by Kevin Brooks
‘And you haven’t, I suppose?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She lowered her eyes. ‘Nothing.’
I was sick of it now. It was all too confusing, too nonsensical, too much love and hate, all mixed up. It was nauseating.
‘I think I’d better go,’ I said.
Bill didn’t say anything as I got up and walked across the garden, but I could feel her watching me. I didn’t know what I thought about that. I didn’t have a clue what I thought about anything any more.
I took my empty glass back to the bar then went over to tell Dad I was going. He and Rita were sharing a bottle of wine and Dominic was sitting off to one side nursing half a pint of lager. A gauze patch was taped over the wound on his head.
‘Did you have a nice chat?’ Rita asked.
‘Yeah, thanks …’ I turned to Dad. ‘I have to get back now.’
‘What time do you finish?’
‘About six, I think.’
He looked at Rita. ‘We’ll still be here then, won’t we?’
‘I expect so.’
Dad turned back to me. ‘We’re parked behind the bank at the end of the High Street. If we don’t meet you at the stall, we’ll be in the car. OK?’
I nodded, then glanced at Dom. There was a look on his face I hadn’t seen for a long time. A slightly worried, but calm and reassuring expression that reminded me of the old Dominic. It really felt good to see it, and I couldn’t help smiling at him.
‘Are you staying on?’ I asked.
‘Probably,’ he said. ‘I’ll come round later, if you like. When it gets a bit quieter.’
‘That’d be nice.’
He smiled. ‘OK.’
Through the window I saw Bill crossing the garden. For a moment I felt an urge to go out and talk to her again, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good, so I turned around and left.
sixteen
B
y mid-afternoon the sky had begun to cloud over and the air was thickening with the smell of the sea. A fine mist of silvery-white light filtered the glare of the sun, giving an impression of coolness, but that was about all. The heat burned down as strongly as ever. With the salty smell of the sea mingling with the odours of barbecued meat and beer, and the hot air sucking the atmosphere dry, there was a lot of drinking going on. Most of it was fairly harmless, but every now and then drunken shouts echoed in the streets, and there were reports of one or two scuffles breaking out. Normally it wouldn’t have bothered me that much, but with all that had happened over the last few days I was feeling a bit jumpy. Also, there didn’t seem to be any police around. I hadn’t seen any sign of Lenny … or anyone else come to that. I suppose they had more important things to do – like running around Moulton searching for imaginary maniacs. But still, you would have thought they’d send someone to keep an eye on things.
I was probably over-reacting, but I could feel a nasty edge creeping into the day and I didn’t like it one bit.
Although Dominic had said he was coming to see me, I was still surprised when he showed up. It was about two o’clock. The stall was relatively quiet for a moment, so I asked Mrs Reed if I could take a quick break and then I signalled for Dom to meet me round the back.
He was smoking a cigarette and he looked hot. The gauze patch on his head was limp and sweaty.
‘That looks nice,’ I said.
He smiled sheepishly, dabbing at the dressing. ‘Someone beat some sense into me.’
‘Not before time.’
‘Yeah … I know.’ His face saddened. ‘I never was much good at judging people, was I?’
I looked at him. ‘I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?’
‘Not really – maybe later.’
He puffed on his cigarette and glanced at a pretty girl who was walking past. She saw him watching and tried to look coy, flapping her eyes like Princess Diana used to, but it was all too obvious and it didn’t quite work. She just looked as if she had something wrong with her eyes.
Dom looked at me. ‘Have you heard from Lucas?’
‘No – I think he’s probably gone.’
‘That’s a shame – I never really got the chance to thank him.’
‘Neither did I.’
‘Maybe he’ll come back when it’s all died down.’
‘I don’t think so. He’s not the sort of person who comes back to a place.’
‘He might come back to a person, though.’
I’d had the same thought myself, but thinking about it had led me down into an uncomfortable world of selfdelusion, and I didn’t like that. It wasn’t that I didn’t rate myself, I was just being realistic. I’m OK, I’m all right, I’m quite nice – but I’m nothing special. Why the hell should someone special want to come back to me?
Dom lit another cigarette.
‘You’re smoking too much,’ I told him.
‘You sound just like—’ His voice trailed off and his face dropped as Jamie Tait and Sara Toms suddenly appeared round the corner of the stall, walking arm in arm. My stomach turned over. It was inevitable I’d meet up with Jamie again sooner or later, and I’d tried to prepare for the occasion by telling myself to stay cool, keep calm, be brave, don’t lose control … but when I actually saw him, my brave heart just sank to the ground. Fear, shock, disgust, shame … the weight of it all was more than I’d ever imagined. And, somehow, the sight of him with Sara, all cosy and civilised, made it even worse. Jamie was dressed in a Nike vest and swimshorts, and Sara was wearing a long wrap skirt over a low-cut one-piece swimsuit.
‘Well, this is nice,’ Jamie said with a slight lisp. ‘How’re you doing, McCann? How’s your head?’
Dom looked at him. ‘Better than yours, I expect.’
Jamie winced. His face was a mass of bruised flesh and stitches. An ugly gash split the side of his nose, and the nose itself was discoloured and swollen from when Lucas had kneed him in the face. His mouth, too, was swollen on one side, and when he smiled I could see a bit of tooth missing from the front. That would account for the lisp. I wondered what he’d told Sara about his injuries. Whatever it was, I was fairly sure it wasn’t the truth.
He tried to make light of it, shrugging his shoulders and smiling crookedly. ‘At least I’ll have a face worth remembering when it heals.’ He looked at me. ‘You won’t forget it, will you, Caity?’
‘No,’ I said, trying to steady my trembling voice. ‘I don’t thuppothe I will.’
His smile vanished and he stepped towards me. Sara pulled him back. ‘Keep away from her, darling,’ she told him, staring at me. ‘You don’t know where she’s been.’
Jamie smiled, tonguing the gap in his teeth. Sara slipped her hand inside his vest and continued staring at me. Her eyes were like nothing I’d ever seen before: cold, emotionless, inhuman. It was frightening.
Dominic stepped up beside me. ‘Just ignore her,’ he whispered. ‘She’s unbalanced.’ He raised his voice and spoke to Jamie. ‘So, how’s it going, Tait? Still keeping things fresh?’
The words were casual, but the tone of his voice was hard.
‘Fresh enough,’ Jamie replied.
‘I expect you’ve heard about Angel.’
Jamie smiled coldly. ‘Shocking, isn’t it?’
‘And now the boy’s gone.’
‘So they say.’
‘Looks like you got what you wanted then.’
‘I always do, McCann.’
‘You don’t let shit into your home, right?’
‘You’ve got it.’
‘What about me?’
‘You got what you deserved.’
Dom sighed and shook his head. ‘You like your little games, don’t you?’
‘Like I said, you got what you deserved.’ He looked at me. ‘You too. How are you sleeping, by the way?’
‘Not too good,’ I said. ‘But at least I haven’t wet myself lately.’
His face froze. Sara looked at him and Dominic looked at me, but for a brief mom
ent neither of them existed. There was just me and Jamie Tait and the shared memory of him lying in the lane with his face covered in blood and his trousers soaked in urine. I wasn’t proud of myself for reminding him, it was a pretty cheap thing to do, but as we stood there staring at each other I have to admit I enjoyed the humiliation on his face.
Sara shot me a murderous look then hissed in Jamie’s ear, ‘What’s she talking about?’
He didn’t answer, just carried on staring at me.
Sara shook him. ‘Jamie!’
‘Shut up,’ he snapped. ‘We’re going.’
‘I want to know—’
‘Shut it!’ He started dragging her away then spun around and jabbed his finger at me. ‘You – I’ll be seeing you, you little bitch. And when I do you’re going to wish you’d never stopped him. Think about it … you think about that.’ Then he turned on his heels and marched off down the street, with Sara scrabbling along behind him, throwing vicious glances over her shoulder at me.
Dominic watched them go.
I sighed heavily.
Simon popped his head out the back of the stall. ‘What was all that about? Has he gone? Is everything all right?’
‘Yeah … everything’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ He looked concerned. ‘Really,’ I told him. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. He was a bit drunk, that’s all. I just need a quick word with Dominic and then I’ll be right back.’
He didn’t look too happy about it, but then he never looked too happy about anything. He nodded slowly and disappeared back into the stall. When I turned around Dominic was watching me with a mixture of pride and confusion.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘That was interesting.’
‘You started it.’
He smiled. ‘It looks like I missed out on the best bits, though. Are you going to tell me what that was all about?’
‘You don’t want to know.’
He looked at me with raised eyebrows.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘I’ve got to get back. I’ll talk to you later, all right? I’ll tell you what I can.’
He nodded. ‘I can hang around if you want. I don’t think Jamie will try anything, but just in case he does—’
‘No – thanks anyway. I’ll be all right.’
‘If you say so.’
He came over to me, took off my hat and ruffled my hair. I felt a lump rising in my throat.
I said, ‘I’m still annoyed with you, Dom. I haven’t forgiven you yet.’
‘That’s all right,’ he replied, putting the hat back on my head and jamming it down over my eyes. ‘I can wait.’
I pulled the hat from my eyes and watched him saunter off down the street with his hands in his pockets and his head in the air. I didn’t know what to think. It seemed as if every time I lost something I found something else. I’d lost Bill, found Lucas. Lost Dominic, found Bill. Lost Bill again, found Dominic. Lost Lucas … lost Lucas …
I’d lost Lucas.
I swallowed hard and went back into the stall.
There wasn’t really time to think about anything for the next hour or so. The festival got busier, the sun got hotter, and the people just kept on coming. It was incredible. I didn’t get a minute’s rest. As soon as I’d finished with one customer another one would take their place. How much is this? What do you think about that? Why should I give money to the RSPCA when there are children dying all over the place? Why don’t you do something about the seagulls? What do you think about fishing? Where’s the toilets? What’s that made of? Where’s the best place to buy an owl? …
I was finding it really hard to cope. Too many stupid questions, too many people who couldn’t be bothered to think for themselves, too many sun-burned, half-drunk faces …
At one point, after a particularly unpleasant encounter with a local hunt supporter, I looked up to see the funny-looking kid who’d bought the poster of the starving dog. He was standing there with the rolled-up poster in his hand. His dad – who looked exactly like him – was standing beside him with a scowl on his face.
My heart sank and I looked towards Simon, but he was busy doing something else.
‘What d’you think this is?’ the kid’s dad said.
I looked at him. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘This.’ He grabbed the poster from his boy’s hand and waved it at me. ‘What the hell is this supposed to be?’
I looked at the boy. He was starting to cry again.
His father said, ‘I could do you for this. I could set the whasnames on you, the trade descriptions. It’s a bloody disgrace. Look at it. That’s not a dog, it’s a bloody carcass. Look, it’s a sodding skellington. My boy’s not putting that on the wall. I want my money back and an apology. I want – are you listening?’
I wasn’t. I was staring off into the distance watching Jamie Tait as he disappeared down a secluded footpath at the end of the street heading for the beach. His face was shielded with the peak of a baseball cap, and the sun was shining in my eyes, but there was no doubt in my mind – it was him all right. And the girl in the bra-top with her arm round his waist – that was Angel Dean. As I leaned to one side and squinted through the glare, trying to get a better look, a white Mercedes with tinted windows rolled down the street and slowed at the entrance to the path, momentarily blocking my view. The car stopped for a couple of seconds then speeded up and purred away. I caught a quick glimpse of Jamie looking over his shoulder, and Angel reaching up and nuzzling his ear, and then they were gone, hurrying down through the shadows towards the beach. I kept my eyes on the path for a while, replaying the scene in my mind, trying to convince myself I’d made a mistake. But I knew I hadn’t.
‘Hey,’ the angry man said, slamming the rolled-up poster on the counter. ‘Hey! You, Missy—’
I tore my eyes from the path and looked at him. His face was bright red, his eyes were bulging, and his son was bawling his eyes out.
‘Now you listen to me—’ he began.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m not feeling well. If you’d like to wait there a minute I’ll get someone to deal with you.’
I called Mrs Reed over, explained what had happened, then excused myself and stepped out the back of the stall and headed up a little alley where a Portaloo had been put in for the festival. I opened it up and went inside. It didn’t smell too good, but at least it was cool and quiet. I sat down and waited for my head to stop spinning and then I tried to work out what to do. Jamie and Angel … Jamie and Angel … Jamie and Angel … where were they going? what were they doing? did it mean anything? should I tell anyone? would it help Lucas if I told anyone? did it matter?
I couldn’t think straight. There were too many unknowns, too many fears and ugly images to contend with. I just couldn’t think things through. In the end I decided it was probably nothing. They were just sneaking off for a quick grope in the sand dunes. It was none of my business and the best thing to do was forget it.
Under the circumstances, I don’t think it was a bad decision. It probably wasn’t the most objective choice I’ve ever made, but I’d like to think that’s understandable. Even so, I can’t help feeling that if I’d been a bit more thoughtful I might have realised … I might have done something else … I might have changed things. If I’d known … I would have tried to stop it … I would have tried. But I didn’t. I didn’t know. How could I?
I just did what I thought was right.
I thought I was right.
As the festival drew to a close, I began to think the worst of the day was over. I certainly hoped so. I was hot and tired, my feet ached, my clothes were dirty and damp with sweat, and my emotions were so mixed up I’d forgotten what it was like to feel normal. I was hungry, too. All I’d had throughout the day was a couple of bags of crisps and about a dozen cans of cheap and gassy Coke. My mouth felt sweet and sticky and I had a belly full of wind. All in all, I felt like – and probably looked like – crap. Mrs Reed, on the other hand, was still as fresh as a daisy. Chatt
ing away, smiling, humming and singing to herself, with her clothes clean and dry and her skin as cool as you like … it was maddening. Simon was beginning to get on my nerves, as well. He’d hardly said a word since the incident with Jamie. He wasn’t nasty or anything, just sulky. I didn’t blame him for that. I expect he felt left out, cut off, perhaps even embarrassed. I just wished he’d do something about it instead of being so meek all the time. I wanted him to swear at me or give me a dirty look or something … anything. But all he did was mope around with a hurt but inoffensive look on his face. It was driving me mad.
By about quarter to six, I’d just about had enough. While Simon and Mrs Reed were busy trying to persuade a man with a beard that they didn’t have anything against caravanning per se, I snuck off to the back of the stall and sat down on a stool, determined to stay there until the day was over. It wouldn’t be long now. Everything was winding down. One or two vans had pulled up at the side of the road and the stall-holders were starting to pack up their stuff. There were empty boxes piled up on the pavement and the street was scattered with bits of food. Discarded litter was rustling in the evening breeze. Although most of the visitors had gone, there were still a few stragglers hanging around, looking tired and weary, some of them a bit drunk. But that was all right. Dad would be along soon. A short drive home, and then I could run a cool bath and lie there in peace. After that, something to eat, a tall glass of iced water, and then an early night. Cool, fresh sheets, a night breeze drifting in through the window, a nice long sleep and a lie-in in the morning. Bliss. Tomorrow was Sunday. There’d be plenty of time for talking to Dom and getting things sorted out with Dad. Plenty of time …
The shouting came from the direction of the beach. At first I thought it was just some drunken yobs getting out of hand, and I didn’t even bother looking up. I just sat there on my stool and kept my head down. I didn’t want to know. But as the shouting became clearer I began to realise it was more than just high spirits. It was a lone voice, loud but clear, and although it sounded out of control I could tell it was perfectly sober. Sober but desperate.
