” The woman asked.
Lynnie nodded, eyes wide from the fear of being known. Social Services looked up at Sharp.
“Well it’s good to know that you can keep track of at least one kid,” She said curtly - Ward mumbled something under his breath but Lynnie didn’t listen, she was too busy looking at Sharp, hoping that he had something to say to make her feel less scared.
“Why does she know my name - why did you need to keep track of me?” She asked, her voice wavering.
“Lynnie I…” Sharp started before being cut off by Social Services.
“As of last week, Miss Cronkite, you are a ward of the state - owing to the fact that your parents left little to no information as to your whereabouts and the shockingly bad communication facilities on the Island it took us a long time to properly track you down.”
“Sharp, what does she mean?” Lynnie was beginning to find it hard to breathe, the lead filling her stomach. He bent down slightly so that he was closer to her height.
“Kid, I’m sorry-”
“The state will hold all assets that you are to inherit until you reach the age of 18 and until then you will be placed in a foster home.”
That was enough to tip her over. She had managed over the past 12 hours to keep her calm, to stay as collected as she could, to be strong, to be an adult. Lynnie just crumpled in on herself, using the last of her energy to find and cling onto something familiar. That ended up being Jed. He just held her as she sobbed into his arms, oblivious and uncaring to the unfolding events.
You know, at first, I really thought it was a joke - but in that moment every sad look fell into place, every bizarre behaviour and every bit of freedom they had given me. It turned out that the Bishop’s had known before anyone else - they had read an obituary in a mainland newspaper but chose not to tell me until they were 100% sure. It got my brother too, the storm. It had hit further down the coast, they were on a small local ferry when the winds kicked up without warning. They had no chance.
Sam however did; get a chance that was. Not long after the power cut out did the couple flee to the roof and after much strife and bargaining Sharp became his guardian, the Bishops themselves acting as advisors and helping to secure the deal with their legal know-how. So, after all, the couple got a happy end. In fact, most of the island did too, that harvest being the best in recent memory - probably linked to the old trail that Sam and Suzy traversed.
The Bishops were not so lucky when it came to me, I had to go away.
Notes:
holy fuck bros, I'm sorry about this
tho tbh I'm probably the only person that feels anything about this shit, my autistic ass does emotions wierdly.
Chapter Text
INT: A TERRACED HOUSE IN A BUSY STREET.
This is a story about a person who is lost.
Lynnie stood in the middle of the room, her box of things still in her hands. It still hadn’t sunk in yet, all she could do was gaze out of the window, gaze at that familiar sea - only now it seemed far less welcoming. The ocean at Southscott was so… grey and muddy? She had nothing to write, even if she tried…and besides, her new desk was far too rickety for her handwriting to come out as anything near neat. They didn’t let her bring her typewriter, the foster parents (Mavis and Tom) claimed that it would make far too much noise and that the typing pool in the local library would suffice. For the first time in her life, Lynnie felt well and truly lost.
At least it smells the same, the ocean by the mainland. My only solace and comfort. There are 12 of us girls in total but I’m the oldest by a long margin, the next oldest being a girl of 11 called Kitty.
I hate the middle of a story - it always seems so sad.
She layed back in her bed, staring at the cracks that spread across the ceiling. In the hallway outside her room she could hear the patter of footsteps as the other girls ran and played.
I think the noise was the hardest thing to get used to. When you spend the vast majority of your life living in an empty house, you grow rather quite fond of the quiet, but even at night this house does not sleep.
For the first few nights she couldn’t sleep. Her mind was too awake and her body too full of energy - if she had been at home she could walk it off, but with the streets of southscott she had no idea where to start. It was on the 4th day when she finally caved and asked her foster parents for a map of the town. She sat across the table from them, waiting patiently for their answer. Tom looked up from his papers and heaved a deep sigh.
“Even if such a thing existed, I just don’t think we could swing it - why don’t you check out the library down the road”.
This was the 7th time the library had been mentioned to her, almost as though they wanted her out of the house. It was on the 5th day that she decided that maybe the library wasn’t a bad idea.
She rose early on a saturday, feeling as though she was the only person awake in the house as she crept her way downstairs to the kitchen. Mavis gave a small start when Lynnie appeared in the doorway.
“Good morning Marilyn, this is the earliest you’ve been up since you arrived,” She inquired, going back to doing the dishes.
“I was planning on checking out the library. I wanted to get ahead of the crowds - may I have breakfast?” Lynnie asked, moving over to the kitchen counter.Mavis offered her a warm smile,
“Of course, let me just get dried up and fix something up for you-”
“Ah, please, I can make it myself - no need to stop on my account,” Lynnie cut her off as politely as possible before reaching for the cereal and fetching the Milk. Mavis simply watched with curiosity as Lynnie sat and ate in silence. It wasn’t long before an empty bowl was placed neatly on the side and Lynnie was out of the door.
I suppose there is something charming about Southscott, in a kind of cheap seaside resort sort of way. Not very hilly, not massively colourful, posters cake every other surface and there seems to be a fairly heavy occupation of seagulls. The birds hang out in front of bakeries and diners, their little gangs waiting to prey on unsuspecting patrons.
I’ve never understood why I find towns and cities impossible to navigate, but that first trip to the library took a shamefully long amount of time.
When she first stumbled through the library doors, the librarian gave her a look of utter dread, almost as if the dishevelled teen in front of her had arrived with the sole purpose of complicating her day. In fairness to the librarian Lynnie was still wearing her brother's old worn out jumper, the bobbled wool’s pattern being interrupted by the occasional hole, and had a face of pure undiluted confusion. In short, she looked like a madman. The Librarian’s dread only deepened as Lynnie made her way towards her desk, right up until they were face to face.
“Good morning, how may I help you,” The librarian asked, her voice flat.
“Hi, Hello - I was wondering if you had any maps of the town?”
The second Lynnie started speaking, the Librarian’s face dropped.
“Are uh, you on holiday here with you family, cause if so I recommend you go to the shop on-”
“Oh, no, no - sorry, I’ve just moved here from New Penzance, I can’t really afford to buy anything,” Lynnie interrupted, making the librarian’s face morph from dread to confusion.
“Really?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yup, I know the accent can be confusing,” Lynnie laughed off, leading the pair to stand in an awkward silence.
“Well,” The librarian stammered as she riffled through the index cards, “I’m afraid we don’t seem to have any in at the moment.”
“Ah,” Lynnie said, her demeanour flattening slightly before she perked back up, “In that case, could you please point me in the direction of your public use typewriters?” Her assured voice seemed to ease the librarian, somewhat bringing her back to her senses.
“It’s down the hall, last door on the left,” She said, leaning over her desk slightly as she pointed the way. Lynnie thanked her and made her way.
The door was green, most of it faded and peeling with the exception of the one place where a sign clearly used to sit. She pushed it open tentatively, unsure of what to expect.
It was a fairly small room, at least compared to what I was expecting. Mr Bishop had told me stories of the great typing pools he had encountered on the mainland - if this place was to be compared to any kind of pool, it would be the small one that sits at the end of the garden for toddlers to paddle in, the one that also doubled as a sandbox. The machines were old, clunky and heavy, but in the absence of anything better, I had to make do.
Lynnie sat down at one of the dusty desks, using her sleeve to wipe away at the surface of the machine. Suddenly she felt giddy, the excitement filling her as she sat before the very thing that, up until now, she had been deprived of. It wasn’t long until she was ripping pages out of her new notebook and setting them into place. It took her a good few attempts to get the margins right, Lynnie having never used any other typewriters than her own and the ones at the Bishops’ house. She shuffled in her seat, sitting up straight and preparing herself to begin and then-
Nothing. I had nothing to write. It is a strange feeling really, for a person whose mind is constantly reeling, searching for another story - fiction or fact. But at that moment there was simply… Nothing. And yet it was so much worse than that - It was like my mind was a poorly tuned radio, a single that was barely hanging on by a thread, you could make out every 7th word and every other note of a song; something so painfully close yet so simply out of your reach.
I hated it.
She settled on a letter to Suzy. It was short, only being an update on what she had done since she had arrived, remarks about the mainland, a brief tour of her bedroom. Lynnie was almost disturbed by how little she had to say, so much so that she found herself typing a whole other page of nonsense and incredibly grateful that she had the foresight to sign her letter off after the 3rd mention of her cracked ceiling. If not, poor Suzy Bishop would have to read bizarre word concoctions created from placing her fingers at equal intervals across the keys.
She leaned back and sighed.
“I’m going to lose my mind in this place,” She grumbled out, rubbing her face.
“Most of us do.”
The voice appeared out of nowhere, making her jump. The girl at the door let out a little giggle, her dark curly hair bouncing as she moved towards Lynnie.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump,” She held out her hand, “I’ve never seen you around, I’m Frances, or Frankie.”
Lynnie reached out and took her hand.
“Nice to meet you Frankie, I’m Lynnie - I’ve just moved here,” She replied, unable to stop herself from smiling. Frankie’s cheer seemed contagious as she whipped around, pulling out the chair next to Lynnie and promptly using it to step up and sit on the desk, her skirt taking a second or so to settle into place.
“That’s awesome, how old are you? Are you going to be starting at the school?” She asked, leaning her elbows on her knees.
“Well, I’m 17 and yes, I think so.” Lynnie had barely finished before Frankie let out an excited squeal.
“That means we’ll be in the same grade,” she said, practically bouncing up and down. Lynnie broke out into laughter at the sight of this mystery girl, causing her to receive a questioning look. It did little to sober her.
“I’m sorry, I can’t stop - I just, you’re so excited and yet you barely know me,” Lynnie managed to say. Frankie seemed to stop for a minute, her demeanour settling and she thought to herself.
“Well, not many people come into this room, but I’m on good terms with everyone that does,” Frankie said, “Essentially, I can just tell… also, I’ve been watching you type nonsense for the past 10 minutes and I’ll be honest, it's been the highlight of the day.”
“Oh god, did you see that?” Lynnie asked, shaking her head slightly, “How do I say it… my fingers are itchy, you know - I need to write something, if you understand?”
Frankie nodded, and somehow Lynnie could tell that she did.
I have no idea how long I spent in that room talking to Frankie, but I do know it was long enough for my stomach to start rumbling. It wasn’t until I was making my way back to that busy terraced house that I realised my entire face ached from smiling - there was no doubt that my cheeks were rosy with laughter. She was so…happy, upbeat, infectious - it’s physically impossible to not be happy around Frankie. We agreed to meet at the same time next week since school didn’t start for another fortnight and I have to admit, I am grateful to have a new friend. Although I do feel bad for distracting her from her work for so long.
In the absence of a printed map I have decided to draft my own, starting with the route to the library.
Notes:
Not me taking forever to update, I would say it didn't matter because this fandom tag is low key dead, but I'll be honest y'all are kind of proving me wrong. I have no clue how you're all finding this but I really apricate you taking the time to read this.
Also rip my writing style, it's been so long since I actually wrote any of this that it's gonna take be a bit to get back into it.
Anyway, we've run out of film to write on so ya boi gotta go and make up some plot, at least I have a dope playlist for writing this fic.
Also Frankie is my Chaotic bby, (Prepare for more OC's *opens up name generator for the 17th time*)
Chapter Text
Lynnie had never found herself to be the best map maker, but there was certainly some progress. She had considered sending a letter to Sam to see if he had any advice but in the time it would take to get a response she could probably stumble through. She sat at the kitchen table.
“It’s nice having you downstairs in the morning, It calms any fears I had about getting you up and out for school,” Mavis said, frying up some eggs.
“You have to get up early on an Island like New Penzance - especially for the school bus,” Lynnie replied, doodling in her notebook. Mavis took the pan off of the heat and put the eggs onto two plates with some toast, before taking them over to the table. Lynnie didn’t notice the sympathetic look that was sent her way, her attention being immediately taken by the food set down in front of her.
“You miss it, don’t you,” Mavis said softly. Lynnie nodded,
“It’s just so different back there, like it’s a whole different world,” Lynnie began, “I mean for starters, we don’t even have cars on the island - Sharp has the only one and it’s a police car,” she paused to shovel in a bite of scrambled eggs, “how do you people concentrate with all those engine noises?”
Mavis sat back and gave an amused laugh.
“I should think we feel the same way with the wailing of the gale force winds - you islanders seem insane when we hear about the way the storms batter you.”
Lynnie hummed, reaching for her glass of orange juice and washing down her food.
“Well I guess we just trust that the Island will look after us,” Lynnie said, shrugging as she scraped up the last few scraps on her plate.
“Maybe it’s worth trying to trust the town?” Mavis offered, “After all, you seem to be enjoying the library, maybe you’ll even make a few friends.”
Lynnie perked up at this,
“About that, I think I have made a friend - She’s called Frankie, we’re supposed to be hanging out next weekend.”
“That’s brilliant, I think you will enjoy having someone your own age to talk to.”
Mavis is what I would call a ‘forever optimist’ - always able to find the last shred of good in any given situation. She was the most confident that I would be able to form a new life for myself here in Southscott, but Tom could tell at first sight that my heart will always belong to New Penzance. He took every chance he could to remind Mavis not to get too attached to me, convinced that I would want to disappear at the first chance I got. I can’t say that he would be wrong, but I would definitely miss my morning talks with Mavis. Slowly she had made me realise how lonely my life on the island really was; my life lived in solitary silence, my meals taken alone, my victories uncelebrated and my secrets easily kept.
I would be lying if I said it wasn’t beginning to bother me, but then I would be lying if I bothered to give it any thought.
Lynnie stood out on the street, bent over as she walked, notebook in hand as she scribbled down the street names and occasionally apologising to the odd lamppost or tourist. She had already mapped out this area, the route to the library, but compared to more recent additions to her map that first section on it seemed rather crude. The library, it turned out, had a rather extensive cartography section and when Mavis had heard about her work she wasted no time in rummaging through the old stationary box to find a compass with a loose screw as well as an odd collection of rulers, set squares and protractors. Lynnie spent no end of her time walking and sketching and measuring and then walking again.
I always seemed to see the same faces. On the corner of Howard Way and Station Road there was a corner shop that doubled as a cafe - it was called William’s and Son est.1835 (an obvious lie that always made me smile). Without fail there was always the same old man sitting outside with a cup of black coffee, his dog sleeping lazily beside him. And further down the street, at 8am on the dot there would be a woman dressed and ready for work - I have no clue where she worked but her crisp suit and her clockwork routine made me think that it had to be in some sort of office in the next town over. Finally there were the fishermen, always unloading the morning’s catch and bringing in with them the smell of the sea, a few of them I recognised as peddlers that would sell some of their fish to the Bishops. But I wouldn’t be seeing any of them today, no, my destination was the Library.
The grey steps in front of the building were quickly becoming familiar to her as Lynnie hopped up them with ease, her notebook slipping neatly into her pocket. She had come here today with the intention of responding to Suzy’s last letter. Lynnie thought it was good that Sam was settling into living with captain Sharpe, but still found it humorous that the pair still had to sneak around to hide their relationship from her parents - above all though, Lynnie wanted to tell Suzy about Frankie, the human whirlwind.
This time, she didn’t bother the librarian and instead went straight to the typing room. Lynnie’s relationship with her had drastically improved but today was the day the children came in for storytime and the poor librarian looked decidedly stressed out.
She stopped when she opened the door to the typing room, frozen in place.
“Lynnie!” Frankie yelled over to her, jumping from the desk she was sitting on to wrap an arm around her shoulders, “This is who I was telling you guys about.”
In the room there were 5 people that Lynnie hadn’t met before - Frankie wanted to change that.
“I had no idea you would be here today, come on, meet everyone,” Frankie said before dragging her around the room.
First there were the boys, Walter and Dennis. Walter’s fingers were stained with ink, layers upon layers of black and red told me that this was not an uncommon occurrence. Dennis was hovering over his shoulder, clearly the one who gave the orders - according to Frankie, they were practically attached by the hip and had been since the 2nd grade. Then there was Margaret (Midge) and Astra. The girls were under piles of newspapers, each one turned to the puzzles page - I had clearly interrupted their attempts to solve the crosswords - Frankie told me about how each of them were the reigning champions of the county spelling bee and maths bee respectively. And then in the corner, still tapping away, was Christine. She was focusing hard on what looked like an explosion of red string and pictures, an investigative journalist. I marvel still at her talent for concentration that bordered on the supernatural.
“The only person missing is our patron saint - he’s the only reason we can even organise ourselves into anything close to a newspaper,” Francis said, pulling Lynnie back to look at them all again. Her word’s caught Lynnie’s attention.
“Newspaper?” She asked, excitement growing in her chest.
“Yup. may I present to you the team behind the Southscott Weekly Herald, formerly the Southscott gazette and before that I think they called it Liberty Times and then-” Lynnie tuned Frankie out as she continued listing old titles for the newspaper. Dennis walked over to her, shaking her hand,
“All that’s important is that we run the Southscott Weekly Herald-” He started before Walter cut him off,
“Technically it only runs during term time but we do a lot of prep during the summer.” Walter pushed up his round glasses before adjusting his cap, pushing back his hair so it would stay out of his face.
“So is this sort of a hang out spot for you guys?” Lynnie asked awkwardly.
“Yeah, this place and a pretty good diner down by the docks,” Dennis answered, “We’re supposed to be going down there for lunch today if you want to come-”
“Oh please come,” Fankie interjected.
“Where are we going?” Midge asked, looking up from her crossword.
“They’re talking about lunch,” Christine said as she continued typing.
“Wait lunch? I’m so hungry.” Astra shot up, abandoning her work, “I think I missed breakfast.”
Dennis shot her a concerned look before turning back to the newcomer.,
“What do you think?”
Nobody warns you about how hot it is standing beneath a spotlight, both in the physical and metaphorical sense. I still hate it. A room full of hungry eyes, waiting for an answer - my answer. It would be safe to say that I had never been in a situation like this before. Somehow, it is possible that I have gone nearly my entire life without a group of friends my own age, this having the unfortunate effect of leaving me helpless in this situation with no experience to fall back on. I remember how it took me too long to find my words, the panic in my eyes giving me away to only one of my new friends.
“Guys, calm down you’re freaking her out, we’ve still got to wait for his holiness,” Walter said, the nickname dripping out of his mouth with a fond sarcasm before walking over to place a comforting hand on Lynnie’s shoulder, “you can ask her again once he arrives - if he arrives” the last part was grumbled under his breath. He patted her shoulder as, slowly, everyone went back to doing their own things. Frankie wandered back over, taking Lynnie off of Walter’s hands and letting him go back to helping Dennis. The Girls sat down at one of the desks.
“Sorry,” Frankie started, “I was planning for you to meet them all on saturday, I suppose it is sort of overwhelming”
“It’s okay,” Lynnie sighed as she leaned onto the table, “I’m just discovering I’m not super good at all this .” She waved her hands around in a weak frustration.
“How so?” Frankie asked, curious.
“Well,” Lynnie sat back up, “The last time I spent any amount of time with a group of people even near my age it was with a group of 12 year olds,” Lynnie was about to stop but she saw the sympathetic look on Frankie’s face, “Don’t worry, it’s not that sad, we were helping the girl I babysit and her boyfriend run away together…” Lynnie trailed off again, realising how insane she sounded.
“Where did you say you were from?” Frankie asked, split between confusion and laughter.
“New Penzance.”
“Really?” Frankie sat up straight, “but your accent?”
Lynnie nodded.
“Yup, we moved here when I was younger, I’ve lived in New Penzance longer than anywhere else.”
“I bet you miss it,” Frankie said in a voice that was surprisingly soft, before she bounced up, “hey, maybe that should be your first piece for the newspaper, writing about island life,” She had jumped up again and was now standing on the other side of the desk, “an adventure in New Penzance,” She framed the phrase in the air with her hands. Lynnie just looked at her in confusion.
“What? It’s not a bad idea,” Frankie shrugged.
“I…” Lynnie started, but Christine cut in.
“You never asked her to join the paper Frankie,” Her voice was flat and unsurprised.
Frankie let out a small ‘oh’ before looking at Lynnie expectantly,
“Well? Do you want to join?” Frankie’s skirt bobbed as she twirled back and forth, waiting patiently as Lynnie thought.
“Okay, I think I will.”
Frankie was hellbent on me writing about my life back on New Penzance, even going as far as to convince herself that we could make it a series - I tried to explain to her that most of my days involved simply walking around, not doing much except for soak in the sun, but she wouldn’t have it. As grateful as I was to have something to do, I found that the longer I wrote, the more homesick I became. I was lost in my own mind as I tried to navigate the country lanes of my memories, I was keeping up a pretty good typing rhythm too. Maybe a small part of me was convinced that if I kept typing, the tears wouldn’t have time to fall.
I think that is a problem of mine. I never want to stop, stopping means waiting, waiting means wasting, wasting means losing something you worked so hard to keep and then-
Lynnie didn’t notice the small tears threatening to fall down her face - well she did, she just didn’t want to. Instead she quickly wiped them away from her face before turning to look at the person calling her name.
“Are you coming for lunch or what?” Astra asked, a big grin on her face. The others had already packed up their things and were hovering by the door. Lynnie looked over them all, a warm feeling filling her, the group looking so inviting.
“Sure, I mean I don’t really have any money but I’ll tag along,” Lynnie said with a small shrug, smiling as she stood up, grabbing her bag and walking over to them.
Frankie was practically bouncing up and down when she slung an arm over Lynnie’s shoulder, pulling her in close and dragging her along. Laughter erupted from both of them.
“Be careful with her Frankie, you’re going to break her bones if you keep throwing her around like that,” Dennis yelled back half heartedly as he led the group out of the library and into the midday sun.
“It’s fine, she’s a hardened Islander- ain’t ya Lyn,” Frankie retorted, causing Lynnie to laugh more.
“If you say so, I guess,” Lynnie finished, shaking her head and wondering how she managed to get so lucky.
Another lingering thought, but finally one that is not unwelcome.
Notes:
I could apologise for how long this took, but then I would have a book full of apologies,
Instead I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this, and even more so to everyone who has commented, 9/10 your comments make my day and are honestly some of the only things motivating me to finish this.
Thank you, you guys are awesome ^^
SadisticSniper on Chapter 1 Sun 30 Apr 2023 06:03PM UTC
Comment Actions
cowboy_bastard on Chapter 3 Wed 21 Dec 2022 02:53AM UTC
Last Edited Wed 21 Dec 2022 02:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
AceSpectre on Chapter 5 Tue 07 Feb 2023 07:02PM UTC
Comment Actions
radars_teddy on Chapter 7 Sat 17 Jun 2023 08:15PM UTC
Comment Actions
Icy (Guest) on Chapter 8 Sun 02 Jul 2023 05:15PM UTC
Comment Actions
radars_teddy on Chapter 8 Sun 02 Jul 2023 05:32PM UTC
Comment Actions
Bitterbott (Guest) on Chapter 8 Mon 17 Jul 2023 03:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
toomanyintreststoolittletime on Chapter 8 Mon 17 Jul 2023 11:48PM UTC
Comment Actions