The Lion of Sole Bay (Strong Winds)

by Julia Jones

  Luke wished that Anna and Liam were hearing this – or Donny and Skye. Miss Grace didn’t get it because she didn’t know. This was Hawkins, the rescued canary, going off to some diocesan retreat with all the bits of pirate tackle they’d made him plus his personal larder. A pecky eater!

  “Tell him to be sure and send us a postcard then. I’ll be okay on Lowestoft Lass – ‘specially if the dog’ll come? ”

  Miss Grace nodded without speaking and Rev. Wendy hurried away, promising Luke that his father would be remembered in Erewhon Parva parish prayers every day and twice on Sundays until he was completely recovered.

  “Cows’re bellyaching,” said Miss Grace, after a brief, awkward silence. “Know anything about cows?”

  Luke shook his head.

  “Cows need milking,” she said. “And if you don’t know that, they don’t mind telling you. Got any boots?”

  “On Dad’s boat I have.”

  “Better bring them next time. Cows make cowpats. Want to fetch the dog along with us? Keep him on his lead though. He’ll be getting accustomed to you.”

  She got a lot done in a short time, Miss Grace. Her dozen cattle, assorted age and genders, brought into their respective pens for the night. Hayed and watered and two of them milked. The cattle shed was a nice building, like a house with separate rooms all next to each other.

  “Do cows always sleep like this?”

  Luke thought only horses had stables.

  “It’s how I like to keep them. Stops any bullying.”

  “Maybe I should help while I’m here.”

  “Your dad does two nights a week on the days I’m over with my mother. I set it against the mooring fees.”

  “Oh.”

  Was the moorings hers then? He’d better stay on her right side while his dad was away.

  “I’ll do what I can. But I’m not my dad.”

  She put a broom into his hand and showed him where the straw needed to be swept away.

  “Old Peter’ll step up. He likes the work. Doesn’t know what day it is and can’t remember names but the cows don’t worry.”

  “Old Peter?”

  “Lives in the wood, gamekeeper’s hut. His boat’s on the creek. In it most of the time.”

  Brown light through an unexpected window. Spiders in the ivy and…something inside

  “Old Peter…is he, like, hairy?”

  “He could probably do with a trip to the barber.”

  “Hairy all over?”

  She laughed. It was more like a snort.

  “Can’t say I’ve looked that close. He uses the shower block at the moorings, same as everyone else. I check his hands are clean for the cows. Make him take his coat off too. They don’t like the fur.”

  “But it IS a coat? It’s not…I mean…real fur?”

  She frowned now. “Of course it’s real. You want to smell it! He hasn’t popped into Ipswich and bought himself a fashion statement. It’s how he keeps warm.”

  She stomped across to her Land Rover. Motioned him and the dog to follow.

  “You don’t want to worry about Peter,” she said, once she’d wrestled the vehicle into gear. “You might hear him shouting out at night. He’s lonely and he’s confused but he’d be worse if they took him in. He’s got his cat to look after. Dog stays there sometimes. He can tell a good story – as long as you don’t want names with it.”

  How could you get on without names? Even online you needed to know who you were playing – screen names anyway. The black dog was perched on his lap His long nose was stretched towards the windscreen, his whole body trembling with eagerness. Luke put his arms round him, to help him stay steady.

  “Is the dog still called Ben Gunn?”

  “Mostly he’s plain Ben.”

  She had a key to the gate so they bumped all the way down the track in her vehicle. She parked near the moorings and showed him how to access the toilet block and where there was a payphone. Gave him her number and said he was welcome at the farm whenever he liked.

  “You can think you’ll be all right by yourself. But sometimes you’re not. You won’t know till you try. It won’t trouble me if you change your mind.”

  Then she rang the bell by the gangway to the Dutch barge and introduced him to the people who lived there. Hendrike and Helen. He didn’t get a surname. The mother was short and dumpy. She wore a sort of smock and stretchy trousers and had white hair in two buns. Her English was quite hard to understand. She told Miss Grace that she’d keep a watch on him.

  There was something in the way she said this that made Luke hurry to explain that she’d wouldn’t never see him, what with the kayaking and the hospital visits and helping with the cows. He really wouldn’t be there hardly at all. Impossible that he’d cause her any trouble

  The girl wore jeans and trainers and had fair hair scraped into a high ponytail. She didn’t speak or smile but when Miss Grace explained about Luke’s dad having an accident she looked as if she was about to faint.

  “This ‘Year’s Mind’ Rev. Wendy was on about, what is it?” he called after Miss Grace when she’d already said goodnight.

  “Something they do in churches. Ought to be tomorrow. Souls not Saints. Remembering the dead. People bring a candle. It’s for anyone who’s died in the previous twelve months. Doesn’t have to be.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  She went then and left Luke on his own with the dog. He wondered whether he could get a candle and light it for his mother. She’d died so long ago he hardly ever thought of her.

  Except that he had thought of her. Today. In the hospital. When his dad had come in covered under that sheet with his eyes shut. It was like he’d seen it all before. He supposed they must have brought him and Liam in to say goodbye and she must have been lying like that, her body propped up and her last life gone.

  The old fishing boat creaked as she lifted with the tide. Luke had found a candle and put it on a saucer and lit it for his mum. He wasn’t using any electricity so the small warm glow was ringed around with darkness. Ben was curled on the bunk. He looked as if he was asleep already. Both his eyes were shut and he had one long front paw crooked behind his ear.

  Luke stared into the heart of the flame. He did his best to focus on his mother but if he was honest, there wasn’t much that he could bring to mind. Liam had once said he hadn’t any memories at all. Not even what she looked like. Maybe they ought to ask their dad for a photo.

  He picked up the candle and walked round the edge of the cabin with it. Like he and his mum were visiting together. He even introduced her to Miss Grace though they didn’t seem to find much to talk about.

  Lowestoft Lass’s cabin wasn’t panelled or even painted. His dad had been stripping everything away so he could check the real state of the timbers. There weren’t any books or pictures or anything that was personal. There were rust stains where the damp had seeped through iron fastenings and a few damp marks where the water was leaking from the deck. Maybe it was just the shape that made her feel so homely.

  Luke gave up. He couldn’t reach his mother here. It’d been silly trying.

  Ben’s black head was up and watching. That was good because Luke was going to have to visit the toilet block before he went to sleep and if he had any nerve he’d go up the track and send the others a goodnight text. They’d definitely have sent him one.

  Ben’s short fur rippled over his bone and muscle. He had a deep chest and his legs set far apart like he was a fighter. He totally didn’t mind when Luke put his arms around and hugged him.

  “He’s a beggar for warmth,” Miss Grace had said. “He’ll be down your sleeping bag if you let him.”

  That’d be okay.

  “C’mon boy,” Luke said, putting the candle back onto the table and clipping the extendible lead to Ben’s collar. “Race you to the top of the slope.
Liam’ll be sick when he hears that I’ve got you staying.”

  The night air was damp but not cold and the moon was high above the reed beds. It wasn’t especially bright and was a bit less than half full.

  Luke forgot that he and Ben were meant to be racing. He stood there on the aft deck of the fishing boat gazing upwards. Someone had been holding him once. Someone had showed him a moon like this and had giggled.

  “Look at the moon, Lukey. She’s trying to suck her tummy in. That’ll be a while before I can get a shape like that again.”

  Someone had been happy, making a small contented joke. Someone whose soft hair and warm cheek had been next to his. Someone who wanted him to see what she was seeing and share the happiness she felt.

  She must have been telling him she was pregnant, he realised now.

  There were maybe three or four specks of light escaping from the other boats. That meant there were other creekies sleeping here. The low windows in the Dutch barge next door were glowing and they hadn’t shut their curtains. Luke couldn’t resist quickly glancing in.

  There were candles all around the cabin, hundreds of them; small ones mainly, creamy white, their bright flames dancing even though there wasn’t any breeze. They covered every surface. The girl was there. Sitting in the corner looking fed up.

  The mother was right in the middle of all the lights: waving her arms and twirling round. She’d undone her hair and her eyes were shut like she was in some kind of trance. She was wearing a sort of robe and with that hair and all those candles…well, it was a good thing the daughter was keeping awake.

  Lowestoft Lass shifted slightly and Luke realised that he didn’t ought to be spying. If that mother and daughter were remembering those many dead people, they must have been in a disaster somewhere.

  Luke hoped he’d got it wrong and that they just liked candles.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  All Souls

  Sunday 2 November, second of the waning moon

  Luke

  Ben kicked Luke with his hard claws as he burst out from his share of the sleeping bag. He flung himself at the cabin side and barked frantically. He was white teeth and red gums and front legs braced and back legs ready to spring.

  “Hey boy, it’s okay. I know how you feel. It’s a cockerel, that’s all.”

  Ben wasn’t hearing him. He was wild. If Luke touched him, would he bite?

  “Good boy, calm down…just a cockerel…like they have on farms.”

  Ben lunged towards the ship’s side, his ears flat to his head, upper lip pulled back in a crinkly snarl. He was Cerberus, he was the Grim, he was Black Dog Shuck.

  He was also, Luke noticed with relief, clever enough to avoid bumping his nose each time he lunged. All the same he’d be waking the whole creek if he carried on like this. Other people would complain. There’d already been steps running from next door.

  Luke chucked his clothes on and found Ben’s lead. He was quite nervous about attaching it except he remembered something Xanthe had said about Ben scaring himself with his own fury. Or was it Donny said it? And was it Ben or was it baby Vicky when she used to have those tantrums? And did it matter which it was? Talking all the time, mainly to himself, and feeling his hands cold and sweaty and trying not to let them shake, he crept up close to the barking dog and clipped the lead to the collar.

  “C’mon fella. Let’s go see the size of him.”

  Ben swung round when he felt the click of the lead and Luke’s fingers brushing his fur. But it was okay, he didn’t bite.

  When Luke stepped towards the companionway Ben charged for it. He scrabbled his way up the ladder and was heading across the gangplank to the shore almost faster than Luke could keep up.

  “You’re a pussy cat!” Luke accused him as they made it to the wicket gate at the top of the hill, both of them panting. “You were more scared of the bird than I was.”

  The cockerel knew nothing of the trouble he’d caused. His crowing sounded small and distant from up here. Mechanical even. The girl from the barge came springing past in her clean white trainers.

  “Sorry,” Luke called after her but she didn’t speak or look round.

  He took Ben home to the farm then watched Miss Grace do the morning milking. He scrubbed buckets and pushed barrows. Learned how she liked her tea.

  The girl passed him again on his way back. This time she slowed to a walk. She looked like she was ready to be friendly.

  “How is your father?”

  Her English was clear but quite careful. She didn’t seem at all out of breath.

  “Dunno. Haven’t seen him yet.”

  “What has happened to him?”

  “A boat came down in the yard. Crushed him.”

  “That’s dreadful. Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did the boat come down on him? When was he there?”

  “Dunno. It’s where he works. The yard manager thought there could have been kids messing about. There was someone called 999 and there was a school blazer. Belongs to Ants Vandervelde. You don’t go to our school so you don’t know her. She’s trouble.”

  “When was this…accident?”

  “Friday. Evening sometime. He wasn’t back here when I arrived but I could have took a while.”

  Or his dad could already have been lying there, trapped, waiting for help. Wondering whether his son would think to come looking for him. Luke felt ill when he remembered how he’d been mucking about playing Land of Legends in the wood. So much for making his dad feel proud of him. He should have gone straight down the track and onto Lowestoft Lass. Then he should have started for the yard.

  “It must probably have been dark when it happened, else you’d have thought someone would have seen him.”

  The girl turned slightly and stopped in front of him so he had to stop as well.

  “That’s not enough,” she said. “We must know!”

  What did it matter to her?

  “Police’ll find out,” he suggested. “They gotta investigate for the insurance, Derek said, as well as to see if there’s prosecutions. They’ll check when the call was made and then they’ll go interview Ants. ’Spect they’ll talk to Dad too – when he’s well enough.”

  “Listen,” she said. “Will you discover the time of the fall please? It’s important for me.”

  He wanted to ask why but she ran on again.

  “Goodbye!” he called. “Nice meeting you.”

  She didn’t answer or glance round. The Dutch woman was standing at the Drie Vrouwen gangplank with her big arms on her broad hips. Her face looked red. He saw the girl sent below. Heard the mother shouting.

  Luke hid in the shower block. He hadn’t got his washing kit but if that was him getting yelled at, he’d rather other people hadn’t heard. Unless they were already his friends and he didn’t know whether he and this girl were friends or not. One minute she was all concerned about his dad and the next she didn’t even say goodbye.

  Maybe she wasn’t allowed to talk to boys. There were people who were funny about that. It was religions or something.

  Anna would know. But Anna wasn’t here.

  If he did jobs on deck until it was time to go to the hospital then he’d be doing helpful stuff for his dad – practical stuff – and if the girl’s mother came up he could say good morning. Maybe then he’d get a feeling if it was him that was the problem or if it was something between her and her daughter. And if the girl came up he wouldn’t say anything at all unless she spoke first.

  He didn’t like that mother. He just didn’t.

  So, what jobs could he do? Luke walked around. He checked the warps. Dodged down behind Lass’s high sides pretending she was a fortress and the gaps beneath were arrow slits. Crept down along one side and up the other knowing he was invisible. Wished Liam was here to set an ambush.


  No Liam this week. No dodging games. Those high sides were to stop fishermen being swep’over in rough seas. His dad had said.

  Luke found a brush and began to sweep the decks, same as he had Miss Grace’s barn. There were a few dead leaves blown down from the wood. Some of them had heaped up against something that had a few sacks over it.

  He moved just one.

  And then another.

  It was a kayak. It had been red and white once – more brownish-grey now – with the Scout Association symbol and a set of paddles. Luke forgot about the sweeping. He sat and stared. Tried not to dream.

  Miss Grace came with him to the hospital that first afternoon. She said the nurses might be funny about unaccompanied children till they got used to him. It turned out also that she’d brought a notebook and pen. She thought Bill might want to tell Luke about how things worked on Lowestoft Lass and, if he couldn’t talk easily, he might rather write them down.

  It was a good idea but, as it happened, Bill couldn’t write. He was white and shaky with the pain but he’d refused to have any morphine as he said it made his head go funny. He’d have it later, after they were gone.

  Even whispering seemed to make him get shiny with sweat but that was what he did. He whispered and Miss Grace wrote: all the instructions for turning on the gas cylinders and checking the bilge pumps and running the engine to charge up the battery – answers to questions that would never have occurred to Rev. Wendy to ask. Miss Grace read aloud as she went so Bill never had to whisper anything more than once.

  He kept stopping to tell Luke to tell Lottie not to worry. This was extra words and Luke could see how every word hurt. He wanted to help him think of something else.

  “I checked the warps, Dad, and they were okay and I swept a bit and I found a kayak…?”

  Bill nearly smiled.

  “F’you. Scouts were selling ‘em.”

  For him! His own boat! All the older ones had boats – racing boats, dinghies, Strong Winds – even Anna had Hirondelle somewhere. He didn’t think anyone had noticed how much he wanted a boat of his own.