"She's not kidding," Simon chimed in. "She's even learning to steer a boat, you know. Think she might have webbed feet if you look close."
"Cool," John said. "Really? A boat?"
"Yeah," she said. "Just Uncle Davey's fishing boat. He doesn't let me take it out on my own or anything, but when we're out into the open sea he lets me steer. Be useful one day, with what I want to do."
"Fancy a walk up to Hob's Hole?" Simon said. "I won't tell it you were taking the mick. Good idea to do it now, while we can."
"Yeah, sounds good," John said. "Today's been brilliant." Immediately he wondered whether it was too much, too clingy. He risked a glance at Sal, but she was staring out at the water, giving nothing away. "What do you mean, while we can?"
"Tide comes in, this is all cut off. High tide, it's nearly up to the bottom of the cliff, see, there's the high water mark. Besides, you can't get round the headland there, tides come in fast, cuts this beach off, it's drummed into us from when we were little kids, the water comes in faster than you ever think. 'Course, the Hole's just a dark hole in the cliff, with a dark hole in the ground, so there isn't much to see, but it still beats Sal and her rubbish for interest."
They walked away up the beach, towards the dark hollow in the cliffs. Boulders surrounded the bottom of the gap, as if they were on guard. As they walked John saw a figure high on the cliffs, silhouetted black against the blue of the sky, standing completely still. He was probably looking out to sea, but John felt as if he was staring down at them.
"Better not be too long," Sal said, and jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards the sea. John and Simon stopped and looked round. Dark clouds were rolling in, turning the water from blue to slate grey, racing the waves to see which could reach the shore first. "Half hour or so and it's going to be chucking it down." When they turned back to hurry on, the figure on the cliffs had gone.
“Was out walking,” John said. “Last night. And there was this weird old man. Wanted to talk to me, but no way did I want to stay and talk to him, something creepy about him. Is there anyone who hangs about like that?”
“Few who’ll talk to you about the old days until you think your brains going to fall out with boredom,” Simon said. “All harmless though.”
“Could be a tourist,” Sal said. “Some of them are a bit weird, like.”
“No, I think he lives here,” John said. “Doesn’t matter, not a problem. Just wondered.”
The pebbles on the beach turned to rocks, and then the rocks turned into boulders, a massive downpour of stone from where the cliffs parted.
"Here it is," Simon said. "Best not mention you've been here, mind. We're not supposed to go in."
John turned to him, amazed. "You don't mean—I mean, do your mum and dad really think?"
"Just Mum," Simon said, "Dad's out there," and he pointed out towards the sea. "And what do you mean? Think what?"
"That you shouldn't go in. Because of, I dunno. Because of the Hob."
Simon and Sal laughed, but it seemed strained, and John wondered what he was missing, what it was he had said that had changed the atmosphere so much.
"It's not because of the Hob," Sal said. "It's because there's a bloody great hole in the floor of the cave, drop a stone in it and you can hardly hear it touch bottom. No-one wants their kids dropping down and not being found for ever and ever. Even when that kid is Simon."
Simon stuck his tongue out at his sister. John felt stupid for having misunderstood, and tried to change the subject.
"When you said your dad's out at sea," he said, "is he in the navy? Or working on the rigs? My cousin Jeff's dad—"
"No, he's not," Simon said, in a flat voice that didn't sound like him at all. "He's just out there. He was a fisherman, Dad. Boat went over four years back. Him and two others. Lifeboat went out but the weather was terrible, time they reached the boat there was nothing but sea and an empty boat, upside down."
"Oh Simon, Sal, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said..."
"All right. You weren't to know. Anyway, you want to see Hob's Hole, let's get on with it before the rain comes in." Simon began climbing up over the boulders and into the cave. John looked across at Sal, but again she was just standing staring out at the sea and the gathering clouds. John cursed himself for having spoken at all, cursed himself for destroying the mood, and followed Simon into the mouth of the cave. It was smaller than John had expected, and very dark inside. The air smelt of cold and damp.
"Hard without a torch," Simon said. "Never thought to bring one along. Like I say, we're not supposed to go in. Come on though, I'll show you. Stick by me. Once you get in we'll wait a moment, your eyes'll get used to the dark, there should be enough light coming in, just about. There’s floor to the cave for about nine or ten steps, then the Hole itself, at the back of the cave. You don’t want to fall into that. The Hole doesn’t go right to the back, there’s a ledge round it, you can actually walk all the way round. If you’re careful, like.”
They ducked and clambered into the cave. John lifted a hand above his head, trailing the cold rock, not wanting to embarrass himself even more by cracking his skull open. But a pace or two into the cave and there was nothing above his fingers, and he straightened up. Simon put his hand on John's arm.
"Wait here."
John felt Sal squeeze through behind him. They stood in silence for a moment. Somewhere in the darkness of the cave John could hear a slow drip, drip, drip, and right at the limit of hearing he thought that he could hear a distant roaring. It must be the sea, he thought, the sound coming into the cave from somewhere deep below, salt water surging under the earth. Gradually his eyes adjusted, and he could see more of the cave. It wasn't very deep, it just arched above his head and then a couple of metres further forward sloped down again.
At the far side was an inky blackness, that seemed to move in the half-light, contracting like the pupil of an eye. Simon held his arm and they shuffled across the floor of the cave. They stopped a couple of steps away from the edge of the hole. The excitement of the adventure had worn off by now, and the cold of the rock reminded John of the chill in the old man's voice. He had intended to drop a stone down into the hole, listening to it bounce and clatter off the walls, but then he thought of Lord of the Rings and he thought of waking things that should be left asleep, and he did not stoop to pick up a stone. Stupid, he thought to himself. Stupid. But still he did not pick up a stone.
"Imagine bringing your kid in here," Simon said, "thinking that there's something living down there, bottom of the hole, having to walk round there, holding your kiddie, trying not to fall in, and asking for the Hob to save the child's life. Imagine that." He held up his mobile, pressed a key, and the cold white light of its screen light shone out over the back of the cave.
John looked at the narrow strip of rock that ran between the back of the hole and the wall of the cave. It did not look broad enough to walk along in safety. He tried to imagine setting foot on the thin, crumbling line of rock, and then taking a step, and another step, the walls lit by the flickering flames of a candle, the hole dark and dropping down beyond sight, with something at the bottom, something that could cure but that at the same time was terrifying, because it was something from beyond every day life.
"Looks scary," he said.
"It is," Simon said, "I’ve done it. Brings you luck, see. Hob grants you his favour, keeps bad luck and evil things away."
"Si!" Sal did not sound pleased.
"Aw, come on Sal," he said, going on the defensive. "Everyone’s done it, once. Way of proving things. Can’t back down in front of the lads."
Sal laughed, and it was full of contempt. "The lads? What, you mean your gormless friends? Not surprised they’re not afraid to walk around the Hole, if they fell down all they’d need to do is make sure that they landed on their heads and then nothing important would get hurt."
John didn’t want them to argue, so he tried to lighten things up. "You never walked round it then Sal?" he asked.
"Let’s get back to the village," Sal said, still not looking at them. "See if we can beat the rain."
They turned to shuffle back out of the cave, and then stopped. Standing at the mouth of the cave was a dark shape, watching them, waiting for them.
Chapter Six
The three of them froze, as if they were statues made from the stone around them. Then the shadow laughed, and spoke.
"Think I was the Hob eh, come to throw you down the hole? Or just scared because you know little boys and girls shouldn't be playing in there. Never know what might happen."
"Greg," Simon said, with a voice full of resignation.
"He's right sharp your brother," the voice said. "And here was me, thinking he was stupid. Walking around the hole, are you? Never bothered, meself, don't need fairy tales, I make me own luck. So who's this other little brat then, Sal? Thought I knew all of Simple Simon's idiot friends."
"He's our friend," she said, scrambling out into the daylight. "He's called John." John and Simon followed her, Simon muttering under his breath.
John blinked in the sunlight. It was the boy he'd first seen at the bus stop, the boy who had sent Simon cycling away in such a hurry.
"What you looking at?"
"No—nothing," John said.
"No—nothing. What's that? Doesn't even make sense. Not from round here, are you. Don't stare at me. I don't like people staring at me."
"Okay." John looked away.
"All right Sal?" Greg said, and his voice softened. "What you hanging around with these kids for?"
Sal stared back at Greg. "Because I want to, and I do what I want."
He shook his head. "Wasting your time. Should hang out with me, have some fun. What did you say?" This to Simon, who had muttered something under his breath.
"Nothing."
Greg took two quick steps forward, and pushed Simon back against the rock.
"What did you say?" Greg's voice had dropped now, darkened like the sky, and John again thought of Parker, and he thought, not again, I don't want to be that boy again, I don't want to walk away again.
So he stepped forward, and said, "He didn't say anything. Leave him alone." Simon shook his head, and Greg dropped him and grabbed John by the ear, twisting, lifting.
"Did I say talk? Did I? Did I say talk? Well until I—hey!" He dropped John now and stepped back, rubbing the back of his leg. Sal stood there.
"Leave off them," she said. "Or I'll kick you worse than in the leg."
For a moment the four stood still. Rain started to fall, big splashing wet drops at first, and then it thickened and the air was full of moving water. John thought that Greg was going to hit Sal, and his head filled with plans to dive at the boy's legs in a rugby tackle, to push him off the ledge, to do something, anything. But then Greg shook his head, and laughed.
"I like you, Sal Tinnion," he said. "You've got bottle. Not like these two."
Sal said nothing, just stared off into space.
"You come out with me one day? Might make me learn how to put up with him and his ugly friend." Greg gestured towards Simon. "Leave 'em alone, like."
"No way Sal," Simon said. "That's blackmail. I'll—"
"Leave it, Si," she said. "Maybe. I'll think about it."
"Sal!" Simon said, "No way—"
Greg took a step forward, and Sal raised her hand. "I said I'd think about it. So I'll think about it. Now I want to get home, out of the rain."
Greg nodded, then held his hand out, gesturing down the beach, you first. As she clambered down, he walked past Simon and John, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Then, for a moment, just before Sal reached the beach and turned round, the smile dropped from his face and he pointed a stubby finger at each of them in turn, right in their faces.
"I'll be seeing you around," he said, in a low voice, and then he walked off along the beach, away in the other direction from the village, brushing close past Sal even though there was plenty of room to walk round her. The boys stood in the cave mouth and watched him swagger along the beach, and then they climbed down and met Sal.
"Sal, you can't. I don't care how much hassle he gives me, you just can't."
"Leave it, Simon."
"I mean it!" The boy was at that point between anger and tears. "Don't you dare, Sal. Not him."
"I said leave it!" Now Sal was as angry as Simon, and John just wished that he were somewhere else, not in the middle of a row between brother and sister. Then Sal looked at him, remembered he was there, and Simon followed her gaze and then looked down at the ground, embarrassed.
"Don't worry," Sal said, and started to pick her way back through the boulders, heading towards the village. John and Simon stood there for a moment, rain splashing off their faces. John felt that he ought to say something, but he could not think what. Simon looked as if he were thinking the same thing.
"Ugly one, him," John said. "Reckon he'd frighten the Hob on a dark night," and Simon grinned and it broke the tension, and they went trooping off after Sal, soaked to the skin. They didn't say much on the way back to the village, just walked on together with heads bowed so that the rain did not hit them full on their faces, but all the same it soaked their hair and it ran cold fingers down the backs of their necks and dripped off noses and rattled and spattered all around them on the rocks.
When they reached the village they came to a halt.
"You around in the next couple of days?" Simon asked.
"Someone’s calling you," Sal interrupted.
"Me?" Simon said.
"No, John. Did you not hear it? Someone calling for you."
"Oh, probably my sister. She must have seen us, shouted."
"Well where is she then?" Simon said. "Thought she’d be in the shop."
"No, wasn’t your sister," Sal said. "Was a man’s voice. Didn’t recognise it, hard to hear properly, sounded kind of distant."
"I don’t know any men here," John said, and his voice sounded thin and unconvincing. He blinked twice, took a breath, trying not to let Laura or Simon see that he was shaken up.
"Must have been calling another John then."
"Was probably just a seagull," Simon said, standing up tall so that he could pat his sister on the head.
"Better get off," John said. "Head back to my sister's or she'll be thinking that I've fallen off a cliff or something."
"Yeah, townie like you, surprised you haven't."
"If he did, you'd probably fall off a second after him," Sal said.
"Pfft, I'm a natural, amazing sense of balance," Simon said. "Anyway yeah, we'll get back to ours and get dry and have something to eat. You around in the next couple of days?"
"Think so. Nothing planned. Laura said she was going to take me through to Whitby for a day, sometime, but I dunno when."
"Wow, see the sights." Simon rolled his eyes.
"Whitby's cool," Sal said. "You enjoy it and don't listen to him."
"S'all right," Simon said. "But it is only Whitby, it's not like it's London or anything."
"Like you'd know Si, you've never been there."
"All right Sal, don't start, I'm just saying, that's all. Anyway, when you're not seeing the sights in Whitby, we'll see you around, yeah? Call for you, or you come round and give us a knock. I'll have a word with Uncle Davey, see if he'll take us out on the boat."
"On the boat? Cool."
"Don't get too excited, it's small, it's made of wood and it stinks of fish and Uncle Davey's pipe, dunno which is worse. But it'll be a laugh. Anyway, I'm off out the bloody rain. You two can stand here all day if you like."
John raised a hand as the two walked away, and stood there for a moment, watching them go. He felt accepted, liked, and it cast a glow over the entire day and he didn't notice the
rain falling any more. Then, just before the two figures turned the corner, he thought of something.
"Hey!"
They stopped, turned.
"I can't call for you if I don't know where you live."
"Hob's Hole," Simon shouted. Sal cuffed him round the head. "Ow."
"Beckett Street," Sal said. "Number fifteen, can't miss it, you can smell the stink of Simon's trainers from the street." This time he tried to take a swipe at his sister but she had already moved, sprinting off around the corner. Simon shook his head, lifted a hand in salute, and then he too was gone.
John’s mobile rang, startling him. I should change that ringtone, he thought, as he fumbled for it in his pocket. Don’t know why I chose it. But then I always think that, about a week after I’ve got a new one. He checked the screen, expecting to see the caller ID photo of his mum and dad, a picture of them half-drunk, wearing paper hats from Christmas crackers, happy. Or if not them, Laura. But there was no photo, just Caller Not Known. He pressed the button.
“Hello?” he said.
No-one spoke.
“Hello?” John said again. “If you’re talking, I can’t hear you. Hello?”
He thought for a moment he could hear the sound of the sea. No-one spoke. John shrugged, ended the call. If it was important, they would ring back. He thought of phoning his mum and dad, letting them know that he was all right, was even having some fun. But the phone now showed no signal, so he stuffed it back into his pocket and walked back to his sister's house. Laura was still at the shop, so he turned the hot water on, read for a while, and then submerged himself in a deep hot bath, washing the cold of the rain from his bones, thinking about the day.
The next few weeks were looking as if they'd be a lot more enjoyable than he'd thought only twenty-four hours earlier. The old man seemed like a character from a book he had read, rather than something that had really happened. The threat from Greg was far more real, far easier to understand, far more in keeping with John's experience. He wondered whether Sal would go out with Greg for Simon's sake. Surely she wouldn't. He couldn't see her and Greg having a thing in common, and he knew that Simon would be furious. But the Gregs and the Parkers never stopped, he thought, they just kept on pressing for what they wanted, because in the end they always got it. And that included the girls. Even the ones you'd think wouldn't go near them, they seemed drawn like moths to a flame. He wondered if it would be the same with Sal.
Sea Change Page 5