The Swimmer

by David Haynes

  “Good morning, David.” May walked briskly into the office and pretended not to notice that David was rummaging through her files. “What brings you into the office this morning?”

  May saw immediately that David’s expression was not frivolous. Not that he ever gave the impression he was ‘just passing the time of day,’ but she’d never seen him look so focused.

  “I might ask the same thing of you, May.”

  She checked his expression for some sign of joviality, there was none. Now wasn’t the time for any quick or snappy replies. “Yeah, sorry about yesterday. I was following up on that Tants meadow piece; turns out it’s a load of…”

  David clicked his fingers loudly signalling for May to be quiet. He pointed his oversized index finger directly at her. “Do me the courtesy of a little less bullshit please?”

  May frowned; she wasn’t used to being treated like a naughty schoolgirl. “I wasn’t bullshitting anyone, David. I was looking into something important.” She paused, David’s hand was resting on the Levant file which May had done precious little with. “Is this about the Levant story?” David said nothing.

  May continued. “Because if it is, then let me put your mind at ease. That’s going to be the most fantastic spread you can imagine. I’ve already got loads of ideas but I’m not going to rush something into the next edition, not until it’s ready. And if that’s means next month, then so be it.” She dropped her jacket onto the back of her chair. “Besides, there’s still all the other usual stuff I need to cover.”

  “You mean like this?” David’s voice remained impassive.

  “Like wha…” She turned to face him; her sentence remained unfinished. David was holding her digital recorder in his open palm. Without thinking, she reached for it but David had anticipated her move and clenched his hand shut.

  “Have you been going through my things David?” She wasn’t trying to placate him now; her mood had changed to anger. She stared at him, waiting for an answer.

  After a pause David spoke; his voice was calm. “I didn’t have to go through your things, May. This was sitting on top of the desk.” He turned it over and over in his fingers the tiny recorder dwarfed by his huge hands. “Crystal clear definition on these things isn’t it?” He shifted his gaze from the recorder back to May. “Now, I suggest you get the story about Levant into next week’s copy. Or not only will I be looking for a new editor, but your new friend here, will find an unhealthy amount of interest in his life from several of the more unscrupulous publications in this land.”

  May clenched her jaws together. She was still unsure how much David was aware of but he was no mug when it came to manipulation; she was very much aware of that. “David, I’m not sure we need to fall out about this do we? What you’re holding there is a national story, something which could bring a lot of money your way if you play it right. Think of the exposure it would bring to The Guardian, our advertising rates will double, but I have to keep his location a secret, I promised.” She tried to keep any sign of desperation out of her voice.

  She watched with a sinking feeling as he slipped the recorder into his coat pocket. “Maybe it will, but I’ll keep hold of it until I get what I want. Besides it might make more if I sell it as it is.”

  May took a step forward. “You can’t do that, it’s mine.”

  David allowed a smile to form across his lips. “Incorrect. It’s mine, and everything to do with it, belongs to me.”

  May opened her mouth to speak but David raised his sizeable hand to stop her. “You’re right though; we don’t have to fall out about it, and as long as I get what I’ve asked for, you’ll get this back.” He patted his coat pocket. “I promise.” David started to walk towards the door leaving May completely deflated. In ten quick minutes David had turned her upside down and shaken everything out of her pockets. She looked up at the ceiling.

  “If Tants meadow gets sold to Tesco, I’m marching to 10 Downing Street naked.”

  May closed her eyes. Joe’s voice was theatrical in the extreme; he couldn’t have timed it any worse if he’d tried. She turned to look at him and catch his eye before he could say anything else, but Joe was hopping from foot to foot, looking straight at David.

  “I’m telling you now, they can’t buy it, it’s…”

  David held sighed loudly and equally theatrically. “I would’ve thought the local issues a bit lacklustre for a man of your background Mr George.”

  Joe stopped his act and narrowed his eyes. He looked from David to May, who silently mouthed ‘sorry’ then back to David again. He held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you Mr…?” Whatever Polglaze knew about him would become apparent when he spoke to May later, but he wasn’t about to give him a heads up about how much he knew in return.

  Polglaze eyed Joe’s outstretched hand and took a moment to consider his options. Finally he took Joe’s hand.

  “I haven’t much time for this modern fascination with sordid fiction and police work. I much prefer the factual.” He released Joe’s hand for which Joe was grateful; he was a firm believer that a handshake should be enthusiastic, but that was verging on assault.

  David continued. “Now, I understand you’ve given a national scoop to my paper, Mister George, and I’m sure many people will be intrigued by the story. However my paper and my editor have got a responsibility to give the local populace what they want and in this instance…” David paused and glanced over at May who was rooted to the spot.

  “In this instance, your attempt to set the records straight as it were, is not appropriate or necessary; not for us anyway. I understand you and my editor have spent time together working, and making plans. However, May and I have come to the conclusion that she now has a different agenda which doesn’t include cheap advertising by a crooked copper and would-be writer.”

  Joe smiled. “Not a fan then eh? You don’t know what you’re missing.” He walked slowly over to May and kissed her on the cheek.

  “That’s not totally correct though I’m afraid is it May?” He tapped his pocket and raised his eyebrows. “I’ve got a vague idea about what I’m missing. Now, I’m not asking for my editor to do anything she’s not already paid to do, am I May? But there’s something very exciting happening in the area. Something which won’t interest a person like you, but it is of local and possibly national significance. Once that’s done, you two can carry on doing exactly what you want. In the meantime, I’ll keep my little gadget as insurance. Okay?” David was obviously still bristling at the confrontation but had calmed his voice and was attempting to sound reasonable.

  Joe was aware there was no reason why David would know anything about what they’d been doing for the last day or so; May simply wouldn’t have told him. He also realised, if she had, this scene wouldn’t be about holding leverage on his anonymity, it would be a whole lot dirtier. He held up his hands. “I’m not here to upset anyone, believe me, and I didn’t come looking for a row; it’s the last thing on my mind. However, if I’m right in thinking you’ve got my interview in your pocket, it wouldn’t be a good idea to do anything other than keep it warm.”

  David smiled and puffed his chest out. “Oh I don’t know; a reclusive writer living in our midst might be good for tourism, especially given the scandalous nature of his subject matter.” He turned his back on them and took a step towards the door leaving Joe shaking his head. This was obviously a man who couldn’t help himself where ego was concerned. At that moment Joe wanted to throw a line or two down about dead swimmers or dead miners, just to see the look on his face but he knew that was an ego trip he didn’t want to take; not just yet.

  David opened the office door and paused. “Just write the piece May.” He walked out the office and pulled the door behind him. Joe opened his mouth to speak but May raised her hand rapidly to stop him. After a few seconds they felt the vibration of David’s heavy footfalls on the external metal staircase.

  Joe mouthed ‘okay?’ and May nodded.

  “Now, tha
t is one major ego. Christ almighty is he for real?”

  May exhaled loudly, her body felt as if rigor mortis had set in. “I’ve not seen him like that before. I suspected he could be a bastard but…” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t like to see him lose it completely.”

  Joe raised his eyebrows and sat on the desk. “I think he could be formidable in the wrong situation.” He took May’s hand. “Just do as he says for now, get this stupid article written and we’ll pick up where we left off later, okay?”

  May screwed her eyes shut and faced him. “I’m so sorry, Joe. I just left it lying around, but I didn’t think for one minute he’d come snooping about.” She opened her eyes expecting to see a glimpse of anger in Joe’s eyes.

  Joe squeezed her hand tightly. “You know what May?” His voiced betrayed nothing but resignation.

  “What?”

  “After the last couple of days I don’t really give a shit who knows where I live anymore.”

  May was shocked. “Why?”

  Joe smiled. “Because I’m going to move and then when I’ve done that I’m going to get a dirty, great pack of German Shepherds and let them loose outside my back door. See how many of your lot like that when they come knocking in the middle of the night.”

  May laughed. “You’re not going to move too far away though, are you?”

  “Nope, if anyone finds out where I live, I’m going to come and stay at your house and I’m going to make a really big mess, everywhere. Then, when I’ve finished making a mess, I’m going to irritate you by leaving my boxer shorts on your pillow. You won’t like that too much will you eh?”

  May shuffled closer and rested her hands on Joe’s thighs. “I like all of it except the boxer shorts on the pillow bit.” She felt her mood lightening a little since the bout of hostility from David, but she still felt nervous. “God, I feel like such a shit and you’re taking it so well. What do you think he’ll do?”

  Joe considered carefully before speaking. “Well you know him better than I do, but I think he’ll sit on that interview until he’s got what he wants from you; then he’ll sell it to whoever wants it. Not because he wants, ‘The first Joe George interview in two years’ attributed to his paper, but because he wants us both to know that he’s the big man around here and he can do whatever he wants.”

  May frowned. “After the last couple of days I don’t think I know him at all.”

  “Anyway, forget about him for a moment. Do you need to go anywhere else today?”

  May shook her head. “Don’t think so, why?”

  “Then finish the article and email it, or whatever you normally do with these things, then you can come and pick me up for a spot of moonlight grave robbery and general skulduggery.”

  “And what will you be doing while I’m following your orders, Captain?”

  Joe laughed. “Sorry, thought I was back in the job again. I think I might take an island cruise around The Brisons.” He checked his watch. “Would seven be okay?”

  May nodded and hugged him tightly. “That’s fine. I really am sorry you know.”

  “Shush, no more apologies please. It’s the most alive I’ve felt in ages.”

  May pushed him away so she could look into his eyes. “Really?”

  “Really” He answered immediately, and May could see nothing but sincerity and kindness in his eyes.

  “Joe, have you ever rowed in the open sea?”

  Joe winked. “Rowing in the open sea is my middle name, didn’t I tell you?”

  “So that will be a no then.” She rummaged through some papers on her desk and found her diary; she transferred a number onto a scrap of paper and gave it to him. “Here take this; it’s Chris Spencer’s number. He’s one of the lads who found the swimmer. Him and his brother have got at least one boat and possibly a kayak or two, I’m not sure. In any case, please be careful and if one of them can’t take you out then just leave it and we’ll go out together. Just don’t go out there on your own, you’d end up like that pirate you love so much.”

  “Coppinger you mean? Last seen rowing out to The Brisons on a stormy winter’s night. What a way to go.” He saw May wasn’t smiling. “I’ll be careful I promise.”

  “Good. One dead mystery man washed up in Priest’s Cove is enough for this year thank you. I’m not sure the community could handle another one.”

  18

  Joe walked along the cape road towards Priest’s Cove; the high granite walls which lined the sides of the road were covered with thick vegetation. Even though it was winter, there were a large number of little yellow flowers dotted throughout and their heads wobbled in the breeze. Joe knew the breeze was likely to be more like a squall once he was out on the open water and he didn’t relish the idea of being out there on his own. He’d already rung Chris Spencer, but he was further up the coast and wouldn’t be back until late afternoon. He said that his brother Charlie was out fishing and the boat shed would be open. If Charlie wasn’t there then he could either use the sea kayak attached to the ceiling or wait for him to come back.

  Joe and his dad had been kayaking every summer when he was younger and he hoped it would come back to him. Even so he knew it had been at least ten years since he’d been out and he wasn’t stupid enough to think this would absolve him of any risk. Chris had given him vague instructions about releasing the kayak, using phrases he’d never heard before. He knew it was likely to be a great deal more difficult than the impression he’d been given.

  He reached the cove and quickly found the unlocked boat shed which Chris had described. He didn’t really understand, how anyone could lend anything to someone you’ve never met before, or of the idea of leaving a boat shed unlocked. The shed, as it had been described wasn’t really as Joe had imagined. It looked less like a garden shed and more like a cave. A small doorway had been carved into the rock face. The entrance was guarded by an insignificant corrugated metal door flapping angrily in the wind. Joe looked about the cove before he entered; there was nobody about and he cast one last uneasy glance up at his solitary cottage before going into the dim cave.

  He crouched as he walked through the rusted door. The first thing which struck him was the strong smell of fish, which he supposed wasn’t altogether surprising since it was a fishing shed; it was almost toxic in its intensity. He took a deep breath and looked around. The only lighting in the shed was through the open door and the grey sky outside did little to illuminate the interior. He could see buoys attached to the stone walls and loops of varying colours of rope hanging from the buoys. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw, suspended above his head the long thin shape of the kayak, the front tip of which was illuminated through the weak light coming through the doorway.

  He followed the instructions, which were surprisingly easy, and detached the kayak from its suspended home before lowering it onto his head and shoulders. The kayak was light enough but awkward and it took some manoeuvring to get it out and onto the slipway. He found the old wetsuit and pulled it over his shoulders, noticing with dismay, the only area where the wetsuit fit properly, was over his belly.

  Joe looked over the kayak. He hadn’t been in one for some time but it appeared similar to those he’d used with his dad; fibreglass with a covered bulkhead and about five metres long. He attached the bulkhead and hoisted the kayak over his head again. The buffeting wind made it even more awkward.

  Joe walked down the slipway towards the breaking waves. He couldn’t shake the image of the swimmer walking down the slope not so long ago; walking towards the ocean, towards his death. The breaking waves crashed onto the slipway in front of him and washed gently onto his feet, caressing and inviting him closer. He took two more steps and the caressing became a nudging and shoving around his ankles. This was a good place to lower the kayak into position. Rather less gracefully than he’d remembered doing in the past, he fell into position. The kayak rocked playfully in the surf while he pulled the spray deck tight around his torso before he pushed off wit
h the paddle.

  Immediately, he was surprised by the strength of the tide. The waves had invitingly caressed his feet a few metres back on the slipway but they now threatened to hurl him back onto the shore. His body recalled the technique and he straightened his back into the torso rotation. His technique was by no means perfect but it was enough to pull him away from the breaking surf and into the mouth of the cove

  The exertion of getting free from the breaking surf had winded, him but above the thumping rhythm of his heartbeat, he could hear the crashing waves behind him. He took a long, deep breath and started to paddle with purpose. Cold, salt water sprayed into his mouth and onto his face but the sensation was pleasurable. He recalled being out in a kayak with his dad and paddling along the Pembrokeshire coast. It always seemed to be sunny and warm on their trips and the salt water splashing into his eyes made him smile.

  Before long he settled into a steady, if unspectacular rhythm. His paddles alternated evenly and he recognised the stinging burn building across his shoulder and back; it was strong but not unpleasant. He timed his strokes with the rise and fall of the swell and the little bow cut neatly through the water. The foot braces were a little long and he hadn’t thought to check them before falling into the kayak but he decided they were sufficiently close not to cause a problem. In any case, he was in the kayak now and there was no changing them, not now.