Agnes Owens (24 page)

Climbing the sand dunes wasn't easy. They kept sliding back down. Bobby did it deliberately thinking it was funny. Megan was glad to see him in a better mood. When they got to the top they found they were on a golf course stretching for miles with nobody on it but a man in a grey track suit. He saw them, came over and said, ‘Better watch out you don't get hit with a golf ball. It's not safe up here.'

Megan asked him if he was a golfer – she noticed he wasn't carrying any clubs. When he told her he was just out for the day collecting golf balls, she began to wonder if he might be one of those strangers they'd been warned not to speak to.

‘Bobby,' she said loudly, ‘we'd better go back. Mummy and Daddy will be looking for us.'

‘But I thought –' he began and was cut off by Megan pulling him back down the sandy slope. When he got to the bottom he said that he'd wanted to stay up there.

‘It's not safe,' she said.

‘Why not?' Then, as if it had nothing to do with anything, he let out a tremendous wail.

‘In the name of God, what is it now?' she said, in the same tone her mother used when totally exasperated.

‘I've left my pail and spade,' he said, pointing up at the sand dunes.

She felt like strangling him. ‘Well, I'm not going for them,' but when he began to wail loud enough to split the rocks, she said she would go if he came with her to the lighthouse.

‘I don't want to,' he said, stamping his feet in temper. ‘I want to go back to that other beach where Mummy left us.'

It was then she decided she'd had enough of his tantrums. ‘Go then,' she said, giving him a shove so that he tottered on blindly for a few steps. ‘I don't want to ever see you again.'

When he turned round she was racing along the beach at a fair speed. He called on her to come back, though it was doubtful she heard him above the cries of the seagulls, but even if she had, she probably wouldn't have stopped anyway.

On arriving at the lighthouse, she saw there was no way to get close to it as it was surrounded by water, not unless she waited until the tide went out, and that would take hours. Sullenly, she looked up at its round turreted shape thinking it was much more boring from this angle than it had seemed from a distance. She wished she'd never come. The sea was stormy now with the waves lashing over the rocks. The whole venture had been a complete waste of time and energy, she decided. Suddenly her attention was riveted to what looked like a body in the water. For a split second she thought it was Bobby, which would have been quite impossible considering the distance she'd come. Nevertheless, it was a great relief to discover this was only a mooring buoy. She laughed at
her mistake then began to feel uneasy. She could picture him stumbling into the sea for a paddle thinking it was all shallow water. It was the kind of stupid thing he was liable to do. Panic swept over her. What if something terrible happened to him? She should never have left him like that. Without another thought for the lighthouse or anything but Bobby, she began running back to where she'd left him, praying that he'd be all right.

From a distance she saw him hunkered down, digging in the sand. He must have gone up the sand dunes to get his pail and spade after all, she thought. She slowed down, her legs tired and aching, then to her dismay she saw the man they'd met on the golf course. He was hovering a few yards behind Bobby poking some debris on the shore with a stick.

‘Bobby!' she called out sharply. ‘Come over to me at once.'

He either didn't hear this or pretended not to, but the man did. He looked up at her and began to walk smartly in their direction. Galvanised into taking some kind of action, she ran forward to reach Bobby first. In fact she'd almost got to him when she slipped on a stone covered in seaweed and went down, the back of her head hitting off its sharp edge.

Her eyes were staring up at the sky as the man and Bobby crouched beside her. Bobby said, ‘You shouldn't have left me. I'm telling Mummy.'

The man pulled him back. ‘Leave her alone. She's in bad enough shape.' Then he put his lips close to her ear. ‘Can you hear me?'

When her eyes flickered he put his hand over her mouth and nose and held it there for a considerable time. After that he turned to Bobby saying, ‘We'll have to get an ambulance. You can come with me.'

Bobby said he didn't want to get an ambulance. He wanted to go back to the other beach.

‘All right,' said the man, taking him by the hand and dragging him towards the sand dunes with Bobby protesting all the way. His cries died down when they vanished over the top.

Later that afternoon, a strong breeze sprang up along the shore, lifting clouds of sand into the air as well as the strands of Megan's hair drifting across her race. Seagulls came down to stand on her and poke her with their beaks, then, as if not liking what they found, they flew off to the horizon whilst imperceptibly and gradually her body sank into the sand, making a groove for itself. A passer-by might have thought she was asleep, she looked so peaceful. But no one came by that day, and in the evening when the sun went down she was gone with the tide.

D
avey came up over the steep, stony track that would lead him to the golf course once he had climbed a fence and crossed a burn. Sometimes he stopped to catch his breath. He was coming up for sixty and a hard life had taken its toll. When he reached the fence he became uneasy. Tam Duggan sat on a tree stump, arms folded as if patiently waiting on him.

‘Saw ye comin' in the distance,' said Tam with a jovial smile. ‘I thought I might as well go along wi' ye.'

‘Aye,' said Davey with a nod. He could hardly refuse the offer for Tam was a big strong-looking fellow in his early twenties with a police record as long as his arm, mainly for assault.

He climbed stiffly over the fence then jumped the narrow burn with Tam following more easily.

‘Up collectin' your golf ba's?' said Tam. ‘I hear you dae quite well.'

‘No' bad,' mumbled Davey, his voice lost in the wind that had sprung up carrying a drizzle of rain with it.

He gave his companion a sidelong glance, wondering if he was as bad as folk said – it was easy to be in trouble nowadays, especially if you were young and had nothing to take up your time.

Tam faced him and said humbly, ‘I hope you don't mind me comin' along wi' ye. I thought I might try some collectin' masel'.'

His coarse, handsome face was marred by a scar running the length of the left cheek.

‘Why no'?' said Davey. ‘It's a free country,' though his heart sank. He didn't want anyone else poaching, at least not alongside him. Others who collected golf balls were usually solitary figures
in the distance, acting as if they were out for a stroll and keeping well clear of each other.

‘It's right cauld up here,' said Tam, ducking his head from the wind and sticking his hands in the pockets of his flimsy black anorak.

‘The higher you climb, the caulder it gets,' said Davey, himself warm enough under the thick cloth of a donkey jacket purchased from an ex-Youth Training Scheme employee.

He paused to pick up a golf ball a few inches off the path. Tam looked round and said with surprise, ‘You've got wan already and we're naewhere near the course?'

‘Ye can get the odd wan as far doon as the fermer's field but up the tap beside the golf course is the best place.' The words were hardly out of Davey's mouth when Tam was bounding on ahead. ‘I hope he stays oot ma road,' said Davey under his breath. Without hurrying he found two more golf balls on the way up. When he reached the top Tam was standing not far from the path, his face a picture of misery.

‘Ma feet are soakin,' he said. ‘It's a bog here.'

‘Ah well,' said Davey, regarding his own heavy wellingtons complacently, ‘you've got to put on the right gear for this business.'

‘How was I tae know?' said Tam, staring ahead in a sullen manner at the long stretch of grass, moss and whin bushes parallel to the golf course.

‘You can always go back,' said Davey.

‘I might as well stay noo that I'm up here,' said Tam, walking on slowly. Then his long arm swooped down on the rough grass. ‘A golf ba',' he shouted, ‘a pure yellow wan tae. It's a beauty.'

Davey came up to join him.

‘Very nice. A good make as well. You've done no' bad.'

‘No' bad! I've done better than you. This is pure yellow and you've only got a white wan.'

‘I've got three,' said Davey, tapping his pocket.

‘Ye never telt me that,' said Tam, looking put out. ‘How no'?'

‘Dae I have tae tell ye everythin'?' said Davey, suddenly feeling fed up and wishing he had turned back when he first clapped eyes on this big pest. Abruptly he veered off through the moss down towards a drainage ditch where he immediately found two balls under the water. His pleasure was lost when Tam called, ‘Don't tell me you've got anither wan.'

‘Naw, two,' Davey called back, deciding that he was going to try and ignore Tam's attitude as best he could for there was no point in getting worked up about it. The guy was worse than bad – he was mentally retarded. At the same time he was almost glad when five minutes later Tam found a ball within a clump of gorse, cursing the needles pricking his hand as he pulled it out.

‘Anither wan,' he shouted, holding it up for Davey's inspection.

Thank God for that, thought Davey to himself. Being forced to study it he noticed it was chipped but said, ‘Aye, very good,' with a false encouraging nod.

The wind died down and the rain became heavier. The view of the town below was blanked out with mist. Tam said to Davey, ‘This weather would sicken ye.'

‘Aye,' replied Davey, thinking it wasn't the only thing. He added, ‘At least it keeps the golfers away.' So far he had seen only three on the other side of the course and they appeared to be hurrying in the direction of the clubhouse.

‘Them!' said Tam contemptuously. ‘They want their heids examined.'

By the time they were halfway along the edge of the course, Davey had found another three and Tam another one, which Davey had kicked in his direction when Tam wasn't looking, simply to keep his mouth shut. For a minute or two it did the trick, then he began to complain again.

‘I'm soaked through.'

‘There's a hut no' far away,' Davey told him. ‘We'll take a bit shelter and see whit happens.'

Before they reached the hut Tam said in an urgent tone, ‘Listen – how much dae ye get for golf ba's?'

‘How much?' said Davey, frowning thoughtfully. ‘Oh well, at the maist three for a pound.'

‘Is that a'?' said Tam, looking offended. ‘I heard ye got a pound each.'

‘I don't know where ye heard that, but I've only ever got three for a pound.'

‘So you're tellin' me,' said Tam, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

‘As ye know yersel',' said Davey, trying to keep his temper, ‘stolen property loses hauf its value by the time it reaches a buyer.'

‘I bet I could get two quid for that yellow golf ba' any day,' said Tam. He snapped his fingers in the air. ‘Jist like that.'

‘You try it then,' said Davey, thankful to be nearing the hut. He would take a rest, drink the can of super lager he had in the back pocket of his trousers, then return home. He'd had enough of this fellow. They entered the hut and sat on a bench against the back wall – Tam gingerly on the edge of it, as it was exceedingly damp, and Davey leaning back carelessly with his legs stretched out.

‘It's as cauld and wet in here than whit it is ootside,' said Tam.

Davey brought out his can of super lager. He offered it to Tam.

‘Here, take a wee drap o' this. It might heat ye up.'

‘No thanks,' said Tam, with a look of disgust. ‘I cannae go that stuff. It tastes like gnats' piss.'

‘Maybe so,' said Davey, ‘but ye get accustomed tae the taste. Besides, it's the effect I'm efter.'

‘Whit effect?' sneered Tam, staring moodily through the wide-open doorway of the hut. ‘I'd rather have a hauf bottle o' Bell's, or even a joint. Dae you know there's mair effect wi' a joint than that stuff ?'

‘I widnae know,' said Davey, putting the can to his mouth and wishing he had another two to go with it, for there really wasn't much effect from one can when he came to think of it.

‘How many golf ba's did ye say ye had?' Tam suddenly asked.

‘Er – eh, five,' said Davey vaguely.

‘So, I've got three and that makes eight. If we got anither two that would be ten. I know where I could sell them for a pound each and that would be a fiver tae you and a fiver tae me.'

Davey took another pull at his can. Definitely there was no effect from it at all and there wouldn't likely to be with this blowhard rabbiting on in his ear.

‘I'm gaun hame shortly,' he said. ‘I don't feel sae good.'

‘Haw – flyman,' jibed Tam.

This angered Davey. ‘Whit dae ye mean – flyman? I'm gaun hame, and that's that.'

‘Aye, because you've got the maist ba's, that's how.'

‘So whit, if I have,' said Davey, beginning to feel a slight hit off the lager, which increased his anger. ‘I found them, didn't I?'

‘That's only because you were lucky. I wis lookin' every bit as hard as you and soaked tae the skin intae the bargain. Look at ma trainers. They're ruined.'

Davey continued to drink his lager while Tam paced up and down the mud floor of the hut, his face grim and determined. He stopped suddenly to point his forefinger at Davey's face.

‘OK, if you're no' collectin' I want yer golf ba's.'

‘You're no gettin' them,' said Davey, his voice less strong than he had intended as Tam leaned over him and growled, ‘Haund them ower, pal.'