Sabrina & The Secret of The Severn Sea Page 20

  He tried to answer over the succession of loud dongs that rang like bells in his ears.

  ‘It’s like this, Ellie. Having found you at last I feel as if I’m about to lose you again to someone else, I suppose.’

  ‘Don’t tell me my gangster brother has feelings, after all?’

  ‘Ex-gangster.’

  ‘You mixed with some pretty dodgy people in London?’

  ‘What do you expect? I had parents for criminals.’

  ‘Very funny. Jess rang last night. She thinks you and she should talk.’

  ‘Say again?’

  ‘Really, Luke, give her a chance, will you?’

  ‘Open your eyes. She’s bad luck.’

  ‘You’re making her sound like a witch.’

  ‘She’s the curse of our lives, all right? Ever since she resurfaced there’s been nothing but trouble.’

  ‘That’s you being irrational.’

  ‘Twice your pony has been frightened silly. You might think about going to the police. What if, next time, Molly gets seriously attacked or something?’

  ‘Nonsense. I put it down to the spring grass.’

  Sasha had set about exploring the ground by the gate, Luke noticed.

  He said nothing at first, then gave her a whistle.

  Sasha looked up. Raised her ears. She thought him rather impertinent before she redirected her investigation earnestly elsewhere.

  He went over to see what she was sniffing at and found boot prints left behind in the mud.

  ‘See here. Your dubious scrap dealers have been back, I reckon.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I keep all doors and windows locked at night.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘You sound like Jeremy.’

  ‘I don’t like it. Something is going on.’

  ‘The sooner you hold this last post straight for me the sooner we’ll get the job done.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to tell you but I’ve seen two of our mother’s old friends here, in Berkeley.’

  ‘So? It’s a free country.’

  ‘One of them is Slim Jim Jackson. The person with him is Mel McAtree. Last time I met them was at our father’s funeral.’

  ‘Not me. I was in hospital with an acute appendicitis.’

  ‘What the hell are they doing back here, anyway?’

  ‘They probably say the same about you.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous.’

  ‘Keep still or I might hit your trigger finger.’

  Luke helped wrap stiff silver wire round a solid-looking railway sleeper at the end of the fence; he kept twisting his pliers tighter until the wire mesh straightened under tension against this most solid of wooden anchors.

  Ellie wiped her brow with a dirty glove.

  ‘You and I need to have a serious talk, Luke.’

  ‘Damn right we do.’

  ‘Not about ageing burglars.’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘It’s grandmother. She wandered off from the care home last night.’

  ‘Oh bloody hell. Where did she go?’

  ‘A nurse found her by the river. I assume she was trying to go back to Chapel Cottage.’

  ‘Is that so surprising? She must feel very disorientated at the moment.’

  ‘You can say. Gwendolen has started to spout all sorts of strange things. She keeps seeing someone at the glass doors of the dayroom. Says she’s being haunted.’

  ‘I don’t see what we can do about it. She’ll be on psychotropic drugs, either sedatives or antipsychotics. Someone with the mind of a child will imagine anything.’

  ‘But Luke, it’s so real to her. She can even smell him, she says.’

  ‘And what does this man smell like, exactly?’

  ‘He smells of the sea.’

  ‘And his name is?’

  At which point Ellie began to bluster. She was conscious of relating her innermost fears to a near stranger or, perhaps, like him, she still did not yet entirely trust what it was to be a blood relation?

  She worked doubly hard on the fence like someone trying to keep something out as much as in.

  ‘She says it’s Sean Lyons.’

  ‘That’s dementia for you.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I know that, but why keep referring to him with such conviction? What’s the significance here? Does she literally think he has come back from the river?’

  ‘You asking me?’

  ‘I fear someone has been putting horrible ideas into her head.’

  ‘I really haven’t.’

  ‘Tell me that you’ve not been quizzing her about that gold pocket watch that Ian Grey gave you. Have you, brother?’

  ‘Not exactly, no.’

  ‘That a promise?’

  ‘You bet.’

  ‘Be careful, because she never asked for all this.’

  The fencing finished, Luke picked his way distastefully around a pile of cowpat.

  Honestly, the countryside could be overrated, he thought, as he inspected his black boots for gloppy brown muck on his heels.

  ‘What do you mean? Is something else going on?’

  Ellie chained the field’s gate shut behind them.

  ‘Right after the matron at Severnside House rang me I went to see Gwendolen who burst into tears the moment she saw me. She’s scared, Luke, really scared. So much so, she was desperate to tell me all about it.’

  ‘And you’re going to tell me – what, exactly? A ghost story?’

  ‘The point is, she sounded totally lucid. When Sean went missing on the night of 25 October 1960, a story went round that some thing helped cause the two tankers to crash into the bridge. One evening in the Windbound Inn, a surviving crewman told her that a red-headed figure had risen up out of the water to bind the boats together. No matter how hard the Wastdale H went full astern or the Arkendale H went full ahead, nothing could break the boats apart. It was like a human sea-serpent, apparently. When she tried to question the same bargee about it again later he said that he must have been in a state of shock, or totally inebriated, to talk such rot and ran off.’

  ‘H’m, yeah, well, it could be anything. Once someone as ill as Gwendolen gets an idea into their head, then their brain replays the tape over and over. It just won’t let go or ever stop. Doesn’t mean it isn’t all nonsense.’

  ‘If she is, as we suppose, reliving the collapse of the railway bridge all those years ago, then what is it about it that makes her so afraid now?’

  ‘Ellie, I have no idea.’

  ‘I only know one thing.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘The answer to it all lies in the river.’

  He laughed.

  ‘You want me to believe that Sean Lyons was taken by a monster?’

  ‘Something won’t let grandma rest easy. Something has happened to stir her subconscious, at least.’

  ‘Then let it stay there, Ellie. Is not the mind like a river anyway? All our thoughts and emotions stream through it like currents. Sometimes they flow easily, or break over weirs or crash down rapids. They plunge over precipices in spectacular falls. Thanks to the horrendous dementia and equally ruinous drugs, she’s navigating a very deep sea of memory.’

  ‘Problem. Whatever was down there isn’t down there any longer.’

  There followed a very awkward pause. Both of them gazed across the fields towards the River Severn, as if neither could wait to finish their walk, a slightly longer way back to the farmhouse.

  ‘More to the point, how are the wedding preparations coming along? Do you still want me to bollock that hire car firm in Bristol for you?’

  But Ellie barely heard him, Luke realised.

  She had come to a halt not far from the stables.

  Nailed to a wooden electricity pole was a flyer: SAY NO TO NUCLEAR.

  Whoever had invaded the farm by way of the pony’s field late last night had done so to leave them a message.

  ‘Who would do such a thing?’ said Ellie, truly perplexed. />
  Luke tore the flyer down.

  ‘It means somebody doesn’t trust us to do what’s best with our own. This is a warning not to sell Chapel Cottage to the developers.’

  ‘What else can we do? Who wants to live next door to a new nuclear power station, anyway? Not me, for sure.’

  ‘This is wrong. This is really wrong.’

  ‘People round here wouldn’t do such a thing. They’re my friends.’

  Where the Devil cannot come, he will send , thought Luke. The fact that someone was whipping up hostility against his sister had to be because of him.

  Or something else was going on.

  Sometimes there was just no way of knowing what people would do next.

  A dead rook hung from the same nail as the placard; from its bloody beak swung its twisted tongue.

  33

  That night Luke dreamt he was back in 1990.

  He was secretly putting on warm clothes and Wellingtons and letting himself out of Chapel Cottage.

  Next minute he was climbing over the stone seawall to the foreshore of the River Severn where he was due to meet friends to go fishing.

  A firm hand pulled him quickly aboard their boat.

  ‘Quietly does it, Captain.’

  Newly tattooed letters adorned the big hand’s knuckles, he noticed enviously, which said SLIM JIM.

  ‘Where’s Jorge?’ asked Luke.

  ‘He hasn’t shown up yet.’

  ‘But, Slim, he promised.’

  ‘Sorry, can’t wait.’

  ‘Not even for a minute?’

  ‘You sure you weren’t followed, is all?’

  ‘I left gran snoring in her chair.’

  That same tattooed hand sat him down at the tiller.

  ‘Can’t be too careful, Captain, seeing as it’s a full moon.’

  ‘Not cops?’

  ‘Could be. Officers from the Environment Agency served a warrant at the docks in Gloucester on Saturday. They seized a boat. Damn them.’

  ‘Hope they don’t catch us.’

  ‘If anyone ever asks, you know nothing about me.’

  ‘You bet.’

  Shooting stars reflected on the river’s silvery surface, beneath which lurked dark currents. You could easily attribute some living soul to the flood’s animated flow, thought Luke, with a thrill.

  Such a massive volume of liquid had the power to inspire or terrorize in equal measure; he could feel it secretly stir his blood as it raced to and from his heart along its dark, arterial highway.

  He’d so hoped that Jorge could go with them tonight but his father had no doubt locked him in a room again as punishment for some trivial misdemeanour.

  Jorge had probably failed to polish his shoes. Or he’d wet the bed which merited ten lashes of the cane.

  His best friend was always getting punished for the most minor things.

  A baseball bat lay in the bottom of the boat’s narrow hull in case of trouble. From what he knew of Slim Jim’s behaviour so far, he guessed that he would never surrender easily to any patrol boat tonight. Since their last voyage on the river together, he had broken one of his front teeth, Luke noted, either from another fight at the Windbound Inn or from an accident on the tugboats on which he worked very hard.

  Slim pulled a cigar from his pocket. Lit it slowly.

  ‘That’s it, Captain. Keep your hand on the tiller and you can have a smoke, too. Your grandfather took me on trips like this when I was your age.’

  A river in spate could soon burst its banks. Not that Slim seemed too concerned as he trimmed the sail and steered the dinghy past sandy shoals. It wasn’t Slim who sensed how easily the water might rise and drown them.

  All sorts of debris and strange things rose to the surface at such dangerous times.

  Monstrous things.

  From the darkest water.

  Instead, Slim remained in ebullient mood and a piratical glint flashed in his eyes – he thrilled to all things immensely profitable.

  ‘People in Hong Kong will pay thousands of pounds for what we catch tonight, Captain. I’ll buy you those new trainers you need because I know your grandma can’t afford them.’

  ‘Wow. You promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Thanks, Slim. That’ll be great.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, boy, thank the bounty of the river.’

  ‘I’ve heard that elvers are born in the Sargasso Sea.’

  ‘You’re not wrong.’

  ‘I wish I could go there. Will you take me one day?’

  ‘Many a boat has fallen foul of the island-like masses of seaweed that cover that part of the North Atlantic, Captain. Many a derelict sailing ship has been found floating there, their crew all dead or simply vanished. A slaver was discovered totally intact but, when boarded, it yielded up only the bones of the crew and their human cargo. It’s bordered on all sides by very strong currents and no real wind ever blows there. It is a place of the dead.’

  ‘So, please, Slim, can you tell me why the eels come all the way here, to us?’

  Slim furled the boat’s sail, better to wield a huge fishing net on its white pole and scanned the water with a lamp. He searched in the moonlight for the dark, wriggling mass that would be baby eels.

  ‘Well, it’s like this, Captain, if they don’t leave the saltwater sea they won’t grow into adults. They must find the shelter of small freshwater streams and ditches to mature, you see.’

  Slim thought it his duty to instruct him in the lore of the river. He set about showing him how to trawl the net in the water against the flow of the currents. He looked over his shoulder at him with a black-toothed smile of devilish pride and concentration.

  Diverted himself, Luke chose not to deviate from the task in hand.

  He couldn’t wait to tell his father of his great adventure when he next visited him in prison.

  Why else would he override his… what? It wasn’t fear of the water.

  ‘Look Captain, you can see right through them.’

  ‘Wow, Slim, that’s amazing.’

  ‘See how they all mass together in the water.’

  ‘They sparkle like diamonds.’

  ‘They’re not called glass eels for nothing.’

  ‘Let me,’ said Luke and helped pour elvers into buckets.

  ‘Two years it has taken them to drift here from the other side of the world. Sailors say that they grow from dead men’s hair.’

  ‘Lots of dead men must fill the ocean.’

  ‘Only the dead know how to keep a secret.’

  The elvers’ translucency rendered them strangely fragile, while their wriggling mass fringed the muddy riverbank in a dense ascending band that was forever in frantic motion.

  ‘And to think, once upon a time, people caught so many of them in April and May that farmers used them to fertilise their fields. Don’t worry, Captain, we’ll catch millions more tonight. We’re looking at £200 a kilo. That done, we’ll share a plate of smoked bacon and elvers with egg and toast just like your grandpa did with me years ago.’

  ‘Grandma says they’re poisonous.’

  Slim laughed out loud.

  ‘Only if eaten raw. It’s their blood, you see. It contains a toxin which cooking kills.’

  ‘She says the Witch of Berkeley uses it to mix her spells.’

  ‘Somehow I believe it.’

  His friend’s eyes darted left and right. Spotted lights on the southern shore.

  ‘What is it, Slim?’

  ‘Elvermen!’

  Sure enough, they could see shadowy figures gathering on the riverbank.

  Oddly shaped nets were being lifted from the roofs of cars and carried to the water.

  Fishermen were choosing ‘stumps’ from which to do their fishing as they walked along by the light of their lanterns.

  Slim sank lower in the boat.

  ‘Lazy buggers.’

  Luke did the same.

  ‘How come?’

  ‘They won’t even
have to fish for them. They’ll just let the elvers drop off the bore into their nets.’

  Such words filled Luke with awe. He had seen the Severn Bore in action, he had seen how the water flowing upstream collided with the river coming downstream, until it overrode it in one big reverse tsunami – he’d heard it hissing like a sea snake as it rounded the nearest bend before which every bird fell silent.

  As soon as they reached the beacon at The Paddock, they turned into the twisting, tidal inlet that led up Berkley Pill which kept them out of sight of the lights of the nearby nuclear power station.

  There they hauled their catch ashore.

  Slim stood over the buckets in the moonlight, stirring the seething mass of elvers with his hand. He felt them wriggle and squirm. He talked to them admiringly. Did it with worshipful tenderness.

  Then again, to Luke’s own lips came the burning question as if something were wrong, that it did not make up for things that really were.

  Not everything had been told him so far?

  ‘What did happen on the river, Slim, that night the railway bridge came down? Is it true that my grandfather just disappeared into the water?’

  The directness and simplicity of the question left Slim all aquiver. He was delighted, though, that he cared at all, astonished and a trifle embarrassed. Surely it was unnatural for such a young boy to speak of the dead like that?

  ‘Shush, keep your voice down, Captain.’

  ‘But I don’t like the dark.’

  ‘Coming after me, or what?’

  Slim signalled him to help move the nets and buckets to their hiding place.

  Reeds rattled in the wind as the two of them progressed up the tributary to within sight of the shadowy castle below which stood a boathouse.

  ‘You lie down there, Captain, and I’ll tell you how Sean Lyons died a hero that night.’

  ‘On this mattress?’

  ‘One day we’ll dig a grave for your grandpa and honour him when he is back among us. The river always gives up its own.’

  Luke could have had no notion of how prescient Slim’s promise would prove to be. He relaxed beside the boathouse’s solitary lantern and soaked up its fickle warmth. Felt the bitter whiff of paraffin suddenly flood his nose…

  Suddenly he sat up with a gasp.