I turned. In the water was another boat.
‘Get down,’ said Richard, pushing Josh to the deck.
We watched in bewilderment as it glided through the still water towards us. It was small and worn with a single mast, to which a collapsed grey sail hung. The hull was green and barnacled, streaked with age, and ropes dangled from the deck into the sea. Its cabin windows were grimy. One was cracked. There was nobody on board.
It drifted past and veered right, where it came to rest against the opposite bank like a paper boat against the edge of a duck pond.
‘Get me a hook,’ said Tony, holding an arm out. ‘There might be supplies.’
With his attention on the boat, I turned to Richard.
‘Can you get us free?’ I said. ‘This might be our only chance.’
A strong breeze rattled our sail.
‘We’ll try,’ said Richard. ‘The wind’s picking up too, and it’s with us. Josh –’ he held his son by the shoulders ‘– do you think you can push us away from the wall while I get the sail up?’
Josh took a breath, nodded and scrabbled back to the front with his hook.
A burst from Tony’s engine pushed them across the gulley. He stretched his hook over the side and the little boat’s sail seemed to flap with alarm in the strengthening wind.
I felt our boat move and turned to see Josh’s delighted face.
‘I did it!’
‘Bloody good work,’ said Richard, grinning. He had loosened the sail and was winching it up. Cables rattled. He turned to me, nodding at the sky. ‘When that wind hits us the boom’s going to swing to port, so keep her steady.’
‘There won’t be enough time,’ said Maggie. ‘One of their gunners is still aiming at us.’
‘Then we’ll fire first,’ said Dani.
I heard Tony’s voice. His hook was inches from the boat’s guard rail. ‘Almost … almost there.’
‘Hurry,’ I said.
Something glinted above the stranded boat, a moving object catching the light. It was a canister of some kind, spinning from the cabin in a short arc and landing with a thunk Tony’s feet.
‘Oh,’ said Tony, looking down. ‘What the hell—?’
Many things happened at once. First, the stranded boat’s engine roared to life, and it reversed from the bank in a 180-degree turn. I saw movement through the cabin windows – a figure darting – and suddenly the loose sail seemed to spring up the mast in three swift strokes. A hissing sound came from Tony’s boat, followed by cries of alarm. Blue smoke plumed from the canister that had landed on his deck, and he and his men scrabbled about, diving for cover. A gun went off. One of them jumped overboard, and soon the boat was engulfed in a thick cloud. At this moment a terrific gust of wind inflated our sail, and that of the little boat. We were pulled away, but the other boat was faster.
As it passed, a figure popped out from the cabin. It was a man, ferociously thin with a shock of unkempt hair and tattered clothes.
He wore an eyepatch.
‘Ed?’
The corner of his mouth twitched, and he tracked me with one wide wild eye.
‘Follow me,’ he said.
‘Christ almighty,’ exclaimed Richard.
I stood, unable to move and uncertain of what I had seen. But before I could process anything more, the helm tugged. I held tight this time, battling it starboard to keep us on course. Another shot rang out from Tony’s boat and Dani returned fire with two sharp cracks. The gin palace’s engine started again.
‘What’s happening back there?’ I called back, pressing my shoulder against the helm.
‘He’s coming after us, but I can’t see properly.’
I found the binoculars and then threw them back at Maggie.
‘They’re still in the smoke. Wait … I think … they’ve stopped. They’ve come aground!’
We were moving now, but Richard was back to shouting at Josh. They were struggling. The boom was still loose and I had to duck twice as it swung over the cockpit.
The little boat scudded ahead.
Ed scudded ahead.
My head spun. I gripped the helm.
Finally the boom locked into place and our mainsail bulged, hurling us on. I navigated the gulley, heart in my mouth – but alive! – and knuckles white. I glanced back every few moments, but no great boat loomed behind, and gradually the walls shrank and the gap between them widened, and the air became fresher and full of salt, until finally we sped out onto the open ocean and I wondered at how my chest wasn’t bursting and at how close fury was to joy.
Chapter 19
Some hours later we slowed and dropped anchor in open water. The coast was far behind and the sky had cleared to the dark blue of late afternoon, revealing the night’s first stars. Without a word Ed jumped across and pulled me to him. I shut my eyes and held him tight. I didn’t recognise his body – the feeling of his ribs and spine, the hardness of his bearded chin – but through his unwashed stink I caught his scent and breathed it in.
I felt like I was somehow watching it all, standing baffled and awkward like the others, or staring down from the mast like a crow.
I pulled back. My eyes were red raw.
Richard stepped forward.
‘Ed,’ he said, pumping his hand. ‘It’s you. It’s really fucking you.’
There was a kind of horror in Ed’s face. He avoided Richard’s eyes as if he didn’t trust what he was seeing.
‘Good to see you too,’ he said, letting his hand fall. ‘Richard.’
‘Bryce told me about Harvey.’
‘Bryce?’ said Ed. His eye twitched.
Richard glanced at me. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’
Ed looked away.
‘How did you find us?’ I said.
‘I heard you on the radio. There was a girl’s voice. She was trying to contact … I don’t know, Malta, or somewhere.’
‘Gibraltar,’ said Dani. ‘That was me.’
‘That’s right,’ said Ed, hesitantly. ‘Gibraltar.’ He picked up a rope and began coiling it absent-mindedly, eyes roaming the deck and landing on anything but the faces around him. ‘I heard where you were going, who was on board, your rough location. I heard your name. I’d just made it past Portugal and I was about to cross the straits, so I was in the right place.’ He dropped the rope and raised his arms weakly. ‘And here I am.’
‘How long have you been travelling?’
He shrugged, mouthed something to himself. ‘Three weeks, give or take a day.’
I looked at the battered boat next to us.
‘In that thing?’
‘Yes. From Falmouth.’
‘But you don’t know how to sail.’
‘Neither do you. What happened? Why are you on this boat?’
‘The Unity was hit by a tsunami. It sank.’
Terror bloomed in his eye.
‘Where are the kids?’
I shook my head. The terror swelled. ‘They’re alive,’ I said quickly, to quell it. ‘But we were separated. They’re in Florida.’ I looked at the deck. ‘As far as I know.’
‘What do you mean, “as far as you know”?’
Richard backed away. ‘We should probably, um …’
‘Maybe that’s a good idea,’ agreed Maggie.
‘Somebody took them,’ I said.
Ed frowned, his eyebrow folding over its patch like a slug on a lettuce leaf. ‘Took them? How?’
I clenched my jaw. ‘She was looking after them for me. I couldn’t get to them in time. She took them.’
He shook his head, mouth agape.
‘How …’ he began. ‘How could you be so careless?’
The first and only person I ever hit was Emily Lamond. We were six years old and dressed as mice for the school Nativity. She didn’t like me because her mouse mask kept falling off and mine didn’t, so she bit me, and I walloped her right in the face. I burst out crying before she did.
I had never hit anybody since.
Ed h
it the deck – literally – and I howled at the pain in my fist. I shook it, glaring down at him.
‘How dare you?’ I screamed. ‘How fucking dare you!’
He sat up, stunned, cupping his nose.
‘I’ve been looking after our children since that cellar hatch slammed shut – no, since way before then, waiting for you to stop moping around having your mid-life crisis. Is that done yet, by the way?’
He went to speak but there was no way I was letting him, and neither was there any way to think about these words before they burst from my mouth. I was a river that had finally burst its banks.
‘I’m not finished!’ I paced, cradling my throbbing knuckles. ‘I begged you, Ed, begged you not to go on that salvage run. We had sex, remember? I even let you put your finger up my arse. I fucking hate it when you put your finger up my arse! And you know what? You still went, didn’t you, you still went out and pretended to be a fucking soldier. And don’t even think about telling me it was because you felt a duty, don’t tell me you were trying to feed your family. You went out there because it meant you didn’t have to spend time with us inside. Just like you always have done. And because of that we got separated and I had to look after our children alone. Just like I always have done, Ed.’
I bent over him, tears shaking from my cheeks.
‘You have no idea what I’ve been through. And you have no idea how I’m feeling. My heart feels like it’s been torn out, chewed up and stuffed back inside me. It doesn’t work properly, Ed, it stutters and jumps and I think I’m going to die. Every minute I’m away from them it feels like I’m one minute closer to death. It’s agony, Ed. And then you come waltzing in on your shitty little boat, the big fucking hero, and tell me that I’m careless?’
I’d run out of words, so I breathed at him for a bit, made a noise like a strangled chicken, and took myself downstairs.
The hatch opened. I’d been down there in the dark for about half an hour, fiddling with my nails at the table. There was no sign of Bryce or Carmela; they had consigned themselves to the bedroom at the front.
Ed stood halfway down the ladder, blocking the light. It was evening now and the sun was sliding to the horizon.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, hanging there. ‘I know it wasn’t your fault. It could never have been your fault. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s all right,’ I said, clicking my nails.
‘Can I sit with you?’
I glanced up. Nodded. Returned to my fingers.
He took the bench opposite, tracing a line on the wood.
‘I had already said goodbye to you,’ I said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean: I thought I was never going to see you again. So I said goodbye. It was one night in that awful camp. Nobody slept, the kids were awake every hour crying with the cold, and I didn’t believe we were ever going to get on a boat. It didn’t seem possible, there were so many people, you know? I thought we were going to be left behind. And you – the last time I’d seen you, you’d been leaving for Edinburgh on that stupid fucking salvage run, where there were people with guns, and I just thought …’
‘Thought what?’
‘I thought you were dead. And thinking about the possibility that you might not be just made things more difficult. It’s like I was hanging on to something that wasn’t real, and it was holding me back. I had to get moving, Ed. For the kids, you know? Do you know how that feels?’
‘I know exactly how that feels.’
‘So I let go. I said goodbye to you, and cried up at the moon in that freezing compound, and that night I slept well. The next day we got our papers. We were going, and you weren’t going to be with us. I buried you, Ed. You were dead.’
He leaned forward. ‘But I’m not dead. I’m here. I found you.’
‘I know. And don’t think I’m not glad. It’s just … now I’ve got to dig you up again.’ I sat back. ‘I can’t really explain it. I’m sorry.’
He looked down at the table. ‘Did you tell Alice I was dead?’
I shook my head. ‘No. I was trying to find the right time.’
‘What happened on the Unity?’
I told him, and afterwards he nodded, rubbing his beard.
‘Florida, then?’
‘That’s the plan.’
He drew a long breath through his nose, then frowned and sniffed.
‘Why does it smell of sick down here?’
The door to the bedroom flew open.
‘Have we stopped?’ said Bryce, standing in its frame. Any remnants of his brief foray into hygiene were gone, and his hair hung in straggles, peppered with objects I could not and had no inclination to identify. He wobbled, scanning the cabin, eyes landing on Ed.
Ed folded his arms, seeming to shrink into himself as he had done with Richard. He didn’t meet Bryce’s eyes as he approached the table.
Bryce looked between us, breathing heavily.
‘Told you he’d make it,’ he said to me. He slapped Ed on the shoulder and went upstairs. Carmela followed.
‘Hola,’ she whispered as she passed.
‘What’s all that about?’ I said. ‘You were the same with Richard. I thought they were your friends?’
He chewed his lip, arms still folded, staring at me with that same wild look in his eye.
‘You can …’ he mumbled, ‘you know, see them, then?’
‘What do you mean see them. Of course I can, why wouldn’t I?’
He nodded, rubbing his tongue around his teeth.
‘Right,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘That clears that up, then.’
As the sun set we sat up on deck, eight of us around the fold-out table. Maggie lit some candles she’d found in the cabin, and we shared three tins – potatoes, peas and a meat stew – with a bottle of Staines’ sickly rum. The sea was a hard glass beneath a spray of stars.
I sat next to Ed, our legs squashed together and his hand on mine.
‘The hardest part was getting the boat down,’ he said. ‘The path from the house had crumbled away so there was only scree. They had an old Citroën—’
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘The people. The couple I found in the house, the ones I buried with Harvey.’ Bryce and Richard dropped their heads at the name. Ed took a breath. ‘Anyway, there was no fuel in it, of course, but I managed to push it as far as the slope. Then I kind of let it slide down, steering it as best I could. I hit some rocks, lost control a few times, but I made it. After that I took it for some practice runs around the bay, learned what all the ropes did. There were charts in the house, a few books on sailing. I got pretty good –’ he glanced at Bryce, ‘– better than I was at running, anyway.’
‘That’s not difficult, Edgar,’ said Bryce. ‘You run like a girl.’
Dani bristled. ‘You think girls can’t run, no?’
‘Just a turn of phrase, sweetheart. I know fine well girls can run.’ He lost himself in his glass, and some memory or other. ‘Fine well.’
‘I took as much food and water as I could from their house. They had a whole store full; “preppers”, I think they would have been called once. After that it was just a case of plucking up the courage to set out.’
‘Where did you go?’ said Richard
He shrugged. ‘South. Navigated the channel best I could, almost hit rocks off Finistère so I kept clear of the coast after that.’ He looked up suddenly, as a streak of light traced across the sky. We watched as another one followed.
‘I heard they’re still falling,’ I said, breaking off at the bitter memory of my first conversation with Mary. ‘Although that might not be true.’
‘It is true,’ said Ed. ‘I saw three hit the sea off Bordeaux. Just small, but enough to whip up the water enough that I had to drop anchor in a bay. Scared the shit out of me. I spent a couple of nights below deck thinking it was all going to happen again, you know? After that I lost my confidence a bit, so I thought I’d try getting to dry land, talking to someone, maybe finding
someone who could help me. But the coasts … they’re not safe. And not just because of the rocks.’
‘We’ve seen it,’ said Richard, looking at me.
Ed nodded. ‘It was everywhere. Almost everywhere, at least. I found a small village in Portugal that had somehow avoided the trouble. I stayed up drinking white port with an old fisherman who told me about Cape Town. He’s the one that gave me that smoke canister. “Not much,” he said, “but you might need it.” Pushed on after that.’ He looked at me. ‘Couldn’t stop thinking about you arriving there, and what might have happened.’
Ed toyed with his glass, the rum untouched.
‘That was only a week ago. It seems like longer. Then I picked up your call on the radio, decided to brave the coast again and –’ he raised a palm, looked at me ‘– here we are.’
Nobody spoke for a few moments. Then Bryce grabbed the bottle and filled everyone’s glasses.
‘Here’s to Ed,’ he said, raising his. Everyone followed.
‘To Ed.’
Somehow my toast came later than everyone else’s, and the sound of his name – flatter than the rest – hung there in the silence. I held my breath.
Bryce made a noise of disgust and stared at his glass. ‘This stuff’s rank. Reminds me of my fucking prick grandad.’
I exhaled, glad of the distraction. ‘You feeling better, Bryce?’
‘Aye, I’m fine when we’re no moving. What about you?’
‘I’m all right.’ I looked at Ed. ‘Broke my leg.’
There was another silence. This time Bryce broke it with a great inhalation.
‘You know, personally, I’m quite partial to a finger up the old arsehole. Is that just me?’
I held my brow. ‘Jesus.’
Maggie gave a hoot.
‘For fuck’s sake, Bryce,’ said Ed.
‘What? Just saying, bit of bum fiddling never did anyone any harm. Right, darlin’?’ He looked at Carmela, who shrugged and said something that sounded like agreement. ‘See?’
‘Right,’ said Richard, draining his glass. ‘Enough. Time for bed. We take watches, OK? Two men at a time—’
‘Men?’ said Dani.
‘Two people at a time, swapping every four hours. Bryce and Carmela, you can take the first.’
The End of the World Survivors Club Page 17
