Merouacblinked hard.The silvery film that had hidden the irises andpupils disappeared.“Sorry,” he murmured.“Didn’t you ever have acat?”
“Several.What has that got to do with it?”
“Did you never see their eyes, when they were out ofsorts?”
“Yes, but you’re not a cat.”
“Nor yet a catfish.And not yet quite a man.”Merouac spreadhis hand in front of his eyes.“Glad the good lieutenant didn’tspot the webbing.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“He wasn’t looking.And if he had been, he wouldn’t havebelieved.You won’t believe it yourself in the morning, when I’mall dried off and finished and just like you.”With that, Merouacrolled himself up in the bedclothes and turned away.
Priddycrouched by the bunk.“Wait a moment.Are you really calledJacques?”
“Of course not.But I really did meet JacquesCousteau.”
“I thought you said your father did.”
“Well, Trewin was trying to fill in his form.And he didn’thave a box for the year I was born, so...Do you alwayscross-question your guests like this, Priddy-boy?”
“Don’t call me that.”Priddy didn’t know why he suddenlyminded.He’d had it all his life, from family and mates, until he’dstopped caring, but he’d never really liked it, not even from Kit.“Priddy will do.”
“I’m sure he will.”Merouac twisted back far enough to presenta smiling, unreadable profile.“It’s a shame.If you didn’t live inCornwall, and you steered clear of the States and anywhere elsethey don’t pronounce their Ts properly, you’d be all right,wouldn’t you?But you don’t want to live your whole life as nothingbut the Rosewarne Bay pretty boy.”
Priddysat back on his heels.He felt as if Merouac had hit him, or sentthrough him a sudden electric shock, shaking up the dust andsorrows of the years.It was true.There he’d been, pretty-boysince earliest childhood, with his blond curls and blue eyes, hisinability to grow a beard or grasp enough of life’s realities tocounteract his downward spiral into the Rosewarne sink.His sisterhad once crisply informed him that she was twice the man he’d everbe.The trivial outside edge of these realities snagged in hismind, and he asked, unsteadily, “How do you know where I comefrom?”
“Lucky guess.There’s always been a cluster of you lot atRosewarne.”Merouac pushed up onto one elbow and looked at himdirectly.“Let me tell you something about your name.You’re eitherthe pride of the waters—prid-eaux, like the French, the oneswho came over with the Normans, right royal haughty bastards.Or—more likely for you, with that set of face and those eyes—you’rea branch ofap-Ridih, the kings of the mountain.”
Priddyswallowed.“There aren’t any mountains in Cornwall.”
“No, but there are in Wales, and greatly did Arthur, ourundying king, value the ap-Ridih clans who rode by his side to thebattle of Mynydd Baedan.”
“Mate, I haven’t got the least idea what you’re talkingabout.”
“Never mind.I won’t call you Priddy-boy, and you won’t call meJacques.In fact, Merouac’s a mouthful for a landling.You can callme Merou.”
“Merry?”
Merouacchuckled.“If you like.Pretty and merry—won’t we make a pair?”Closing his eyes, he pulled the bedclothes up to his chest, andPriddy must have imagined the webs between his fingers—there wasnothing there now but a glimmer, like fine-ground fish-scaledust.
Chapter Five
In themorning, Merou was standing by the window, looking down at thekeeper’s cottage and the cracked patch of tarmac beyond it.Priddystruggled off the top bunk, dropped to the floor and stood swaying.His visitor had helped himself to clothes, the Weeverfish T-shirtand a pair of jeans.Shoes, too, for godsakes.“Feel free,” Priddysaid shakily, hanging on to the edge of the bunk.“If you needanything from my drawers, go right ahead.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I already...”Merou paused,smiling.“Ah.Sarcasm.We have that too, but we save it for veryspecial occasions, such a powerful weapon as it is.”
“Would you like a jacket?I hope you found underwear to matchthe colour of your eyes.”
“Come on, Priddy.There’s a lot of things wrong with you, butyou don’t mind stuff like that.”
He wasright.Left to himself, Priddy would have offered the contents ofhis wardrobe anyway.What else could you do for a naked wandererwhose whole world had gone down with his ship?What he mindedwas...
“Yes?What?”
“I didn’t even recognise my own bloody things,” he blurted out.“Not at first.Not on you.”
“Is that because I look so princely in them...?”Merou tuggedat the front of the T-shirt.“No.Not that.These fit me, and theydon’t fit you anymore, not the way they did when you had them made.You must have lost a lot of weight since then.”His bright look ofcuriosity suddenly melted to a tenderness so piercing that Priddy’sknees weakened.“Are you having a bad morning, king of themountain?”
