Priddywished he still had the note to show Trewin.Nothing could havebeen less sinister.“All right.He isn’t dangerous, you know,” headded, unable to repress a chuckle.“He left me apicnic.”
“A picnic?”
“Cheese and marmite sarnies and a packet ofQuavers.”
“Quavers, eh?Well, I still want you to watch out.There’s noJacques Merouac in the Criminal Records database,either.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”Priddy tried to remember the lastepisode ofSilent Witnessso he’d use the right term.“It means he doesn’thave any priors.”
Trewin glanced at him in amusement.“Jacques Merouac doesn’thave any, but it’s probably not his real name.On The Roadismygeneration, you know, ancientthough I am.If your friend turns up again, be nice to him by allmeans, but make yourself scarce and give Hawke Lake a call as soonas you can.”
“Okay.I’m all right, though.And I’m sure you don’t need toworry about him.”
“We’ll have to let the police be the judge of that.Of the fivepeople missing, three are under eighteen, and one’s a baby.Itsounds like a family trip gone badly wrong.And speaking offamily...”Trewin stood up, fastening his coat.“It’s funny, butthinking about Merouacs and Kerouacs made me recall readingOn The Roadin school,and being in a classroom with your dad.That’s where I know himfrom.”
“Really?”This came as a relief to Priddy.Better that thanremembering the old man for some or other act of skulduggery.“Can’t imagine old Vigo in school, somehow.”
“Well, he kept it to a minimum.Out the second he turnedsixteen.And he seemed all right from what I knew of him, did Vigo,but...I’m not sure I’d have cared to be a child ofhis.”
“What do you mean?”
“You mentioned family stuff.You said I knew how it was, and Ireally do these days—got a brood of my own, more trouble than aparcel of monkeys.The thing is that you’ve got to have a lot ofpatience, and I’ve heard over the years that Vigo didn’t.That hewas a bit handy with his fists.”
“I...I don’t really remember.No more than normal.”By thetime Priddy had visited enough of his schoolfriends’ houses to workout that what went on in his own was far from the norm, it was toolate.He’d vanished inside himself like a hermit crab into aborrowed shell, and there he’d grown, and now the shell was part ofhim, directing the coils of his growth.It was over.It wasnothing.He never gave it thought.“I’d better go now.Got some jobapplications to do.”
“Looking for something permanent, are you?That’s right.I readin the papers about what happened to you last summer, and I wasproper sorry.It’s hard for kids from homes like yours to get theirfeet under them, and—”
“That was nothing to do with my home.”Priddy had to force thewords through a tightening throat.He felt sick, and he just wantedTrewin to go away.“That was just me screwing up.”
“Agreed, to an extent.But having a dad who’d wallop you assoon as look at you can’t have helped.Anyway, when I rememberedVigo, and thought about you out here all on your own, I wanted tocheck in on you and make sure this Merouac chap wasn’t messing youaround.You’ve got a little scar in your hairline there—is thatrecent, or...”
Heextended a finger as if to touch.Priddy jerked away.He’d beenleaning casually against an old filing cabinet, which promptlyoverturned, following him into a clattering heap on thefloor.
Trewin strode over to help him.Priddy scrabbled away andsprang back to his feet.He got his balance and brushed himselfdown: tried to look as though he’d been sent by someone importantto test out cabinet stability in lighthouses.That one failed to meet our stringent standards.“Sorry!I’m fine.”
“Are you?That looked as if it hurt.”
“No, not at all.”He set the cabinet upright, smiling brightlyat Trewin.“Don’t worry about the scar.It’s an old one.I got itfalling off a horse.Here—I’ll see you out.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You didn’t.”Priddy remembered his manners.No-one had taughthim any, but do-unto-others was the one rule that had stuck withhim from Sunday school, and if he’d been Flight Lieutenant Trewin,he’d have liked to know he hadn’t made a wasted trip.That hiskindness was appreciated.“It was very nice of you to come here.Iwill keep a lookout for Merou, and I will look aftermyself.”
Hehauled open the iron door to the outside.Trewin paused in thedoorway, rain and spray from the gun-metal waves drifting in cloudsbehind him.“Merou, is it?”he asked wryly.“Very well.If you seehim, mind you call.And come and see us, Priddy, when you’ve gotyourself sorted out and you feel a bit better.The Atlantic Cadetsare generally recruiting, and some of those lads find their way toSAR in due course.We can always use people willing to chuckthemselves into the sea.”
***
Back inhis crow’s nest, Priddy washed and TCP’d his scrapes and grazes.Hewouldn’t have bothered, except that Merou wouldn’t like to see himin a mess.For the last forty eight hours, Priddy had taken goodcare of himself.He’d wanted to prove that fresh fruit and Danishesweren’t thrown away on him—that, given a kick-start to remind him,he could live well.He hadn’t really minded that the weather hadclosed down on Hagerawl Point like a brutal hand.He’d started onthe list of winter tasks Kit’s granddad had assigned to him,peeling old putty from the windows that let light onto the stairs,cleaning out the debris and gunning fresh sealant into place.He’drust-proofed and painted the iron door, taken advantage of a lullin the wind to run a squeegee mop over the great lantern’s glass.He’d started on his job applications again, this time trying tothink of a career he’d like, not the path of least resistance inKit’s wake.
Hehadn’t got very far with that.Well, it didn’t matter now.If hewanted, he could apparently be an Atlantic fucking Cadet.Laughtershook him, and he screwed down the lid on the TCP bottle before itcould spill.He was sitting on the edge of the bath in thewhitewashed, stone-cold bathroom, and could just about see himselfin the mirror screwed to the wall above the sink.The top of hisdumb, curly head, anyway.He ought to have been flattered intored-faced, stammering soup by Trewin’s suggestion.On some level hewas.The very idea, no matter how faint and far off, that he couldone day join SAR...!
It wasjust that Trewin had also said Merou had good reason never toreturn, and even if he did, he was some sort of criminal and Priddyshouldn’t trust him.It was just that Trewin, used to looking outfor occult injuries in rescued sailors, had noticed hisscar.
Priddyset the bottle and cotton wool down.He parted his hair withtrembling hands.This was why he’d never followed his mates into afashionable brush-cut or practical short trim, why he’d hung ontohis thick curls even when the surf-bunny look had become démodé.Ifno-one ever saw or asked, he could forget.
It hadworked beautifully.All he’d had to do was let the memory slideaway.His own dreamy nature had saved him: even before the adventof drugs into his life, if there was an alternate reality to befound, he’d drift into it.Books, films, music; even the inside ofhis own eyelids, a screen onto which he could project infinitewonders not to be found in everyday Rosewarne life.
Tell me all about it, Merou saidinside his head.Nevertheless, tellme.
