I DIG MY HAND INTO MY POCKET and scatter its treasures across the table.
Seegol gives me one of his sideways-eyebrow looks, and scratches his stubbly head. Then he turns to Violet. “It’s always the same with this one.” He waves his hand at me. “Now he’ll tell me these things are valuable.”
“But they are valuable.” I poke about in the pile of curios and trinkets. “This coin here is solid silver.”
“Ah, but my fried fish is golden,” says Seegol.
“So is this earring,” I say back, and I slide it over so he can get a better look. “These things are old, Seegol. Some of them really old. They were lost in the hotel over a hundred years ago.”
Seegol picks up the earring, holds it to the light and scrutinizes it closely. Then he lets a grin spread across his face and slides it back across the table.
“He always tells me that, too,” he says to Violet. “And he always convinces me.”
He scoops up the silver coin and pushes the rest back to me. “Fish and chips for two, coming right up.”
It’s hot in Seegol’s Diner, but after the cold outside, that’s welcome. We’ve shuffled off our coats and settled down by a window. In fact, the whole place is windows, with the kitchen an island of scrubbed metal in the middle. There are a few locals here, chatting over steaming plates and drinking tea or coffee. You can tell they are locals because they don’t flinch like Violet does every time the diner shudders.
“What’s doing that?” she says, clutching the table as another rumble of motion passes through the building, making the plates and cups rattle.
“Waves,” I explain. “We’re on a pier, remember.”
“Aren’t you worried it’ll collapse or something?”
I shrug. “It’s never done that before. And Seegol lives here, in a flat above the diner. He must think it’s safe.”
“What’s the story with him?” Violet hunches forward so her words won’t carry. “Seegol. Where’s he from?”
“I’ve never actually asked,” I say, surprising myself as I realize this. “I don’t recognize his accent. They say he came here as a young man and saw a mermaid from the end of the pier. Heard her sing. No one ever recovers from that. He’s been waiting for her to come back ever since.”
“Another legend?” says Violet. “There seem to be a lot of those around here.”
Outside, the weather has begun to change. The dark clouds have been replaced by a strange blue-grey light. Through the windows, all details of the sea and the town become fuzzy and indistinct as the wind dies and a sea mist creeps in.
“Seegol’s coming back,” I say, under my breath. “Quick, get your book out.”
“What for?” Violet looks confused.
“You want to find out about the malamander, don’t you? Trust me, leave the book on the table and see what happens.”
“Two plates of crispy golden fish and chips,” Seegol announces, arriving at our table and placing the food under our noses. The salty, vinegary smell of the chips makes it suddenly hard to think straight.
“Thank you, Mr Seegol,” says Violet, putting her book down in a very obvious place and eating a chip. Then another and another. “Wow, these are amazing!”
“Ah!” sighs Seegol, giving a little bow. “Always a pleasure to—”
And that’s when he sees the book.
“This?” he says to Violet, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder. “You are reading this?”
“Yes. Well, sort of. I just got it. I don’t really know what it’s about.”
“It is about the fish-man,” says Seegol, whispering now. “But it is not something to talk about here. My customers, they get scared. It is not real, that is what I tell people. It is better that way.”
“You make it sound like you aren’t so sure,” says Violet. “About the malaman —”
“Ssh!” Seegol sits down quickly at the table, nudging it with his fat belly as he does so. “Please, do not say its name.”
He picks up the book and pushes it back into Violet’s hands before continuing.
“You are right, I am not so sure. It is not possible, of course, for there to be a scaly creature that can walk like a man and swim like a fish. Yet, I have seen things. On the pier, at night, in the shadows, I have seen things. In my country, we leave gifts for beings like this, for spirits. Offerings. At night, when I close up, I too leave gifts – the fried fish that is left over – outside on the pier. In the morning, it is gone. And so, I have never had any trouble.”
“Seagulls might have something to do with that,” I say, and Seegol raises both shoulders in a shrug. “I have no trouble from the seagulls, either. Maybe it is all the same thing.”
“But what have you seen?” says Violet, breaking off a piece of battered fish. “In the shadows. What is this thing supposed to be?”
But before Seegol can answer, there’s a loud creak and a rush of cold air as the door of the diner swings opens. A tall, dismal figure stands there. He has a lank, bone-yellow beard and a long black sailor’s coat, dripping with water. I slide low in my seat and lean on my hand, hiding my face. Violet sees me, looks over at the newcomer and shrinks back into her hair.
“Boathook Man!”
“What are we going to do?”
The trinkets and other objects from my pocket are still on the table. I push the gold earring over towards Seegol again and hope that the expression on my face speaks clearly enough.
Seegol looks from me to Violet. He ignores the earring and gets to his feet.
“It is good to see you again, sir,” Seegol calls over to the Boathook Man. “Please, have this seat, with the best sea view.”
And with that, he steers the awful man away from us and over to the opposite side of the diner. He won’t be able to see us from there.
“Good old Seegol,” I whisper, gathering up my things. “But we should go.”
“No, let’s wait,” says Violet, popping another chip in her mouth. “This might be our best chance to find out just who Boathook Man really is. Maybe he’s meeting someone here.”
It’s a good plan. And perhaps it would have worked. But just then something happens that changes everything.
Outside, where the sea mist is gathering, someone screams.
