The hammer rang once. A spark jumped off the anvil and did not go out. It waited. They followed.

It led them down the lane to the ferry. The ferry horn blew once.

"One means leaving," said Beto.

"I know what one means," said Lan. She was already at the rail.

Gullwick came out of the fog: gulls first, then the lighthouse, then the bridge. Except there was no bridge. There were two posts, a rope, and a lot of water.

The bakery was on one side of the water. The flour mill was on the other. Nobody could get flour to the bread.

Poppa Pike stood by the posts with a pencil behind his ear.

"Eight planks, and not one fewer," said Poppa Pike. "That is the first span. I have three."

Eight take away three is five. They were five planks short.

"I'll get five planks by sundown!" said Lan.

Beto looked at her. "From where?"

Lan didn't know. She had promised before she counted. Her ears went hot.

"Spares! Who's got spares?" said Gilly. She hopped onto a crate. "I never sit on spare goods. Count what you don't need."

Everybody counted. Gilly had two spare planks, and she needed rope for her boat. Beto had two coils of rope he did not need at all.

Lan didn't wait. She ran to Vera, who had one plank leaning by her door.

"Can I have your plank?" said Lan.

"I'd love to help!" said Vera. Then she stopped. "It's my only one."

"Wait," said Rafi. He flew down between them, a kingfisher, gentle but firm. "That's her last one. Ask for a spare, not a last. A swap shouldn't leave anybody short."

Lan's stomach sank. She had been sure. Now she felt small. But nobody laughed. Rafi just pointed at Gilly's crate.

Barter came down the path slowly, the way badgers do.

"What do you have spare, and what do you need?" said Barter.

"Rope spare. Planks needed," said Beto.

"Planks spare. Rope needed," said Gilly.

"Does it help both?" said Barter. He looked from one to the other. "Fair for you, fair for them. Then shake on it."

Beto gave one coil of rope. Gilly gave two planks. Three planks and two planks made five.

Then Lucky the ladybird landed on Lan's sleeve.

"Try the seven patch," said Lucky. "The tide tumbles the driftwood like two dice. Six ways to make seven. Two has only one way."

They searched the seven patch and found two planks. Five and two made seven.

The tide was turning. They had seven planks. They needed eight. There were no spares left anywhere.

Lan sat on the sand. Being one short felt worse than being five short.

Vera could not spare her plank. But she could spare her legs. "I'll get Ambo!" she said, and ran to the Commons store.

Ambo came back with her, quiet and steady.

"Here," said Ambo, and held out a plank. "I have more than I need. It's not a trade. Nobody on Gullwick goes short."

Seven and one made eight.

"Everybody lays one," said Poppa Pike.

Plank by plank they laid the span. Lan laid hers last. It had a word carved on the end: FAIR. The first span held, and the flour crossed.

The ferry horn blew twice. Home.

The spark dimmed to a warm dot and settled back on the anvil. The Green was just the Green again.

Back on the Green

At home, Lan wanted Tí's moon cake. It was his last one. She put her hand down and went to find a spare to offer him instead.

Tell the story back to someone in your own words. Then guess: which helper could you not do without?