Thirteen Days By Sunset Beach

by Ramsey Campbell

  "Why should it be?" Pris said and clearly wished she'd asked a different question.

  "I'm not saying they meant it to be. Maybe it said in my book if they did. All I'm saying is they must have dug so deep they broke into the cave."

  "It looked as if they could have," Doug said. "Sounded that way too."

  "So I'm wondering," Ray said in order to finish, "what might have ended up down there."

  "We aren't," Doug told him.

  "And you shouldn't," Pris said with just as concerned a look. When Sandra squeezed his arm Ray didn't know if she was enjoining silence or trying to convey that she shared some of his thoughts. Nobody found anything more to say until the bus reached Vasilema Town, where several boats large enough to carry passengers were tied up beside the harbour. As William planted his hands with a thump against the window and greeted the boats with an enthusiastic cry, Julian said "May we get off here, please?"

  Perhaps the driver didn't hear him. The bus carried on past the harbour while Julian searched for a bellpush anywhere around him. "I asked you to let us off," he said louder and tramped up the aisle, but the bus turned along the side street that led to the square. It didn't stop until it was opposite the ticket office, at which point the driver released the doors. "Do you not understand English?" Julian demanded.

  The driver raised his eyes to the icon above the mirror. "Here you stop."

  "Let it go, Julian," Natalie said, "We don't want to miss the boat."

  "If that's the best you can do," Julian told the driver, "then I think the answer's no."

  Natalie took William's hand as she made for the harbour, and Ray found Sandra's soft grasp. By the time everyone reached the wharf, Julian had strode ahead to examine the signboards in front of the boats.

  "This one goes in half an hour," he called.

  While the boats were deserted, several men sat on folding chairs beside the furthest vessel. Ray saw one man stand up as Julian halted at the board, and then, having glanced at the rest of the party, the man resumed his seat before staring out to sea. "Does this appeal, Natalie?" Julian said. "Three hours on the mainland."

  "I'd quite like the change if everybody else would."

  When nobody dissented Julian called "Which of you gentlemen is responsible for this trip?"

  Since they all seemed intent on the sea, Ray wasn't sure which of them spoke. "No trip today."

  "Of course there is. It's advertised quite clearly here." When staring at them didn't earn him a response, Julian said "Very well, which boats belong to you fellows? What are you offering?"

  Ray was just as unable to single out the next speaker. "He said no trip."

  "None at all? That's utterly ridiculous. In that case why are your boards still up? Do you think it's amusing to waste people's time?"

  "Julian," Natalie said. "It doesn't matter that much."

  Ray thought it did, and not just the disappointment. He limped along the wharf to confront the man he'd seen stand up. "You were going to take us, weren't you?" he demanded. "What changed your mind?"

  The man didn't quite meet his gaze, though Ray was standing in front of him. "See," he said.

  Ray glanced at the family to make sure they could hear, only to find he was nervous of asking "See what? What did you see?"

  Another boatman swept a hand in the direction of the water. "Sea."

  "I don't believe that's what he was saying," Ray protested, but it was too late. Julian had joined him to enquire "What's wrong with the sea? It looks perfectly fine for a cruise."

  "You can not say," the first man said. "We are fishermen."

  "If that's the case where are your nets? Where's any tackle at all?" Ray was afraid Julian was insulting the boatmen, not to mention commandeering the discussion. "I'd just like to ask you—"

  "Let me handle this, Raymond. I'm doing it for my wife, you know." Before Ray could point out that she was his daughter too Julian said "Are you seriously all refusing to honour your commitments? Perhaps you ought to realise it doesn't help the image of your island."

  "All we want to know," Ray said in desperation, "is why you've decided against taking us."

  "Not you."

  The voice was too muted for him to locate—almost too low to hear. "Then," Ray said and had to swallow, "who?"

  "I'm sorry, Raymond, that's by no means all we're asking," Julian said and turned on the boatmen. "We can't see any excuse for you not to take us. Are you genuinely in the business of letting the public down? Is that even legal when you've attracted people with your advertising? Suppose we report you to the authorities, would that change your tune?"

  "Hey," the oldest boatman threatened, brandishing his mobile phone.

  "That really isn't necessary." Natalie had left William with Jonquil. "None of this is," she said. "I'm sure these gentlemen can judge what the sea's like better than we can. We haven't bought souvenirs yet. Let's do that instead."

  She took Julian's arm to steer him away, and Ray felt abandoned. What was the use of questioning the boatmen if nobody else could hear? As he trudged back to Sandra she said "What's the situation?"

  "They're refusing to venture out to sea," Julian declared. "Every single one of them."

  "Maybe they don't want us to go," William said.

  "Don't you start that nonsense as well," Julian told him. "Did your sister give you her silly idea?"

  "I never said anything about it," Jonquil cried. "And anyway, I'm not his sister. You sound like I don't even have a name."

  Ray was a little less shocked by her outburst once he recalled that she didn't know about her grandmother. "Chill, Jonk," Tim said. "We know you wouldn't have."

  "Tim's right, we do," Natalie said and gave her mother a sidelong blink. "We'll talk about the rest of it another time, shall we? While we're here we can shop for souvenirs instead."

  Ray saw how Julian resented losing the opportunity to confront Jonquil. "Shall we look in at the bus station?" he was inspired to suggest. "You never did find out why the buses play that game at Sunset Beach."

  "Do we even need to know about it? I can't imagine why any of us would be there that late."

  "It isn't like you," Ray felt crafty for saying, "to leave anything unresolved."

  At least this brought Julian with him while everyone else made for the toilets, but the queue for tickets was so long that he was afraid Julian might lose patience. He didn't want him to turn aggressive either, and so he blurted out his question as soon as they reached the booth. "Can you tell us what time the buses finish stopping at Sunset Beach?"

  The uniformed young woman scrutinised him and Julian without displaying much of an expression. "What time do you go there?"

  "We don't," Julian said, to Ray's dismay. "We want to be told why they won't stop."

  "It is up to the driver."

  "How can that be?" When she only stared at him Julian demanded "What sort of a way is that to run a public service?"

  The woman shrugged, holding up her empty hands. "You are not at home."

  "Believe me, you don't need to tell us that. Out two weeks are nearly up, at any rate."

  Ray saw the woman take that as an insult to her island or her race. Almost too hastily to catch his breath he said "You haven't given us a time yet."

  She glanced at a calendar that showed a swollen sun close to the horizon beyond an empty beach. "Tonight there may be no stop by eight."

  "And soon it'll be earlier than that, won't it?"

  "Your friend says you are not here then,"

  "For future reference," Ray said desperately. "In case we come back next year."

  Some element of this persuaded her to say "Yes then, earlier."

  "In other words, your drivers don't like to stop there after dark."

  Her face grew even less expressive, as if she felt tricked. "I do not see you staying there."

  "Because we're too old for it, you mean. Too old for what?" When she gave him silence for an answer Ray felt recklessly determined to provoke o
ne that Julian would hear. "They want fresh blood, don't they? The kind that's easily replenished. Nothing too young, though. That might be too obvious to everyone else."

  He'd said too much instead of forcing her to speak. She wasn't even looking at him, though Julian certainly was. Ray didn't realise why she was gazing past him until he heard a male voice at his back. "Problem here?"

  "None that need concern you," Julian told the security officer. "We've learned what we wanted to know."

  Before Ray could speak Julian grasped him none too gently by the arm and ushered him out of the waiting-room. As they emerged into the square Julian murmured "I hope that's the end of that, Raymond. It's well past time you left it alone."

  "I'll make certain I don't disturb William."

  "It isn't only him, it's the entire family. In the circumstances, particularly Sandra."

  "I'm doing it for her."

  Julian released his arm and held Ray with his gaze instead. "How can that possibly be the case?"

  Ray found he preferred not to answer, even in his mind. In any case they were too close to the others, and Natalie was asking "Did you sort it out?"

  "We shouldn't expect any buses to stop there after sunset." Ray sensed how Julian was willing him not to say any more, but he'd already decided against it. "Let's look for things to take home, shall we?" he said and turned uphill.

  Although the shade of the narrow streets closed over them at once, Sandra and the teenagers kept their sunglasses and hats on, even beneath the awnings overgrown with vines. Ray looked for the graffiti he remembered, but either he'd somehow missed the side street where he'd seen the remains of a word or the letters that were left had been erased. He hadn't previously noticed how much of the embroidery draped outside shops hid spiders, which made that street feel like walking through an enormous cobweb, while the street barnacled with leather goods put him uncomfortably in mind of ancient skin. Souvenir shops kept slowing the family down, and Ray did his best to feign interest until they reached the shop full of icons. "Doug, Pris," he murmured. "Stay here a minute."

  While the proprietor had been eager to accost them last time, now she only glanced at them through the window before waddling at speed towards the back room. "Excuse me," Ray had to shout twice to make her turn, and gestured Doug and Pris to follow him into the shop. "You were telling us about your saint last week."

  She might have been invoking the protection as she laid a hand on an image of St Titus. "Have you come to buy?"

  "If you can tell us why again." As Doug and Pris looked at the very least bewildered he said "You were saying he might help some of us remember."

  "Well, so."

  While he hadn't quoted her precisely, he was gratified if he'd persuaded her that he had. "Who?" he said.

  "I do not see them. Do you want to buy?"

  "Possibly," Ray felt mean for saying. "Tell us this, then. What makes them forget?"

  "Crossing water."

  "Going home, you mean," Pris said.

  "She doesn't just mean that, do you?" When the proprietor gazed at the icon as though seeking support Ray said "I'd have thought you two would be the first to see. You're fond of legends. You aren't like Julian."

  "I wish you'd give him a break now and then, dad. He's doing his best in his way."

  Ray mumbled in agreement, mostly to dismiss the subject, and Pris turned to the proprietor "That's male solidarity for you. You've met the one they're trying to defend."

  "Not defend, just understand. Don't you both do that at work?" Ray was distressed to think that the argument might divert them from the reason he was here. "Crossing water," he persisted. "How will it make them forget?"

  "They leave memories here. Come back to find them."

  "You're really saying they remember," Doug said in triumph that sounded like a good deal of relief. "Thanks for clearing that up. Come on, dad, if you're not buying anything. I can see the others waiting."

  They hadn't quite left the shop when Pris murmured "You were right, Ray."

  He was so heartened, even if nervously, that he didn't let her finish.

  "How?"

  "As you say, we love legends and traditions and anything like that." She was the latest person to take hold of his arm. "Only you have to realise," she said, "that's all legends are."

  Ray felt as if she'd laid a weight on him if not restored one. Perhaps that explained why climbing the streets was more laborious than ever, though he could blame his age as well. As he trudged from shop to shop he felt robbed of purpose, and then he saw the tattoo stall ahead. He couldn't tell how many of the family were willing him not to trouble the young woman. Would they even listen if he spoke to her? They seemed determined not to as they hastened past the stall, but he saw recognition flutter in her eyes as she noticed Tim. "You remember," Ray said.

  If she recognised him, she was suppressing any sign. "You said your tattoos were no good," he reminded her. "Why?"

  "He said."

  Apparently she meant Julian, who was leading William uphill. "Dad," Doug said.

  "Just bear with me," Ray said if not begged, and kept his eyes on the young woman. "You said more than he did. You told us it was too late."

  Sandra had turned back now, and in a moment the teenagers did. Either the young woman had decided she wasn't being questioned or she was determined not to be, since her gaze had drifted to the stall. "Too late for what exactly?" Ray said, but when she didn't raise her eyes or speak he had to ask the question that he dreaded putting into words. "Too late for whom?"

  Her gaze was flickering from Tim to Jonquil when Doug intervened. "Dad, you're harassing somebody again. We all know why you're feeling bad, but you mustn't let it make you act like this."

  "That isn't why," Ray protested, but Doug had turned to the woman, having stepped between them. "Please excuse my father," he said. "He has a lot on his mind."

  Ray thought Doug had no idea how much, but was there any use in saying? As he laboured uphill in the midst of the family he might have thought they were escorting him so that he wouldn't trouble anybody else. At least the route was leading them to the church, where he might have a last chance to gain some information—and then he remembered that the church was well beyond the highest shops, which meant they mightn't reach it. When the shops gave out he carried on. "I'm just going to the church."

  "What do you want there?" Doug called after him.

  "Maybe I'll pray," he said wildly and tramped panting up the hill.

  As he crossed a junction he recognised a lane where a word had been sprayed on a wall, which was bare of letters now. From the square at the top of the hill he saw a distant island catch light from the sun behind the clouds above Vasilema. When he hurried into the church, having regained some breath, he had to blink his eyes clear of the dazzle that met them. Even once he succeeded in focusing, the wavering of air above the multitude of candle flames and the smell of hot wax felt like a threat of dizziness and nausea. At first he thought he was alone apart from the saints flattened on the walls and in the windows, grim figures too lacking in dimension to suggest any power, and then he glimpsed movement near the altar. It wasn't just the quivering of flames; the custodian had emerged from his room. "Hello?" Ray called—not too inappropriately loud, he hoped—and tramped along the aisle with an irrepressible clatter of sandals. "I was here last week when you chased those people out of your church."

  The man greeted this with a scowl like a summation of the dimness that the flames failed to reach. At least he didn't retreat to his room, and Ray was about to question him when heard the door open behind him. He turned to see Sandra letting herself into the church. Surely she wouldn't try to silence him. "What did you say to those people?" he persisted.

  The man glowered at his downturned hands and swept them apart. "Not welcome here."

  "We saw they weren't, but why? What was it you called them?"

  The man clasped his hands and rubbed them together with such force that the sound roused an e
cho, and Ray wondered if he could be sweating at the memory. When this was his only response Ray urged "What are they? Tell us that, then."

  The man looked up to scowl at Sandra. "Not here. Shouldn't be in church."

  "But why exactly?" As the custodian's disapproval stayed mute Ray abandoned caution. "Shall I tell you what they are?" he said, though his voice felt in danger of falling short of his words. "They feed so Skiá feeds."

  Sandra was beside him now. Diminished flames trembled in the lenses of her sunglasses, and Ray wondered if this was the sight that seemed to fascinate the custodian. The man was licking his lips to separate them when Ray heard the door open again, and several people entering the church. "Dad," Doug called.

  At the very least this was a warning. Ray swung around to see Doug and Pris and a pair of silhouettes behind them. Those didn't belong to Natalie and Julian, and even when they advanced into the candlelight he didn't immediately know why the men looked familiar. Then he made out their uniforms, and recognised the officers he'd seen behind the counter of the police station at Sunset Beach.

  The door of the custodian's room shut with a decisive thud, disturbing so many flames that the golden figures seemed to start forward from the walls. When Sandra caught hold of his hand Ray thought she was going to lead him out of the church until he saw she wanted him to face her. She tilted her head towards him, emphasising the mark on her neck, while she whispered "I hope you're right, Ray."

  The Twelfth Day: 31 August

  As Ray leaned over the balcony in case he could determine how the night had treated everybody else, Sandra called "Come and see me."

  He could have thought she had sex on her mind, but it seemed unlikely while she was in the bathroom. He straightened up too fast, which made the clouds above Vasilema appear to sink towards him and grow darker, putting out the hidden sun. He gripped the concrete wall until the bout of dizziness finished lingering, by which time he was afraid that Sandra might think he was ignoring her. "I'm on my way," he called as he opened his eyes and let go of the wall. He limped into the apartment and then faltered in the doorway of the bathroom.