Hummingbird

by Tristan Hughes

  As we rounded the first of the bigger islands and came in sight of the bay, Eva pulled her hand out of the water and took hold of mine. Her skin felt cold and clean, as if it had come up from the very bottom of the lake, from deep beyond the drop-off.

  ‘We don’t get to,’ she shouted at me over the noise of the engine.

  ‘Get to what?’

  ‘We don’t get to know why.’

  I could see the full curve of the bay and the rocky line of the headland and the grey bulk of the Toad. I could see our dock and my father and Judith standing on it. I could see all of it.

  ‘And that’s okay,’ Eva shouted. ‘It’s okay.’

  My father’s face was taut and pale, as though the sun of the long day hadn’t touched it. He reached down from the dock and offered me his hand. His arm looked like a piece of sailor’s rope, stringy and sinewy as though twined with hemp. His hand smelt like dish soap and polish. It wouldn’t let go of mine, even when I was safely on the dock.

  ‘I brought you out a sweater,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. It was still twenty something degrees out.

  Judith said what he must have been thinking.

  ‘Where were you?’ she said. ‘We were so worried.’

  ‘They got lost,’ Oskar said, not moving out of the boat. ‘But they’re here now.’ Eva was already up on the dock.

  ‘Your uncle’s been looking everywhere,’ Judith said to her. ‘He’s been frantic.’

  ‘He’s in the Burn,’ my father said. ‘The old Burn,’ he quickly added.

  ‘Can I take her there?’ I asked.

  ‘Sure,’ he said. He still hadn’t let go of my hand.

  As we were passing the cabin I stopped.

  ‘Wait here,’ I said and ran into it.

  In my bedroom I pushed everything off my dresser and opened it. The blanket was still wrapped around my mother’s sculptures. I peeled it away and looked at them. And then I grabbed the blanket and ran back out.

  ‘Here,’ I said, handing it to Eva. ‘I found this in the water. It’s got a sunrise on it – or a sunset. I’m not sure which.’

  ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘Under the water,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t matter where.’

  ‘Take it,’ I said. ‘It’s something for you.’

  Eva and I walked up the tracks towards the Burn. Beyond it you could still see thin lines of smoke rising up over Butterfly Creek.

  ‘He really burnt it?’ said Eva.

  ‘He really did,’ I said.

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘All of it.’

  ‘The crazy bastard,’ she said and smiled.

  Before we reached the Burn I looked back towards the bay. There wasn’t anyone on our dock anymore. Oskar had already taken off in his boat. I watched him round the Toad and disappear.

  We walked through the black square where Mrs Molson’s house had been, our shoes crunching over the charcoaled floor. Fireweed was sprouting through it. At the edge, where the back steps had been, the grass was returning. The smell of smoke from Lamar’s place was in the air and for a second I had a premonition – or not a premonition, not exactly, but a strong and sudden sense of afterwards; it was as if we were passing through what Lamar’s place would be one day; as though we were already in the future, walking through its ruins. Eva lit a green death and felt her blanket and we made our way along the finger of the Burn.

  Lamar was sitting on the boulder by the creek, below the blackened domes of the hills. He was staring into it. Without saying anything, Eva made her way down towards him and I stayed where I was. As she approached closer he lifted his head and was about to stand but I could see her gesture to him and so he stayed sitting. When she got there she sat beside him.

  And that’s where I left them. On the far bank of the creek I noticed the air was still and empty. The hummingbirds had gone.

  I’d meant to go straight back home to the cabin but when I came to the tracks I paused there for a while. I closed my eyes and then opened them quickly. The sun was getting low in the west and the surface of the bay was alive with its glittering light. And I remembered the train depositing the three of us at the lake and us standing here watching the caboose disappear around the bend and then that first turning of our heads to glimpse the lake’s waters. The light on that water – that was what I thought about then. And I think of it still. And if I have ever seen some small portion of eternity it was there and is there and will always be there.

  Acknowledgements

  I have incurred many debts in arriving at the point where Hummingbird could take flight. The research and writing of this novel was made possible with the support of an AHRC fellowship in the creative and performing arts. I would also like to thank my colleagues at Cardiff, Richard Gwyn, Shelagh Weekes, and Tim Rhys, for their friendship and many wise words about the art, and occasional travails, of writing. For helping to bring this book into the world I’d like to thank Richard and everyone at Parthian Books, as well as Veronique Baxter at David Higham Associates.

  None of my books would ever have been possible without the love and support of the Hughes clan in Wales - and this book is no different. I am also incredibly thankful to the Fotheringham clan in Canada, and to James Burns for showing me the wilderness ropes and where the geese hide.

  And finally, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Lisa Solomon (and Lenny) for making a wonderful and happy home for this book out at Eva Lake. It would not have been written without it. There were times afterwards when I doubted Hummingbird would find its wings and for restoring my confidence, and making me see it all as an adventure again, I am deeply grateful to Lisa Lucas for her generous, astute and unfailing encouragement. In both cases, I have been more fortunate than I could have ever hoped and am more thankful than I could ever express. Diolch o galon.

  Parthian, Cardigan SA43 1ED

  www.parthianbooks.com

  First published in 2017

  © Tristan Hughes 2017

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN e-pub: 9781912109593, mobi: 9781912109586

  Editor: Richard Davies

  Cover design by RJPHA

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.