Thirty-Nine

‘I know this place!’ Excited, Victor hurried through a gate into the back garden of a modest suburban house where the sun shone brightly on to red brickwork. ‘It’s my old home.’ With a huge grin, he pointed at a greenhouse filled with tomato plants. ‘That’s what I managed to damage with my bow and arrow when I was your age. The arrow smashed a pane, then hit a load of tomatoes. Juice and bits all over the inside of the glass. My dad went mad.’ He paused. ‘But am I here? Can you really take people back in time, Jay? Or is it this virus inside of me? Am I back on the beach, dreaming all this?’

Jay gazed at him. Victor had witnessed the bloody death of Archer’s father. Anxiety crackled through his nerves. Had Jay brought him here to show him something awful?

‘Jay, why am I here?’

‘People are coming,’ Jay intoned. ‘They can’t see us.’

Four youths charged into the back garden. One had a bright orange basketball, which he hurled at the hoop. It bounced back toward the greenhouse. A slender man, with curly black hair, caught it.

‘Careful,’ he said laughing. ‘My dad’s only just forgiven me for shooting an arrow through the glass.’

Victor gazed in wonder. ‘That’s me when I was nineteen. Those are my friends from high school. The guy in the glasses is Benjamin, he studied law; the one in the white shirt is Rajeed, now a computer technician; the one just catching the ball from me is Scotty. The last I heard he ran a hotel in Cyprus.’ Astonished, he moved into the centre of the lawn as the four played basketball around him, shooting the hoop fixed to a garage wall. ‘Jay, I know what this is . . .’ His skin tingled as emotion nearly overwhelmed him. ‘This is the last time we were all together. We were all nineteen. My parents threw a party because I’d been accepted on to a conservation programme in Kenya. This was a Sunday. I flew out to Africa the day afterwards. I spent a year working in a nature reserve. We built stock-proof fences, dug irrigation canals, rigged up observation hides for tourists; all kinds of stuff. That’s what I’d dreamed of doing since I was four years old. My God, look at my face! You can see how excited I am.’

Victor paused to listen to the conversation. Benjamin was teasing a much younger Victor Brodman. ‘When did you lose your mind, Vic?’

‘What do you mean?’ He shot the ball at the hoop. It plopped smoothly through.

‘Good shot. This African thing. Scotty was telling me that not only are you going out to work on a game reserve for nothing, you are actually – actually – paying your so-called employer for the privilege. Listen to someone oh-so smarter, my son. When grown-ups go out to work they get paid something called cash. Now cash comes in oblong pieces of paper, or in pieces of metal called coins.’

‘Very funny, Benny. Hey, stay clear of the greenhouse.’

‘You’ll get nowhere working for nothing,’ Scotty added.

Rajeed patted Victor on the back. ‘Vic’s not obsessed with wealth. He loves the world. This charitable work in Africa proves this friend of ours is a noble man.’ The four laughed, then sang out, ‘Whoa . . . whoa!’ when the ball cannoned in the direction of the fragile greenhouse panes again.

Victor turned to Jay. ‘We’re only half in and half out of this world, aren’t we? I can smell roses and feel the sun’s heat. I know you can put me into this world fully, can’t you? So I can be seen by my friends and talk to them?’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘But you’re not here for that, are you, Jay? You’re going to show me something I don’t know. Just as you showed me what really happened to Archer’s father. That he betrayed him to his killers. So what happens, Jay? Do my friends stab me in the back?’

Jay walked to the house where he vanished inside. Victor followed. He was back in the kitchen he knew so well. That afternoon his retired parents busied themselves making sandwiches. Both wore safari style shirts in keeping with the day’s celebrations.

Victor sighed. ‘Bless them, they threw an African themed party. Look at the Hippo cake. All that bright green icing. I said to them, “Mum, Dad, I love you but did you have to buy the Hippo cake? I’m nineteen, not nine.”’

Jay kept silent.

‘Is this what you wanted me to see? Is it connected with what you said about us believing events happened in a certain way in the past? And not realizing that the facts were actually different?’ His parents chatted softly, mainly about what plates to use, should they bring out the coleslaw yet, that kind of thing. ‘I have lovely parents. My father used part of his retirement lump sum to fund my trip to Africa. They paid my airfare, accommodation, meals . . .’ He groaned. ‘No . . . I don’t want to see what happens next. Jay, please don’t do this to me.’

At that moment his mother paused as she sliced the bread. ‘You have done the right thing, James. It’s a small price to pay.’

‘It’s not selling the car that bothers me.’ He watched the four playing basketball. ‘It’s that I’ve lied to Victor.’

‘Come on, James, a white lie.’

‘Why couldn’t we be honest with him? He’s our flesh and blood.’

‘But there’s no need to worry him needlessly. What you’ve done for James is wonderful. You should be proud.’

His father sighed. ‘He isn’t a boy any more. I should have told him, man-to-man, that I used the lump sum to pay off that damn loan. He’d have understood.’

‘Yes, he’d have understood, James. What he wouldn’t have done is allow you to sell the car. You’ve made this placement in Africa happen. You helped him get the career he’s always wanted.’

Victor closed his eyes. ‘So that’s what happened. I thought my parents had lots of money in savings. I didn’t realize they’d made these sacrifices, like selling the car, so I could go work at the reserve. Dear God, Jay, do you know how this makes me feel? Dad told me he’d sold the car because he had a new one on order. I was too full of what I was doing to even ask why there wasn’t a new car when I came home. Now I know the truth I feel like some miserable parasite. A sponger. A spoilt—’

He opened his eyes. The kitchen had vanished. Instead, he stood on the deck of a ship at sea. It rolled in the heavy swell. People crammed on its deck had to grip on to the railings. Lightning seared the night sky. Dark-skinned mothers clung to their babies. Victor flinched at the sound that reached him. Such a terrible sound that seemed full of pain and despair. A huge groan rose through the deck of the ship.

Beside him, Jay murmured, ‘That’s the sound of the keel breaking.’

Victor spun round toward the bridge. Painted in grave black letters beneath the windows was one word: N’TAAL.