by Jennie Finch
‘Sis, hey – give me that,’ he said.
Exhausted but triumphant, Lauren let him take the fossil, shambling after him as he carried it to car. Placing it safely in the boot, Jonny turned to his sister.
‘Why didn’t you call?’ he asked. ‘You could have hurt yourself, lugging that great thing all that way.’
Lauren decided not to tell him about climbing the cliff, something frowned on by most sensible adults. Jonny was a wonderful brother but he did tend to be a bit over-protective on occasions.
‘I reckon I’ve had all my luck here today,’ she said opening the passenger door and sliding into the front seat. ‘Fancy going on somewhere else?’
Jonny was feeling a bit better after a quick snooze in the car, but he was relieved they were not going back down to the beach.
‘Where do you fancy?’ he asked reaching for the keys.
Lauren considered for a moment.
‘I know is a terrible long way,’ she said, ‘but I got a real hankering to see Brean.’
Chapter Nine
Kevin caught the bus into Highpoint, something that had been a rare luxury in his past life as an unemployed probationer but was now a routine occurrence for him. The driver had pulled up and frowned at him suspiciously until he handed over the fare and made his way towards the back, sitting alone as he watched the landscape of the Levels flit past the window. It was so familiar to him, yet the changes were apparent, signs that were in contrast to his memories. Small things crept up on those living out on the great marsh but to his eyes the area was beginning to undergo a transformation.
Most obvious was the shift from older houses with small-holdings to clumps of modern, brick-built houses, huddling together around a raw, new piece of tarmac as if seeking shelter from the empty space around them. The bus ambled through the narrow lanes and Kevin had plenty of time to look over the low walls and see the gardens. Thin, patchy lawns were laid out around and behind the houses, the grass struggling to gain a foothold on the ancient soil of the Levels.
Kevin wasn’t a great one for gardening but he looked in scorn at the feeble planting. Waste of growing land, as far as he could see. Not one of the few occupied dwellings had so much as a vegetable garden, let alone a run for a few chickens or rabbits. All that concrete and tarmac and stuff all over the ground was stupid too. Nowhere for the water to drain away when the rains came, for one thing, and there’d be no game or wildlife in that sterile environment. He had been away a while, but Kevin was a child of the Levels and he knew what was right and what was not. The new patches of housing, springing up like dry, crusty sores along the road, were most definitely not.
Turning his attention to his fellow passengers, Kevin noticed the driver seemed to be giving him rather too much attention, glancing in the mirror and frowning as he manoeuvred the vehicle around the lanes. No-one else seemed to be watching him so he slid off the seat and walked along the swaying aisle until he was opposite the driver’s cab.
‘Problem, mate?’ he asked, dropping on to the bench seat at the front.
The driver kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead but lifted one hand from the steering wheel to point at a notice affixed to the front of the bus interior.
Kevin squinted at the sign, his lips slowly forming the words as he deciphered it.
‘Do not – speak to the – driver or dis … distr .. act his att .. en .. tion when the bus is in m … motion,’ he managed, spelling out the sounds. ‘Right. Okay then. Just wondered why you was givin’ me the eye, is all.’
The driver slowed and pulled the bus over to the side of the road, opening the doors for a woman who hauled herself up the stairs, puffing with the effort. Kevin sprang to his feet and offered a hand, receiving a smile and a nod in thanks.
‘Just into town, please,’ said the woman. Taking her ticket, she motioned for Kevin to move up a bit and practically fell on to the bench seat as the driver closed the doors and swung the bus back out onto the road.
‘Oof,’ she said, clutching a battered black shopping bag to her. ‘Thank you. No manners, some people.’ Here she scowled at the driver who ignored them both as he made as much speed as he could along the narrow, rutted road. ‘I wondered when you was goin’ to visit, Kevin,’ she added giving him a sly glance.
Now, don’t you look so surprised,’ she added. ‘I know your Mam – she’s been a good friend to me and to my Charlie too.’
Kevin looked more closely at his travelling companion and then smiled.
‘Mrs Dodds – I didn’t recognise you for a minute. How’s you doin’ then?’
Lily Dodds nodded, squinting out of the window opposite as the bus trundled on towards town.
‘A sight better now my Charlie’s got a place in the hostel,’ she said. She made it sound as if he’d got a scholarship to a rather nice college. ‘I was getting’ a bit worried about him, runnin’ around with the wrong sort. They’s good about keeping an eye on the lads in there and to be honest, is rather nice having my house back for a bit.’
Charlie and Kevin were old friends and Kevin knew how hard Lily had struggled to raise her young grandson. With his new-found maturity, Kevin appreciated how difficult it must have been for her to take on a wild boy like Charlie, especially as he seemed incapable of learning from his mistakes. His choice of friends had always been suspect – Kevin could mentally consign his younger self to that group – and, lacking any educational qualifications or noticeable skills, he was virtually unemployable in the current climate.
‘So he’s doin’ all right?’ he said.
Lily nodded again and then twisted round, staring out of the window over Kevin’s shoulder.
‘What?’ asked Kevin, turning his head in an effort to see what had attracted her attention.
‘What’s he doin’ out here?’ muttered Lily fiercely. ‘Up to no good, I’ll be bound!’
Kevin got a glimpse of a figure trotting with seemingly little effort along the road. He could have sworn it was the same man he’d seen outside his house earlier.
‘Nasty piece of work, he is,’ Lily said. ‘Bullies my Charlie – took his space by the window and was right threatening to ‘um too. I was going to go talk to that warden chap but Charlie said not too, seein’ as he was moving to another room anyway. Don’t seem right though, just letting him get away with it.’
Good for Charlie, thought Kevin privately. It was about time he started sorting stuff for himself rather than letting his Gran do it for him. With the righteous conviction of the newly reformed, Kevin was happy to feel superior towards those less fortunate, to those left behind. When they arrived at the final stop in Highpoint, he helped Lily off the bus, promised to convey her best regards to his mother and, ignoring the surly driver, set off through the town, hands in his pockets and a spring in his step.
He stopped on the steps of the Cornhill and waited for his eyes to adjust to the relative gloom of the interior. The calls of the stall holders and chatter from the crowd bounced around the stone market hall, making his head ring and the scents of flowers, leather goods and fresh bread swirled about him, a heady rush of sensations. Feeling suddenly and unaccountably nostalgic, Kevin stepped into the cool space. It wasn’t large or fancy but in his mind it was one of the best markets he’d seen in all his travels.
He was jolted out of his calm mood by a thump on the back. Swinging round, he found himself staring into the grinning face of Brian Morris.
‘Wotcha Kevin!’ said Brian. ‘You back then? What was it like eh? Travelling and that.’
Kevin looked at Brian, a young man who had seemed rather intimidating before he left Highpoint. Someone he’d looked up to but at the same time treated with caution. Now he saw a dishevelled boy with a defiant but slightly crooked Mohican hair cut, his shoulders bent under the weight of a bag slung over his back. He could not remember what it was he had found so impressive.
‘Brian – yeah. Just back for a few days. Bit of a quiet time afore we start the summer season so I thoug
ht I’d do a visit.’ There was a pause as the enormous difference between their lives sank in. Brian seemed to shrink a little, diminished in his own eyes as he looked at the new, confident Kevin.
‘What you got there then?’ Kevin asked, more to break the uncomfortable silence than out of any real curiosity.
Brian tugged at the bag, his eyes darting round as if expecting the crowd to lean in and eavesdrop on his answer.
‘I’ll show yer, but not here,’ he whispered theatrically. ’Tis a secret.’ He glanced around once more and sloped off into the bright light shining down onto the market steps. Kevin hesitated but finally set off after him, striding to catch up as Brian hurried down the street towards the park beside the river Parrett. Together they ducked under the bridge carrying the main road, the roar of early holiday traffic echoing around them before emerging into dappled sunlight. There were a few groups of picnickers scattered around the open spaces and in the distance they could hear the sound of children splashing in the paddling pool, but the seats under the ancient oak tree were empty and offered a measure of privacy.
Once settled on the wooden bench in the shade, Brian opened his bag to display the battery and casing from his metal detector. Kevin blinked at it for a moment, singularly unimpressed.
‘So what the hell’s that then?’ he asked finally.
Brian started explaining about the metal detector, his hands waving around with excitement as he detailed all the promising sites he had identified around the Levels. The battery lay on the ground between them, oozing gently over the grass.
Most of the ideas were pure fantasy, Kevin thought, but he was struck by Brian’s plight. He could identify with the need to escape from his abusive father, the desire to take control over his own life. Kevin had always been sheltered from his father by Ada and never known that type of fear but he too had reached the point where he needed to make his own choices, even if that meant making his own mistakes. He didn’t think for a moment that Brian was going to find anything of value with his metal detector but he felt compelled to offer him a hand.
‘Don’t know about that,’ he said interrupting Brian’s excited monologue. ‘Looks a bit past it. You could try gettin’ a new battery but chances are this’n’s done a lot of damage. Rotted away some important bits, maybe. Might be better spendin’ yer money on a place for you an’ yer brother to stay. Then you’ll be able to sign on an’ try for jobs around town.’
Brian’s face fell, disappointment visible in the sag of his shoulders, the droop of his head.
‘’Ent much of anything round here at the moment,’ he said. ‘An’ if there was, don’t reckon no-one’s gonna take a chance on me, is they?’ He lifted his face and stared defiantly at Kevin. There was envy in his eyes as he took in the clean tee shirt, new jacket and smart black jeans his old friend was wearing. Next to Brian, Kevin, one of the lowest of the hierarchy in the Fair, looked pretty successful.
Kevin fished in his jacket pocket and came out with some money.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘I still reckon you should try for a place in town but if you is set on repairing this,’ he gestured towards the battery. ‘Well, you give it a go.’
Brian stared at the money in his fist. Used to only small change in his pocket, if anything at all, he jiggled the unfamiliar feel of the new pound coins. His eyes widened as he saw the edge of a fiver peering out from the palm of his hand.
‘Just – use it, will yer?’ said Kevin getting up and brushing his new jeans down. ‘Don’t go off an’ spend it on “natch”. Promise me?’
Brian nodded his head vigorously, still too startled to speak.
‘Yeah, right – promise,’ he finally managed.
Kevin walked through the gardens and under the road, struggling with the temptation to look back over his shoulder. He had little faith in Brian’s ability to resist the lure of ‘natch’, the lethal natural cider sold at many farm gates around the area. For a moment he thought about going back and accompanying him to the large electrical superstore on the edge of town, for even Brian’s plan for the metal detector was better than drinking away his little windfall, but Kevin resisted that impulse too.
He had done a lot of thinking and a lot of talking to his new friends in the travelling Fair and he had come to the realisation it wasn’t possible to make people change. It was fine and good to give them a hand but in the end they needed to do it for themselves.
‘Don’t stick otherwise,’ he muttered to himself as he headed back to the market in search of something nice for dinner. ‘Don’t mean as much so it don’t stick.’ He’d learned that the hard way, almost losing everything through a combination of bad judgement and bad luck. He hoped Brian would be more fortunate.
Out on Brean Sands, Margie had dried herself off, rinsed her muddy feet under the cold-water tap beside the road and surprised Alex by fishing in the back of the car and producing a picnic hamper.
‘I’m impressed,’ said Alex. ‘Really – I thought only my family still had anything like this.’ She ran her hands over the smooth, woven willow, admiring the finish on the handle. It had an over-the-shoulder strap as well as a suitcase style handle and Margie slipped it over her head and settled it on her back before locking the boot.
‘So, where’s a nice, quiet spot for some lunch?’ she asked handing Alex a bright red tartan rug.
Alex stood for a moment, considering their options. As the sun rose in the sky, more cars began to appear, crawling along the track towards the lure of the beach. It was going to be hot, she thought, despite the beginning of a breeze coming in from up the estuary to the east. Somewhere sheltered from the wind with a bit of shade – and far enough away to have some privacy. Alex loved her mother, enjoyed Sue’s company and was passionate about her work but she did miss the quiet of her own space sometimes. At the moment the world seemed rather full of other people. She glanced at Margie and smiled. Right now she was with the one other person she wanted to spend her time with.
‘Back along the beach,’ she said pointing to the dunes rising from the sand. ‘We need to go a fair way because the holiday camp people often come out in the afternoon. The damn Bluecoats sometimes drag a load of kids out to play games on the sand.’ She pulled a face. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she added hastily. ‘I like kids – I just can’t eat a whole one.’
Margie blinked at her for a moment and then burst out laughing.
‘So we go down a good way and let’s hope you like the food I’ve got made up in here, shall we?’
Alex grinned at her. ‘Believe me, just having someone else make lunch is a rare treat. Unless you can cook as badly as Sue – well, it’ll be wonderful.’
‘Sue?’ asked Margie, a note of concern in her voice.
‘She’s my room-mate,’ Alex explained over her shoulder, already heading off to the far end of the dunes. ‘She’s a terrific friend but her cooking – oh, I can’t tell you how bad it is! I always cook at home, in self-defence.’ She missed the flicker of disappointment as it ran over Margie’s face, intent as she was on crossing the sands without tripping or getting too much in her shoes.
Alex loved the beach but hated sand in her shoes – or any of her clothes. As a child, on holiday in Wales, she had once changed her clothes six times before running out of sand-free options. She had spent the rest of the day sulking in a rock pool until carried back to the car by her father. In fairness, she had been only five years old but her family had never forgotten and still teased her about it on the rare occasions they got together for a day out.
It was a long trudge to Alex’s selected spot but when they arrived and spread out the rug, the view was wonderful and they were sheltered on three sides from both the breeze and prying eyes. Margie flopped down onto the sand and stared out at the sea, smiling with delight.
‘Now, this is just what I imagined,’ she said happily. ‘When I was thinkin’ of moving down here, this is just like the picture I had in my head.’
‘Why are you thinking of m
oving?’ asked Alex.
‘Don’t enjoy my work in Bristol no more,’ said Margie. ‘Looked around and most prisons, they’s moving in the same direction. Too many inmates, banged up most of the time. Is stupid and is dangerous. Not many places like Shepton Mallet around, where there’s a focus on training. What’s the point, lockin’ ’em up for all that time and then kicking them loose with no chance of a job or nothing? No surprise they keep coming back. Is the only time some of ’em get a decent meal or a roof over their heads for more’n a couple of days on the trot.’
She snorted in disgust and turned her attention to the picnic basket, now lying beside them on the sand.
‘I should have asked you afore – you’re not veggie are you?’
Alex laughed and shook her head. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘Big old carnivore, I am.’
Margie let out a sigh of relief as she set out plates, cutlery and two glasses before lifting a foil-wrapped chicken and a tub of mixed salad onto the rug. A small French stick of bread followed, with condiments in neat, individual pots. Alex was more than impressed.
‘This must have taken you ages,’ she said.
Margie shrugged her shoulders. ‘Just a bit of organisation,’ she said modestly, pouring some fizzy water into the glasses. ‘And ’ent like there’s much to do of an evening, with all the others bein’ local so they all go home. Is a nice enough lodging I’ve got but not much goin’ on.’
The chicken, Alex noted, was home-cooked, not a coloured and flavoured supermarket offering.
‘They let you use the kitchen?’ she asked.
Margie nodded. ‘Got its own little kitchenette attached,’ she said. ‘Just as well, seeing some of offerings in the local pub.’
The women set to with a will, demolishing the salad and eating the meat with their fingers. As Alex sat back, sighing contentedly, Margie reached into the hamper and pulled out a bottle of wine.
‘Ooh,’ said Alex. She was very fond of wine, though often it did not seem so fond of her. As Sue had remarked on one notable occasion, she couldn’t drink a hamster under the table.
