Fifteen
Victor had covered perhaps one hundred yards in the direction of his sister’s farm when he heard frantic shouts from the jetty. He glanced back to see people surge along its boards. They were pointing, shouts rose in volume. Victor knew enough from their body language to realize that someone had fallen into the river. This sent shivers down his spine. The currents in this part of the Severn were lethal. He should know, these vicious waters had made a widower out of him. As he raced back to the jetty he tugged the fleece off and flung it aside.
‘Stay out of the water,’ he shouted. ‘Don’t go in after him.’ Laura had already kicked off her sandals. ‘That goes for you, too, Laura.’
‘It’s Max.’ Her face was the essence of panic. ‘He jumped in. He’s so frightened he’s trying to kill himself.’
Victor shielded his eyes against the sun. The teenager lay face down in the water, not moving, perhaps unconscious, or perhaps forcing himself not to swim. If you’re so inclined, he thought grimly, this is the perfect place to die by your own hand. Whirlpools, ice-cold pockets of water, turbulence, cross-currents. A death trap.
‘Victor, do something,’ Laura pleaded.
‘The flow’s running at around eight miles an hour. I can’t catch up with him.’ He checked for boats . . . damn, no boats. He would have to go in there after the boy.
‘You’re going to stand there, watching Max drown?’
Children began to weep at the sight of the still figure being swept away.
Victor shook his head. ‘I need to gauge where the current will take him, then try and swim there when he’s carried past.’
‘Oh my God!’ For a moment it seemed as if Laura would start crying, too, but when she noticed Jay standing in the lane her mouth hardened. ‘Don’t do this to him,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t you dare.’
Victor had to blot out Laura’s reaction. What mattered now was getting Max out of the water. He turned his attention back to the river. If he swam for a point fifty yards downstream of Max, then he just might intercept . . .
A shadow flashed past him, brushing his arm. A split second later there was a huge thump as a body hit the river hard. Victor stared in astonishment.
‘Did anyone see who that was?’
Nobody had. Victor was just as perplexed when the figure surfaced then swam after Max with so much power that they left a creaming wake in their trail.
‘Do you know him?’ Laura asked.
‘Never seen him before.’ Victor shielded his eyes as the stranger blazed through water like an Olympic swimmer. All he could make out was a dark-skinned man with a shaved head. In fact, the skin was so dark it was like gunmetal – a blue-black. ‘I only hope that guy knows what he’s doing. Those cross-currents are a killer.’
By now the children cheered the would-be rescuer. Adults, too, were praising the man’s prowess to one another loudly enough to express their relief that someone else other than them had taken the risky plunge.
Around a hundred yards offshore the man grabbed hold of Max, raised his head above the water, then swam back to the island with big muscular strokes that cheated the current of another victim. Even so, the flow was strong enough to carry the pair away from the jetty so the man was forced to make for the beach, to avoid having to fight the current head-on. Victor, Laura, and the rest, ran across the shingle to help the man carry Max back on to dry land. Laura held the teen’s head so she could check if the boy was alive. However, he sobbed hard enough to prove he was breathing normally.
After the crowd of islanders had gathered round to slap the stranger on his drenched back, his white shirt clinging to him like a second skin, he wiped his face with his hand then jerked his head back at the Severn.
‘I’m full of praise that this river’s got no hippos. I don’t like crocodiles. Let me tell you, hippos are worse.’ He grinned. ‘A hippo will bite a man in two. Crocs only take your feet. If you’ve got the Lord on your side.’
Laura shook the man’s hand. ‘Thank you, Mr . . .’
‘Constable.’
Laura glanced at Victor, puzzled, then thanked the man again.
Victor shook the man’s sopping hand, too. The grip was a powerful one. But then this man was a human speedboat. ‘I didn’t know we were expecting a visit from the police.’
‘You are and you aren’t.’ His smile was a bright one. ‘I’m not British police. I’m from the West African Republic. My baptism name is Solomon Constable. I came here to see Laura Parris and a boy she’s caring for.’ His smile faded as a grave expression took its place. ‘You see, it’s important I talk to her. I know God wants me to be here to help her, and her brethren.’
Victor eyed the man standing there in pinstriped trousers and a once crisp white shirt. Water dripped from the clothes until a pool formed around him.
‘You are Nurse Laura Parris, aren’t you?’ The man scrutinized her face. ‘You care for Jay. So you know what he does to people.’
‘I’m not speaking to you. You’re from the press.’
‘No, I’m not. Humbly, I claim to be from God. Because though you know Jay destroys people, you don’t know why. Or what he is.’
‘I’m not interested.’ Firmly, she steered Max away through the crowds.
Solomon Constable gave Victor a rueful look. ‘I came all the way from Africa for that?’
‘You’re not a reporter?’
‘That I’m not, sir. I’m a retired police officer. Constable by both name and rank. And I have one last case to close before I’m done with the world.’
Victor said, ‘Come with me. I’ll get you dry clothes and a towel.’
‘You are a good man, sir. So I will speak with you then you can convince Nurse Parris to hear me.’
As they strolled to the village Victor asked, ‘What makes you think she’ll listen to me?’
‘She loves you. You love her.’ The man smiled warmly as Victor paused mid-step. ‘I was a police officer for forty years. And I love my Sherlock Holmes books. So I made a most elementary deduction.’ The man’s sing-song voice suggested gentleness and wisdom. ‘Sir, I make deductions all the time. They’re second nature to me. Many married men remove their wedding rings when they go out on the town. Your fingers have an even tan, so when I see an indentation on the third finger of your left hand I have to ask myself why you reverse this habit of certain other men? I think the answer is that you wear the wedding ring when you’re alone at night. I mention this deduction because it reveals you are deeply loyal . . . intensely loyal.’
Victor’s eyes were drawn back to the river that took Ghorlan away. They had matching wedding rings. Hers must now lie on the river bed. With what remained of her.
‘I don’t wish to pry, sir. Or cause you sadness.’ Solomon Constable’s brown eyes held genuine compassion. ‘My experience as a police officer tells me you have a good, honest heart. Not like your Mayor Wilkes. Now there’s a man who has secrets running through every part of him. Secrets flow in his veins like blood. I did my research before I came here. Even though he has no criminal convictions there is something amiss. He is a businessman as well as elected mayor, isn’t that so? Yet though he makes deals his name doesn’t appear in legal contracts, even though that would be perfectly normal. It suggests to me a man who is habitually secretive to the extent he conducts legitimate business as if it were a criminal act. Moreover, he employs ex-prisoners in his construction company. These men would normally find it hard to get work. Mayor Wilkes claims he does this because he is being kind. I consider that he has ulterior motives. Former convicts will have to be loyal to Wilkes, because they’d find no work elsewhere. So Wilkes can make them bend the rules; they might even help him bury his secrets, too. And men who build bridges can bury secrets very deeply indeed. Have I been able to convince you that we should talk?’
‘Of course we can talk. First, though, you need some dry clothes.’
The grave expression returned on Solomon’s face. ‘I must give you this warning. You won’t like what I have to say. Because once you hear it, you will have to do something about the boy they call Jay.’