Thirteen Days By Sunset Beach (12 page)

Julian shoved back his chair and stood up. "Let's deal with something that warrants our attention, shall we?"

Ray saw Doug make the effort not to feel disparaged. As they followed Julian across the bridge, the liquid monologue of the stream dwindled to a secretive whisper. A bat fluttered across a wall, or rather the shadow of a large moth circling a streetlamp did. A cat as black and noiseless as the shadow vanished into a garden full of drowsy flowers. In the darkness of a house beside the road a clutch of faces flickered into shape, lit by a television on which John Wayne was addressing a posse of cowboys in Greek. As Ray passed a solitary car parked by the road he saw the glass of the wing mirror begin to twitch. No, the reflection of a spider in its web that spanned the mirror had, and there was no reason to be unnerved by the creature's doubled hunger.

Beyond the last houses, all of which were silent and unlit, the road led past a high white wall. Through a gateway where a pair of wrought-iron gates were bolted open, Ray saw dozens of restless lights. As he limped closer they appeared to draw words and numbers out of the darkness—names and dates. They were flames inside lanterns in front of engraved stones, and the place was a graveyard, presumably the reason why Julian planted his hands on his hips and swung around to confront Doug. "Is this another one of your traditions?"

"Putting lamps on graves?" Ray said. "It's pretty common all over Greece, isn't it, Doug?"

"In that case it's regrettable that someone didn't say so sooner."

"We didn't know what they were then," Doug protested as Julian turned his back on him and marched towards the gateway. He gave his father a wide-eyed grimace, and Ray felt furtive if not partisan for returning a version of the look.

Beyond the gates a broad gravel path led into the depths of the graveyard, which extended so far that the most distant flames looked like stars fallen to earth. Ray had to think the place served more than the village, since it was so large. Sandra and Natalie were just inside the gates, and Julian was staring at his wife. "Why are you waiting here? What have you done with William?"

"We were waiting so you could see where we were," Sandra said.

"Thank you, Sandra, but we're talking about William."

"He's with Jonquil and Tim," Natalie said, "And Pris has gone after them."

"You think he should be at large in a place like this."

"Nobody's going to harm him, are they?" Sandra said. "It's the last place."

"And we thought it might be good for him," Natalie said.

"Please do define what on earth you mean by good."

"To help him get used to the idea of people dying," Sandra said. "That it's natural, not like the man you found."

"You genuinely believe that's required at William's age."

"I think it may be before very long, yes."

Julian gazed at her, and Ray wondered how much he'd understood. He was bracing himself in case she'd decided to make herself clearer when Jonquil called "Where are you, William?"

"I thought he was being looked after," Julian told whoever was to blame, and raised his voice. "Go to Timothy and your sister, William."

Ray heard the boy's giggle a good way ahead. Somewhere to its left Tim called "Go to her, Will."

"Why aren't you two staying together, Tim?" Pris called, which let Ray locate her in the dimness far along the path.

"Because we're trying to find William," Jonquil said, and Ray saw her in the distance beyond Pris.

"Stop playing, William," Natalie shouted. "Go to Jonquil now."

The boy giggled again, and Ray thought he heard a hint of nervousness. "Which one's Jonquil?"

"I'm here, William. Look, on the path."

"Shall we try and make less noise?" Perhaps Julian's frown acknowledged that he wasn't doing so. "Remember where we are," he said. "It's not a place for games."

Perhaps William took at least some of this to heart, since he was silent. "William?" Pris said as she went to Jonquil.

Ray didn't understand why there should be so much confusion, and he couldn't bear it any longer. "I'll go and help," he said.

Sharp pebbles gnashed beneath his sandals until he stepped off the path onto the grass. The gravel had started to bruise his toes, and in any case this was the most direct route to where he'd last heard William. There was more light among the graves than on the path. The grass yielded underfoot, and he thought the ground did as he made his way between stones that appeared to be captioning the unsteady flames with words he couldn't read. Dim figures stood over some of the graves, living up to Julian's appeal for silence. As Ray limped past one still figure he slipped on a moist patch of grass and had to clutch at an arm, dislodging a soft clammy handful—part of a sleeve of moss. He was recovering his balance and the breath he'd lost to a gasp when Pris and Jonquil called not quite in unison "William."

If the boy answered, it was covered up by a clamour of gravel. Julian and Doug and Natalie were tramping along the path, while Sandra followed not too far behind. Ray waited to be sure she wasn't having difficulties, since she was intent on the path—too preoccupied to notice him. Once she came abreast of him he turned away to look for William, only to see a face watching her from the dark.

He would have taken it for a memorial if it hadn't moved. It looked dauntingly ancient and yet as smooth as marble. The large heavy-lidded eyes and thin lips weren't much less pallid than the high bald cranium and long hollow cheeks and incongruously small nose, which seemed like an unsuccessful bid to lend the features some humanity. In a moment Ray saw that it wasn't moving as a face should. The flesh, such as it was, had begun to shift like water, rippling as if it couldn't stay entirely still. Were the pale empty eyes keeping Sandra in sight? Ray twisted around to see if she was aware of the watcher, but she already had her back to him and his uninvited companion. With a good deal of reluctance he turned to confront the figure—to see more than just the face.

There was no tall thin figure. Between Ray and the spot where he was sure it had been standing, a headstone was wobbling as though the occupant of the grave had grown tired of lying still. Ray couldn't breathe until he realised that the lid of the lantern on the grave was open, and only the heat from the flame had made the stone appear to waver. Behind the stone was an angel missing most of both wings, which had to be the figure he'd seen, even if he recalled it as having been closer. He was trying to recapture the sight of its face—presumably having looked directly at the flame had dimmed his night vision, such as it was—when he heard Julian. "Even if we're on holiday, William, that's no excuse for playing hide and seek in here."

"I wasn't."

"Then why did you go wandering off?" Natalie said.

"I was reading all the names over there."

As Ray returned to the path and saw the boy surrounded by the family ahead, Julian declared "I hardly think so, William. You can't decipher the language any more than I can."

"I could read those ones. They're all English."

"We won't argue about it," Julian said with enough finality to be addressing everyone. "There's no question you were hiding from Timothy and Jonquil."

"Daddy, I wasn't."

"William." When this rebuke didn't prompt a confession Natalie said "What do you think you were doing, then?"

"You said to go to Jonquil and I told you, I didn't know which she was.

Both his parents made to speak, but Jonquil was too quick for them. "Which what?"

"Which girl."

Though nobody seemed eager to respond, Julian said "You need to explain yourself, William."

"There was another one over there," William said and pointed at the dark between the twitching lights. "I thought she was Jonquil and I started going to her, then I saw she was looking for Tim."

"Don't say that, Will," Tim protested. "There wasn't anyone like that,"

As Tim rubbed his arm hard enough to be trying to erase the bite Ray said "I think I know what you saw, William. I saw something like it too."

"What?" the boy said, not as if he was especially anxious to know.

"There are statues all around us, aren't there? And the lights make them seem to move. I thought one did just now. I'll bet that's the kind of thing you saw."

William looked stubborn. "She was watching Tim."

For a moment he made Ray feel as if not all the pallid figures among the graves might be composed of stone, and then Julian intervened. "I think we've had enough adventures before bed, William."

He led the way out of the graveyard, and Ray took Sandra's hand, not least to prevent her from rubbing the side of her neck. "It doesn't bother me," she insisted when he tried to ask about the bite. Once they were through the gates Natalie captured William's hand while Julian hung back to murmur to everyone else "We've had our fill of death now. I'll ask you not to bring it up again."

Sandra gripped Ray's hand, but he couldn't risk looking at her. As they headed for the Sunny View he saw a dark shape nutter across the road. It was the shadow of a moth, but what did it suggest to him? He glanced back at the graveyard, where nothing except lights appeared to move, and then he realised what was on his mind—a thought as useless as it was irrationally unsettling. The moth had reminded him how lights lured nocturnal creatures out of the dark.

"Well, that wasn't our best night," Natalie said. "I don't think we would have minded lying in."

Pris turned away from watching for the bus. "Sorry if I woke anyone too soon. I just thought we'd planned so much today I'd give everyone a shout."

"No need to blame yourself, Priscilla," Julian said. "Someone had already wakened us."

"I was only telling William to let me sleep," Jonquil protested.

"Perhaps you could have shown a little more consideration for your brother, since you knew he'd had a bad night."

Ray thought Sandra meant to rescue Jonquil by asking "What were you dreaming, William?"

"I thought a man got in the room."

Ray felt close to recalling a dream of his own until Sandra said "That doesn't sound like much of a dream."

"Well, it emphatically was one," Julian told William. "You said he went away without opening the door."

"I wonder if you might feel a bit responsible," Natalie said.

"Why on earth should I feel anything of the kind?" When she didn't answer Julian demanded "For what, for heaven's sake?"

"For working William up before he went to bed. Maybe for going on so much about things we won't mention instead of letting him come to terms with them."

"I think I'm exactly the wrong person to accuse of that," As Natalie made to respond he said "And I wonder what you imagine you'll achieve by discussing this in front of him."

Ray would have liked the sound of a bus to break the ensuing silence, but it was Julian who did. "I appreciate you felt you had to defend your mother. Forgive me, Sandra, if I was abrupt."

"You're forgiven," Sandra said as they heard a bus approaching from the direction of the graveyard.

The driver stared so hard at her and the teenagers that he might almost have expected them to remove their hats and sunglasses when they stepped on board. Several women blessed them as they filed to their seats, and Julian seemed near to demanding why. He was silent until the bus reached Sunset Beach. "Don't bother looking, Jonquil," he said then. "We won't be wasting any more time here."

"What are you looking for, Sandra?" Ray said loud enough for Julian to hear.

"Just looking. Can't I look?"

Her reaction was fiercer than he understood. He was distracted by the women in the front seats, who were covering their eyes whenever someone came in sight ahead. Sandra peered at every solitary figure the bus passed, and he could have imagined she was searching for a face. She appeared not to recognise them any more than Ray did, and he told himself that it was comical to fancy either of them could.

The bus had passed through several villages by the time it reached the path that led to the beach with the cave. As it came abreast of the shrine Ray saw a large white butterfly fluttering its wings on the glass. He was about to draw William's attention to the resemblance to an angel when he realised that the butterfly was struggling in a cobweb. He glimpsed legs twitching into view around the window-frame before a massive spider darted out to seize its victim. He hoped the boy hadn't seen, and looked for sights to point out to him—a herd of goats fleeing up a slope bedside the road, an eagle hovering above the inland hills, the familiar Greek spectacle of uncompleted houses sprouting rusty metal rods where a roof should be. "That's one way of getting some sun," he said.

The comment would have been more appropriate if the sky hadn't started to grow overcast. "Sorry about the clouds," Doug said. "We only just read there's more here than anywhere else in Greece."

Masts appeared to be trying to poke holes in the sky above the harbour of Vasilema Town. A few passengers were disembarking from a ferry while a busload of homegoing tourists collected their luggage from the bowels of the bus. Most of them wore hats and sunglasses, and looked paler than their stay ought to have left them. They seemed weary too, but perhaps the holiday representative was urging them to be quick. As the sun found a gap in the overcast they hurried to the ferry with a thunderous rumble of luggage.

Beyond the harbour a side street led to the bus terminal—a square in which a line of shelters stood in front of a ticket office and a waiting-room. Once the family had stepped down Julian lingered to ask the driver "What time is the last bus back, please?"

The man jerked his hand at the windscreen, presumably gesturing at the ticket office rather than the sets of blind eyes that twitched above the mirror—the zeros of a defunct digital clock. "Most helpful," Julian said and marched over to the booth, where he planted his elbows on the window ledge until the woman at the counter looked up. "How late do you go to, you'll forgive me if I can't pronounce it. How late do you go through Sunset Beach."