by Kevin Brooks
I grabbed him round the waist and squeezed him tight.
‘Hey … hey … it’s all right,’ he murmured, stroking my hair. ‘Everything’s all right.’
I buried my head in his chest.
After he’d had a quick shower and a change of clothes, Dad joined us in the front room. Dom poured him a big glass of whiskey and he slumped down in the armchair and drank down half of it in one go.
‘That’s better,’ he sighed. ‘God, what a day … are you two all right?’
We both nodded.
Dom said, ‘I tried ringing Shev but his phone was off.’
‘Dead battery,’ Dad said, finishing the whiskey. He lit a cigarette. ‘Has Lenny phoned?’
‘No,’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘Christ, this is a mess. Did you see those bloody idiots at the Stand?’
‘Tully Jones was there,’ Dom said. ‘And Mick Buck. Is the Stand still cut off?’
Dad nodded. ‘If this storm keeps up, I can’t see it going down until the morning. Maybe not even then. It’s like a damn lake out there.’ He stared into the distance and puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette.
‘What happened, Dad?’ I asked.
He looked at me with troubled eyes.
I said, ‘Did you find her?’
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘We found her.’
‘Was it Angel?’
He stared at me for a long time. Eventually he said, ‘How do you know?’
‘Was it?’
He nodded gravely. ‘You’d better tell me what you know.’
There was no reason to hide anything any more. No reason, no point, no sense in not telling him – in fact, I was finding it hard to remember why I hadn’t told him everything in the first place – and as I opened my mouth and started to talk I had every intention of speaking the truth. But something happened. Something clicked in and overrode my intentions, and the words that came out weren’t the words I meant to come out.
‘Jamie Tait’s been after Lucas,’ I said. ‘Jamie and Lee Brendell, some of the others, they wanted him off the island. That’s why they all lied to the police about what happened with Kylie Coombe. They thought that if the police were after Lucas and everyone thought he was a pervert, he’d leave the island.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Dad asked.
‘Lucas told me.’
He shook his head disapprovingly. ‘All right … we’ll come back to that later. How does Angel Dean come into this?’
‘You know what she’s like, Dad. She’s been chasing after Jamie for ages – hanging around him all the time, flirting, flashing herself about …’
‘So?’
‘When Jamie found out Lucas hadn’t been frightened off, he threatened him. He said if he didn’t leave the island he’d find himself in big trouble. He didn’t say what kind of trouble, but Lucas got the impression that he was going to set him up for something.’
‘The attack on Angel?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Lucas told you all this?’
I nodded. ‘He didn’t do it, Dad. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.’
‘No?’
‘This afternoon at the festival I saw Jamie and Angel heading for the beach. She had her arm around his waist.’
‘When?’
‘Three-thirty, maybe a bit later. Lenny knows. Dom told him. He said he was going to tell Bob Toms.’
Dad looked puzzled. He got up and refilled his glass then started pacing around the room, tugging at his beard. He stopped at the window.
‘What time did you get in touch with Lenny?’ he asked.
‘As soon as we got in,’ Dom said. ‘About half eight.’
‘What’s going on, Dad?’ I said. ‘What happened to Angel?’
He flashed a look at Dom, then sat down and looked at me. His face was drawn and his eyes were full of pain. He put his hand to his mouth and breathed out through his fingers.
‘She was in the pillbox near the Point,’ he said slowly. ‘It was almost dark when we got there. Those damn boys were chasing around all over the place, kicking up hell, looking for someone to kill …’ He shook his head. ‘They even started in on Shev. It must have taken us an hour to get rid of them. By the time we got to the pillbox the rain was coming down so hard we couldn’t see more than three feet in front of us.’ He paused and took a long drink of whiskey. ‘I went down …’ He cleared his throat. ‘I went down into the pillbox. It was pitch black. I had my lighter going …’ He flicked a glance at me, then lowered his eyes. ‘Ah, God … it was terrible. She was just lying there in the dirt … all on her own. She looked so small …’ He sniffed and wiped his eyes. ‘She was all cut up … her face, everything. Cut to ribbons. Jesus … there was blood all over the place. I thought she was dead.’
‘Was she?’ I asked quietly.
Dad shook his head. ‘I think she’ll probably pull through. She was unconscious and she’d lost a lot of blood, but she was still breathing when the paramedics arrived …’ He sighed heavily, his eyes brimming with anguish as he remembered the scene. ‘Most of the cuts weren’t too deep, thank God … but there was a bad one in her leg, just here …’ He touched a spot on his upper thigh. ‘Somehow she’d managed to strap a cloth to it and keep her leg raised … God knows what might have happened if she hadn’t – she probably would have bled to death.’
‘I thought you said she was unconscious.’
He looked at me. ‘She was.’
‘So how did she manage to bandage her leg?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know … she must have done it before she lost consciousness, I suppose.’ He closed his eyes and wearily rubbed his brow. ‘Jesus … can you imagine how the poor girl must have felt?’
A long silence filled the room.
That cold, coppery taste had returned to the back of my throat, the taste of dirty old pennies. It brought with it a memory of Lucas, when I first met him at the tide pool and he told me about Angel. Robbie’s not the one you have to worry about … Angel’s the one. I could see him sitting on a flat rock, the breeze ruffling his hair as he lowered his eyes. That’s it – nothing … that’s what I saw … looking up at me … she didn’t have a face.
Then, now.
The future was now.
I was dying inside.
I’d seen Jamie and Angel going off together. I’d seen them. I’d seen her smiling and nuzzling his ear … and now she was lying in a dirty old pillbox with her face ripped up. I’d seen her … I’d seen her with him … and I’d let her go. I knew what he was like. I’d been in Joe Rampton’s lane with him. I’d felt what she must have felt. I’d been there, I’d been there with Angel – and now she was ruined.
It could have been me.
God, it could have been me.
In the soundless room, it was too much to think about – too bad, too selfish, too many lies …
It was too late.
Dom broke the silence. ‘What’s happening now, Dad? What’s Toms doing?’
Dad shook his head. ‘God knows. When the helicopter turned up they roped off the area and kicked us out. Toms wouldn’t talk to us, all he cared about was getting the damn place sealed off and keeping his hair dry.’
‘What about this CID sergeant?’ Dom said.
‘He was just as bad,’ Dad sighed. ‘One of those big nasty bastards who think they’re in a cop show. I think he used to work with Toms when he was at Moulton. He took our details and then told us to go home.’
‘What are they going to do?’ I asked. ‘Are they looking for Lucas?’
‘I don’t know, love. When I left they were still arguing with the pilot. The paramedics had got Angel into the helicopter, but the pilot refused to take off because of the weather. As far as I know, they’re still there.’
‘Shouldn’t we do something? Tell someone about Jamie Tait?’
He looked at Dom. ‘You told Lenny?’
Dom nodded. ‘But I couldn’t get through the
last time I rang. The lines are down or something.’
‘I’ll try him again. Have you spoken to Rita?’
‘Can’t get through.’
‘I’ll nip up and see her later.’ He drank off his whiskey. ‘God, what a mess.’ He turned to me. ‘You should have told me this stuff about Lucas before, Cait.’
‘I know – I’m sorry.’
‘Do you know where he is?’
I shook my head. ‘He said he was coming to the festival but he never showed up.’
‘Is that the truth?’
‘I swear – I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him since Thursday. I think he’s probably miles away.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
‘He didn’t do anything, Dad. He’s innocent.’
‘No one’s innocent.’
We eventually got to bed some time in the early morning. By then the rain had eased off a little and the thunder had faded into the distance. The wind was still blowing hard, though, gusting through the trees and rattling against the windows, and I couldn’t sleep. I was so tired my body felt numb. I could feel a pulse thumping behind my eyes. It was fear, I suppose. I couldn’t get the voice of the tattooed man out of my mind – What’s it like down there all on your own? Nice and quiet? Must get a bit lonely sometimes, eh? Especially at night … I knew the doors and windows were all double-locked, and I knew it was probably just an empty threat anyway, but that didn’t help much. Fear doesn’t listen to reason.
There were other things preying on my mind, too. The image of Angel cocooned in the pillbox, the pain she must have gone through, the terror, the loneliness, the injustice of everything, the confusion, the complexity, the sense that the world was coming apart … and Lucas. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he frightened? Was he cold? Was he thinking of me? I pictured his face, his smile, his pale blue eyes … and then suddenly his eyes iced over and I saw him squatting over Jamie Tait with a knife in his hand, and for the tiniest fraction of a second a terrible thought entered my mind: what if I was wrong about him? what if it was him that attacked Angel …?
A groan of self-disgust choked in my throat. God … how could I? How could I even think such a thing? It’s sickening …
You’re tired, don’t worry about it. Go to sleep.
I didn’t mean to think it. I didn’t mean it …
I know.
I’m sorry.
Go to sleep.
I gripped the wooden figure in my hand and closed my eyes. The wind roared its wildness in the trees and I listened hard, searching for the magic. It was there. I knew it was there. In the elm in the back garden, in the poplars along the lane, in the ancient oak in the field at the back of the house …
It was there.
It was close.
I could feel it coming.
nineteen
I
can smell the sweat on his skin and the wet sand on his clothes. He smells of the sea. His hands are cold and wet, but soft. Soft and hard, just like his eyes. His eyes … blue jewels burned with a heart of black, the heart that sees to the ends of the earth. I can smell his hair, too. Like earth, like the fur of a beast. Damp, but dry underneath. Dry and thick and warm. His mouth … a crescent moon. His lips move, shaping the contours of his face, and he speaks with the silence of the night.
Caity …
I feel his hand on my mouth.
Cait … it’s me …
I taste the sweet rain on his skin.
Cait … wake up …
I open my eyes … open myself …
‘Cait?’
‘Lucas?’
‘Shh …’
The voice was real. The fingertips resting lightly on my lips were real. The face above me was real. It wasn’t a dream. Lucas was standing beside my bed, leaning over me, his figure framed in the dim light. I could feel the touch of his breath on my skin.
‘Wha—’ I said.
‘Shh …’ he whispered, looking over his shoulder. ‘I don’t want to wake anyone.’ He slowly removed his fingers from my lips.
‘What are you doing here?’ I said. ‘Are you all right? How did you get in?’
He smiled at me. ‘That’s a lot of questions.’
I sat up, covering myself with the duvet, and looked at the clock. It was three-fifteen. Rain was pattering steadily against the window and the room was cold. A pre-dawn silence stilled the air. Lucas stepped back from the bed and wiped rain from his face. Wet clothes clung to his skin and his hands and face were streaked with mud. He had his canvas bag with him, slung over his shoulder. He looked exhausted.
‘I thought you’d gone,’ I said. ‘I thought you’d left the island.’
‘Do you think I’d go without saying goodbye?’
‘You didn’t have to—’
‘I know.’ He cocked his head, listening to something, then went on. ‘I meant to come to the festival but things got a bit awkward.’
‘You know about Angel?’
He nodded.
‘They’re after you, Lucas. They think you did it.’
‘I know. I’ve spent most of the night trying to avoid them. I thought I’d be safe in the woods, but an old man led a group of them across the mud flats. They found my place and smashed it up. They’re everywhere, Cait. There’s no way off the island.’
‘You can stay here,’ I said.
He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. ‘I just need somewhere to hide until the tide goes down. Once it starts going out I can wade through the reeds and get past the mob on the bridge …’ He looked at me. ‘I don’t want to cause any trouble.’
‘It’s no troub—’
Suddenly the door swung open and a gowned figure stepped into the room. Lucas reacted instantly. I saw a blur of movement, a dull flash of metal, and the next thing I knew the gowned figure was pinned up against the wall with a knife to his throat.
‘No!’ I yelled at Lucas. ‘It’s my dad!’
Without lowering the knife, Lucas shot a glance at me, then his head snapped to one side as Dominic appeared in the doorway and turned on the light. The moment froze in the sudden glare: Lucas holding Dad against the wall with the point of the knife pressed to his throat; Dad staring wideeyed at the blade; and Dominic standing in the doorway with his hand on the light switch and his mouth hanging open.
‘Dad?’ he said. ‘What the—’
‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘It’s Lucas.’
‘Christ – what’s he doing?’
‘Lucas,’ I said. ‘Lucas, listen to me … it’s all right. It’s my dad. Put the knife down.’
Lucas looked at Dad.
Dad licked his lips and met his gaze. ‘So you’re Lucas?’ he croaked, glancing at the knife. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Lucas didn’t move for a moment. His eyes drilled into Dad, cold and calculating, weighing up the situation, and then he slowly lowered the knife and stepped back. Dad breathed out and put his hand to his throat, wiping at a pin-prick of blood. He examined his hand then looked up at Lucas.
‘Do you always greet people like that?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lucas said. ‘I didn’t know who you were.’
‘Who the hell were you expecting – King Kong?’
A hint of a smile flickered on Lucas’s mouth. ‘I’m a bit jumpy tonight.’
‘Jumpy? Jesus Christ …’ Dad stepped away from the wall and looked around, his body swaying slightly with shock. A quick glance at me, then he turned his attention back to Lucas. ‘How the hell did you get in here? The doors are locked … where’s the dog? If you’ve hurt him—’
Lucas nodded towards the door.
Dad looked round. Deefer was sitting calmly in the doorway, gazing adoringly at Lucas.
‘You’re supposed to bark,’ Dad said to him. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
Deefer ignored him.
Dad turned to Lucas and looked him up and down. ‘Put that away,’ he said coldly, indicating the knife. Lucas slipped the knife in his belt. Dad s
tepped up to him. He wasn’t shocked any more. He was just angry and tired. ‘Listen, son,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. Some of it I like, and some of it I don’t. My daughter seems to trust you, and normally that’s good enough for me. But this is different. This is as about as different as it gets. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘I’m not your son,’ Lucas said calmly, looking into his eyes.
Dad’s face tightened. I thought for a moment he was going to hit him. But then he nodded slowly and said, ‘All right. Fair point. I apologise. Now, tell me you understand what I’m saying.’
‘I understand.’
‘Good.’ He looked at him for a moment then turned round and spoke to Dom. ‘Go back to your room.’
‘But I wanted—’
‘Don’t spoil it, Dom. Just go back to your room and get some sleep. You’re probably going to need it.’
‘OK.’
Dad watched him go, then turned back to Lucas. ‘You go and wait outside.’
Lucas walked out without a word. He hadn’t looked at me since the light came on, and he didn’t look at me as he left.
Dad closed the door then came over and sat on the bed. ‘Are you all right?’
I nodded.
‘What’s going on?’ he said. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘They’re after him, Dad … he’s got nowhere else to go.’
‘How long has he been here?’
‘A couple of minutes—’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I just woke up—’
‘Did he try anything—’
‘No! Of course he didn’t. How could you—’
‘I’m your father,’ he said, as if that answered everything … which I suppose it did. ‘Listen to me, Cait,’ he said. ‘I know you’ve been keeping things to yourself recently – no, let me finish. I’m not having a go at you, I’m just telling you how it is. Please, listen a minute. It’s important. OK?’ I nodded and he carried on. ‘It’s all right to keep stuff from me, it’s natural. I’m not saying I like it, because I don’t, but I can live with it. I trust you – even when you’re wrong. That’s fine. It’s OK to be wrong. But you mustn’t be afraid of it. Just take it as it is – don’t try to mend things, don’t punish yourself, don’t dwell on it. Just take it, use it, make it good and keep it pure. All that matters is knowing your own rules. Because if you don’t know them, you won’t know when you’re breaking them.’ He sat back and looked at the ceiling. Then he sniffed and looked at me. ‘Does any of that make sense?’
