Eight

Victor Brodman walked alongside Lou as they followed the path to the castle at the southern tip of the island. A tiny boy accompanied them. His hair was a mass of blond curls, yet his face seemed far older than his proud boast that he was ‘eight years, three months’. Behind them, the rest of the group, about twenty in all, their ages ranging from eight to sixteen. One teenager slouched along. His miserable face said it all; as one of the oldest from Badsworth Lodge he’d been detailed to help look after the group. An adult carer guarded the tail of the crocodile.

From the mop of curls the adult-looking face peered out at Victor. For some reason Victor found himself reminded of a high-court judge just about to gravely announce a life sentence.

‘Victor?’ said the boy.

‘Yes, Archer.’

‘What’s the river called?’

‘The Severn.’

‘So there are at least six of them?’

‘No, the Severn is spelt different to the number. It’s S-E-V-E-R-N.’

‘I see.’ The tiny blond boy walked with his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Why’s that, then?’

‘Two thousand years ago the Romans invaded England. They gave places names in their own language. They called this river Sabrina after a magical woman. Down through the years the name Sabrina eventually became Severn.’

‘I see. My name is Archer. An old kind of soldier who fired a bow. Have you ever fired a bow and arrow, Victor?’

‘A few times. My father made me one when I was your age. The arrows weren’t pointed. Even so, I broke the glass in the greenhouse door. My dad took the bow and arrows away. He said I could have them when I was more responsible.’ Victor smiled. ‘I never saw the bow again. Maybe he still thinks I’ll only go and break more windows with it.’

‘My dad’s dead.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘He stole money from a bank, sold lots of drugs, cheated his friends so –’ Archer gave a little shrug – ‘they shot him.’ Then he added cheerfully, ‘I watched them do it. Blam-blam.’

Victor glanced at Lou for a lead. She gave a look that said don’t worry. She held up her arm to signal to the children to stop. ‘Victor’s guiding us around the island today. Just now he wants to tell us something interesting about this beach.’

Hearing the tiny boy’s cheerful admission of watching his drug-dealing father being gunned down derailed Victor. He raised his eyebrows, hoping Lou interpreted it as quick, give me a clue.

‘It’s really interesting,’ she said. ‘It involves sharks. Victor? Over to you.’

Instantly, he was back on track. ‘Sharks. Right.’ He pointed to a stone slab at the low-tide mark on the beach. ‘See that square of stone. Seventy years ago the island’s doctor had it put there. We won’t go down there because it’s too dangerous.’

‘Why’s that?’ asked Archer.

‘Quicksand.’ He made a sucking noise. ‘Anyway, Dr Evans believed that sharks swam up the river to breed in shallow water. So he bought himself an old diving suit. One of those with the iron boots and a big brass helmet that fitted over his entire head. He’d a bad leg, which meant he couldn’t walk in it, so he’d put on the diving suit, connect a hose to an air pump higher up the beach. Then he’d sit in a chair fixed to that stone slab. He’d wait until the tide came in and covered him. That’s when he could look out underwater.’

Archer nodded wisely. ‘And the shark ate him.’

‘Uhm, no, it never did. No sharks come up this far, as he was to find out, but he did make developments in underwater photography and the doctor became famous for his pictures of fish as they swam underwater.’ The kids weren’t hugely impressed. ‘We can see the diving suit in the visitors’ centre at the castle.’ They still weren’t impressed. A couple threw stones at the stone slab. Archer pretended he had a machine gun. He blasted everyone at point-blank range.

They continued walking. By this time a heat-haze made the outline of the castle ripple. Often the River Severn was a muddy brown; today, however, bright sunlight turned it golden yellow. Archer fell behind to talk to another boy. From the way he made a pistol out of his hand with the barrel/finger pointing at his own head Victor guessed the topic of conversation.

‘I like to picture your old Dr Evans.’ Lou grinned. ‘Going out there to sit on the chair in his diving suit, then waiting for the water to get higher and higher up his body until it reached his helmet. Back then, to sit underwater must have been like travelling to another world.’

‘It’s this island. It inspires people to think in unusual ways. Sometimes crazy ways. But it can make us inventive.’

‘What an amazing little heap of rock this place is. It gets inside your head. You think thoughts here that you don’t think back home. I remember that story about the shepherd who arrived here a hundred years ago. He suddenly got this wild idea he wanted to write a play even though he could hardly write his own name. The Value of Man. That’s the title, isn’t it? Didn’t it persuade the government to introduce old age pensions for the first time? Now what’s the guy’s name? Victor, you’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?’

‘Sorry. I was thinking.’

‘I’ll say. You look like you’re sleepwalking. Too much cider last night?’

‘No,’ he said with a laugh. ‘It’s just what you said about the island getting inside your head. Jay told me the same thing this morning.’

Lou tensed. ‘Did he say anything else?’ She glanced back at Jay. He seemed lost in his own world.

‘Oh, this and that. He enjoyed feeding the goat.’

‘But there’s something bothering you, Victor.’

‘If anything, I’m concerned about the kids. They seem different this year. They just come across as . . . edgy? Scared?’

‘Maureen’s accident was a shock.’ Lou called back to the children. ‘Keep up, people. We’ve got to reach the castle by one.’ She walked faster. ‘I want to see that diving suit if you lot don’t.’

Victor liked Lou. An open, honest, warm-hearted woman. But she’d changed. There was something she wanted to stay hidden. He hung back to point out to the group a lizard sunning itself on a wall. Even so, he found himself thinking about what Laura might tell him later. Oddly, despite the heat, his blood all of a sudden ran cold. When he started walking again he found himself in the company of the little boy with the blond curls.

‘Cool lizard,’ Archer told him. ‘Can you get them as pets?’

‘It’s not a good idea. They’re better off in the wild.’

‘They bite?’

‘No, there’s nothing to be scared of. But they’re happier living a natural life.’

‘I’m not scared of lizards, but I don’t like him.’ He scowled at Jay. Luckily, the child was out of earshot. ‘Nobody does.’

‘Oh?’

‘Not even grown-ups.’ Archer became angry. ‘If he starts saying your name again and again it means something bad’s going to happen to you.’

‘How can someone saying your name hurt you?’

‘Jay said Tod’s name and Maureen’s, and look what happened to them.’ Archer shuddered. ‘One day he’s going to say my name. I know he will. Then I’ll be like my dad. I’ll be in a big black coffin and shoved into the ground.’

Before Victor could say anything the little boy retreated down the line so he could hold the hand of a carer.

Jay approached with a smile on his face. ‘Victor . . . Victor.’

Victor couldn’t help himself. He felt cold shivers race through his body. The boy had spoken his name. For a moment he stared at those big brown eyes that seemed so other-worldly.

‘Victor.’ Jay pointed to a clump of trees. ‘Are those Saban Deer?’

With a gush of relief that embarrassed him with its intensity he went to join the boy. He repeated my name . . . I don’t believe what Archer told me, do I? As he pointed out the deer to other children he tried to push away the sense of superstitious dread. Even so, he remembered Laura’s words when Jay had referred to Ghorlan: ‘When he said her name did it feel like you were losing your grip and you could feel yourself slipping into some big, dark hole in the ground? Because that’s how it feels to me.’ He shuddered. That’s exactly what it felt like to him. A huge, dark pit of nothingness opening beneath his feet.