The Shiver Stone

‘What about the Shiver Stone? You said we could go there. I’d rather do that. I’m not much of a swimmer.’

  ‘We can do that later. It’s not going anywhere. Let’s get to the beach first while it’s still hot. I’ll teach you to dive off the cliff.’

  ‘Cliff? Okay, I’ll get my hammer, it’s in my backpack in the caravan,’ he said.

  I looked at him like he’d gone mad. He explained on the way home.

  ‘Geology?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Like rocks and stuff?’

  ‘Yes. Carreg has got some unique folding.’

  I had no idea what ‘folding’ was and he drivelled on about something called anthracite and ammonoids. ‘The Shiver Stone is probably…’

  I was losing interest fast. ‘Don’t you get into trouble at school having your hair so long?’ I said to change the subject.

  ‘What? No. I mean I don’t go to school. Mum home schools me.’

  ‘Cool,’ I said.

  ‘Not always.’

  We made our way through the usual press of holidaymakers. It took a while – everyone wanted to pat Tia and say how cute she was. We were close to the caravan site that Jago and his mum had booked into.

  But, to get there, we had to go through one of the Troll Holes. And I hated them.

  The Troll Holes are really three tunnels between Carreg and Wiseman’s Bridge. They were dug out of the cliff ages ago to move trucks of coal. There’s loads of old mine workings around here. The tunnels are dark and damp and when I was only four, a ten-year-old neighbour thought it would be funny to scare the hell out of me. I can remember even now what he said…

  ‘They’re Troll Holes, Carys. Trolls are huge ugly things with claws and sharp teeth. They’re invisible. They hide in the Troll Holes until small kids come in and then they grab them and eat them.’

  Dad said I had nightmares for weeks. And now, stupid as it is, they still scare me. I always run through as fast as I can. That’s okay in the short one but in the longer ones you can’t see the light at the end and I’ve slipped over more than once. I hate them. I always go around the beach way if the tide is out, but I didn’t want Jago to know that.

  He wanted to go through the tunnels – thought they were cool. He rabbited on about the rock formation. He was so busy trying to tell me how metamorphic rocks were created, he didn’t see me hesitate before I plunged in.

  I picked up Tia and cuddled her to give me courage. Jago’s voice echoed off the cold stone. I held my breath and counted slowly to distract myself.

  At last we were out in the bright sunshine of Coppet Hall Beach.

  ‘I’ve done a lot of research on this place,’ Jago said. ‘Did you know that Coppet Hall comes from the words Coal Pit Hall?’

  ‘Course I did,’ I said.

  I didn’t. And, I thought maybe I should do a bit of research on Carreg. It was annoying having a stranger tell you things about your own home.

  Jago’s caravan was nice. The curtains were half closed, so it was cool and shaded inside. It had everything: little shower room, fridge, microwave, and a TV. They hadn’t had time to use it and their stuff was still packed. Jago rummaged through a blue backpack and pulled out a small hammer, goggles and some other bits and pieces.

  He arranged them neatly on the floor, naming them as he did. ‘Rock pick, collection bag…’

  I think he was trying to impress me. He didn’t.

  ‘Come on. Get your swimming costume and let’s get to the beach.’

  I’d slipped Tia off the lead and looked in the cupboards for a saucer or something to give her a drink of water.

  It was a while before I noticed that she wasn’t in the caravan anymore. The door was open and Tia was gone.

  I panicked. Raced outside into the heat and blinding light of the day.

  ‘Tia! Tia! Here, girl. Tia!’

  The caravan site was almost deserted; everyone was at the beach. I saw a couple with two small children trailing buckets and spades and ran towards them.

  ‘Have you seen a dog? A little dog?’

  They shook their heads.

  Jago ran in the other direction shouting for Tia at the top of his lungs.

  I climbed onto a hedge and scanned the site. White caravans stood in neat rows. Most of them with wet costumes and towels fluttering from the windows.

  I couldn’t see Tia anywhere. I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

  I bolted across Coppet Hall car park and headed for the tunnel. I could see Jago threading his way through people on the beach – searching and calling her name.

  Before I knew it I was in darkness. The cold stone chilled me like a shower of water. I pushed past people, ignoring angry comments. ‘A dog? Have you seen a little dog?’ My voice rang out in the damp vault of the tunnel.

  Then, in the arch of bright light at the far end, I saw a silhouette. Someone running, cradling something in their arms, a baby, or maybe a small dog?

  I rushed after her, out of the tunnel and into the sunshine.

  Tia heard my shout and immediately struggled so violently that the woman dropped her. Tia ran to me and leapt into my arms.

  Relief made me weak. I sank to the floor burying my face in Tia’s fur.

  The woman was watching me, a strange look on her face. ‘I just found her wandering around … I, um … thought I’d better take her to the police.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you so much, I thought we’d lost her. I don’t understand it, she’s never wandered off before. She’s usually quite clingy, like a little limpet.’ I knew I was gabbling but was so relieved I couldn’t stop.

  The woman didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile, she just stared. ‘Yes, well, I’d better get going.’ She blinked and pushed her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose.

  Again she gave me a strange look but just then Jago rushed up looking as happy as I felt.

  ‘You found her.’ He was gasping for breath and his long blonde hair was wet with sweat.

  ‘Well, it wasn’t me. It was this lady who…’

  But the woman was walking away towards Carreg. Walking fast.

  I shrugged. ‘Don’t ever do that to me again, Tia, will you?’ I stroked her soft head and she tucked her nose under my chin.

  Jago had her lead and he clipped it onto her collar. ‘We don’t want to lose you again, do we?’ he said.

  Tia licked his hand.

  ‘I thought for a minute there we’d have to tell my dad we’d lost his dog.’ Then he added quickly, ‘When he comes back.’

  I was beginning to wonder if Tristan was ever coming back.

  CHAPTER

  6

  We were nearly home before I realised that, for the first time ever, I’d run through a Troll Hole without being scared. I was pretty chuffed about that.

  We made tuna sandwiches and took one down to Dad in his shed. I told him about Hug Howells shouting at me.

  ‘Can’t believe it. Hug is as sweet as her honey. She might look like an all-in wrestler but I’ve always found her such a gentle soul. Hand me that glue?’

  I passed Dad the tube and he squirted a thin line along a piece of wood. He was making yet another birdhouse. I think he’s on a mission to give free homes to all the birds in Carreg.

  The shed was filled with the smell of clean wood and glue. Curls of shavings littered the floor and the air was thick with sawdust.

  ‘Well, Hug wasn’t sweet earlier, was she?’ I looked at Jago for backup and he shook his head.

  ‘Can we leave Tia with you for a while? We want to go to the beach.’

  ‘Sure. If you take the stuff out of that cardboard box and put something soft in it she can have a nap.’

  ‘You, um … you’d better keep her tied up if you’re going to be in and out of the shed.’

  Dad raised his eyebrows. ‘She might run off?’

  I shot Jago a warning look. I didn’t think it was a good idea to tell Dad we’d lost her once already. He might think Tia should have someone more respon
sible looking after her.

  ‘Just in case,’ I said.

  ‘She’d be better off in the flat but old Mrs Jenkins in number three is already sniffing around and complaining. I told her it was only for a day or two but…’ Dad said.

  ‘I know. I know. No dogs allowed in the flats. You keep telling me.’

  ‘Don’t think we can have her in the caravan when Mum comes out of hospital either. There’s a “no pets” sign by the entrance,’ Jago said. ‘Just wish my dad would come back…’ His head drooped and his long hair covered his face.

  On the way to the beach Jago suddenly decided we should go to the police and make a missing persons report.

  ‘And say what?’ I said. ‘That your dad has gone away for a day?’

  ‘It’s nearly two days now, and there’s that guy you told me about. The one who’s stalking him. I think Dad’s in real danger. Remember, he was covered in blood on the night he ran away from Bristol. Maybe there was a … a … murder or something.’

  I thought for a minute. The idea of murder had crossed my mind too, but stuff like that doesn’t happen to ordinary people – does it? It was more likely Tristan had been in some sort of fight or an accident. But then again, what did we really know about him? He was secretive…

  ‘Wouldn’t hurt to report him missing, I suppose,’ I agreed.

  The police officer at the desk didn’t look much older than us. He was skinny with sticky-up hair and an Adam’s apple the size of a walnut.

  He took our names and addresses, but when we told him what happened his forehead wrinkled. ‘One day? One day?’

  ‘He wouldn’t run off and leave his dog unless it was something serious,’ I said.

  Another police officer came out from an inner office. ‘Hello, you’re Dai Thomas’ daughter, aren’t you? Carys?’

  I nodded.

  ‘What can I do for you?’

  We told her the same story.

  ‘So you’re the son of our celebrity sculptor? I can see the likeness,’ she said to Jago.

  She turned to me. ‘Tell you what, I’ll give your dad a ring later and find out a bit more. You just leave it with me.’

  The young police officer turned to his boss. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down furiously. ‘One day, ma’am,’ he said, ‘he’s only been gone one day.’

  ‘I said leave this with me,’ she said, sternly.

  There was nothing else we could do so we left.

  We trudged through warm sand, dodging beach balls, running kids and people carrying ice creams from the van parked near the water’s edge. The sun shone bright and hot and the beach was crowded.

  ‘Keep going,’ I said. ‘When we get around that headland it’ll be much quieter and we should have the place to ourselves.’

  Jago grumbled, but it was worth the hike and the scramble up and over hot boulders.

  The entrance to the cave was dark and cool and the water-washed pebbles gleamed. It’s a secret place tucked into a corner of the cliffs and hidden from the main beach when the tide is in. The sea rushed and gushed and formed a deep gulley between the cave and the rocks.

  Directly above, the Shiver Stone stands, looking proudly out over Carmarthen Bay.

  Dad brought me here all the time when I was a small kid. It was our secret place. Not many visitors bothered to make the climb, not when they had lovely sandy beaches within easy reach.

  ‘Now, watch this,’ I said. I pulled off my t-shirt and shorts and kicked off my flip-flops. Adjusting the straps of my swimming costume, I took a deep breath and began to climb.

  Small flint stones dug into my feet as I clambered up to the ledge on the cliff below the Shiver Stone.

  A gull screeched a warning before launching off its perch into the clear blue sky. Below me the sea glittered in shades of green. A strong breeze whipped my hair around my face.

  ‘Can you see me?’ I hollered down to Jago.

  He waved, shielding his eyes from the sun with his other hand.

  ‘Ready?’

  As always, I heard Dad’s voice in my mind.

  Bend your knees.

  Extend your arms above your head, overlap your hands and lock your thumbs together.

  Keep your arms pressed tight against your ears.

  Bend at the waist.

  Jump!

  And with a shriek of, ‘Woooohoooo,’ I dived off the cliff.

  I felt the wild rush of air before…

  …the ice-cold impact of the sea.

  And then, the slice through and down into the silence and up again to bubble-burst through the surface into the warmth and noise and light.

  I laughed out loud and I swam in short, strong strokes to where Jago stood open mouthed on the rocks.

  ‘Awesome,’ he said.

  He looked funny in his red swimming trunks – too thin and too white. He’d threaded a shell into his long hair and I wasn’t sure if it looked cool or stupid so I didn’t mention it.

  I stumbled towards him across the pebbles. ‘Ow. Ouch. Ow! Take a video of me on your mobile, will you? I want to check something.’

  ‘I haven’t got a mobile.’

  ‘No mobile?’

  ‘They fry your brains.’

  ‘That’s what your dad says.’

  Jago smiled, and I could see he was pleased he had something in common with his father.

  ‘You look a lot like him, too,’ I added and the smile turned into a huge grin.

  ‘Here. Use my phone. Press this button to focus.’

  ‘You’re going to do it again?’

  ‘Yeah, I wasn’t too happy with my entry that time,’ I lied.

  The truth was I knew I was good. I was in the school diving team and had competed for Pembrokeshire. I’d won a load of trophies and medals too. Yes, I knew I was good and I liked people to see just how good.

  Jago videoed my next three dives but he was getting bored. The funny little hammer came out and he put on the goggles which made him look a real nerd.

  I wondered what my friend, Becca, would make of him.

  He tapped at the cliff face and mumbled geology words I’d never heard of.

  I lay on my towel on a flat boulder to dry off and doze in the sun. I closed my eyes. I was tired from lack of sleep the night before and the gentle drag and pull of pebbles and sea was such a relaxing sound.

  ‘Did you know it was my dad?’

  ‘What?’

  Jago’s shadow blocked out the sun. I flicked my hand at him to tell him to move aside.

  ‘The sculptures on the beach thing?’

  I sat up. ‘Oh that. No, not at first. He was my first guess obviously, being a sculptor – he was everyone’s first guess. But he said it was nothing to do with him and he had better things to do than play silly pranks. He’s a good liar. Oh, no offence.’

  Jago shrugged.

  ‘So you just decided you’d sneak out in the middle of the night and catch The Stone Man. Is that what they called him?

  ‘That’s what the papers called him. I preferred The Phantom Sculptor.’ I laughed, lay back down and closed my eyes.

  ‘So, what, it started off in the local newspapers…?’

  I sighed and sat up. I wasn’t going to get a nap, that was obvious.

  ‘It started one morning when someone noticed a pile of stones arranged like a tower on the beach. It started simple but got more complicated and more amazing. All sorts of things made out of stones and pebbles and bits of driftwood. They were awesome. Look. I’ve got pictures on my phone.’

  I passed my mobile and showed him how to scroll through.

  He shielded the screen and took his time looking at every one.

  I rubbed more sunscreen on and lay down again.

  Eventually Jago handed the phone back to me. ‘It was a pretty cool thing to do, wasn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘Yes. And your mum saw my video? And the bit on telly where they identified him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I thought for a minute. ‘Do
you think that’s where this Kemble Sykes saw him too?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Something else had been going around in my mind. ‘Do you know what Vulpes Vulpes means?’

  He shook his head and the shell in his hair swung round and hit him in the teeth. It must have hurt but he pretended not to notice.

  ‘It’s tattooed on your dad’s arm. The weird thing is it’s tattooed on Kemble Sykes’ arm too. It must be a secret club or something. Your dad wouldn’t tell me what it meant when I asked him.’

  Jago shook his head again. This time he’d grabbed hold of the shell in his hair so it wouldn’t swing round and hit him in the face.

  ‘Okay, one more dive,’ I said.

  Jago sighed. ‘Do you want me to video you again?’

  ‘Course.’

  He held my phone up towards the cliff, squinting through the viewer.

  ‘She’s still there,’ he said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Some woman. She’s behind that boulder. She’s been watching us with binoculars.’

  I had no objections to an audience.

  ‘This dive will be the best one yet,’ I said.

  The breeze was stronger and it stole the heat out of the day. A cloud passed across the sun and I shivered. I took a deep breath and stood still and tall, my feet inching off the ledge.

  I stared out at the sea, focused and went through the motions in my head.

  Bend your knees.

  Extend your arms...

  But this time, as I jumped, I felt my ankle twist beneath me. I struggled in mid-air, trying to straighten my body, but the water came up too fast.

  I felt my legs arch to the left and then the hard smack and sting of pain as I entered the water. Instead of a neat splash the water crashed around me.

  When I surfaced this time I wasn’t smiling.

  Jago was.

  ‘That was rubbish,’ he said, handing me my towel.

  ‘I slipped.’

  ‘Yeah, well, still rubbish.’

  My ankle hurt where it had twisted and my legs were red and burning. It was a rubbish dive and I was angry with myself.

  ‘Like to see you do better.’ I pushed him once, hard. He tumbled off the rocks, slipping and sliding on the seaweed and, with a cry, fell headlong into the deep gulley of water.

  He came up struggling and thrashing and trying to shout something, but a wave splashed into his mouth and he went under again.