The Bell That Lifted

The gift shop sits at the foot of the old white lighthouse. It has a blue door and a creaky floor. Dalila owns it. She sells postcards, shell boxes and tiny lighthouse magnets. Most of all, she sells bicycle bells.

The bells are her best idea. Hundreds of people cycle along the sea path every summer. They stop at the lighthouse to look at the water. Many of them buy a bell shaped like a little tower. It goes ting when you press it.

Today is Zahra's first week. She is young and quick, and she asks a lot of questions. Dalila likes that. She does not like one kind of question. It starts with, "What happens if I press this?"

"Rule one," says Dalila. She points at the glass cupboard behind the counter. "Do not touch the cupboard."

"Why not?"

"Because I say so. Rule two. Do not open the bottom drawer under the counter."

"Why not?"

"Because I say so, again." Dalila puts on her coat. "I must go to the post office. I will be back in twenty minutes. Please count the shell boxes."

She leaves with a parcel under her arm. The door closes with a soft bang.

Zahra counts the shell boxes. There are twenty-four. She counts the magnets. She counts the postcards. It takes six minutes. She looks at the cupboard. She looks at the bottom drawer.

"I do not open it," she says to the empty shop. "I only look at the handle."

She stops. That is a bad idea, and she knows it. She walks away and dusts a shelf instead.

But the drawer has a small gap at the top. Something shines in it. Zahra tells herself not to look. Then she looks.

It is a bicycle bell. It is old and brass, and its shape is plain and round. It is much more beautiful than the little tower bells. It shines like a coin.

"I only look," says Zahra. "I do not touch."

She touches it. The brass is warm. She lifts the bell out of the drawer. For a moment, it hums in her hand.

Zahra's own bicycle stands by the door. Its old bell is flat and grey. It makes a sad noise. She looks at it. Then she looks at the shining brass bell.

"Just for a lunch ride," she says. "I will bring it back before she comes."

It takes one minute to change the bells. Zahra wheels the bike outside and sits on the seat. The sea path stretches along the cliff. A gull sits on the wall and watches her.

"Hello, gull," says Zahra. She presses the bell with her thumb.

The bell does not go ting. It goes dong, deep and slow, like a clock. The sound rolls out across the sea.

Then the wheels leave the ground.

Zahra holds on tight. The bike rises one hand above the path. Then it rises two hands, then a whole arm. It does not wobble. It floats as smoothly as a boat on water. The wheels turn in the air, and her feet fly.

"Oh!" she says. "Oh, oh, oh!"

The gull looks at her. It flies off with an angry cry.

Inside the shop, Dalila comes back from the post office. She sees the open drawer first. Then she sees the empty cloth inside it. Then she looks out of the window. She sees the bicycle high above the path.

She runs outside. Zahra and her bicycle float over the wall. They are as high as a door. They drift toward the cliff edge. The bike turns slowly around in the air.

"Dalila!" calls Zahra. "I made a mistake!"

"I know!" shouts Dalila. "Do not press the bell again!"

"I will not!"

"Good! Never press it!"

Dalila knows exactly what to do. She runs to the lighthouse door. On the wall hangs a big iron bell with a heavy rope. It is the small bell's twin. Together they make a pair.

She takes the rope in both hands. She pulls it twice.

The big bell goes dong, deep and low. The sound rolls over the sea. It meets the small bell's sound halfway. For a moment, the air hums. Then it goes quiet.

Zahra and her bicycle slide down through the air like a leaf. The wheels touch the path. The bike rolls three metres and stops against the wall. Zahra sits still with her eyes wide open.

Dalila runs to her. "Are you hurt?"

"No." Zahra's voice is very small. "I am sorry. I did not touch the cupboard."

"No. You touched the drawer."

"Yes. I am sorry."

Dalila looks at the brass bell on the handlebar. Then she looks at Zahra's pale face. Slowly, she begins to smile.

"At your age, I rang it too," she says. "My father's hat flew into the sea. He never found it."

Zahra laughs so hard that she nearly falls off her bike. Then she gets off and unscrews the brass bell. She holds it out.

"I will fix this," she says. "I will fix everything."

"You did enough for one day." Dalila takes the bell and wraps it in a soft cloth. She carries it back to the shop. She puts it in the bottom drawer. She turns the key twice. Then she puts the key in Zahra's hand.

"Your job," she says. "You know the danger now. So you keep the key."

Zahra hangs the key around her neck. She goes back outside. She screws her old grey bell onto the handlebar. She presses it once.

Ting.

Her wheels stay on the ground.