As I left the head I bumped into Richard.
‘Sorry,’ he said, with a gasp. The whisky had unsteadied him. ‘Didn’t meant to startle you.’
‘That’s all right. You didn’t.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Fine, I’m just—’
‘That was something today wasn’t it? The wind! Christ, I haven’t enjoyed myself like that in ages.’
‘I’m just glad we covered the distance.’
‘And you and Ed were flying! Really caught us at the end, there, fair play to you. You and Ed …’
He trailed off. It was dark but his eyes were visible, expectant, in a shaft of moonlight. I used the pause to break free.
‘Well, best be off—’
‘Wait.’ He blocked my path and put a hand to my shoulder, where it remained, fingers twitching.
And just like that, everything changed.
Amazing how a few mumbles and a badly placed hand can change a feeling. It would be wrong to say that my affections for Richard had been growing since the Unity, but they had been gathering, like a collection of emotional components finding a mechanism with which to become something bigger. That was true.
But in the dark of that cabin they broke apart, instantly replaced by something else; not fear or mistrust, but disappointment, in myself and in him.
‘What is it, Richard?’
He worked his jaw and throat. ‘Er … I … er, sorry, not very good at this. I don’t know what to say.’
‘Then don’t, Richard. Don’t say anything.’
He stammered and rushed. ‘But … but, I feel like if I don’t at least say something, then I never will. And I don’t think I’d be able to stop thinking about it. Beth—’
‘Richard, please don’t.’
‘No, I just … I just want to say that –’ he gulped ‘– talking to you, being with you, it’s the first time in a long time that I’ve felt close to anyone. It’s made me feel alive, you know? And I just think you’re … I just thought …’
‘Thought what?’ I removed his hand from my shoulder. ‘What exactly did you think? That we were going to fall into each other’s arms? That you were going to save me, is that it? I don’t need saving, Richard. I never have.’
‘I can see that. That’s not what I meant.’
He shrank, folding like a flower at dusk. Feeling bad, I recalibrated.
‘You’re an attractive man, Richard, don’t get me wrong. And yes, I’m not denying I like being around you too, which, if you knew me at all you’d realise was a fairly big deal because I don’t … I don’t …’
I exhaled, letting the sentence die and looking up at the shaft of cold moonlight. I was remembering something – the party where I had first met Ed. It was years ago, some stupid thing of a friend from work, and I’d had just about all I could stand. I was about to pour my second glass of champagne into the pot plant and slip out before anyone noticed, when he sat down next to me. He looked desperate.
‘Right,’ he said, scanning the room, ‘I’ll make a deal with you.’
‘Pardon me?’
He turned to me.
‘A deal. I can’t take this any more. They’re playing Whigfield. You kill me, and I’ll kill you, all right?’
A smile pulled at my lips. ‘How?’
‘I don’t fucking care. Push me out of the window.’
‘We’re only on the first floor.’
‘Then make sure you impale me on the fence.’
‘That might not be enough to kill you. Did you see those pictures of that guy who got stuck on a fence by his jaw? He had to stand there for hours while they cut this huge iron railing from his mouth.’
He nodded happily. ‘That sounds great. Perfect. Do that. Anything but this.’ He leaned forward. ‘Anything but fucking Whigfield.’
I laughed. A great big laugh. And he smiled.
‘I’m Ed. If you can’t kill me, I’ll settle for a conversation.’
‘Beth?’ said Richard.
I took a deep breath and turned back to him. ‘If you want to feel close to someone, there’s a young man up on deck who needs his father.’
He hovered, eyes darting about, and a for a split second I thought I could sense the trajectory of his thoughts, and that he was going to make a clumsy lunge for me. I prepared to dodge the pass, but it never came. Instead his face creased in tears.
‘I miss her, Beth,’ he said. ‘My Gaby … I just miss her.’
I put my arms around him, and he held me back, sobbing into my shoulder.
‘Everything all right?’
Ed’s silhouette filled the hatch. I let Richard go and he wiped his eyes. With a last smile at me, he sighed and turned to leave, placing a hand on Ed’s shoulder at the ladder.
When he was gone, Ed gave me a frown.
‘What was all that about?’
I smiled and shook my head. ‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’
I thought it best to leave Ed, Richard and Bryce to their conversation, so I took a blanket and went to the bow. Carmela was checking on Bryce, so I sat down beside Maggie. Stretching out before us was dark water cut by a single jagged blade of moon.
Maggie looked over her shoulder as I sat down. The men were throwing nuts for Colin again.
‘It’s as if they can smell it,’ she said.
‘Smell what?’
She scanned me, heavy-lidded, as her gaze returned to the water.
‘You know. Availability.’
I pulled my blanket tight. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Maggie.’
She gave a weary sigh. ‘Everybody always knows what everybody is talking about. There’s never any confusion in these matters. You know what I mean; it’s written all over your face, and his.’
I paused, working my jaw. ‘If you’re talking about Richard, then you’re way off the mark.’
‘Nobody would blame you. He’s an attractive man, and I know that your husband has been somewhat … absent … so—’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘I don’t think I am.’
I turned to her. ‘Yes, you are, Maggie. You are wrong. You’ve only known me for a couple of weeks. You don’t know what I’ve been through, or how I feel about things, and you don’t know the first thing about my marriage. In fact, you’ve never been married. You don’t know what it’s like; it’s not just a straight line, it’s lots of fragments all cobbled together, the good parts and the bad parts of your lives all mashed up together, and sometimes it’s hard to stay as close to each other as you were at the start. What’s that horrible expression? Love isn’t gazing into each other’s eyes, it’s looking in the same direction? Well, sometimes it’s just being in the same room. Same house. Same bloody country.’
I paused, thumbing the blanket’s hem.
‘And yes, sometimes there are reminders that maybe you could have chosen a different path, and sometimes, when you’re not quite in the same room, it’s nice to feel that someone else might want to come in, you know, for … a cup of tea. Or something.’
It was dark but I could tell she was smiling.
She turned to me. ‘Sometimes it’s best just to speak plainly.’
I shrugged. Sniffed. ‘Haven’t felt wanted for a while. Nice to feel it, doesn’t mean I want to do anything.’
She took a long breath and nodded once, slowly and firmly. ‘Then maybe I was wrong. But you were too.’
‘How?’
‘I was married. Once, when I was very young. Way before Dani’s father.’
‘What happened?’
‘Same room? Child, we weren’t even on the same planet.’
There were footsteps from behind and Carmela arrived. We made room and she sat between us, her wide shoulders hunched as she looked down at her lap.
‘Que pasa, Carmela?’ said Maggie.
Carmela sighed and turned her velvet eyes to me.
‘I try English,’ she said. ‘I learn some. A leetle, from –’ she looked back a
t her fingers ‘– Bryce.’
‘Is Bryce OK?’
She sighed. ‘Is … difficult. He is a proud man, a big man.’ She flexed her torso in imitation, then shook her head. ‘Think everybody must believe he a big man. But –’ she turned back to me ‘– he not that big man. He leetle, like a child.’
For a brief moment the suspicion that she was talking about a specific part of Bryce must have become apparent in my expression, because Carmela quelled it with a hand – extremely strong and large – on my arm.
‘Not leetle like that, Beth. No.’ She smiled pleasantly. ‘That actually very big. He is … is difficult for me to say.’
I placed my hand on hers and she heaved a sigh.
‘It’s OK.’
She smiled, embarrassed. ‘I am nob jockey.’
Maggie let out a laugh.
‘Pardon?’ I said.
‘Nob jockey,’ said Carmela. ‘Is what Bryce teach me. Means … I don’t know …’ She fanned her palms and made a childish face, and I had a sudden sense of Carmela’s life; the software of a shy girl running on industrial hardware.
‘Silly?’ I said.
‘Si, Beth,’ she gripped my fingers in hers. ‘Silly.’
‘We don’t think you’re silly. Tell us.’
She looked out over the dark water. ‘I live on a farm before. Five brothers, all older than me, and my father. My mother dead.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She shrugged. ‘Is not you. Donkey kill her in face. My father was hard man. He teach us all how to work on the farm, and I do the work of my mother. In the house.’ She made a box of her hands to show us. ‘They work out house, I work in house. That is how it is. And I watch them through window. They outside. I inside.’ She narrowed her eyes, remembering. ‘They hard with each other. Hard. If hurt, no cry. If something heavy, no say cannot carry. Carry anyway.’
She turned to Maggie.
‘No talk, only work. You know? No …’ She faltered, trying to find the word. ‘… like …’ She slumped, letting her limbs flop like a marionette.
‘Weak?’
‘Si, weak.’ She returned to her fingers, memorising the word under her breath. ‘One day, I make bread and watch through window. Is hot day, and I see my brother very tired. They take water to field because big … er … car … er …’
‘Tractor, darling, tractor,’ said Maggie, touching her hand.
‘Tractor, si, is too hot. They try cool it down. But my brother tired. Hot. I see him, he cannot walk properly and he drop bucket. My father sees, and he walks to him, and –’ she straightened her back, hardened her jaw and swiped at the air ‘– hit him. Very hard. My brother’s head turn like this. I drop the bread on floor and I do not pick up. Just watch. My father stare at him. Is like he want him to do something, cry, but my brother does not cry, my brother look at ground and my father walk away. When he gone I run. I run outside and my brother, yes, then he cries, and I go to him to … hold him, tell him it OK.’ She turned to me. ‘He has no mother. Only father and me. So I think I hold him like mother did. But no. He push me away, and he says: “Do not tell father. Do not tell father that I cry. And he walk away too.”’
She looked down, folding her frame around a picture only she could see.
After some moments, she shrugged it off and sniffed.
‘I don’t know why men like they are,’ she said. ‘Why Bryce like he is.’
I shared a look with Maggie that told me she had as little clue as I did.
‘Are you worried, Carmela?’ I said. ‘Are you worried that he’s sick?’
She fixed me with a look of intense frustration.
‘He not sick,’ she said, shaking her head. She poked her fingers down her throat. ‘Bleurgh. No. Not sick.’ She gave a last glance behind, brow softening. ‘He scared.’
‘Scared?’ I said. ‘Bryce?’
Carmela nodded. ‘Scared of water. Scared of sea.’
Maggie and I looked behind. Bryce was red-faced with whisky, grinning as he recounted some story with Richard and Ed sniggering along.
‘Right …’ I said, turning back. ‘So why did he come?’
‘He didn’t have to,’ said Maggie. ‘There’s no reason for him to go to Florida.’
Carmela smiled, neck elongating with pride. ‘He come for me. I no want to stay in Spain. But for his friends as well. For you and Richard. And Ed. He always say he see Ed again. And now he does.’ She smiled and gathered her skirt. ‘I go shitter now.’
She left Maggie and I to the moon.
‘I told you,’ said Maggie, when we were alone. ‘Men just make things more difficult. It is much easier to do things alone.’
We looked out at the sea. The wind was still firm, muttering the same words it had been screaming all day, and the light from the rising moon spilled around us like milk. Everything was perfectly visible. The island, however, remained in darkness.
‘This is the last land we’ll see for a long time,’ I said. ‘If you want to stop here, you should do it now.
Maggie ran her tongue along her cigarette paper. ‘There are no lights. No fires. There’s nobody there. And if there is then they’re either dead or they don’t want to be found.’ She turned to me. ‘I think, for better or worse, I’m with you for the long haul.’
Richard’s voice broke through the men’s laughs and mumbles at the stern. The whisky had given his tone a rowdy edge. ‘Hey, Joshy. Josh.’
We turned to see. Dani and Josh, clearly bored with the men’s conversation, had broken away and were sitting on their own with their legs dangling over the side. Their voices were close and hushed.
‘Josh!’ Richard threw a peanut shell across the deck, connecting with his son’s ear. Josh broke mid-whisper and turned.
‘What?’
‘What are you two talking about,’ said Richard.
‘Nothing,’ said Josh.
Richard tossed another nut in his mouth.
‘Right,’ he said, munching through his grin. ‘Thick as thieves, you are.’
‘Whatever,’ said Josh, turning back. Dani put a hand on his wrist and stood up. Leaving him alone, she wandered up deck to where we sat.
‘Idiots,’ she said, glaring out at the water. ‘They have no idea how to talk.’
‘What are they talking about back there?’ said Maggie.
‘Running,’ said Dani with a sneer. ‘And people. Places. Beating the clock, whatever that means.’
‘Old men with their war stories,’ smiled Maggie, face clouded with smoke.
The wind picked up and I felt a chill, suddenly gripped by an urgency I knew I had only been keeping at bay. I stood, looking out at the dark island and the thousands of miles of sea that stretched beyond it.
‘We don’t have a clock,’ I said. The three looked up at me.
‘What?’ said Maggie.
‘There is no clock to beat,’ I said. ‘Not this time. The clock’s already stopped.’
There was a sound and the three of us froze. It was tinny music; a simple hi-hat rhythm, warbling organ, and a bass thumping along beneath it all. We looked around, trying to locate it. Maggie stood too, cupping her ear.
‘Is it coming from the island?’
‘No. Sounds like it’s closer, like it’s behind us … shh!’ I turned to the men and hissed: ‘Quiet!’
They stopped mid-sentence, mouths agape, eyes beginning the same dance as ours as they too heard the music.
Bryce frowned. ‘Why am I hearing fucking Creedence?’
Ed stood, looking at me. ‘It’s coming from your direction.’
‘No, it’s not,’ I said. ‘It’s coming from you.’
We stood in silence, listening as drums and a clean guitar joined the mix. As the penny finally dropped, we turned simultaneously to the cabin door.
The singer began to holler his lazy lament, closely followed by a trailer-park quartet.
I descended into the darkness of the cabin with the rest peering behind. The only li
ght was the red LED of the radio, from which the song crackled. As I approached it, sideways and gingerly, another voice joined in the chorus. It was male, out of tune, a terrible imitation of Californian twang, like a child playing soldiers.
I paused at the radio, watching the light, listening with dread. The song faded out, but the voice remained.
He blew out an enormous sigh. ‘Ah, I tell you what, they don’t write ’em like that any more do they? Bloody genius, love it. Love it.’ There was a thump, a ‘Fuckit’ and the sound of liquid pouring. Then another sigh. I put my ear as close as possible to the receiver. There was a motor in the background, and distant voices. ‘Beth?’
I jumped away.
‘Are you there, Beth?’
Hesitantly, I reached for the receiver. Ed joined me. ‘Beth.’
But I had already picked it up.
‘What do you want?’
There was a pause.
‘Ahhh,’ croaked Tony. His voice was slurred and ruddy with drink. ‘Finally. I was beginning to think you’d got into trouble. Sunk my boat … drowned. You haven’t, Beth, have you? You haven’t drowned?’
‘You know I haven’t.’
‘Yes I do.’ He inhaled, exhaled, slurped. ‘Yes I do.’
‘I’m hanging up now.’
‘We had a little bit of trouble, truth be told, Beth. Ran aground a bit, took bloody ages to get ourselves free. It was dark when we finally got back on course, so yes, we lost a bit of ground, I’d say. Lost a bit of ground … or is it water? Ha. Do you lose water?’ His voice trailed off into liquidy mumbles, and I was about to replace the receiver when he spoke again. His voice was darker. ‘Found it again, though. Ground, water, whichever it is. We’re catching up with you, Beth. Where are you? Must be approaching the Azores by now, aren’t you?’
I froze.
‘Oh,’ said Tony. ‘Maybe actually at the Azores? Wow, well done.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Bloody good work! You must have got that wind today, right? It’s been a while since she’s let rip like that, the old girl, bet she enjoyed it. Expect you’ve discovered her preference to lee port by now, right?’
He waited.
‘Beth,’ whispered Ed. ‘Leave it, turn it off.’
‘Who’s that?’ said Tony, his voice suddenly closer. ‘Is that the one who was on your boat? Or is he the one who threw that smoke canister onto my deck? Looking forward to meeting him, I can tell you. Looking forward to meeting all of you, as it happens. Won’t be long now, Beth. Won’t be —
The End of the World Survivors Club Page 20
