Lucas

by Kevin Brooks

  The woman had made her retreat and was standing her ground at the top of the beach, breathless and wild-eyed. Her daughter was standing beside her, sobbing and shaking, pulling pathetically at the straps of her bikini. The people on the ledge were beginning to murmur among themselves. There were about twenty or thirty of them now. I couldn’t see Angel or Brendell or Bill, but I could see Jamie and Sara standing at the back. Jamie had put his jumper back on and seemed to have regained his poise. He was in control of himself again, talking calmly to a young couple from the village, pointing at the beach, explaining something, shaking his head with concern. Meanwhile, Sara had separated herself and was standing to one side studying the crowd. Her face was gripped with that strange emotionless passion I’d noticed earlier, like it was all just a game to her, a distant game. The game of the crowd, the dynamics of the crowd …

  The crowd …

  Crowds are strange things. A crowd has a collective mind of its own, a mind that ignores the sense of its constituent parts and thrives on the lowest passions. The crowd had seen what had happened, they’d seen Lucas diving in to save the girl, they knew the truth – but the truth to a crowd is soon forgotten. The passion of the woman’s actions had set doubts in their mind. The collective mind was taking over. I could see it turning. I could see the way they were looking at Lucas, and I could imagine their thoughts – well, he must have done something wrong. Why else would the kid’s mother be so angry? Look at him, look at his eyes – he’s scared. The boy’s scared. If he didn’t do anything, why’s he so scared? Yeah, he must have done something wrong …

  Lucas was beginning to move away, backing off towards the rocks, and that only made it worse – an admission of his guilt. The crowd seemed to sense it, gathering a voice, and this gave the girl’s mother more confidence and she started yelling again. ‘Don’t think you’ll get away with this, you dirty little perv. I seen you, we all seen what you was doing – I’m getting the police on to you. Yeah – go on, that’s it, run away. Not so big, now, are you?’ She spat in the sand. ‘God, people like you make me sick. I’m getting the police …’

  The wind had started up again. Gusts of sand and rain were swirling in the air, turning the sky grey. I looked down through the mist and saw Lucas quietly melting away into the rocks at the base of the cliff. The woman was still calling after him. The crowd was still looking on. But at least no one was going after him.

  At least no one was going after him … ?

  I couldn’t believe what I was thinking. He’d saved the girl’s life while everyone else did nothing. He’d saved her life … and now I was breathing a sigh of relief because no one was going after him.

  It was unbelievable.

  ‘I have to talk to him,’ I said, turning to go.

  Dad grabbed my arm. ‘Whoa – not so fast.’

  ‘I have to talk to him, Dad. You saw what happened—’

  ‘Hold on, Cait. Calm down.’

  ‘But I have to go after him—’

  He looked me in the eye. ‘Just calm down a minute. Look at me …’ His voice was quiet. Rain dripped from his brow. ‘Cait … look at me. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘Nothing’s going on.’

  ‘How do you know this boy?’

  ‘There isn’t time, Dad—’

  ‘Make time,’ he said calmly.

  I looked into his eyes and sighed. ‘I met him yesterday on the beach. We talked … we just talked about things. He’s a good person, Dad. It’s not fair—’

  ‘Whereabouts on the beach?’

  ‘Round by the bay at the Point … he was fishing for crabs.’

  ‘Crabs?’

  ‘We just talked about things … he’s just like …’

  ‘Just like what?’

  I was going to say – he’s just like you. But that felt wrong, so I didn’t. I said, ‘You’d like him if you met him. He’s good, Dad. Honestly. You saw what he did. That little girl would have died if it wasn’t for him. No one else was going to do anything. And then that stupid woman comes along—’

  ‘You can’t blame her, Cait. She was only trying to protect her girl.’

  ‘But Lucas didn’t do anything—’

  ‘I know, love.’ He squeezed my hand. ‘Look, don’t worry – I’ll have a word with her. I’ll explain what happened. I’m sure she’ll understand.’

  ‘Will you talk to her now?’

  He thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

  I looked at him. ‘I have to go after him, Dad. Before it’s too late …’

  ‘Too late for what?’

  I gazed out over the beach. The rain was coming down in billowing sheets that merged the landscape to a colourless blur. I could just make out the darkened outline of the cliffs, but everything else was a blanket of grey. No perspective, no height, no distance, no sky, no sea, no solid ground … just a shifting wall of rain.

  ‘Where will he go?’ Dad asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘The woods, probably.’

  ‘Across from the Point?’

  I nodded.

  He shook his head. ‘You’re not going there.’

  ‘If I go now, I can catch him up on the beach.’

  Dad looked hesitant.

  ‘Please,’ I begged. ‘I only want to talk to him … it won’t take long. I just want to make sure he’s all right. Please …?’

  Thinking back on it now, I realise how difficult a decision it was for Dad. Logically, he should have said no. All his instincts must have been telling him to say no. Why on earth should he let his fifteen-year-old daughter go running off after a strange young man in the middle of a storm? Why should he trust her?

  Why?

  Because he loved her.

  ‘Go on, then,’ he said at last. There was a touch of sadness in his voice, and for a moment it crossed my mind not to go. It was reckless, it was unfair, it was stupid and selfish … but then Dad wiped a drop of rain from my cheek and smiled. ‘Don’t let me down, Cait. I’m putting more faith in you than I can afford to lose.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Dad.’ I kissed him. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Right, well I’d better go and have a word with the mad lady. You take the dog with you. I’ll see you back at the house … if you’re not back by six …’

  But I couldn’t hear him, I was already halfway across the field.

  There’s something exhilarating about a storm-drenched beach, and despite all the mixed-up emotions that churned inside me I couldn’t help smiling as I ran along the sand with Deefer beside me, with the waves crashing on the shore and the song of the wind howling in the rain. It was energising, it made me want to shout and fly. The beach was raw and deserted, and it wasn’t hard to imagine myself the only person in the world, running on the only beach in the world, beneath the only cliffs, next to the only sea … This is how it must have been a hundred thousand years ago, I thought. No people, no cars, no brass bands, no games, no hate, no twisted hearts … just this, the seasons and the skies and the rain and wind and tides … things without grown spirit. Nothing to remember or want. Light. Darkness. A heartbeat. No words to think. No unnatural emotion. Nothing but cold and hunger to avoid. No tomorrow. No names, no history, nowhere to go. Nothing to do.

  Nothing to do but run.

  I ran.

  Down the cliff path, through the fences and streams, along the west beach beneath the height of the cliffs, then across the sea wall and out onto the east side of the beach where the sand turned to shingle that crunched satisfyingly beneath my feet.

  Now I felt at home.

  This was my world, my beach, my island.

  This was my time.

  I slowed to a walk, edging up to the higher ground near the saltmarshes where the going was easier. Deefer followed me. His coat had fluffed up and darkened in the rain, and as he loped across the strandline, with his tongue lolling out and his eyes wild in the wind, he looked like a primitive beast.

&nbs
p; Halfway along the beach I paused to wipe the moisture from my face. I couldn’t tell if it was rain or sweat.

  The storm was easing off a little. Although it was still raining hard, the sky had lifted enough to let me see where I was going. I looked out across the beach. Tall grasses waved in the wind and the sand was shifting close to the ground. Specks of debris were tumbling around on the strandline – discarded floats, bits of plastic and cardboard, the empty husks of whelk’s eggs.

  There was no sign of Lucas. No visible sign, anyway.

  This might sound stupid, but I could sense his presence. There was an invisible – yet perceivable – trail in the air. Like a transparent tunnel, or the wake of a fish in the sea. I could see it, and yet I couldn’t see it. I could sense it. It followed the shoreline, just beyond the reach of the waves, looping and swerving here and there to avoid rocky outcrops and sandbanks, before disappearing into the gloom, heading in the direction of the Point.

  I cut down to the shoreline and followed the trail. Even when I couldn’t see it – and sometimes I couldn’t – Deefer could. He trotted along the invisible tunnel with his head held high and his tail wagging, and I jogged along behind him.

  As we passed along it, the trail folded in on itself and faded away, its purpose served.

  I was rounding the Point when I heard Deefer bark. It was that strange new bark of his, the one from the clifftop, but now I knew what it meant. I looked up and saw Lucas about fifty metres ahead of us, just beginning to cross the mud flats. In the haze of rain and misted sea, it looked for a moment as if he was walking on water.

  I called out, ‘Lucas! Hey, Lucas!’

  He turned and peered through the rain. I waved, but he didn’t wave back. It’s the rain hat and cape, I thought. He doesn’t recognise me.

  ‘It’s Cait,’ I shouted. ‘Cait McCann.’

  He still didn’t make any acknowledgement. He just stood there, a distant green statue in the rain. It was then I started thinking that perhaps I was making a huge mistake, that I was making a fool of myself. I mean, what was I thinking? Why on earth would he want to talk to me? What was I to him? I was nobody, just some stupid girl he met on the beach, another dumb islander. I was no better than the rest of them … hell, he probably didn’t even remember me.

  But then I saw him smile, and he raised his hand and beckoned me over.

  As I made my way across the Point I could hear a tiny voice whispering in the back of my mind. Is this what it’s supposed to be like? Is this how it’s supposed to feel? Like a rollercoaster? Like a lifetime’s emotions squeezed into a single minute? Like heaven and hell, sweet and sour, light and dark …? Like losing your mind?

  I was having a bit of trouble walking. My feet seemed to have doubled in size and I kept stumbling in the shingle. Deefer, though, was prancing about like a puppy. He ran up to Lucas and stopped in front of him, then shook himself so hard he almost fell over.

  ‘Hey, dog,’ Lucas said.

  Deefer rolled his eyes like a love-struck sap, then shook himself again and sat down. Lucas rested a hand on his head and the two of them watched me as I blundered up the beach.

  ‘That’s a nice cape,’ Lucas said as I stopped in front of him.

  ‘It’s not a cape,’ I panted. ‘It’s an all-weather poncho.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s very yellow.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with yellow.’

  ‘That’s true,’ he agreed.

  Water dripped from his rain-darkened hair and his clothes were heavy with moisture. The sodden cloth clung to the shape of his body. As he gazed quietly at me, I rubbed some non-existent sand from my eyes and looked around. The rain was splattering down on the mud flats behind him, making a dull popping sound in the soft black ooze and filling the air with a faint whiff of decay. Beyond the mud flats, the woods were shrouded in a gloom of mist.

  It ought to have felt odd, I suppose. Standing on a deserted beach in the rain, dressed in a rain hat and a ridiculous yellow cape, talking casually to a strange young boy who was soaked to the skin – but it didn’t. It didn’t feel odd, at all. In fact, it felt pretty good. I didn’t understand any of it, and I wasn’t sure why it felt good, but that didn’t seem to matter.

  But then, just as I was starting to enjoy the feeling, the rollercoaster roared and I remembered what I was supposed to be doing here – the little girl, her mad mother, the crowd – and the good feeling died.

  ‘I saw what happened at the cliffs,’ I started to explain. ‘I was there with my dad. We saw the whole thing. It was terrible … I don’t mean what you did, that was fantastic, but what happened afterwards with that woman—’

  ‘Come on,’ Lucas said. ‘Let’s get out of this rain.’

  ‘My dad said he’s going to sort it out—’

  ‘We can talk about it later. Right now I need to get into some dry clothes.’

  ‘Oh … yes, of course.’ I looked around. ‘Where—’

  ‘Follow me,’ he said.

  He turned towards the mud flats.

  Maybe it’s because I don’t have a mother, or maybe it’s just because I’m a bit of wimp, but I don’t like doing things that I know would upset Dad. It’s not that I’m afraid of him finding out and punishing me, because I know he wouldn’t punish me. He never has. He doesn’t need to. His disappointment is punishment enough. And if that sounds too good to be true, well that’s tough. That’s just the way it is.

  When I’m doing something I know I shouldn’t be doing, I feel sick inside.

  And that’s how I felt as I followed Lucas to the mud flats. My stomach was fluttering, my heart was beating like a drum, and Dad’s voice was echoing in my head. You’re not going there … don’t let me down, Cait. I’m putting more faith in you than I can afford to lose … don’t let me down …

  I didn’t want to let him down, he didn’t deserve to be let down. But sometimes a higher power takes control, something that lies deep within you, beyond your conscious self, and you find yourself doing things you’d never normally do. You can make all the excuses you want – I didn’t say I wouldn’t go to the woods, I didn’t promise anything, did I? – but you know in your heart you’re just kidding yourself. It’s wrong, but you’re doing it anyway.

  So just do it.

  We stopped at the edge of the mud flats. I’d never been so close to them before and my senses were stirred by their morbid beauty. The smell of decay was stronger now. It was the odour of stagnant ponds, the sour smell of age-old blackened mud. The rain had stopped and a pale sun was fighting through the clouds. The shifting ooze of the flats lay stretched out before us, all the way across to the woods, a slimy brown plateau glistening dully in the tired light. Faint bubbling noises drifted from the surface. Drips, clicks, and watery pops, the sound of worms and molluscs going about their muddy business, just as they had for millions of years. This is how it must have been, I thought. Nothing to remember or want. Light. Darkness. No words to think. No tomorrow. No names, no history …

  ‘You’ll need to take your shoes and socks off,’ Lucas said.

  I started untying my laces.

  ‘I’ll go first,’ he explained, taking off his boots. ‘You follow in my footsteps.’ He looked at me. ‘You follow them precisely, OK? Not an inch either side.’

  I nodded, glancing doubtfully across the mud.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said. ‘It’s a piece of cake.’

  ‘But how do you know where you’re going?’

  He cocked his head to one side. ‘It’s easy, you can see the solid ground. Look.’ He waved his hand, indicating a non-existent trail. ‘See how it colours the air?’

  All I could see was mud. I angled my head to one side like Lucas, but I still couldn’t see anything. I thought of the invisible tunnel on the beach, trying to recall how I’d managed to see it, but I couldn’t remember what it looked like any more. I couldn’t remember it at all.

  ‘What about Deefer?’ I asked.

  Lucas hung
his boots around his neck. ‘He’s a dog,’ he shrugged. ‘Dogs see what they need to see. Are you ready?’

  I stuffed my shoes and socks in my pockets, took a final look at the mud, then nodded.

  And off we went.

  It felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff.

  After the first few tentative steps I started breathing again. It wasn’t so bad. The surface mud was slick and oily, and I didn’t like the way it oozed between my toes and sucked at my feet, but the ground underneath felt safe enough. It still didn’t look very safe. It looked like I was walking across the surface of a thick brown soup. But the further I went without sinking, the easier it was to ignore what my eyes were telling me and listen instead to my feet. My feet were saying – this is OK. It’s not the greatest feeling in the world … but it’s OK.

  Lucas walked slowly, carefully planting one foot in front of the other, leaving nice clear footprints for me to follow. As soon as he lifted his feet, the prints filled with grainy black water. The water was cold, like cold grease.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine,’ I said, trying to sound relaxed.

  ‘Tell me if I’m going too fast.’

  ‘Yeah, no problem …’

  Every now and then he’d stop, study the ground, then veer off to the left or the right. Each time we changed direction he glanced over his shoulder and spoke a few words.

  ‘Turning left, now.’

  ‘Right here for about ten paces.’

  ‘Sharp left in a minute …’

  Deefer trotted along beside him. Once in a while Lucas would touch him lightly on the head or whisper a quiet word and Deefer would drop back and follow in single file for a few metres. Then, as the hidden trail widened again, he’d catch up and resume his position at Lucas’s side.

  By the time we were halfway across I felt confident enough to keep moving without staring at the ground. As long as I followed Lucas I knew I’d be all right. I raised my head and looked around. To the right, the open sea was calming itself after the storm. Murky brown waves lapped wearily against the shore, while further out the ocean rolled drunkenly against the sky, and rain shadows slanted down from dark clouds on the horizon. The shallow bay to our left had flooded its banks. I could see water filling the muddy trails through the gorse. The water would drain into the tide pools and soon the paths would be clear again, but not soon enough for me. I wouldn’t be going home that way today.