Limestone Man (37 page)

Neon on the black waves, smiled Parry. That's what I can see. A desperate message, I used to think. But maybe…

Don't think I haven't watched it too, said Mina, hunching her shoulders. Scribbled in red. Maybe in green… And upside down. Sometimes I've thought it was language melting. You know, melting in the sea. Or maybe the sea was dissolving the words. Like acid, those waves. A kind of acid bath.

They were standing under one of the few working streetlights. Mina's hair was a web in the fret. When she looked at Parry, he seemed drenched in light. The rain on his face was like wire. There were seed
-
pearls in his hair.

But people came, he insisted. Didn't they? Forty's good. Isn't it? Forty?

Yeah. Forty's good. Ish. But more like thirty. Including us.

No, I counted. It's good, isn't it? Forty?

Forty's wonderful. In this filthy fog. And your little talk was spot on.

Parry shivered and shook himself, rubbing his arm, flexing his palm.

Listen, he said quietly. To that black tide. After all these years, it's still difficult to know when the tide's coming in. Or when it's going out.

Suppose so, said Mina.

And I suppose I've always looked for that one moment when the tide's …
perfect
. You know? When everything's balanced
.

He rubbed his arm again.

Come on, he said. I'll have to deal with the human wreckage of Glan now. Looked good, though. Didn't he? Dusky pink, eh?

He'll sleep the clock round, said Mina. But I thought you were going to wear that shirt.

The woman glanced up Amazon Street. Yeah, he looked okay, she agreed. But the little shit can't sing. And the little shit can't play…

But maybe he's in the right place at the right time, insisted Parry.

Right place? Mina held up her arms and opened her hands. Right time? Hey, look around, lover. Look around.

VI

There was no one left. Yet Nia decided to take the steps back to the room where she and Mina had stood together. In the far corner another flight of stairs led upward. She decided to try these.

Nia climbed carefully. The single bulb in the top landing was working, but was very weak, so she had borrowed Gil's torch. The girl could feel plaster crunching under her feet on the wooden boards.

As far as she could make out, there was one dark room, with three other doors leading off. She was surprised there was so much space. Nia had been here only once before. That was her first exploration, after being made what…? Manager? Dogsbody?

She remembered one of the old men on the committee saying, ‘oh yes, we'd be so very grateful, so very grateful… As you know, there's not much call now…'

Was it duty? she wondered, listening to her steps disturb the dust. Her shoes scratched as if she was walking through sand. And yes, there was sand, even here, on the third floor under the roof. Sand in veils of grey grit. Sand clogging the webs. In one corner was a radio with scattered CD cases.

Under the window was a pile of clothes. She identified a blanket, a leather jacket, a yellow tee shirt. Then stepped closer and saw a sleeping bag.

Nia was sure it had not been there when she had first explored. There was also a wine bottle and two glasses. The heel of a loaf. She counted seven candle stubs.

It was damp in the room and she felt a draught from the window. Stepping closer to the glass she found an attempt had been made to repair a missing pane. A piece of cardboard was inserted into the frame.

Nia tried to remember overhearing attic sounds. Yes, the roof groaned in high winds. But she had imagined it was the building settling itself. The girl wondered if she had ever heard the radio in that room. A room such as where the boys were found. Bodies not discovered for months. Footprints of rats in the dust. Words on a white wall. Unread.

Kids, she thought.

Just kids.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The author acknowledges and is grateful for the award of a Literature Wales/Llenyddiaeth Cymru bursary which allowed him to work on this volume.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Robert Minhinnick published his first novel
, Sea Holly
with Seren in 2007. He has also published a collection of short stories,
The Keys of Babylon
(2011), and three collections of essays, two of which have been Wales Book of the Year. The latest of these collections is
Island of Lightning
(2013). His
Selected Poems
appeared from Carcanet in  2012, containing his two Forward prizes for ‘best individual poem'. From 1997 to 2008  he was editor of the international magazine,
Poetry Wales
. Robert Minhinnick is an advisor to the charity Sustainable Wales, and was co
-
founder of Friends of the Earth Cymru.

Seren is the book imprint of Poetry Wales Press Ltd

57 Nolton Street, Bridgend, Wales, CF31 3AE

www.serenbooks.com

Facebook: facebook.com/SerenBooks

Twitter: @SerenBooks

© Robert Minhinnick 2015

ISBNs:

978
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1
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78172
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249
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7 paperback

978
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1
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78172
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250
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3 kindle

978
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1
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78172
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251
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0 ebook

The right of Robert Minhinnick to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

A CIP record for this title is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted at any time or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the copyright holder.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters and incidents portrayed are the work of the author's imagination. Any other resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The publisher works with the financial assistance of The Welsh Books Council