‘You know, you never talk about the Watchers.’
‘Oh, that –’
‘Can you tell me a bit more?’
‘Why?’
‘It’s interesting.’
‘Is it? I think it’s a silly story.’
‘You didn’t think that before.’
‘I was only trying to wind you up.’
‘Were you?’
‘Sure.’
He reeled in his line and cast again. Gulls soared around them. I’m in his kingdom now, thought Gary suddenly. I’ll have to be careful what I say.
‘Go on. Tell me a bit more,’ he said persuasively.
‘There’s nothing much to tell. It’s an old story,’ Ted began scornfully. ‘Drowned people are meant to come back and watch the living. Dunno why.’
‘I see.’ Gary could think of nothing else to say but what he really wanted to say and couldn’t. Then he had a brilliant idea. What if he took a completely different approach. ‘Did you hear what happened? Someone tried to set light to Jackson’s Garage.’
‘Blimey – one of the superstitious brigade, I s’pose.’
‘Maybe. They clobbered me. I’ve been in hospital.’
‘Blimey,’ said Ted again. He seemed genuinely moved. ‘Were you hurt?’
Oh no, said Gary, to himself, I just went in for the fun of it. ‘Bump on the head.’
‘Did they keep you in?’
‘Just overnight – and all day yesterday.’
‘What happened?’
‘I heard someone moving about. When I got down there and into the garage they bashed me over the head.’
‘Did you see who it was?’ His voice was very steady and commanding.
‘No.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘I passed out. But whoever it was dragged me out to safety. Then they set fire to the garage.’
‘Was it burnt down?’
‘No. My dad put it out. He must have heard them dragging me out into the yard. There’s not much damage.’
‘Thank goodness for that. Sure you’re up to this?’
‘To fishing? Yes. The doctor said I was to get some fresh air.’
‘I’ve got you a rod.’
How did he know I was coming? wondered Gary.
As if reading his thoughts, Ted replied, ‘I was upset you didn’t turn up yesterday, so I thought you might come today. I hoped you would.’
Hence the rod, thought Gary. Well, it was a reasonable enough explanation. ‘Thanks.’
‘You’ve not sea-fished before, have you?’
‘No.’
‘Then I’ll show you.’
Kindly, but firmly authoritative, Ted spent the next hour showing Gary what to do while the sea remained slack and sultry below them. The heat rose and eventually Ted suggested a swim.
‘I haven’t brought any trunks.’
‘Neither have I. What does that matter? There’s no one around.’
‘OK then.’
They undressed behind the rock and then ran into the lapping sea. Instantly Gary forgot his self-consciousness for the water was wonderfully cool and liberating after the heat on the rock. They swam and dived and wallowed and luxuriated in the ocean that seemed unusually buoyant. Then they began to duck each other. As he went down for the second time, Gary was surprised to find how wiry and strong Ted was, with his quicksilver brown body and lustrous dark hair. Gary came up, struggling and laughing. But his laughter died when he saw the glint in Ted’s eye and realized that the mischievous smile had become fixed – too fixed.
‘Don’t,’ Gary gasped.
‘Why not?’
‘I’m out of breath.’
‘It’s only fun.’
‘No.’
‘Last one.’
‘No!’ He went under for the third time, plunging into a green luminous world of salt and shadow. Gary swallowed water, choked, fought, swallowed more and panicked totally as he gazed upwards at Ted’s hands holding him down, and felt his feet kicking against him. Please, prayed Gary. Please. Then he was released and he plunged upwards into an effervescent world of light and colour and sparkling sea and sun. But his tormentor was still there. His eyes, however, were kind and his grin was relaxed. Then it disappeared altogether, replaced by a look of guilty concern.
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK.’
‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
‘It’s OK.’ They trod water, staring anxiously at each other.
‘I should never have done that. After you’ve been in hospital.’
‘I’m OK,’ Gary repeated. ‘It’s all right.’ He turned and began to swim towards the shore, surprised at the distance they had come. As he swam, his gaze lifted to the cliffs – and then he stopped swimming. A young man was standing on the top, watching them. He was wearing exactly the same clothes as when Gary had seen him before. In Jackson’s Garage. In a dream. Or something. Oh, God, thought Gary, glancing behind him at Ted, but he was ploughing along, following him with a powerful crawl. When Gary looked up at the cliff-top again, the young man had disappeared.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I told you – I’m sorry about –’
‘It wasn’t that,’ said Gary.
‘Then what?’
‘Nothing.’ But he glanced up at the cliffs as he spoke.
‘You’ve seen something, haven’t you?’ snapped Ted.
‘No.’
‘What was it?’
‘I told you, nothing.’
‘You saw one of them.’
Gary stared at Ted, amazed at his anger, afraid to confide in him.
‘You saw a Watcher.’
‘You said you didn’t believe in them,’ Gary prevaricated.
‘I don’t.’
‘Then why –’
‘Admit it.’ Ted took a couple of threatening paces towards him.
‘I’ve got nothing to admit.’
‘Come on,’ Ted said at last. ‘Let’s see how you handle a rod – after all my expert instruction.’ His threatening manner had completely disappeared again and he laughed naturally.
As he followed Ted up to the rock, Gary was still shivering. He was worrying about that virus. Suppose it wasn’t a virus at all? Suppose Ted was mad?
But Ted had reverted to total normality and produced a superb picnic of pork pies, tiny little tomatoes, chunky ham and mustard sandwiches, great stacks of rich fruit-cake and home-made lemonade to finish off. It was, without doubt, the best picnic Gary had ever had.
‘Your mum’s a brilliant cook,’ he said appreciatively.
‘Yes,’ replied Ted, smiling. ‘She’s pretty good, isn’t she?’
They returned to fishing, sitting with their rods, waiting for a catch. Several times Gary cautiously cast a glance at the cliffs, and although he saw no one he had a sensation of being watched.
Towards half-past three clouds rolled over the sun and it became chilly.
‘I’m surprised no one else is around.’ Gary suddenly felt the need to talk, as a creeping sense of oppression came over him.
‘I told you – local fishermen won’t come here.’
‘Because of the Watchers?’
‘Suppose so – all the locals are so superstitious here. Anyway, it leaves the field clear, doesn’t it? For us.’
‘Yes.’
‘And not just for us.’
Gary froze, turned and then laughed in relief. Walking along the shoreline was Esmé.
Now that the cloud cover was creeping over the sun, the wind began to get up and the sea stirred, slapping on the beach at first and then beginning to lash at it. When Esmé came up to them she was looking puzzled and worried.
‘Where have you been?’ asked Ted in a jolly voice. He didn’t seem to notice how strange she looked. Gary stared at him; there was a sudden emptiness, not only in his voice but in his whole being. ‘Taking ca
re of the gulls?’ The same jollity was there.
She nodded vaguely. Gary thought she looked very disconcerted – and to disconcert Esmé was quite something.
‘I was up on the cliffs, looking down on you.’
‘One of the Watchers,’ joked Ted in the same empty way.
‘I was checking the gulls’ nests, making sure they were all right.’ Her voice faltered as she stood looking up at them on the rock. Again, Ted affected not to notice her distress and continued fishing.
‘What happened?’ asked Gary quietly, bringing his line in.
‘There was someone up there.’
‘Who?’ Gary’s voice was sharp.
‘He just appeared. He was wearing a leather jacket and jeans.’
‘He didn’t hurt you, or anything?’ rapped Gary. Still, Ted determinedly continued to fish.
‘No, he didn’t speak at all. He was looking down at you. Watching you. But it was very weird.’
‘Weird?’
‘He was wet through. It looked as if he’d been in the sea with his clothes on.’
‘Did you speak to him?’
‘I tried to. But he didn’t reply. He didn’t even turn round. I mean – he didn’t even know I was there.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘He just stopped watching and walked away. Ted –’ She appealed to him for the first time. ‘He was whistling.’
‘What tune?’ asked Gary rather stupidly.
‘“Bridge Over Troubled Water”.’
‘Then what?’
‘I lost sight of him. But I can’t think how.’ Her voice faltered. ‘It’s a straight path back to the road. You can’t miss anything. There aren’t any hidden bits. One moment he was there; next moment he wasn’t.’
‘Maybe he had a lie-down.’ Ted spoke lightly but there was a biting tension in his voice.
‘Oh, Ted –’
‘Gone for a kip in the bushes,’ he pursued.
‘No –’
‘Why not?’
‘Because there aren’t any bushes – it’s grass. Grass all around the path. There was nowhere for him to go.’
Gary glanced up at the cliffs and his gaze roved to the top of the chine. Somebody was coming down. Suddenly he was on his feet, jumping off the rock and running up the beach.
‘Where are you going?’ yelled Esmé.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ shouted Gary. ‘I won’t be long.’
Like a fixed sentinel, Ted continued fishing on his rock. But his lips were working and, despite the coolness of the wind, perspiration was streaming down his forehead.
Six
Gary ran across the shell beach towards the tumbled rocks that marked the beginning of the ascent. Beside him the sea seemed to glitter and glint, and although Gary was afraid, he was also deeply curious, for he had to know who was coming down the wooden steps that ran down the side of the chine. Momentarily he waited, and then, with sudden resolution, he began to climb, pausing every now and again to listen. But with the exception of the mounting wind and the pounding surf, there seemed a great stillness to the chine until he heard the sound of footsteps, light and agile. They were some way above him, but he could hear quick breathing and then the whistling, broken a little by shortness of breath. As the steps came tapping down towards him, he could make out the tune: ‘Like a Bridge Over Troubled Water …’
With a little terrified whimper, Gary turned and ran as fast as he could back down the steps, slipping and sliding, gasping and, as he came back to beach level, crying out, ‘Ted, Esmé. He’s coming. He’s coming.’
But instead of running towards the rock, Gary stood at the bottom of the steps, transfixed. The whistling and the footsteps were louder. Then he saw him. The young man. Yes, he was still wringing wet. Just as Esmé had seen him. The water was like a sheen upon him, almost a surface skin of dancing translucence. Spray seemed to sparkle from his face which was pale and expressionless. His eyes were cloudy, washed with water, drowned eyes that stared straight ahead. Clearly, he did not see Gary as he came past. Now there was no sound of footsteps at all, nor his shortness of breath, nor his whistling. In fact, he made no sound whatsoever. Gary stood stock-still, unable to move, as the young man passed him. He was more wraith-like now, more translucent as he ran – or drifted – towards the sea. But Gary could smell seaweed, salt, ocean spray as the insubstantial figure disappeared into the surf.
Slowly, Gary managed to reach Ted and Esmé. Ted was still unperturbedly fishing and Esmé was also sitting on the rock, now staring down the beach.
‘Did you see him?’ Gary asked.
She shook her head.
‘I saw him,’ said Gary quietly. ‘He was coming down the steps. Whistling that tune. He disappeared into the sea.’
‘What is he?’ asked Esmé slowly.
‘I don’t know. A ghost?’
‘A Watcher,’ she replied.
‘There’s more to it than that,’ said Gary. Suddenly he felt liberated, as if he had been given permission to speak. To confess.
‘What do you mean?’ said Esmé. She sounded guarded.
‘I’ve been having dreams. At least I think they’re dreams. I wake up in them.’
‘What happens?’ she asked, looking away, watching Ted, still unperturbed, still fishing.
‘I’m in the garage. Jackson’s Garage. Things happen. The polythene on the floor keeps going up and down, like there’s a wind or someone’s walking on it. There’s knocking at the steel shutter, and more recently’ – his voice cracked – ‘more recently that young bloke – he was at the door – and there was a baby crying.’ Gary was gabbling now. ‘And the other night there was this breakdown truck with a car which –’
‘Shut up,’ said Ted sharply.
‘Eh?’
‘I said – shut up. Now!’ His voice had an edge to it.
‘But I’m only explaining –’
‘You’re explaining nothing, Gary. You’ve been having bad dreams. That’s all.’
‘Esmé saw him.’
‘Sure.’ He was scoffing now.
‘Didn’t you, Esmé?’ Gary looked at her imploringly. But there was the most extraordinary change in her. Gary saw that Ted’s eyes were amused. Not amused – contemptuous. But there was something else there. Was it fear? And the change in Esmé. It was incredible. She had clammed up completely. She was also watching Ted very intently, and he was determinedly looking away from her.
‘Esmé?’
‘Maybe I fell asleep.’
‘What?’ Gary sounded scandalized. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said, maybe I fell asleep.’ Her voice was gathering confidence. ‘That must be it. I fell asleep.’
‘But I saw him. Just now,’ Gary yelled at her.
‘Don’t bully my sister,’ said Ted evenly. The two of them sat on the rock together, staring down at Gary. It was as if Ted had worked magic on her. Taken her over in some way.
‘I’m not bullying her. I’m trying to get her to tell the truth.’
‘You calling me a liar?’ asked Esmé sternly.
‘Yes. No.’ Gary was totally confused now. ‘You saw him. I saw him.’ He stared up at Ted. ‘You warned me about bad things in the first place. You must believe in all this too.’
‘You’ve got yourself in a state,’ was the cool, calm reply.
‘No.’
‘You’re all worked up over nothing,’ Ted added loftily.
‘Rubbish. How could Esmé and I have seen the same person?’
‘Easy. She dreamt it. You imagined it.’
‘I’ve seen him before,’ screeched Gary. ‘Esmé –’
‘Stop appealing to her.’
‘You saw him.’
‘I saw nothing,’ she replied steadily.
‘Esmé!’ Gary was almost screaming with frustration now.
‘Leave her alone.’
‘To hell with you. She saw him.’
‘If you don’t shut up, I’ll fix you.’
Without warning Ted jumped off the rock, his fists clenched. When he landed on the beach, Gary squared up to him.
‘Don’t fight,’ said Esmé. ‘Please don’t fight.’
‘Tell Ted you saw him,’ yelled Gary.
‘No. I didn’t see anything.’
‘All right – see if I care. You know about this, Ted. You know all about it. That’s why you tried to burn down the garage.’
‘What’s this rubbish now?’
‘It’s not rubbish. It’s the truth. I saw you.’
‘In a dream?’
‘For real, you pig.’ Gary flung himself at Ted and they went down on the shells and stones, rolling about, hitting and kicking at each other. The fight seemed to go on for ages, and the rolling and swearing continued until they were both totally exhausted. Eventually they twisted apart and lay on their backs, staring up at what was now a grey sky, their panting drowned by the roaring of the surf, the blood running down their faces – Ted’s from his lip and Gary’s from his nose.
‘You fools,’ yelled Esmé. ‘You stupid fools.’ She had jumped off the rock now and was standing over them. ‘You’re both so thick.’
‘Tell me,’ gasped Gary. ‘Tell me you saw him.’
‘I’m going,’ she said. ‘I’m just going.’ And she ran fast over the beach, the spray buffeting her, making her insubstantial in its mist.
Gary and Ted lay side by side without moving for a long time. The wind increased its strength and the waves lashed the beach in fury. Soon the whole shore was covered in spume. Then Ted pulled himself up on one elbow and turned sideways to Gary.
‘I’m sorry.’
Gary said nothing.
‘Really sorry. You’ve been in hospital –’
‘You said that before when you ducked me.’
‘That was in fun.’
‘And this?’
‘I lost my temper.’
‘There’s more to it than that,’ said Gary.
‘There really isn’t. But if you want to think so … I’m telling you now, Gary, I’m really sorry.’
Dead Man at the Door Page 5