Dark Harbour: The Tale of the Soul Searcher

by Joseph Kiel

  Jeremy certainly couldn’t see any ghosts as they walked deeper into the woods, but, even so, he held onto his grandfather’s hand tightly.

  ‘Take me to the angel, Granddad! I want to see the angel!’

  ‘Okay, I’ll take you there. We have to go right to the heart to find her.’

  ‘Do you know the way?’

  ‘Of course I do, my boy! But you can’t tell anyone about her. She’s a secret.’

  Ulric led Jeremy off the main path and in amongst the trees. After fighting their way through the thick growth of bracken and branches that all seemed to reach out and pull them back from their route, they eventually reached the magnificent oak.

  ‘Here she is,’ Ulric announced. ‘The oldest tree of the woods. The oldest and the wisest.’

  It was very majestic, its monstrous limbs reaching for the heavens like the arms of an almighty ogre. It didn’t take Jeremy long to find the carving; his enthralled eyes were magnetised to her before Ulric had even raised his finger to point her out.

  Two feet tall, dressed in flowing robes, her wings were unfurled as though she was magically floating within the timber. Despite the shadow of the canopy, the carving just happened to be at such a point where the sunlight trickled its way through the leaves to illuminate her. She looked radiant, almost as if she was generating the light herself, shining her protective spirit over the woodland.

  As they left the angel behind them, Jeremy wondered how his grandfather knew so much about this place. He just seemed to know everything. The young boy hoped that one day he could be like his grandfather, that he could be so clever and insightful. He hoped that one day people would be in awe of him.

  On the other side of the woods, just a short walk through some wild flower meadowland, was the cove. Ulric had been quite spirited trailing through the woods, but by the time they arrived at the shore he was a little solemn.

  The ageing guardian led Jeremy to the top of a cliff that looked down onto the sea. For about a quarter of an hour he just stood there watching the waves dancing over the rocks. Jeremy did not speak.

  The whispering sound of the crashing surf began to draw the boy into a comforting corner of his mind. He felt lulled by the soothing sensation, feeling cleansed of the unhappy feelings that were polluting his life.

  In this trance, he continued to gaze on the effervescent waves as they swept over the beach, making the grains of sand glisten in the brilliant sunshine as though the sea was scattering jewels across the shoreline.

  Jeremy eventually looked across to his grandfather and it seemed that the salty air was stinging the old man’s eyes. Ulric ran his fingers through his thinning grey hair and then circled his palm over the back of his head, almost as though he was trying to massage his own mind.

  So many questions began to fill Jeremy’s head and he wondered if he should voice any of them. He thought about all the other broken people that had presumably come to Moonlight Cove over the years and he wondered whether they found what they were looking for. He wanted to know how these moonlight-reflecting waters were able to perform such magic. He wanted to know what other secrets were to be unveiled within this town.

  Just as a question seemed to find itself on the tip of Jeremy’s tongue, Ulric drew in a deep breath of sea air and turned to his grandson. He took his hand and then led him away from the sea, back home to the flat. But Jeremy would soon be back here. Sooner than he would have expected.

  Ulric went out that evening and left Simon to keep an eye on his brother. He told them he was going to see a friend and that he would return around eleven. Jeremy was easy to baby-sit though. With his Star Wars action figures and Knight Rider on television, the young lad was in a world of his own.

  As he continued his battles against the Empire, Simon was back to playing Sherlock. That was until he eventually came back into the living-room and slunk down onto the settee. He shifted around in his seat for a moment as though he couldn’t get comfortable, and then he got up again and switched off the television.

  ‘Granddad’s in trouble. I’ve found something out.’

  Jeremy put his action figures down. ‘What sort of trouble?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  Jeremy didn’t know whether to leave it at that or to risk being berated for asking another stupid question. Not knowing what his brother was on about anyway, he got back to the galactic battle.

  ‘I found a letter in his bedroom.’

  Jeremy decided to put his figures down. ‘What did it say?’

  ‘I shouldn’t tell you really,’ Simon replied, facing the window as though talking to a six-year-old was beneath him.

  There was an usually dramatic tone to his words, and Jeremy’s heart was starting to thump. ‘Simon, what did it say? Who was the letter from?’

  ‘I don’t know. He just put his initials: T.H.M.’

  ‘What does that stand for?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jeremy!’

  Simon lowered his head as though he was about to pray, but then Jeremy noticed the letter was in his hands.

  Simon unfolded it. ‘It goes like this: ‘Dear Mr Tuckwell, I understand the angels lead us to paradise, and the martyrs greet you and lead you into the holy city of Jerusalem. Is this not how it goes for you? Do the angels greet you? Did not Lazarus, once also a poor man, find eternal rest? Perhaps you chose to dwell in Dark Harbour for another reason. Perhaps you thought someone else might be able to save you. Alas, you cannot hide under my eyes. Adieu.’ Signed T.H.M.’

  Simon folded the letter up again and there was a cold silence. Jeremy’s mouth had suddenly gone very dry. He didn’t understand what it all meant but he could feel the sentiment of it.

  ‘What should we do?’ Jeremy pressed.

  ‘I think Granddad needs our help. Well, my help at least.’ Simon got up and walked back to his grandfather’s bedroom to replace the letter.

  Jeremy looked back at his action figures but he didn’t feel like playing anymore. What did he mean? How could he help him out? He knew that these were no idle words. Simon meant what he said.

  Jeremy did not sleep very well that night. Despite having an enjoyable day in the sunshine of Moonlight Cove, it seemed that an ugly presence had floated along in the form of that sinister letter. He was even a little angry with his brother for reading it to him. Why did he have to go and dig it out?

  The poor youngster had wanted things to be happy again in his new life but it seemed that the clouds of misfortune had been following him over here. He could see it in his grandfather, the ponderous way he stroked his moustache all the time, the way he drummed his fingers at the dinner table, the fact that he could never sit still for longer than five minutes.

  During the next week there was further unfurling of their grandfather’s secret problem. One afternoon, around the time they’d usually set off to meet Simon out of school, Ulric said they were going to have a visitor.

  ‘Who’s coming over?’ Jeremy asked.

  ‘Someone I’ve known for a very long time.’

  ‘Is he a friend?’

  ‘A good friend.’

  Just at that point, there was a knock at the door so Ulric went to answer it. Standing in the doorway was a very smart and commanding gentleman dressed in a black suit and hat. Jeremy guessed he was a fair bit younger than his grandfather by maybe twenty years.

  Feeling a little intimidated, the shy boy tried to peek over his grandfather’s shoulder at the tall man’s eyes but the brim of his hat cast a shadow over them. He was smiling gently to Ulric. A gentleman in the true sense of the word, Jeremy thought.

  He was handsome too. He wouldn’t have been out of place in a film playing the role of Superman or Flash Gordon (if he had blonde hair). Stepping into the flat he removed his hat and shook hands with his grandfather.

  Jeremy could now see that he had warm blue eyes, just like Superman’s funnily enough. Suddenly those eyes were peering directly at him. The man crouched down.

  ‘Hello there,
young man. You must be Jeremy.’

  How does he know my name? Jeremy thought.

  ‘That’s him,’ Ulric said. ‘His brother Simon is at Harbour High but the other schools were full.’

  ‘Oh, you should have had a word with me. Not that he minds starting his summer holidays a little early, eh Jeremy?’ The gentleman flashed his smile at him and Jeremy didn’t feel quite so timid, even stepping forwards to stand by his grandfather’s leg.

  ‘I’ve been taking him to see the places round here,’ Ulric said, ruffling his grandson’s hair.

  ‘Do you like your new home then, Jeremy?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A bit different from where you came from, isn’t it? Outsiders often feel out of place.’

  ‘Not Jeremy,’ Ulric vouched. ‘He’s already got that Harbour kick in his voice.’

  ‘You know what they say. You can’t take the Harbour out of the boy, but you put the boy in the Harbour…’

  ‘…And he’ll drown.’

  They both laughed, but Jeremy frowned at their joke.

  ‘Jeremy, do you want to go and play with your toys for a bit? Me and Alan need to have a chat.’

  ‘Here, maybe I’ve got a sweet for you,’ the gentleman, Alan, said. He rummaged into his jacket and brought out a bag of mints. Jeremy saw on the packet that they were mint humbugs, whatever they were. He took one.

  ‘What do you say?’ Ulric asked him.

  ‘Thank you, Mr…’

  ‘Oh!’ Alan laughed. ‘You can call me Alan. Only people I don’t like call me Mr Hammond!’

  Ulric patted a hand on Alan’s back. ‘Come through.’

  The mint humbug was quite a hard sweet at first and so blandly minty that Jeremy thought about spitting it out. As he continued to suck on it, he eventually got to a gooey, sweet centre that made the initial hardness worthwhile.

  Ulric and Alan Hammond talked over coffee for well over an hour, so long in fact that they had not finished talking by the time that Simon returned from school. As soon as he stepped inside, he heard the muffled voices beyond the kitchen door.

  ‘Who’s he talking to?’ Simon asked his brother.

  ‘Alan.’

  ‘Who the hell’s he?’

  ‘A friend, a good friend.’

  ‘What are they talking about?’ There was urgency in Simon’s voice but none in Jeremy’s.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Simon rolled his eyes then approached the kitchen door. He immediately cocked an ear to it. Jeremy didn’t think that his brother should have been doing that but he did not dare voice his disapproval.

  Jeremy saw the frown form within Simon’s heavy eyebrows and they betrayed the growing fiery emotions that festered within him. He didn’t bother asking Simon what he could hear. He didn’t have to anyway because once Alan Hammond had left, Simon was ready to burst.

  ‘I want to help you, Granddad. Tell me what to do!’

  What the heck is he saying? Does he think he’s a gangster?

  ‘Oh, Simon,’ Ulric replied and then sighed.

  ‘Let’s go get them. We can take them on.’

  Them? Who are them? Jeremy looked to his grandfather.

  ‘Just because you were eavesdropping doesn’t mean you have any idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Yeah? I saw that letter. The one from T.H.M.’

  Their grandfather looked surprised and for a moment his moustache stiffened. ‘And do you have any idea who he is?’

  ‘Well… no.’

  ‘And let’s keep it that way.’ Ulric wandered over to the cabinet and brought out a bottle of whisky and a glass. ‘I appreciate your concern, my boy. But someone’s already helping.’ Ulric poured out a generous tot. ‘This isn’t a problem with the school bully I’m having here, Simon.’

  ‘I know. I just want to help you against this bastard,’ Simon shot back at him.

  Jeremy was shocked to hear him use such a word. Maybe that was his way of making himself seem more grown up so that Granddad would take him a bit more seriously.

  ‘Don’t you have some homework to do?’ Ulric asked before knocking back a mouthful of the amber spirit.

  Chapter 0.3

  Jeremy began seeing his brother grow into a different person, always restless, full of bite. Forever on his grandfather’s heels, Simon was so intent to get in a fight, even though he had no idea who the fight was against, and even though his opponents had more than pluck and teenage testosterone to fuel them.

  Ulric just tended to ignore whatever nonsense Simon spewed from his increasingly hot head. He knew better than to involve a thirteen-year-old in his matters. That did not stop Simon from continuing to pick away at things all the time. And neither, for that matter, did it stop Jeremy’s growing curiosity.

  One morning, a few days after the visit of Alan Hammond, Ulric took Jeremy to the park to play on the swings. It was a drab morning and the vindictive clouds were threatening to unleash their venom over them. Ulric pushed Jeremy on one of the swings but he wasn’t swinging that high at all. The old man’s energy was draining away.

  ‘Granddad, who is T.H.M.?’ Jeremy couldn’t help but ask. That’s all he ever did, just ask silly questions all the time. He could imagine how annoying he must be to everyone.

  Ulric was quiet for a few moments. He let go of Jeremy’s swing and then sat on the one next to him. ‘He’s an important man who lives in this town.’

  ‘Does he not like you?’

  ‘Jeremy, these are not things for you to worry about.’

  The inquisitive young boy was not done with his questions however. ‘Is he not a very nice man?’

  ‘No. Not very nice at all.’

  The old guardian knew that it wouldn’t help anything by talking to a little child about his problems, but on the other hand it was just nice to be able to talk to someone about them. It was just a relief to let out the things that had been going round in his head.

  ‘Unfortunately, Jeremy, there are unfriendly people everywhere you turn in life, people who like to do others harm. And the way these unfriendly people go about it is very clever so that they’re able to get away with what they do. And you don’t have a Superman or a Batman to help you against them. At least…’ he paused for a moment and ran his bottom lip over the thick bristles of his moustache. ‘At least not how you would imagine your superheroes to be. The reality is there are no heroes. They’re only on the same level as the enemy.’

  Ulric could hear by his smooth tone of voice that he was starting to get a bit philosophical. He guessed that the little lad was most probably lost by now but young Jeremy was actually taking in every word. More so than Ulric would ever know.

  ‘What about the police, though? Can they help you?’

  Ulric smiled at his grandson. ‘No. They can’t help me with this. I had to go somewhere else.’

  ‘The man with the mint humbugs? Alan?’

  Ulric smiled again. He knew the boy was perceptive. He had sensed an astounding brightness from him since the very first moment he’d laid eyes on him wrapped up in his daughter’s arms in the hospital.

  ‘That’s right.’ Ulric looked towards the heavens. ‘Looks like it’s starting to rain. Come on, let’s go home and have some lunch. I’m getting a bit peckish.’

  By the time they arrived back at the flat they were wet through with the unrelenting rain. It wasn’t just a few spots that the sky had been threatening, it was a virtual cloud burst.

  ‘That’s the thing about clouds, isn’t it?’ Ulric remarked as he towelled Jeremy’s fair hair. ‘Sometimes they just drizzle and sometimes they pour buckets. Can’t always tell.’

  When Jeremy had dried off, he walked over to the living-room window and peered outside. It suddenly seemed a tremendous view. He scanned the vista and picked out some of the landmarks he’d come to know - there was the Lafford monument just sticking out from the buildings on the High Street, the run-down theatre near the seafront, and there were the mule-making arcade
s. Their colours were even more washed out as the rain continued to lash down on the gloomy buildings.

  It felt like he could see the entire town from there and he could literally feel some sort of brooding turmoil emanating from it, manifested in the form of this vicious rainstorm that attempted to cleanse a sinful world. It felt as though the town was crying out in its tortured anger, unable to contain the frenetic feelings that surged through every street and every building, those same silent feelings that seeped into the inhabitant’s psyches like malicious poltergeists.

  The young boy could feel the heavy shadows drawing him into their vortex of darkness. As he could imagine the waves of Moonlight Cove sweeping through him, so too today he could feel the town’s shadows creeping into his very being, blending his colours into their own, like a black cat as it absorbed the falling dusk.

  The young boy knew that this was where he belonged. This was where he was supposed to be. A stranger to the town at first, it had not taken long for Jeremy to feel a part of Dark Harbour and the shady world of his grandfather.

  During the final days of the school term, Jeremy continued to walk around in his grandfather’s shadow while Simon sat it out at school. Being the new kid there he struggled to make many friends, but there was one lad called Oliver whom Simon had taken a shine to, quite possibly because the boy had a yellow belt in karate.

  The more Simon clenched his fists and the more his grandfather bashed his fists against his own head, the more fragile life seemed to young Jeremy. He felt as though he had to hold on to everything so tightly for fear of them slipping away through his fingertips, as had happened with his mother. The cold winds of adversity still rustled in the distance, but Jeremy somehow wanted to keep the encroaching misfortune at bay.

  Jeremy had sensed for a while that something was waiting for him, like poisonous brume lurking in his mind, slowly creeping in to eclipse the light of his soul. It was just a matter of when it would come but he knew its arrival would fulfil his dark metamorphosis. It was, in fact, announced by the telephone call.

  It was a Wednesday evening in July and Simon had just finished his last day at school. He and Jeremy sat in the living-room watching Blue Peter, not because they wanted to, only because they both assumed that the other wanted to watch it. Ulric was in the kitchen preparing bangers and mash for tea.