Jigsaw

by Lynne Roberts

  Chapter Eight

  ‘This is nearly as bad as the kitchen,’ Rachel gasped.

  An un-made bed with dirty grey sheets and a torn blanket could barely be seen under the weight of old socks, cast off pieces of worn clothing, and a large collection of empty bottles.

  ‘Pooh. What’s that awful smell?’

  ‘Whisky,’ said Toby knowledgeably. ‘Dad’s got a bottle at home and he drinks it occasionally. Jack once dared me to drink some when I was younger and it was really horrible.’ He shuddered at the memory.

  ‘Whoever drank this lot obviously doesn’t think it’s horrible,’ remarked Rachel, as they quickly shut the door and began to climb the stairs again. The faint sound of singing came from above them and got louder as they climbed higher.

  ‘I know that song. We sang it at school,’ Rachel told Toby, as what shall we do with the drunken sailor, rang out.

  ‘Do you suppose we should keep going?’

  ‘I’m not stopping now,’ said Toby impatiently. ‘Whoever he is, he must be harmless if he’s singing. Come on.’

  They turned the final corner and found themselves in the top of the lighthouse. Around them were huge windows looking out onto a circular balcony with a metal railing that sat high above the sea. On one side Rachel and Toby could see the distant smudge of land with dark hills rising against the sky, while on the other side there was only the stretch of never-ending ocean. But the sight in front of them took their attention. Sprawled in a tattered armchair was a large unshaven man with a shock of thick dark hair. He was gulping from a bottle at the end of every line as he bawled out the words of the song. Rachel was shocked to hear that the words were quite different to the ones she had learned at school. These words were far from polite. The man had one bare foot while the other was encased in a brown woollen sock with a large hole in the heel. Beside him was a table with a rag draped over a tin of polish and a small telescope. An empty bottle lay at his feet and this smelled strongly of whisky.

  ‘He’s drunk,’ said Rachel in disgust. There was a sudden silence as the man stopped his singing and peered at the children through bleary red-rimmed eyes.

  ‘Two little kiddies. That’s nice,’ he said in a slurred voice. ‘Not demons from hell, I take it? No? Just little kiddies. What might have been. Oh, what might have been!’ He gave a loud belch as Toby turned to Rachel.

  ‘He’s not just drunk, he’s boozed to the eyeballs. Little kiddies indeed,’ he fumed.

  ‘He must be the lighthouse keeper,’ said Rachel uncertainly. ‘I wonder why they let a drunk man like this work in a lighthouse. It’s disgusting.’

  ‘That’s right, little lady. I’m disgusting. Ned MacDonald, lighthouse keeper and disgusting drunk at your service.’ The man doffed an imaginary hat at Rachel and took another swig from the bottle.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Rachel hissed at Toby.

  At that point Spike became restless. Clambering out of Rachel’s backpack, he fluttered to the floor, beating his wings furiously. It was more of a fall than a flight, but Toby was intrigued to see that Spike’s wings were starting to look useful. The dragon waddled over to Ned and sniffed at the empty bottle.

  ‘Oh, a dragon,’ said Ned, without surprise. ‘Fancy that, a dragon. I always thought it would be elephants. Pink elephants. Probably wearing ballet slippers and doing little dances. Are you going to do a dance for me, dragon? Doo de doo de doo.’ He started to hum, and waved his bottle in the air, hiccuping softly from time to time. The children stood watching him in fascination.

  ‘He’s thinks we’re hallucinations,’ Toby whispered to Rachel.

  ‘Don’t whisper,’ roared Ned. ‘It’s rude to whisper. You shouldn’t be here anyway. I want elephants. Elephants or nothing.’ He threw his empty bottle onto the floor, where it narrowly missed Spike, and stared moodily out the window.

  ‘Can’t we do something?’ Rachel asked Toby.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. Food. You’re supposed to give food to people to stop them getting drunk. We could give him one of our sandwiches.’

  Toby looked at Ned critically.

  ‘I think it’s a bit late to stop him getting drunk,’ he said, ‘but we could try a sandwich. I’m hungry anyway.’

  Rachel fished out the packet of sandwiches from the pocket of the backpack and gingerly offered one to Ned, holding it high to keep it from Spike who had raced across the room at the sound of the plastic being unwrapped.

  ‘Would you like a cheese sandwich?’ she asked politely.

  Ned looked at her suspiciously.

  ‘It would have to be cheese sandwiches,’ he moaned, dropping his head and clutching it with his hands. ‘My absolute favourite, cheese sandwiches. And they’re not real. Elephants would have been easier to bear.’

  ‘They are real,’ snapped Rachel in exasperation. ‘We made them ourselves, this morning. Do you want one or not? You’ll have to hurry before Toby eats them all.’

  She glared at Toby who had crammed two of them into his mouth and was absentmindedly reaching for a third.

  Ned took the sandwich and bit into it. He gave a loud shout. Rachel and Toby took a step back and Spike hid behind the chair.

  ‘It’s real. A real cheese sandwich.’ He took another bite. ‘You must be real. I’m not having a vision.’ He finished the sandwich and Rachel silently passed him the packet. He wolfed down the remaining sandwiches, ignoring the pleading eyes of the dragon by his feet, and looked up with a grin.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised. ‘It’s just that I’ve had a disappointment. A severe disappointment.’ He brushed his hair back with his hands and tried to tidy his clothes. ‘I’m in no fit state to be seen. But I’ve not neglected my duties. The light has gone on every night,’ he assured them earnestly.

  ‘What sort of disappointment?’ asked Rachel curiously.

  Ned sighed. ‘A dreadful one, dreadful,’ he said, shaking his head sadly.

  ‘Did someone die?’ asked Rachel.

  ‘No. But they might as well be dead,’ moaned Ned. ‘It was my Sally. A lovely lass, my Sally. We were going to be married and I even painted a beautiful room for her to sleep in. But what do I get in the mail with the last supply ship? A letter! A letter saying she didn’t fancy living in a lighthouse and she’s run off with Joe Mankelow, the lawyers clerk. So now I’m alone and always will be.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Rachel blankly. Toby had picked up the telescope and was studying the view from one of the windows.

  ‘Here’s her picture,’ said Ned, and showed Rachel a dog-eared photograph of a very plain young woman.

  ‘She looks, er, as if she has beautiful manners,’ said Rachel diplomatically. ‘Perhaps you’ll meet someone else.’ She felt as she said it that this was unlikely if Ned lived in a lighthouse, and particularly if he kept drinking.

  ‘I’ll have to get over it,’ sighed Ned. ‘My heart is broken forever and anyway, that was the last bottle of whisky. Hey, that really is a dragon.’

  ‘I’d better feed him,’ said Rachel hurriedly as Spike began whimpering and chewing at the backpack. She opened the tin of corned beef, which Spike ate hungrily. She and Toby told Ned how they had found the dragon and what they were doing.

  ‘So I’m in a jigsaw,’ said Ned. He seemed to be pleased with this but gave the occasional sigh as he remembered his lonely state.

  ‘It’s not as if I ask much,’ he said plaintively. ‘I only want someone who can cook and clean and keep me company.’

  ‘You certainly need someone to clean,’ agreed Rachel, thinking of the state of the kitchen and Ned’s bedroom.

  ‘How did you get here Ned?’ Toby asked.

  ‘By boat, of course. There’s a boat that calls in once a month if the weather is fine enough and it drops off my supplies and mail. It came three days ago.’

  ‘Oh.’ Toby lapsed into silence.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I was wondering how we were going to get back. We usually
go across a bridge but you’re surrounded by water.’

  Ned laughed. ‘That’s no problem,’ he assured them. ‘When the tide goes out there is a narrow strip of sand stretching from here to the mainland. You have to be very quick to get across, as the water starts to rise again very rapidly. It’s the nearest thing to a bridge I can provide for you.’

  ‘When is low tide?’ asked Rachel eagerly. She was finding the lighthouse very crowded and it was apparent that Ned was badly in need of a good wash. Spike was becoming bored with the lack of space to play in and had begun to playfully nip Rachel on the ankles, a game that she was not enjoying.

  ‘In about half an hour,’ said Ned. ‘It goes out very quickly.’

  Ned spent the time telling the children about the lighthouse and what his duties were. Toby accepted Ned’s invitation to step out onto the balcony to look at the view but Rachel took one look at the drop to the sea below, and declined with a shudder.

  Finally Ned glanced at the sea and said,

  ‘Time to go. Now start walking and don’t slow down or you’ll be caught by the tide coming back in again.’

  With these reassuring words he waved them off along a strip of wet sand, that stretched away to the shore in the far distance. Rachel made Toby wear the backpack as Spike was quivering in excitement at the sight of the sea and she was sure he was going to try and swim in it. Fortunately they had only taken a few dozen steps when they found their feet squishing through the mud on the edge of the fishpond.