Shellshock

by Anthony Masters

  She shrugged. ‘I couldn’t see anything. Do you think your father will ever leave here?’ she said, abruptly changing the subject.

  He shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Does your mum think he will?’

  ‘She thinks he might still come back. He needed the year on his own, she reckons. But I’ve been thinking about him –’

  ‘Thinking?’

  ‘I didn’t realise how vain my father was – vain and arrogant. He likes to have people in his power – likes to use them.’ His voice trailed away, bitterly.

  ‘He’s certainly had a lot happen to him,’ she said rather inadequately.

  ‘Too much. I’d like to go home now,’ David suddenly blurted out.

  ‘But we’ve got four days left.’ She sounded very normal now.

  ‘Yes. But I miss my gran.’

  And suddenly he did. God, how he did. This place was weird and hostile. Things happened here that he didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. Death. Brides. Shell Men. Rock People. Statues. Effigies. Garlands.

  ‘That Shell Man –’ he began.

  ‘What?’ She sounded alarmed, then amused.

  ‘The Shell Man – in the back of the car.’

  ‘Are you barmy?’

  ‘But she was sitting next to him. The bride.’

  ‘There was a pile of stones and shells. The other window was open. They’d all drifted in. Just a pile of old shells and bits.’ Jan sounded indignant and David didn’t feel like arguing.

  ‘I’ve never seen dead people before.’

  ‘Neither have I.’

  I know she must have seen something. That at least is a bond between us, thought David.

  ‘Want to come back for lunch?’ he said casually.

  ‘I’m worried about my dad. He might be lonely.’

  ‘Ask him if he’d like to come too.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Then we’ll go to the island.’

  ‘Will Miguel be coming back for lunch?’

  Why did she always have to bring him into it? he wondered.

  ‘I expect so. Dad gave him a lecture about turning up.’

  ‘OK. It’s good he’ll be there.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Don’t be so rotten, David. We can comfort him.’ She sounded normal, friendly.

  Mr Daniels and Tod got on well together, which surprised both Jan and David. Miguel was largely silent as they all sat round the big wooden table in the sunshine. Everyone tried to be considerate towards him, to involve him in the conversation, but he still stayed silent and in the end they decided to leave him alone.

  David had quietly told his father before lunch all about the salvage men agreeing to leave Miguel with the car, and he had been very upset indeed.

  ‘I didn’t realise they would have brought it up so quickly,’ he said. ‘I was going down there – I blame myself. I still feel– if only I could have got them out.’ For a moment Tod lost his strength, his ability to dominate and David warmed to him.

  ‘You didn’t stand a chance, Dad.’

  ‘I really tried.’ Then he grew angry. ‘To leave him there – with those two – it’s the height of irresponsibility. And I suppose you saw –’

  ‘Not much, Dad.’

  ‘Do you promise?’

  ‘Yes.’ The lie was better, more comforting. He could hardly have told his father what he did see.

  ‘Dad –’

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘Did you love her a lot?’

  ‘Not as much as your mum. I was very fond of her.’

  ‘Will you ever come back home?’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘I might.’

  ‘You mean –’

  ‘When the work’s finished – I would like to go back. So much has happened.’ His father faltered uncharacteristically. ‘But there’s Miguel. I shall have to –’ But David didn’t want to hear about Miguel.

  ‘Will you write to her?’

  ‘I shall phone her. Soon.’

  David flung his arms round his father. ‘For real?’

  ‘For real. But I shall still have to come back here a good deal.’ He paused. ‘Maybe she’ll come with me – from time to time.’

  ‘Miguel?’ Finally David was prepared to mention his name.

  ‘He could live with his grandparents. Henriques would –’ His father’s voice trailed away, forgetting how he had told David that was just what was impossible. ‘I’ve got what I came for,’ he said suddenly. ‘It’s over now.’

  Dad’s adventure is over, thought David. He doesn’t want it any more. Oddly, his heart suddenly went out to Miguel, about to be discarded. A wave of renewed alarm filled David, and something else that was more unfamiliar. A contempt for his father’s erratic self-absorption. He just couldn’t dominate Miguel one moment and then throw him away the next. Then he realised that his father seemed to have undergone a kind of catharsis, as if the dragging up of the taxi had exorcised everything – including Miguel.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Let Miguel come back with us to England. He could start a new life.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be fair on you or Mum.’

  ‘You should try her.’

  ‘Come on, David.’ His father laughed but there was no humour in the sound. ‘I run away to Spain and meet Pilar and then go back expecting your mother to take on her child. It’s absurd.’

  ‘You should try her,’ repeated David.

  His father looked at him with a kind of childish hope. Then he looked away again, as if it had been dashed, taken away from him by unfamiliar common sense. But soon his father’s amazing power of making life go his way reasserted itself. David knew he had given Tod the chance he always wanted – to have everything his way.

  And now as they sat having lunch, David felt so full of pent-up joy that nothing mattered. Not Miguel. Not even Jan. He just sat there, eating olives, barely aware of his surroundings, letting the conversation wash over him.

  ‘So you’re a sculptor?’ said Mr Daniels.

  His father began to talk about the legend and his work and why he had come to Spain, and Mr Daniels wasn’t morbid and didn’t ask him anything about the accident. As the two adults talked, the children ate silently. David’s thoughts changed from joy to introspection. The car loomed large again in his mind as he remembered the Shell Man and his bride.

  ‘Are you going to wear that necklace for the rest of your life?’ David asked Jan irritably as Miguel steered the dinghy towards the island. There was no breeze and the boat drifted slowly in the current. He felt tired and bad-tempered now, despite his father’s good news.

  ‘Who do you think made this?’ she asked Miguel, ignoring him.

  ‘A tourist maybe.’

  ‘I thought it might be someone local.’

  ‘They wouldn’t waste their time.’ He spoke quietly and Jan wondered if Miguel would ever return to his old ebullient self. Suddenly she wanted to reach him, to comfort him.

  ‘Miguel?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It must have been awful by the car. They shouldn’t have let you stay.’

  ‘I wanted to.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Spanish people easy with death. Not like English. We are warm. You are cold.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said David but Jan darted a quick threatening look that shut him up immediately.

  ‘But weren’t you unhappy? Frightened?’

  ‘I was peaceful with her. That’s all. Now I don’t want to talk about it again. There will be a funeral and they will be buried and that is that. So we go to the island to see if we can find a way down.’

  Suddenly David shivered. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

  It was so blazing hot on the island that they could hardly bear to touch the rock with their feet. The sun was a red orb in a brilliantly blue sky and there was no cloud, no relief. David felt dizzy again, directly he set foot on the mercilessly hot
rocks.

  Higher up it was easier and soon, scrambling quickly, they were on the top plateau. A slight heat haze hung over the land and as he looked up, David saw that the blue of the sky was becoming faint, growing almost white in the intensity of its heat.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ asked Jan and now she had mentioned it he could hear it too. A sort of drumming sound beneath their feet.

  ‘It’s the sea,’ replied Miguel. ‘It’s hollow – this island. Don’t you remember, David, how big that cavern was?’

  ‘Miguel.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want to get something straight. You know there are Rock Statues down there. Why don’t you tell my dad if you like him so much?’

  ‘I told you not to tell.’ Miguel frowned, looking at Jan.

  ‘I’ll keep quiet,’ she said.

  ‘You bullied me,’ continued David. ‘You made me make promises when I was trapped. What’s so secret about them?’

  Miguel ignored the question. ‘This is a place where I like to be – this island. Besides it’s dangerous down there. I used to come with my mother. It was our place. She did not bring anyone else here. Just us.’

  ‘So if there is a way down to the cavern persisted David, ‘are you going to admit it? Let Dad in on the secret?’

  ‘If he says nothing to anyone,’ said Miguel reluctantly.

  ‘Did you and your mother swim in there?’

  ‘Yes. She was good diver. But I don’t want to talk about her no more.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Jan took Miguel’s arm. ‘We didn’t mean to pry,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘I like to show you now.’ He glanced at David. For the first time he seemed friendly. But as David knew – there was really no telling.

  For someone who knew every centimetre of the island, Miguel certainly spent a long time searching, and David wondered if he was not simply playing a game with them. He looked across at Jan, wondering if she was thinking the same, but she simply seemed to be concentrating on checking every rocky cranny. Suddenly he felt tremendous desire for her. She was only wearing a bikini and already her body was a burnished brown. The necklace swung slightly.

  Then, for the third time, David felt the dizziness returning and he saw Jan and Miguel silhouetted against the sky as if they were burnt-out photographic negatives. Everything was etched sharp and the rocks around them seemed taller, softer, malleable. He could smell seaweed and there was a roaring in his ears. David heard a voice above the noise. It was his mother’s. She was saying: ‘Put the shell to your ear, darling, and you can hear the sea.’ Then he heard his gran saying something which at first was very indistinct. Then suddenly he heard her voice loud and clear and there was no other sound at all. Only his gran. She was saying:

  ‘You put your ear to the shell, my dear,

  You put your ear to the shell,

  You put your ear to the shell, my dear,

  And you hear the sound of hell.’

  The drumming increased in volume until his gran’s voice faded away and the dizziness returned yet again. The landscape was changing, the rocks oozing away, nothing left but a great pit, and he was standing on the edge looking down on the Rock People as they moved down the fossil beach of the cavern. On the other side of the drop he saw Miguel and Jan embracing, the shell necklace linked round both their necks now. A great slab of thin rock suddenly slammed across the cavern. Then another – and another – and another. He saw his father’s face. There were rocks in his eyes again.

  ‘Walled up,’ said Gran with delight in her voice. ‘They were walled up. That’s how it should be. I’m not putting up with them.’

  Then the dizziness receded and David found himself sitting on a rock with Jan’s arms around him and Miguel crouched down in front of him, trying to look concerned but only really succeeding in looking impatient.

  ‘You almost passed out,’ said Jan. ‘You were swaying.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It must be the heat,’ she continued. ‘Would you like to go down to the shore?’

  ‘No, I feel OK. Let’s keep looking.’

  ‘All right.’ She stared at him doubtfully.

  A faint welcome breeze filtered the island and immediately David felt better.

  They found nothing and by six were worn out and defeated.

  ‘Will you tell him that you can get to the cavern from the sea?’ asked David wearily.

  ‘He can’t dive,’ said Miguel. ‘What’s the point? Besides, why are you playing with me? You know you’ve told him already.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Have you or haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said David, angry and exhausted. ‘I’ve told him. So what?’

  ‘I asked you not to.’ ‘You humiliated me –’

  Miguel walked towards him threateningly but Jan put herself in the way.

  ‘Don’t start again, you two.’

  ‘I shall kill him,’ yelled Miguel and quite suddenly he burst into tears. ‘It was our secret. The secret I shared with my mother. Our secret.’ He fell to his knees and wept. Then he said, ‘I only shared it with you because I’ve been so bad to you.’

  Jan looked horrified. She rushed towards Miguel, knelt down and put her arms round him. David stood there helplessly, not knowing what to do.

  ‘She’s dead,’ Miguel groaned. ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have seen her,’ said Jan. ‘Not like that.’

  ‘She left me behind.’

  ‘Miguel –’

  ‘She left me.’

  Jan began to rock him to and fro until his tears were just salty trails down his tanned skin and the crying was reduced to hard dry sobs. She looked up at David.

  ‘Maybe it’s better this way.’

  ‘What is?’ he asked stupidly.

  ‘That he cries. Now.’ She looked impatient. Then David caught sight of Miguel’s diamond-hard eyes. They were looking straight at him from the crook of her shoulder. And they were mocking.

  David slept fitfully that night. It was hot and enclosed within the stone walls of his bedroom; almost as hot as the island had been. He tossed and turned, his mind racing with the events of the day and, above all, a creeping jealousy that did not allow him to relax. Did Jan really fancy Miguel? Or was it just his over-excited imagination?

  They had come back for a late supper, just he and Miguel, and told his father the news. He had clearly been very disappointed and while the boys watched a video, Tod had sat there brooding. Now, David tossed and turned again, the island an ever-present image in his mind with Miguel and Jan etched against the skyline embracing, the shell necklace a tangible bond between them. He heard the drumming noise of the sea under the rock and then it turned into a persistent knocking.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Miguel.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I know where it is.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘It’s like a chimney.’

  ‘You gone barmy?’

  ‘You climb down – it’s easy.’

  ‘You mean –’

  ‘The way to the Rock People.’

  ‘You mean we wasted the entire afternoon in all that sweltering heat and you never mentioned –’ David was completely exasperated. He turned over, closed his eyes and then abruptly sat up again.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘Jan was there.’

  ‘You agreed to her coming.’

  He said nothing.

  ‘Why shouldn’t she know the secret?’ persisted David.

  ‘It’s between you and me and your father.’

  ‘Shall I wake him?’

  ‘No, it’s just for us, to find it. To find it for him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I treat you hard. I want us to share something. Also your father. That is all he thinks of – his sculpture and how he can become famous.’

  ‘All right,’ said David with sudden decision, an
d dragged himself out of bed. He felt suspicious and not a little afraid, but he was very anxious to do as Miguel said, mainly because he wanted to please his father. Anyway, maybe Miguel was genuine at last; maybe he really did want to share something with him. David emerged from his bedroom wearing a black sweater and jeans, to find Miguel standing on the landing with an unfamiliar smile on his face.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes,’ said David. ‘But suppose Dad finds we’re gone?’

  ‘We’ll take the rubber dinghy with the outboard engine, that way we’ll be back at just after dawn. Anyway he never wakes up till nine, does he?’

  David had to agree that he didn’t, and privately hoped the effort they were making would be justified this time.

  ‘OK. Let’s go.’

  They stole out of the house into the cool night, two dark shadows walking side by side down the slope of the mountain towards the restless shimmer of the winking black sea.

  The outboard sounded surprisingly quiet, only a kind of gentle stuttering that seemed to blend in with the lapping water and still air. They said nothing to each other – there was nothing to say – and a quarter of an hour later they reached the rocky outcrops at the base of the island. Anchoring the boat, they began to climb until they reached the plateau where they had spent so long searching that afternoon.

  ‘Well?’ asked David, his little-used voice sounding harsh. A faint pale streak over the mountains indicated the coming dawn.

  ‘Over here.’

  The moon was a crescent above them and for a moment it was quite difficult to tell where Miguel was. Then David saw him, over by the flattest part of the plateau. He was moving something, and when David joined him he could see that a slab of immovable-looking rock was actually swinging sideways.

  ‘Blimey. How did you do that?’

  ‘I didn’t. Somebody else did. Maybe a good long time ago.’

  They both stared down into a black hole – a kind of chimney through the rock. David could smell seaweed and something else – a musty, shut-in smell.

  ‘So that’s the way down?’

  ‘It’s easy. There’s room for one. One at a time.’

  David stood staring into the darkness. Then Miguel gently pushed him aside and said, ‘I’ll go first if you like.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Follow me.’