by Tim Jeal
Andrea introduced herself and they shook hands. Had this quietly spoken woman really had the nerve to rebuke Sally for her way of life? As Andrea was leaving the church, she spotted a rusty metal object fixed onto a pillar, and described beneath as ‘A Gudgeon from the wreck of HMS Anson, in which perished 208 souls on 14th May 1784.’ The way in which Leo popped into her thoughts like a surfacing cork made her wonder whether she ought to drive to the sailing club after all.
*
An easterly wind was blowing directly upstream from the sea, giving the boys a hard time as they tacked to the naval flotilla’s anchorage. But Leo still enjoyed hearing the strange plopping noises inside the centre-plate casing. With the boat heeling steeply, he asked Justin to sit up on the gunwale, which he did grudgingly.
Shortly before his father had fallen ill, Leo had been taken sailing by him, and, though only nine at the time, had learned a great deal. But it was one thing to know the theory and quite another to carry it out in practice. Crucially, Leo did not know how the boat should ‘feel’. So, a vital consideration, such as how far he could safely allow her to heel over before spilling wind or heading up, worried him whenever they were tacking.
While Leo was puzzling over what to do, Justin trailed his fingers in the water as if bored to death. This added insult to injury, since Leo was already irritated with him for insisting that they look at the warships. Leo would himself have preferred to land on a beach and laze about.
‘Ready about!’ shouted Leo, pushing the tiller across, but neglecting to say, ‘Lee ’o!’, since this traditional nautical announcement had already caused Justin too much amusement. ‘Leo says “Leo” because he loves his name. Leo says “Leo” because he’s fou.’
On the new tack, they would surely manage to get round the next tree-covered point. Then they would be able to see whatever beastly grey ships were behind it, and then, with luck, forget the navy for the rest of their sail.
‘The gunboat’s back again,’ cried Justin triumphantly. ‘It must have done something in the night.’
‘A big job?’ suggested Leo. ‘Yuk!’
‘God, you’re an infant.’
‘You too. I’m going to go about before we reach them.’
‘No,’ screeched Justin. ‘I want to get as close as we can.’
‘No point. I can see from here that the two smaller boats aren’t there.’ Leo grinned. ‘Maybe they did a big job too, and are going to do another tonight.’ Justin gave him one of his pitying looks. Leo said briskly, ‘All right, ready about.’ But before he could push the tiller across, Justin had grabbed his hand.
‘We’re going closer.’
As they struggled together, the mainsheet slipped from Leo’s hand, causing the dinghy to lose momentum and start drifting with the tide onto the gunboat’s buoy. ‘Let go of me,’ pleaded Leo, still struggling.
They hit the metal cylinder with a dull clang that must have been heard all over the ship. Justin grabbed the ring on the buoy to stop them bumping along the gunboat’s side, but his fingers lost their grip.
A sailor appeared on the foredeck high above them and shouted, ‘Fend off, you sprogs!’
Another leant down with a boathook and jabbed at them at intervals until they had slipped astern. Even when they were well clear, Leo wanted to scream his anger and humiliation at Justin. ‘What idiots we looked.’
‘Who cares? I spotted the perfect place to get aboard.’
‘That little ladder thing? They won’t leave that out at night.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘I jolly well won’t see,’ cried Leo.
Lacking the heart to go on sailing, Leo headed for the club. He was distressed that the boat hook had dented the dinghy’s gunwale, splintering the wood.
‘Let me have a go at steering,’ demanded Justin. With the wind behind them, they were going much faster, without heeling.
Leo stared up at the mainsail, as if he had not heard the request. He was trying to remember what his father had told him about avoiding gybes. Push the tiller away from you, or pull it towards you? Towards you, he decided.
‘Heads,’ screamed Leo, as the boom crashed across, narrowly missing Justin’s head but striking him on the shoulder.
‘You need bloody well teaching,’ screamed Justin, rubbing his upper arm. When Leo had apologised Justin rapidly recovered his composure. ‘Those sailors looked shocked as hell to see us so close to them.’ He laughed loudly at the memory. ‘I’m bloody glad we came.’
Leo managed a wan smile.
*
At the sailing club, Andrea found that the boys had not yet returned. On leaving the village, she had spotted the school and, remembering her open invitation, returned there to kill time. Entering the yard, she saw an attractive bell tower and a mock Gothic door marked ‘Infants’. In the tall schoolroom was a motley gathering of girls and boys, many in old boots and ragged stockings, with the big boys crammed into desks designed for much smaller children. On the wall behind the teacher’s desk was a map of the world – Mercator’s projection – in which Britain was placed in the centre, and the red imperial parts looked much larger than they really were.
The teacher on duty was a neatly dressed young woman with curly hair and an openwork jumper, revealing disconcerting flesh-coloured shades of silk in the gaps. Moments after mentioning Mrs Jefferies’ suggestion that she play to the children, Andrea was led to the piano – not a new one, as she had expected, but a reconditioned Broadwood upright. She had thought of playing from memory a few of Schumann’s Kinderszenen, but, seeing so many children of four and five gazing up at her, and noticing that many older ones fidgeted all the time, she asked to see any music that might be kept in the classroom.
Andrea’s programme finally included, ‘Early One Morning’, ‘Billy Boy’ and ‘Yankee Doodle’. The children were not given songbooks, so Andrea invited them to sing along if they knew the words. Several tried bravely, but fell silent on realising how few others were singing. Afterwards, several girls begged Andrea to come again. The school’s second teacher, who had always played the piano for them, had recently joined the ATS. One boy, who resembled Leo in his sweetest incarnation, fetched a banana from his desk. Was it, Andrea wondered, a bribe to lure her back?
‘Want a ’nanee do ’ee?’ he asked, shyly proffering this all-but-unobtainable piece of fruit.
Andrea looked to Miss Lawrence for guidance. ‘Should I?’
‘Don’t worry. Michael’s father’s in the merchant navy and often gets them.’
‘Thank you very much,’ she said bending down and giving Michael a hug.
As Andrea closed the lid on the keyboard, a thickset boy kicked her benefactor. The headmistress caught the offender by the ear, and with commendable dexterity whacked him behind his knees with a ruler. ‘Bullies must be beaten,’ she sighed.
Before Andrea departed, Nancy Lawrence pressed a large key and a smaller one into her hand. ‘You’re welcome to play the piano, any day, after school. In the holidays too.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ murmured Andrea, touched by the offer.
‘Come again before term ends. The children love new faces. They went wild over the naval officers who came last week.’ She smiled radiantly. ‘On Tuesday we’re being shown over one of their ships. Have you ever met any of our coastal forces people, Mrs Pauling?’
‘Very briefly.’
‘Such kind and courteous men.’
‘I’m sure,’ murmured Andrea.
*
By the time Andrea returned to the sailing club, the boys had landed and cycled away. She found the secretary bent over paperwork in the office.
‘How did they get along?’
‘Made an awful hash of landing, poor chaps. Tore the pintles out of the rudder as they ran in on the hard.’
‘I wish someone could teach them.’
‘I’ll ask around.’
‘I’d really appreciate that.’
Back at the house, Andrea waited
for Leo to tell her about the rudder, but sensed that something else was bothering him more. So, to avoid pressing him, she recounted how she had played for the village children, and produced the banana.
‘I say, mum, where did you get that?’
‘From a boy in school.’
‘Give us a bite, please.’
‘Maybe.’
Instead of pleading with her, Leo looked worried again. At last he said, ‘Justin asked Rose something rude.’
‘What was that?’
Leo blushed fiercely as he gazed through the glass doors into the garden. ‘He asked to see her bottom for ten bob.’
Andrea laughed before she could stop herself. ‘I never expected that,’ she gasped. ‘What did she say?’
‘She was hopping mad.’
‘I’m not surprised. It really isn’t at all funny.’
‘Then why did you laugh, mum?’
‘The shock. I’ll have to talk with her I guess.’
‘I bet she wasn’t shocked really. Justin said she’s sly.’
‘She had every right to be mad at him.’
During the silence that followed, Andrea did not like the way Leo was studying her. She sensed that he was trying to sound casual as he asked, ‘Who was the woman who came for you yesterday?’
‘Sally Lowther. She’s the doctor’s wife.’
‘She looked tarty.’
Andrea felt her cheeks burn. ‘Did Justin say that?’
‘He could have.’
‘Mrs Lowther uses a lot of make-up, but that doesn’t make her anything bad.’
‘Justin’s mother wears loads.’
Andrea moved towards him and said firmly, ‘Listen, sweetheart, sometimes unhappy people like to make other people sad, too. It makes them feel better. So don’t listen if Justin tries to make you worried about the people I see.’
‘Okay.’
‘Was it for a bet, what he said to Rose?’
‘Nope.’
‘Why did he take such a stupid risk?’
‘He likes to. Anyway he knows someone who got a woman to show him her things that way.’
‘I’m pretty darn sure the boy who told him was lying.’ Andrea sat down beside her son. He had not changed his sailing clothes, and there were saltwater stains on his shorts right up to his groin. She said gently, ‘Justin’s a mixed-up kid. Remember that. So what happened to the rudder?’
‘I couldn’t pull it up in time. There’s a pin that fits in the top and stops you getting out the tiller. I yanked hard, but it wouldn’t budge.’ He pulled a face. ‘I think we should have gone head to wind at the last moment.’ She stood up and tossed him the banana. His smile faded. ‘It’s a bit green, mum.’
‘Then let it ripen.’
If only Leo had never met Justin, thought Andrea, as she went in search of Rose. The kitchen was empty but the scullery door was open. What the hell did one say to a respectable domestic who had been treated by a twelve-year-old boy as if she were a serving wench during the ancien régime? As Rose came in from the scullery, Andrea stared at the chopped vegetables on the table.
‘I am really so sorry my son’s friend insulted you.’
‘Don’ ’ee worry. I told ’im plenty.’
‘I’m glad you did.’
‘He won’t try messin’ again.’
‘Did you hit him?’ asked Andrea uneasily.
‘I said there’s nothin’ Satan won’t do to ’im now. So he got frighted and ran up over the fields.’
And what could she say to that, wondered Andrea. Hardly rebuke the girl for involving the powers of darkness in a prank. Andrea murmured, ‘I hope his rudeness can be forgotten now.’
Feeling anxious in case Justin had been badly scared, Andrea wished she had told Rose about his father’s death. Back in the sitting room, she found Leo taking tiny nibbles from his unripe banana.
‘Was Justin upset by Rose?’ she asked him.
‘Nope. He faked being scared.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘She’s a religious maniac, mum.’
‘Maniacs can be kind of scary.’
Leo said sharply, ‘Justin is never scared.’
Andrea raised conciliatory hands. ‘Leo, dearest, Justin pretends nothing hurts him, but that’s because he’s been hurt more than we can imagine.’
‘I think I know him by now.’
‘Then tell me what he truly cares about?’
Leo tossed away the banana skin. ‘You really want to know? He thinks the navy’s ships in the river are hush-hush boats and he wants to snoop around inside one. That’s what he cares about.’
Andrea smiled happily. ‘But that’s marvellous. The kids from the village school are going aboard a ship next week. I’ll ask the headmistress to let you and Justin go along too.’
Leo jumped up, white-faced. ‘You musn’t. He’d kill me for telling you his plan.’
Andrea was appalled. ‘He’d injure you?’
‘No, no. He’d say he couldn’t trust me, ever; that I’d betrayed him; wasn’t his friend.’
Andrea’s patience gave way. ‘I could call his aunt right now, and she’d want him sent home for insulting Rose.’
‘Don’t call her.’ He was breathless with horror.
‘You have better friends, I know you do.’
‘He can’t go home.’
‘Would he bully you at school?’
‘I can’t explain.’
She touched his hand gently. ‘Leo, if I call his aunt, he won’t know you spoke with me first. Let’s do it now. He’s wrecking your holiday.’
Leo drew himself up. ‘He can’t go.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because,’ shouted Leo, ‘his dad’s face was burned right off before he hit the ground.’
When her son had left the room, Andrea sat down heavily on the lumpy sofa and stared at some discoloured wax fruit on the table in the window. Talking to Justin about Rose seemed suddenly less urgent.
*
Justin crept into Leo’s room soon after midnight, leaving him in no doubt, from the moment his eyes opened, that this was to be the night of the crucial attempt. At once, Leo knew he would not be able to endure another night lying in bed waiting for Justin. It would be easier to share the danger with him than stay behind. As Leo got up and slipped out of his pyjamas, Justin silently applauded him.
‘Put on your dark blue aertex.’ Leo did as commanded and then held up his white plimsolls. ‘Don’t worry,’ soothed Justin, ‘you can rub mud on them later. Shove your swimming trunks in here.’ He patted a canvas beach bag. ‘Wear long socks or you’ll get scratched.’
‘What about a torch?’ asked Leo, searching for socks.
‘Got my school one here, but we may not use it.’
A square of moonlight on the linoleum told Leo why. As he put on his socks, he said, ‘Mum says some village kids will be shown over one of the ships soon.’
Justin seemed shaken, but only for a moment. ‘That’ll be the MTB or minesweeper.’ His conviction grated with Leo.
‘Could be the MGB,’ he objected.
‘Look, who cares?’ snapped Justin. ‘I’m only interested in the small boats.’
‘Why?’
‘They spend more time away from their moorings than the rest. I’ve bloody told you that, Leo.’
As they crept past his mother’s door, Leo felt a pang of guilt. By going with Justin, he was deceiving her. But at least with the two of them together one would be able to raise the alarm for the other in an emergency. And Justin’s plan seemed likely to keep them out of trouble, since they would creep down to the ships through the woods, instead of approaching in the open, along Porthbeer beach.
Speeding towards the river, Leo felt an unexpected surge of happiness. Earlier he had been worried about cycling without lights, but his eyes had quickly grown accustomed to the darkness. If he could only be told that their mission would not after all involve plunging into black and icy water, he would enjoy eve
ry minute. But fear nagged constantly.
‘What will you say if we’re caught?’ he asked Justin as he pedalled beside him.
‘We won’t be caught.’ The wind flung Justin’s words away so that they were hard to hear.
‘But we must know what to say.’
‘It’s a dare. We’ll say that.’
The tarmac glowed palely in the moonlight as it wound snakelike between black woods on either side. Bats swooped across the road, making the boys duck and swerve. After riding for ten minutes, they freewheeled to a halt at a point which Justin declared was due north of the spot where he wanted to hit the river. Leaving their bicycles, they walked towards a tangle of trees and undergrowth. In the profounder darkness of the wood, Leo blundered into hollies and brambles. The pain of his scratches hardly troubled him. They were closer to the river now, and panic fluttered in his chest. A long way off, he heard what he thought was a farm dog barking.
‘A fox,’ whispered Justin authoritatively. Whenever a twig cracked, Leo froze, to Justin’s amusement. ‘We could knock down a tree and no one would hear.’ They moved across a clearing overgrown with straggling elders and stumbled into the bed of a stream.
‘All we do now is follow it,’ said Justin, as if he had meant all along to arrive at this spot.
The stones underfoot were jagged and the bottom often dropped into deep hollows. At times their progress exhausted them as much as if they’d been running. Searching out safe shallows by the bank they were obliged to push aside brambles that arched across the stream.
On the beach at last, Leo was thankful to find the tide out. The distance to the ships would be shorter now than at high water. Pulling on their trunks, the boys kept on their shirts in case their pale skin was visible in the dark. Because the ships were half a mile downstream, they crept along at the top of the beach for what felt like ages to Leo.
To their left, the water was coal black except where small waves reflected ribbons of moonlight. In silhouette, the ships looked dark and threatening. Leo’s queasiness was growing worse. The furthest he had swum in his life had been six lengths of the swimming pool at his old school, a distance which would just about take him to the nearest of the ships.