The Mysterious Affair at Castaway House

by Lam, Stephanie

  ‘Here.’

  I jumped, as a handkerchief was thrust into my hands. Johnny Clark was beside me, and I cursed him for being there, even as the tears continued to fall.

  ‘It’s clean,’ he added, and so I took the handkerchief from him and blew my nose and dabbed my eyes and wished he’d go, but he stood there and waited until finally my tears dried and I was left with tired, gritty eyes.

  ‘I don’t want it back.’ He held his palm towards me. ‘Seriously.’

  I swallowed back the last of the sobs. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Nobody likes to see a damsel in distress, eh?’ He leaned on the rail a foot away and we remained like that, in silence, watching the sea crash against the sand. After a while he said, ‘D’you want me to – I dunno – get Star or something? You know, have a chat?’

  ‘No!’ I said frantically. ‘Please, don’t. I’m fine now. Honestly. It was nothing.’

  ‘All right, all right, keep your knickers on.’ He turned and leaned with his elbows against the rail. ‘Between you, me and the deep blue sea, eh?’

  ‘It’s just a – you know – time-of-the-month type thing.’

  ‘Ugh.’ He grimaced. ‘Here, this ain’t to get out of paying your rent, is it?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I croaked, my throat raw from sobbing. And then, a spasm of fear twisting my guts, ‘Oh, God, it’s today, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’ll be down this afternoon.’ He banged the rail with his palms. ‘With my little book.’

  Too late, I remembered I still owed the tin a pound. I had fourteen shillings in my purse, and that was it. ‘I’m six bob down,’ I said frantically.

  He shrugged. ‘Not my problem. Ask your flatmates for a loan.’

  I ran a hand through my hair. ‘I can’t. I mean … oh, Lord …’ I pictured Susan’s sneer. ‘Please, just give me until tomorrow. I’m paid daily. I’ll come up as soon as I’ve finished work, how about that?’

  Johnny narrowed his eyes at me and said, ‘I’m too bloody soft, that’s my problem.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. Thank you.’

  He jabbed a finger at me. ‘Before midday, okay?’

  ‘Yes, yes, absolutely. Before then, even.’ I sniffed, and stuffed the handkerchief up my sleeve. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘All right, don’t make a meal of it.’ He started walking to where Gaunt’s Cliff twisted to the left and climbed steeply upwards. I followed him as he swung around the street sign that marked the start of the hill. ‘You coming to our party on Thursday?’

  ‘Party?’ My stomach slithered uncomfortably. ‘What party?’

  ‘I thought Star would’ve told you. Yeah. We’re having a party at our flat. It’s gonna be ace. We’ll have some proper ska, and I got a mate coming with some party starters, and – oh yeah, you got to bring some booze. You should come.’

  I swallowed on my raw throat. ‘She didn’t invite me.’

  ‘So what? I’m inviting you now.’

  I rubbed a hand over my swollen eyes. ‘I suppose she doesn’t want me to come.’

  Johnny huffed. ‘What is it with you girls? You’re always so touchy. It’s like that other one she was mates with last year.’

  I peered at him. ‘What other one?’

  ‘Oh, some bird called Gill. I dunno, it was back when me and Star were all part of the same gang, before we got together, you know. Her and Gill, they were like best buddies, then they had some stupid row over nothing and off that one goes to London and Star’s all in tears over it.’

  We were approaching the top of the hill now; outside the Bella Vista, I saw a taxi pull up, its engine ticking as the driver got out to open the side door. I remembered my conversation with Star yesterday, and wondered if that row with Gill had had anything to do with the way Star had flared up at me. There was something there, some truth I wasn’t quite able to put my finger on.

  ‘I’m not touchy,’ I said. ‘And I’m coming to the party, okay?’

  ‘Ooh, Lady Muck.’ Johnny snorted. ‘Grace us with your presence, why don’t you.’

  ‘Shut up.’ I grinned anyway, and watched a plump woman in early old age climb out of the car with difficulty, leaning on a stick the driver was handing her.

  As we approached them on the opposite side of the road I said, ‘By the way, how d’you know what’s-his-name – you know, the boy who works on the dodgems at the fun park? I worked opposite him for weeks, only I never saw you then.’

  ‘I don’t know him,’ snapped Johnny. ‘Who told you I knew him?’

  ‘Nobody. I saw you when we were – when I was – oh, just now. I was going along the prom and I saw you. Chatting,’ I added, although that wasn’t exactly what I had seen – at least, not the second time.

  ‘What are you on about? I was just passing. He asked if I had a light.’ Johnny spoke rapidly, swallowing hard. ‘I mean, I know him. I know everyone. Adam, his name is.’

  ‘Adam, right, that’s it.’ I saw the woman across the road standing about imperiously as if she expected something dramatic to happen on her arrival.

  ‘He’s just … you know. Nobody special.’ Johnny clicked his neck left and right, as the woman waved at somebody in the doorway of the guest house.

  We crossed the road towards Castaway, and I saw Mrs Hale come down the steps and along the path to the pavement. As we drew level alongside the woman, I heard her say, ‘There you are, Maddie,’ and a half-acknowledged assumption gathered substance in my brain. The woman had that sort of blonde hair that never really greys, just fades away, and a mottled complexion. She was carrying a handbag with a garish brass clasp, and had a shawl thrown over one shoulder, fastened with an amber-coloured brooch.

  Mrs Hale handed the driver a note, murmuring, ‘Keep the change.’

  ‘Thanks, missus.’ He climbed back into his cab, and Mrs Hale turned to the woman and said, ‘Lizzie! I thought you weren’t ever going to come.’

  ‘Some people have things to do,’ said the woman coldly, and I breathed in with the full knowledge that this was her. This was the girl who’d signed her name as Robert Carver’s wife.

  As I hovered, Johnny said, ‘Yeah, well, tomorrow with the rent, all right?’

  I turned to him, as both Mrs Hale and her sister saw us beside them on the pavement. Johnny was already backing away, heading up the steps towards the house.

  ‘All right,’ I called after him. ‘I promise.’

  ‘Rosie!’ said Mrs Hale. ‘Let me introduce you. This is my sister … and … oh, Lizzie, this is one of our employees.’

  Lizzie looked at me as if I’d crawled out from under a stone. ‘Indeed,’ she said. ‘Well, if you don’t mind, Madeleine, I’d better get inside and see to Father. Heaven knows you’ve probably been leaving him to stew the entire morning.’

  She hobbled towards the house, leaning heavily on her stick. Mrs Hale watched her go with a stricken look and said, ‘Sorry, Rosie. My sister’s not been … very well. It affects her mood. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?’

  ‘Did she … ?’ I began, and Mrs Hale paused in her scurrying up the path. I wanted to ask about Lizzie and Robert, but I didn’t know how to put my question without seeming horribly rude and nosy. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said, and watched my boss follow her sister up the steps, attempting to lend her an arm and being shaken off irritably.

  I turned back to the house. Johnny had disappeared inside, leaving the front door swinging wide open. I was about to follow him when I happened to glance over into the basement area and saw Dockie hunched on the steps, wrapped in his coat, looking up at the porticoed entrance and muttering to himself.

  ‘Dockie!’ I called, my heart sinking a little as he turned his head and saw me. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Rosie. My dear, dear Rosie.’ He staggered to his feet and climbed the few steps back to ground level. ‘Thank you for saving my life.’

  He came towards me and clasped my hands in his own, too quickly for me to escape, although I noticed belatedly that the gr
ime around the nails was gone, and they were clipped clean and short. The nasty smell that had been surrounding him had also more or less lifted. ‘I owe you everything,’ he murmured, dropping his head, and I thought for one awful second he might be about to kiss my finger, as if I were the Pope.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said, horribly embarrassed. ‘Please don’t. It was nothing.’

  He continued to grip my hands. ‘You have brought me back to life,’ he said. ‘I arrived here with nothing. You contrived for me a room, and made me food, and bought for me the symbols of a civilized human being. Soap. Clean clothes. I am indebted, my dear. Indebted.’

  I understood from this that he had not yet noticed my purloined shoes still in his room. I really had to pick them up before he saw that he might not owe me exactly everything. ‘It’s the least anyone would do,’ I muttered, noticing he had yet to tidy up his shaggy beard, although it did seem to bristle with a cleanliness that I hadn’t noticed the day before.

  ‘Certainly it is not.’ He stood up straighter and tapped his head. ‘Your care, dear Rosie, has brought back clarity.’

  ‘It has?’ I wondered whether he’d drunk any of the tonic wine I’d provided. He certainly seemed in much more buoyant spirits than yesterday.

  ‘I woke in the night, you see, with a moment of absolute remembrance.’ He gestured to the house. ‘I dashed outside, and stood looking up, just as we are doing now, and I remembered it all, Rosie. I remembered it all.’

  ‘Oh, good.’ I wondered when I could politely leave him to it. I glanced around, looking for an escape route, and saw, in the distance, the unmistakable, long-legged gait of Star, making her way up the hill towards us. She hadn’t seen us yet, and as I watched her a confused tumble of emotions jostled for the upper floor of my mind.

  ‘I remembered Castaway House, and its significance,’ Dockie was saying, and I turned reluctantly away from Star. ‘You see, my dear, I realized that this place holds the key.’

  ‘Okay.’ I wondered if I’d missed something. ‘The key to what?’

  He tapped his chest. ‘The key to myself.’

  I heard Star’s footsteps approaching up the pavement, and, distracted by the sound of them, it took me several seconds to understand what Dockie was saying. When I did, I wished I’d paid him more attention. ‘What? Do you mean your memory came back? From all those years ago?’

  He nodded, his eyes gleaming. ‘Last night, I found the newspaper clippings, and the world was unlocked. They were in my boot. Can you believe that? In my left boot.’

  I could quite certainly believe it. ‘That’s wonderful,’ I said, his enthusiasm buoying me up, because surely this was more important than Harry’s insults or Star’s oddness.

  ‘I knew everything. Who I was, why I was here, and what Castaway House meant to me.’ He shrugged. ‘It was just a flash though. For a brilliant, electric moment, I understood it all. And then, almost as suddenly, it was gone.’

  The footsteps paused, and I knew Star was arriving.

  ‘What? You mean … ?’

  ‘But I knew it then. And if I knew it then, it will come again.’

  ‘Your memory went? You can’t remember any more?’ I said to Dockie. Behind me, I sensed Star hovering on the walkway, the magnet of her drawing me into her orbit. I tried to ignore her. ‘What about the newspaper clippings?’

  ‘Ah.’ He held up a finger. ‘I put them in a safe place. Unfortunately, I can no longer remember where that safe place is. But I shall find them again, never you worry.’

  ‘No, Dockie. No. We must find them. This is … this is terrible.’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ He grinned broadly. ‘I do not want an artificial aid. I want to remember properly, truly. This is why I have been sitting where you found me, waiting for the knowledge to strike inside me again.’

  The idea of this seemed so desperately sad I hardly knew what to say, although Dockie seemed enraptured. He looked back up at the house again, and jumped when Star said, ‘Sorry, can I just get past?’

  He stared at her, his face bulging with shock, and I turned. She was closer than I’d realized, and she smelled of something sweet: honeycomb, perhaps. I nodded at her politely and said, ‘I didn’t notice you there.’

  She smiled at me. ‘That’s all right. I’ll leave you both to it.’

  Dockie was making a sort of gurgling noise in his throat, and looking at Star with wild, mad eyes. ‘Clara,’ he whispered. ‘Clara.’

  ‘Eh?’ Star took a pace backwards.

  Dockie gripped my arm. ‘I …’ he began, and his beard quavered. ‘I must …’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I must think. I must think about Clara.’ He was panting hard, as if he’d been running. ‘Come with me, Rosie. Come and listen to me. Help me make sense of it all.’

  ‘All … all right.’ I glanced quickly at Star, who had her hands on her hips and a fascinated look on her face. ‘Where do you want to go?’

  ‘Anywhere.’ He peered up at the house and then let go of my arm. He walked down the steps on to the pavement. ‘Into town. Not here. I must make sense of the thing in my head. You will help me, won’t you, my dear?’

  ‘Of course. I …’ I looked again at Star.

  ‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ she said cheerfully. ‘You carry on.’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I just wanted to let you know how much I’m looking forward to your party on Thursday.’

  Her face slackened. ‘Uh?’

  ‘Yes, thanks for the invitation, seeing as we’re friends and all that.’

  ‘Rosie …’ She pulled a face. ‘Listen, can we talk?’

  I knew I ought to go with Dockie, I knew I ought not to give in to her, just as I always gave in, but I couldn’t help myself. ‘Wait for me,’ I called to him. ‘I’ll be two minutes.’

  He waved and turned so his back was against the stone wall that bordered the front garden of the house. Star was leaning against the railings that bordered the basement steps, and I followed her. ‘Well?’

  She shrugged. ‘Y’know, I thought you might not like it. The party, I mean.’

  I looked at her, took her in properly, the force of her presence over me now. ‘If you’ve got some … problem with me, just tell me, okay? But I can’t bear all this push-and-pull stuff. I’m not cut out for it.’

  ‘I don’t mean to be push and pull.’ She put out a hand and touched my shoulder, as she’d done yesterday in the hallway. ‘You’re my friend.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you invite me to the party? Are you embarrassed of me, is that what it is? Do you think I’ll show you up in front of all your friends?’

  ‘No,’ she said with a pout, but so vehemently I felt there was some truth there. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘I suppose I’m far too square for you.’ I shrugged. ‘Well, Johnny doesn’t think so, and he’s invited me, so I’m coming anyway.’

  ‘You’re not square.’ She let go of my shoulder and held on to the spikes of the basement railings. ‘I mean, you are a bit, but that doesn’t matter. I like it. I’m glad you’re coming. Honestly.’

  I put my hand around the spike beside hers. ‘Is this anything to do with Gill?’

  Her lashes closed once. ‘Gill was just a stupid cow.’

  ‘Well, I’m not her, okay? I mean, whatever sort of row you had … You can trust me.’

  Star shook her head. ‘You don’t understand.’ She stole a glance at me. ‘I didn’t want it to spoil things. The party – I didn’t want it to spoil our friendship.’

  I frowned at her; I had no idea if she was telling the truth or just saying it to get round me, just as she always did. ‘Don’t be silly. Of course it won’t. How could it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She inched a little finger over to mine. ‘I’m glad you’ll be there.’

  I linked our fingers on the warm metal of the railings, the black paint flaking under my grip. A shiver ran along my arm. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  Star looked over to where Doc
kie was still leaning against the wall, gesticulating to himself. ‘He’s a madman,’ she said. ‘Don’t go anywhere near him.’

  ‘He’s not.’ I peeled myself away from the railings. ‘He’s just a poor lost soul.’

  Star frowned. ‘Are you okay? You look as if you’ve been crying.’

  I shrugged. ‘Time of the month.’ She still looked concerned. ‘It wasn’t over your party, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s not the event of my life.’

  She grinned. ‘No. All right. Me and my ego.’ She took a step towards the path. ‘But listen, there is something funny about that chap.’

  I lowered my voice. ‘He’s had a brain injury.’

  She shrugged. ‘Either he’s completely mad or he’s one of those prophets – you know, dressed in rags and performing miracles – and we all ignore him until it’s too late.’

  I snorted and started to head towards Dockie. ‘I’ll see you later, okay?’

  I was almost out of reach when she grabbed my arm and whirled me back to face her. Her breath still had that sweet smell to it, and she looked down at me and said in a whisper, ‘He is, or otherwise how on earth did he know my real name?’

  ‘What?’

  She winked at me and then, on an impulse it seemed she could not control, reached forwards and touched my cheek. She traced my jawbone with a finger and then snatched her hand back, her eyes darting up at the house.

  ‘Bye,’ she whispered, and was gone, up the stairs to the main entrance and in through the front door.

  My face tingled where she’d touched it. ‘Clara …’ I murmured to myself.

  Dockie had moved to the pillars in front of the Bella Vista. Dr Feathers was sitting in the same chair in the window, with Lizzie opposite him. She was talking rapidly, but he appeared not to be listening. I raised my hand and he dazedly lifted his own hand in return.