‘She found a necklace of shells,’ remonstrated Tod, his voice registering strained patience. ‘Any child could have made it.’
‘No,’ said the old woman in her cracked voice. ‘Only one child.’
Now the pain in his back was dulled, Miguel drifted in and out of sleep. The Shell Man pursued him in his dreams, stalking him over the Medas. However agile Miguel was, the rasping, rattling shells were centimetres behind him. Eventually he could feel them scraping his legs and then they were locked around him in a deadly embrace. They were as one. He and Tod. Their anger was as one. He and Mariolete. Miguel felt himself falling. When he woke up the pain had returned, biting at him. He groaned and found Jan’s cool hand on his own.
‘Shall I call the nurse?’
‘It hurts.’
‘I’ll ring for her.’
While they were waiting, Miguel said, ‘Don’t leave me.’
‘I won’t.’
‘There’s no one now.’
‘There’s me.’
‘He’ll go away after what I’ve done.’
‘You did something bad. So did I. Well stick together.’
She went on holding his hand until the nurse came and gave Miguel an injection. Slowly the rigid lines on his face eased and he drifted off to sleep again. Slowly Jan withdrew her hand. She looked at her watch. Eleven. Feeling in the pocket of her shorts, Jan drew out the garland. She had not wanted to leave it on the rock. She had wanted to take it and destroy it. She looked down at it – the shells were large and warm. As she held the garland, she could feel a faint roaring. Putting one of the shells to her ear it intensified. But amidst the roaring, she thought she could hear voices. Then she distinctly heard her own.
David woke after deep, dreamless sleep. A little of the elation he had previously felt surfaced as he looked out of the window at the mountains and the clear blue sky. Then the sky seemed to darken as he thought of Jan and Miguel together. ‘Whoever has it – has the child’s anger.’ The words of the old woman returned to him. And what about him? David knew how much he hated Miguel still. Broken back or not, he had not only tried to kill him but he had ensnared Jan in his helplessness. He was determined to wrest her away from him. Would she come at ten? It was already nine. He could hardly bear the hour’s suspense.
Despite his sufferings, David felt fit and awake as he wandered out of his bedroom into the kitchen, looking for his father. But he was nowhere to be seen in the house so he walked slowly outside, basking in the early heat while his mind was racked by thoughts of Jan and Miguel.
Tod was sitting on a pile of bricks inside the cool stone outhouse. In front of him was Pilar and the Shell Man. David knew she bore little resemblance to the figures in the cavern. There was something dead, inanimate about the work his father had done. But why was it that the piles of rocks in the cavern were so alive?
‘Dad –’
‘How are you? I wanted you to have a really good rest.’
‘I slept OK.’
‘What do you want to do?’ His voice was distant, preoccupied.
‘Jan’s coming over.’
‘Good.’ Tod was vague.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
‘There’s something.’
‘Miguel – his mother – his uncle – you – isn’t that enough?’
But David knew there was something else. He looked at his father searchingly. ‘And –’
‘This.’
‘What about it?’
‘It doesn’t work. Without seeing those figures I just can’t capture the power of the legend.’ There was the yearning greed again in his voice.
David felt his heart sinking. Could Dad never realise that other things mattered more? But he knew what he had to do. Somehow he would have to confront his father with his own obsession.
‘Dad,’ he said gently.
‘Yes?’
‘We can go there.’
‘The cavern? You’d never want to go back there.’ He was certainly right about that. But there was hope in his voice.
‘With you it would be OK. We can lift the rocks back. Maybe Jan could come.’ At least it might be a way of getting her away from Miguel. ‘Are you still coming back?’ he added suddenly.
Tod got up and gripped his shoulders dramatically. David could have hit him. He was so tall that he blotted out the light from the window and David felt cold and uneasy in his shadow. ‘If your mother will have me. Maybe she won’t want to,’ he added with a flash of selfpity. ‘But either way I have a responsibility to Miguel.’
But David didn’t want to hear.
‘I don’t know if Mum will,’ said David unexpectedly. ‘You could phone. You can’t expect just to come back now it’s all over and for everything to be the same.’
‘I suppose not –’
‘You’ll have to make a commitment.’
‘That word. It’s your mother’s word.’
‘It’s what she wants.’
Tod looked again at the sculpture.
‘Come on, Dad –’ said David softly.
‘Come on where?’
‘To the cavern. You know you have to go there. And stop talking all this rubbish about coming home.’
‘I mean it,’ said Tod.
‘You mean it now,’ replied David.
‘And just where do you think you’re going now, my girl?’
‘Up to David’s.’
‘Oh no, you’re not. You’ve already sat up with that little dago all night. You need sleep.’
‘I’m going, Dad.’
They were standing in the hospital foyer. Mr Daniels had spent most of the night in the waiting-room and the rest drinking coffee and cognac in an all-night bar. He was tired and bewildered and hung over.
‘You’ll do as you’re told.’
‘If you want a public scene –’ she threatened.
Mr Daniels put his arm round her. ‘Sit down for a minute, love.’
‘Why?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘I’ve just seen Henriques.’
‘Well?’
‘The doctor told him – the doctor’s seen him.’
‘And?’
‘The boy’s broken his back in two places.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means he’s paralysed.’
‘For how long?’
‘Forever – the poor little sod.’
Jan burst into hard, weary sobs.
‘You’re exhausted. Been running about all over the place with these boys. You need your dad to look after you. Play the gooseberry.’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘No?’
‘I pushed him. I pushed Miguel.’
‘He was leading you a merry dance, I’ll be bound.’
‘He was taunting me –’
‘And you were protecting yourself. He could have killed that kid – killed your friend David. That Spaniard’s psychotic.’
‘I should tell the police. I must tell them – I pushed him.’
‘You’ll do no such thing. You were larking about and he fell. That’s all.’
‘I pushed him.’
‘You were both pushing each other.’
They stared at each other in total deadlock and were still doing so when the man came over to them. He was dapper-looking with a small moustache and a grey suit.
‘Señor Daniels?’
‘Yes?’
‘I am Eduardo Barrio of the Spanish police. I was told you would be here.’ He sat down beside them. ‘Is this your daughter?’
‘Her name’s Jan. She’s very tired and shocked.’
‘I am so sorry to intrude, but I must ask you a few questions about the accident.’
‘Of course.’ Jan nodded. Her father looked at her in surprise. She suddenly seemed so controlled. What on earth was she going to say?
‘You were on the island?’
‘Yes.’
‘For what purpose?’
�
��We were looking for my English friend, David Adams. He had got trapped in a cave.’
This is the boy who was later rescued by Henriques Roses.’
‘Yes.’
‘And how did Miguel fall?’
‘We were on the top of the island, messing about.’
‘What is this messing about?’
‘We were pushing each other.’
‘Ah.’
‘And he slipped and fell.’
‘When you were pushing each other?’
‘Yes.’
‘You pushed him.’
‘I don’t know. We were pushing at each other. Then he slipped backwards and fell on to the ledge.’
‘And then?’
Jan went on to explain about the motor-boat and the eventual, grindingly slow rescue. Then there was silence while he read through his notes, watched guardedly and anxiously by her father.
‘That will be all for now, Señorina,’ he said at last, putting away his notebook and standing up. ‘It was clearly an unfortunate accident. But you have to appreciate the Medas are dangerous – the island is no place for games. Irresponsible games.’
Jan nodded, her eyes lowered.
‘I shall be taking a statement from Miguel as soon as possible.’ He gave them a little bow.
‘Will there be anything else?’ Mr Daniels looked worried.
‘No doubt your daughter will have to sign a statement. And there is the question of his grandparents’ attitude.’
‘You mean they could sue?’
‘I think that’s unlikely.’
‘Of course we were appalled by the young man’s injuries,’ said Mr Daniels unctuously but Barrio cut him off.
‘I will be in touch.’ He walked briskly away.
Mr Daniels turned to Jan.
‘Well, that was all right. Well done.’
‘What do you mean – well done?’ she snapped.
‘You didn’t take all the blame yourself, that’s all I was trying to say –’
‘I didn’t take it at all, did I?’
‘I thought you were going to.’
She paused. ‘No, he was taunting me.’ A tepid wave of hatred sifted through her mind. ‘He was taunting me all right.’
‘Out there again?’ Mr Daniels was appalled. ‘What do you want to go out to that island again for?’ He sounded incredulous. ‘Hasn’t there been enough trouble out there already?’ He was looking at Tod in amazement and thinking, surely no grown adult would ever dream of doing such a thing, all for the sake of a bit of weird sculpture. These arty-tarties were all mad. Pity, because he had liked him, man to man on the mountain. ‘Jan’s been up all night. She can’t possibly go.’
‘Dad –’
‘I’m putting my bleeding foot down.’
‘I don’t care.’
They were sitting on the terrace, looking towards the Holy Mountain. The monastery on the top was swathed in a curling white cloud. It was mid-morning and they were all sweating.
‘You’ll go to that island over my dead body.’
‘If that’s the way it’s got to be,’ she said.
‘I’m not staying here to be insulted, not by my own daughter. No thank you very much.’
‘Sit down,’ said Tod. ‘Let’s talk about it.’
But Mr Daniels was in no mood to listen. ‘And as for you, well, you’re an adult and you set a pretty poor example.’
‘Do I?’
‘I’m not wasting my time talking to you.’ Mr Daniels turned furiously on Jan. ‘Do as you like. I’m going back to the hotel for a kip.’
‘I’ll be back this afternoon.’
‘How long for?’
‘Well, I’ve got to go and see Miguel.’
‘See what I mean.’ Mr Daniels turned his back on them all and stumped off the terrace on to the mountain path that led down to the village. ‘See if I care,’ he shouted back at them.
‘Sorry about Dad,’ said Jan.
‘I don’t blame him.’ Tod was mortified. ‘I really don’t blame him.’
‘Well, Dad, are we going now or what?’ asked David. A terrible wave of fatigue had just swept over him.
‘It will do us all good to go back there,’ said Jan briskly, and David wondered how she could be so insensitive. The old Jan who listened to his problems and cared about him had gone. He felt he barely knew the stranger that had taken her place.
David felt sick when Jan and Tod rolled back the stone. It was burning hot without the slightest hint of wind. Stultifying, stupefying, the atmosphere on the island seemed to make them move almost in slow motion. The familiar shut-in smell and faint aroma of seaweed made David begin to shake. He saw Miguel everywhere, waiting, rock upraised.
‘This is a bad idea,’ said Tod, looking at his son. But David knew he thought it was the reverse, that he was only playing at concern.
‘I’m going down there,’ he said.
‘But if you –’
‘Dad, why don’t you stop flannelling. You’re desperate to go. Let’s all go.’
Jan was already clambering down, and without waiting for his father’s reaction David followed.
‘Wait!’
But he had gone. In his turn Tod followed. Slowly he climbed down until he reached the fossil beach. Looking for Jan and David, he could only see a confusion of shapes that seemed to blur before his eyes. Then his vision cleared and he saw the Rock People. Tod tripped, falling to his knees, emitting a sharp cry of pain. He could feel power surging in him and a deadening claustrophobia. He looked down at the dark green water and whispered in horror:
‘He left you alone. In here.’
No one replied, but when he looked up Jan and David were standing on the fossil beach in front of him. She was holding something. Then he saw that it was the garland.
‘What are you doing?’
Still neither of them replied. Then he saw that she was placing the shell necklace around the neck of one of the smaller piles of rock. It just fitted.
‘It’s going back where it belongs,’ she said. As she finished arranging the necklace the cave seemed filled with sound. Was it water shifting on fossils? wondered David. Or was it a sigh? He looked at his father, who was shivering with excitement.
‘There’s something here,’ he muttered.
‘What do you mean, Dad?’
But Tod was muttering to himself.
‘It’s come full circle,’ he whispered. ‘In some way it’s been put to rest.’
EPILOGUE
Mirror
‘I’m dying.’
‘No, you’re not,’ said David firmly, knowing that, at last, she was.
She looked at him from her bed with a beady, knowing eye.
A nurse bustled in. ‘You’re sitting on her commode, young man,’ she admonished. David leapt to his feet. The nurse’s thumping common sense rested on Gran. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘You are a kipper.’ She turned to David. ‘She’s a real kipper, you know.’ He glowered at her but she simply straightened the counterpane, pummelled the pillow and departed, leaving behind a smell of disinfectant.
‘Bitch,’ said Gran.
‘What does she mean – you’re a kipper?’ asked David indignantly.
‘She means a character.’
‘Is that all?’
‘She can’t help it. She’ll see me out all right.’
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ reassured David fiercely.
‘Want to make a bet?’
‘Gran–’
‘So your dad’s home. The hero’s home. The adventurer returns.’ She gave a rattling cough. ‘Did he have a good time? Did he do what he wanted?’ The rattling cough became more pronounced.
‘Yes,’ said David. ‘I think he did do what he wanted.’ She hadn’t been told anything about the traumas. ‘He’s going to have an exhibition in Madrid.’
She nodded and began to ramble. Then, out of a torrent of nonsense, Gran said, ‘Got a fag?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Look under my pillow.’
David looked and brought out a packet that was squashed flat.
‘You can’t smoke in bed.’
‘Can’t I?’ She winked. ‘I do it on the quiet. I’ve got matches under me knickers in that drawer.’
‘Gran, you’ll burn yourself to death.’
‘Death? I can see it coming, my darling.’
‘Gran –’
‘Do you want to know what it looks like?’
David shook his head but he knew she was going to tell him anyway.
‘It’s the light at the end of the tunnel. That’s what it is.’
She was silent, lying back on the pillow, her wizened face composed. Suddenly David was terrified. She looked dead. Was she? She certainly hardly seemed to be breathing.
David was on his feet in seconds. ‘Gran! Gran!’
‘What’s up?’ She opened a beady eye.
‘Nothing.’
‘Thought I’d popped off, did you?’
‘No. No, of course not.’
She chuckled.’David?’
‘Yes, Gran?’
‘How did you like Spain?’
‘It was great.’
‘You look different.’
‘I’m the same.’
‘You’re changed. You’re older. You’ve grown up.’
Just then the nurse bustled back in. ‘Come on, young man. Time to go. Don’t want to get us too tired, do we?’ She addressed Gran and began to twitch the counterpane again.
‘Leave me alone.’
‘Just trying to get us comfy.’
‘Who’s us? You getting into bed with me?’
David spluttered with laughter and the nurse frowned for the first time.
‘Time for supper soon.’
‘What is it?’
‘Nice bit of steamed fish.’
‘Steamed fish, my arse,’ said Gran and the nurse tuttutted. As David left the room, Gran called out, ‘I can still see the light,’ and gave him a broad wink.
‘Dad.’
‘Yes, David?’
It was the day after Gran’s funeral and his father was standing in the Canterbury studio. He was staring at an empty space. The Rock People had been shipped from Northern Spain to the Madrid Art Gallery. Since he had been home, Tod had spent a long time contemplating that empty space.
‘What are you going to do next?’
He picked up some drawings that were face down on his work bench. Without comment, he handed them to David. The first showed a man’s head, worked in shells. It was very clever, with the shells worked intricately to form the shape. The head was powerful, arrogant, commanding. Then David realised his father must have modelled it on his own. It had Tod’s bone structure, his nose, his chin. Everything.
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