by David Haynes
They both laughed.
“You better come up and see me.” Jack knew every bend on the road and he turned hard left into one, making the back end of the Minx twitch.
“Course I will but we’ve got the rest of the summer yet so don’t talk about it.”
He knew Pat was worried about him going away. They’d been inseparable for the last fifteen years and now that their contact was coming to a temporary pause, Pat wouldn’t talk about it. He probably didn’t want to think about it either.
He was right though, they did have the rest of the summer, the last couple of days anyway. Jack pushed down hard on the accelerator. Over Pat’s shoulder, jagged shards of amber bounced off the sea as the sun set on the last few days of the season. You could never leave a place like this, not for long.
Pat switched the radio on and The Stones were singing about Honky Tonk Women. He joined in with Mick Jagger and it was a toss-up as to who was the loudest. Pat liked music as long as he could shout along with it and The Stones were good for that. Mortimer’s Garage had fitted the radio at the cost of a week’s work with Joe but it was worth every penny.
“What’s the fastest we’ve got out of her?” Pat turned the radio down as Jagger rolled into Thunderclap Newman.
“I don’t know. Sixty maybe, seventy tops. She doesn’t like it much faster than that.”
Pat tapped the dashboard “Poor baby. Let’s see how fast you can really go.” He reached over and squeezed Jack’s leg, just above the knee.
His leg jerked off the pedal causing them to lurch violently. The car jerked to the left, nearly sending them into the dry stone wall.
“Shit!” Jack shouted and straightened the car. He turned his head. “You’re such a ...”
Pat’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Jack, watch out!”
Jack turned back to the road and in the same instant, he slammed his foot down on the brake and cranked the steering wheel as far to the right as it would go. A blurred vision of a scared but pretty face was framed in the dying light.
The back end of the Minx slid out to the left and for a split-second threatened to overtake the front end. Jack released the brake and then quickly stepped on it again bringing the car to an untidy halt across the middle of the road. The front end was partially in the hedge bottom, but at least it was greenery not stone.
He jumped out and ran the few steps toward the girl. “What the fuck are you doing walking in the middle of the road?”
“As good a place as any.” She was prettier than his first fleeting glimpse suggested. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulders and onto her backpack. In that light she looked like Raquel Welch. He could smell Juicy Fruit chewing gum on her breath.
“Well you nearly got us all killed.” It felt like his heart was beating a thousand times a minute. He looked back at the car. Pat was still climbing out.
She shrugged. “Sorry, I suppose.” She was continually touching a silver pendant which hung around her neck. She turned it over and over in her fingers.
“Hey, there’s no need for shouting. We can sort this. Take it easy Jackie-boy.” Pat strolled over like a film star. He was a good three inches taller than Jack and broader at the shoulders. He thought he looked like a young John Wayne. It was a shame nobody else did.
“Where you guys heading?” she asked.
“Wherever you want us to be,” Pat drawled and tipped an imaginary hat.
Jack sighed. “We’re in Cornwall, Pat, not California.”
“I’ve got some pot?” The girl offered it like it was currency.
“Well I’m Pat and this is Jack and that car over there is at your disposal.”
“And I’m Carol.” She held her hand out to each of them in turn. “If you’re going to St Ives I’d love a ride. We can smoke a joint on the way?” She hopped from foot to foot like she was agitated. It was unnerving.
Neither of them had ever smoked pot before. “It’s your lucky night, Carol.” Pat led her to the car. As he passed, he whispered to Jack, “And mine too I reckon.” In a louder voice he told Carol
“I’ll ride in the back with you and we can have that smoke.”
Jack watched them climb into the car. Pat had a way about him that girls seemed to find attractive. He, on the other hand, had struggled since the whole Susie Curnow experience. It had scarred him in more ways than one.
“Come on, mate,” Pat shouted out of the rear window. A cloud of smoke was already gathering about his head like a pillow. Jack loved the guy like a brother but sometimes he wished he would just take things a bit slower.
He strolled slowly over and climbed into the front seat. “I feel like a chauffeur.”
“St Ives please, James, and my friend Carol here would like to take a look at the lighthouse on the way so she can smoke this here marijuana.” Pat put on a fake posh accent and Carol laughed like she was already stoned. She probably was.
Jack pulled off the main road and drove down the track toward the lighthouse. They occasionally brought girls up here. Or rather Pat brought them. They were usually girls they’d met at one of the dances in the surrounding villages. The night typically ended with Pat taking the girl for a ‘walk’ down by the clifftop while he sat in the car and tried to think of something interesting to say to the other one. It was usually a blessed relief to see Pat come back up the slope fifteen minutes later, tucking his shirt in and combing his hair. Sometimes it was longer and sometimes the ‘walks’ were shorter but Pat usually tipped him a wink when he climbed back in the car.
Carol and Pat had barely drawn breath, they were talking so much. Pat could be a real charmer when he wanted to.
“You like that necklace don’t you?” Pat asked.
“Why d’you ask?
Jack looked in the mirror. She was still twisting it between her fingers.
“You just haven’t left it alone. What is it?” Pat reached over and tried to touch it but she slapped his hand before he got close. It made Jack smile. He wasn’t going to have it all his own way with her.
“Don’t touch it.” Her words were slightly slurred but her voice carried a threat.
Pat withdrew his hand and put it in his lap. “Sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to do nothing wrong. I just saw something pretty and I wanted to touch it.” He tried his American drawl routine again.
“We’ll see about that.” Her tone had softened again. She had boundaries and one of them was the pendant. Pat would probably try to test the other boundaries later.
The tyres crunched over the gravel and Jack brought the car to a stop. The lighthouse keeper wouldn’t bother them if they didn’t bother him, and it was clear from how much kissing was going on in the back that it wasn’t going to be an issue.
Jack coughed loudly and caught Pat’s eye in the mirror. “Be nice if you could show Carol the view from down there.” He didn’t want to sit here and listen to them going at it all night.
Pat winked back and turned to Carol. “Bring that joint and I’ll show you the constellations.” He was already out of the car and running around the other side to open the door for her.
Carol climbed out of the car as if she were scaling a mountain. As they passed, she leaned through the window and kissed Jack’s cheek. “You look like Steve McQueen.”
It was the best thing he’d ever heard. Their mouths were close enough for him to feel her breath on his lips. He could smell Juicy Fruit but he could also smell pot, and lots of it. She was stoned, definitely. Drunk, possibly. She wobbled off and took Pat’s outstretched hand.
“Pat! Just come here for a sec,” he shouted.
Pat kissed Carol for an age and walked slowly back. “What?”
“She’s stoned, man. Absolutely out of it. She hasn’t got a clue what’s going on. We should just take her to St Ives and leave her there. She’s...”
Pat interrupted. “She knows what she’s doing. She’s a big girl and she can make her own decisions. I’ll just show her the view and come right back up. Just chi
ll out.” He stretched across and turned the volume up on the radio. “Just listen to some tunes and we’ll be back before you know it.” He wandered off, doing some sort of ridiculous dance move.
Jack watched them go down the slope until they were out of view. He turned the radio off, lit a cigarette and opened the door. Nobody needed a radio here and you didn’t need beer or drugs either. You just needed to tune in to the sound of the waves hitting the rocks. There weren’t many better sounds than that.
At least he wouldn’t have to worry about trying to be interesting or making small talk. He could just sit here, and listen to the ocean. Pat didn’t know the first thing about constellations, but if he did then tonight would be a perfect one for showing off some knowledge. The sky was clear and the first few stars had come out in a sky that was turning from dark blue to black.
He stepped out of the car and inhaled. It was a rich smell, full of strength, full of beauty and full of danger. The lighthouse sent out its first beam of light into the encroaching darkness. Soon he wouldn’t have this on his doorstep. He’d taken it for granted for so long that, now he was on the verge of losing it, he found an appreciation that had been lacking for most of his life. He’d come back though. As soon as the course had finished, he’d be back here; drinking beer with Pat, listening to him shout his way through another verse of something by The Stones, and talking about how they were going to change the world.
He flicked his cigarette onto the gravel and ground his foot down on it. Tomorrow was going to be the last time he would be on the pots for a while. He was pleased Pat wouldn’t be there because he wanted it to be just his dad and him. They didn’t say much while they were out collecting the pots but they were together, and they were together as working men. That was enough. That was worth a million exchanged words. He felt a smile grow across his face. After Pat and Carol had finished watching the stars, or whatever else they were doing, he was going to drop her off at St Ives and drive straight back to the village. He didn’t want to be up late and he didn’t want to feel drunk or tired in the morning. He wanted to remember tomorrow for the rest of his life.
He looked at his hands. There wouldn’t be many other students with hands like these. The rough and weathered palms were a testament to how many years Dad had made him work for his upkeep. That wasn’t where his future lay though. No way. He was going to write books; hundreds of them. He was going to write about Cornwall, about the mines and the miners, about the boats and the fishermen. He was going to put all the stories Dad had ever told him onto paper.
He’d go and visit Mum on Sunday before he went. Dad would take some violets as usual and they would stand there in silence and stare at the headstone. It wasn’t true silence though because Jack would be talking to her, all the time he’d be talking to her inside his head. Dad did it too, he knew that because he’d seen his lips moving while they stood there.
He climbed back inside the car and closed his eyes. He was going to miss the sound of the waves more than anything else. But it wasn’t permanent. He just had to keep telling himself that. Dad hadn’t said much, he never did, but he was proud of him. He just had to picture the look on his face when the acceptance letter came through to know that. The image of his dad fighting back the tears was all he needed to see. “Your mum would be so proud,” he’d said and wrapped his arms around him. That was all he needed.
“Come on, we’re going.”
He came back to the now with a start. He hadn’t heard Pat climb into the car. He shuffled forward and rubbed his eyes. “Dropped off.”
“Looks like it. Come on.” Pat tapped the dashboard.
“Give me a moment.” He started the engine and looked over his shoulder. “Where’s Carol?”
“No idea.”
“What?”
Pat turned in his seat. “Jack, I don’t know where she went.” He emphasised each word and it came across as sarcasm.
“Well you better look for her then.” He did the same.
Pat turned away. “Fuck off.”
“What?”
“I said fuck off. I’m not going out there to look for her.”
Jack opened his car door. “I’ll go...”
He felt Pat’s hand on his arm. “I walked her to the path. She said she wanted to walk to St Ives by the light of the moon or some other hippy shit. I pointed her in the right direction and off she went. She’ll be halfway there by now.”
Jack turned and looked at his friend. Carol had probably spurned his advances, that was why he was so pissed off.
“She told you to get lost, didn’t she?”
Pat pulled a face. “Maybe.”
Jack laughed and closed the door. “Losing your touch a bit there, Patty?” He hated being called that.
“Just drive us home and shut your mouth.”
He flicked the lights on. “Some of that path isn’t safe. I’m not sure we should just leave her.”
“She was adamant. She wouldn’t be budged.”
“Not even when you tried to cop a feel?”
Pat turned and this time Jack saw a flash of something that jarred him. He had a fight with Pat once and he’d seen it then. They both ended up with blackened eyes and bloody noses that day, but Jack had been lucky that Joe had been there to break it up.
“Just drive the fuck home.”
Jack opened his mouth. If this was what pot did to someone, he wanted no part of it. He was going to say something sarcastic but the timing would have been all wrong. He revved the engine and reversed back along the path until he could turn.
They drove back to the village in silence and when Jack dropped him off, Pat said goodbye with a wave of his hand and nothing more. They might only have a few days of summer left but if it was going to be like this then it might be hard work. One thing was for sure, Pat was better on beer than he was on dope.
“Night, Pat,” he whispered to himself and drove away.
*
What time was it? Jack switched the lamp on and looked at his watch. It wasn’t even three o’clock. He rubbed his eyes and waited for whatever it was that had woken him up to happen again.
‘Chink.’ He knew what it was straight away. It was someone throwing a stone at his window and that someone would be Pat.
He opened the window, looked out and saw a dark shape in the garden beneath.
“It’s me,” Pat whispered.
“What do you want?” Had he come to apologise for his behaviour?
“I need to talk to you. Come down and open up.”
“Pat, it’ll wait for the morning. I’ve got be up in another hour or so. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He started to close the window.
“Jack! I need to talk to you.” His voice was more than a whisper now. Was he still high?
“Shut up, you’ll wake Dad. I’ll come down.” He closed the window and pulled on his jeans and t-shirt. He was too tired to be angry but that might change in the next ten minutes depending on what Pat said.
He crept down the stairs and opened the door. Before Pat said anything, Jack whispered “Just keep it down. Just say what you need to say and go.” If this was an apology, which wasn’t really needed, it would only take a few seconds.
Pat walked straight in but he didn’t sit down. “We’ve got to go back. Get your keys and let’s go.”
“Back where? What are you on about? Pat, you’re still high, just go back to bed. I’ll...”
Pat grabbed the neck of his t-shirt and pulled him forward. Their noses bumped together. “Pendeen, we need to get back to Pendeen and find her.”
Jack pulled away. “Carol? I thought you said...”
“Forget that, just get your keys and take me there.”
Tears started dribbling down Pat’s cheeks. The only time he’d ever seen Pat cry was when the kids at school teased him about finding his dad asleep in the gutters around the village.
“Okay, okay.” He tapped his pocket. The car keys were still in there. “Just give me a moment to put s
omething on my feet.”
This felt bad. It had felt bad to him when they were there last night but now with Pat crying, it felt like something terrible was about to happen. He drove slowly away from the house. Something inside told him he wouldn’t be back for four, to take the pots out with his dad.
“You better not be fucking me around, Pat.”
Pat was silent. He just stared at the road ahead.
They parked the car back up the road from the lighthouse at Pat’s insistence. It only added to the feeling of dread that was building quickly in Jack’s stomach. His guts felt like they did on the first bad day at sea with his dad.
A dew had formed on the grass bank and Pat half fell, half slid down it in his haste to get to the bottom. Jack followed but slower. There hadn’t been a conversation on the way or when they got here, just a barked order from Pat to stop the car.
Pat waited at the bottom of the bank. “Come on!” he hissed.
About ten feet beyond Pat were the rusted remains of two fence posts. The wire fence had long since gone but the posts remained. They were a warning marker about what was below; jagged rocks and waves that would smash you to bits in seconds.
Pat turned around the perimeter wall of the lighthouse and disappeared. There was a patch of overgrown grass that he liked to roll around with girls in just around the other side. It was discreet, especially at night.
Jack stopped briefly at the bottom of the bank. The wind was whipping up and down below. It sounded as if someone was trying to break the cover off a bass drum. Pat’s form was briefly illuminated by the flash of the lighthouse. He was standing like a statue staring at the ground, only his hair was moving in the wind.
Jack jogged toward him. “Pat, what is it?” He knew though, he knew what he was running toward.
Pat turned to him. His hair blew across his face and hid his expression. “I think she’s dead.”
Jack looked down. Carol was lying in the grass and her wide eyes flashed like beacons as the lighthouse beam hit her. He dropped down to his knees immediately and felt her neck. There was dried vomit on her cheek and throat but there was no pulse. He looked down at her body. Her short skirt was hitched up around her waist and he could see her knickers in the grass to the side.