Dark Harbour: The Tale of the Soul Searcher (3 page)

Simon rolled his eyes then approached the kitchen door. He immediately cocked an ear to it. Jeremy didn’t think that his brother should have been doing that but he did not dare voice his disapproval.

Jeremy saw the frown form within Simon’s heavy eyebrows and they betrayed the growing fiery emotions that festered within him. He didn’t bother asking Simon what he could hear. He didn’t have to anyway because once Alan Hammond had left, Simon was ready to burst.

‘I want to help you, Granddad. Tell me what to do!’

What the heck is he saying? Does he think he’s a gangster?

‘Oh, Simon,’ Ulric replied and then sighed.

‘Let’s go get them. We can take them on.’

Them? Who are them?
Jeremy looked to his grandfather.

‘Just because you were eavesdropping doesn’t mean you have any idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Yeah? I saw that letter. The one from T.H.M.’

Their grandfather looked surprised and for a moment his moustache stiffened. ‘And do you have any idea who
he
is?’

‘Well… no.’

‘And let’s keep it that way.’ Ulric wandered over to the cabinet and brought out a bottle of whisky and a glass. ‘I appreciate your concern, my boy. But someone’s already helping.’ Ulric poured out a generous tot. ‘This isn’t a problem with the school bully I’m having here, Simon.’

‘I know. I just want to help you against this bastard,’ Simon shot back at him.

Jeremy was shocked to hear him use such a word. Maybe that was his way of making himself seem more grown up so that Granddad would take him a bit more seriously.

‘Don’t you have some homework to do?’ Ulric asked before knocking back a mouthful of the amber spirit.

Chapter 0.3

Jeremy began seeing his brother grow into a different person, always restless, full of bite. Forever on his grandfather’s heels, Simon was so intent to get in a fight, even though he had no idea who the fight was against, and even though his opponents had more than pluck and teenage testosterone to fuel them.

Ulric just tended to ignore whatever nonsense Simon spewed from his increasingly hot head. He knew better than to involve a thirteen-year-old in his matters. That did not stop Simon from continuing to pick away at things all the time. And neither, for that matter, did it stop Jeremy’s growing curiosity.

One morning, a few days after the visit of Alan Hammond, Ulric took Jeremy to the park to play on the swings. It was a drab morning and the vindictive clouds were threatening to unleash their venom over them. Ulric pushed Jeremy on one of the swings but he wasn’t swinging that high at all. The old man’s energy was draining away.

‘Granddad, who is T.H.M.?’ Jeremy couldn’t help but ask. That’s all he ever did, just ask silly questions all the time. He could imagine how annoying he must be to everyone.

Ulric was quiet for a few moments. He let go of Jeremy’s swing and then sat on the one next to him. ‘He’s an important man who lives in this town.’

‘Does he not like you?’

‘Jeremy, these are not things for you to worry about.’

The inquisitive young boy was not done with his questions however. ‘Is
he
not a very nice man?’

‘No. Not very nice at all.’

The old guardian knew that it wouldn’t help anything by talking to a little child about his problems, but on the other hand it was just nice to be able to talk to
someone
about them. It was just a relief to let out the things that had been going round in his head.

‘Unfortunately, Jeremy, there are unfriendly people everywhere you turn in life, people who like to do others harm. And the way these unfriendly people go about it is very clever so that they’re able to get away with what they do. And you don’t have a Superman or a Batman to help you against them. At least…’ he paused for a moment and ran his bottom lip over the thick bristles of his moustache. ‘At least not how you would imagine your superheroes to be. The reality is there are no heroes. They’re only on the same level as the enemy.’

Ulric could hear by his smooth tone of voice that he was starting to get a bit philosophical. He guessed that the little lad was most probably lost by now but young Jeremy was actually taking in every word. More so than Ulric would ever know.

‘What about the police, though? Can they help you?’

Ulric smiled at his grandson. ‘No. They can’t help me with this. I had to go somewhere else.’

‘The man with the mint humbugs? Alan?’

Ulric smiled again. He knew the boy was perceptive. He had sensed an astounding brightness from him since the very first moment he’d laid eyes on him wrapped up in his daughter’s arms in the hospital.

‘That’s right.’ Ulric looked towards the heavens. ‘Looks like it’s starting to rain. Come on, let’s go home and have some lunch. I’m getting a bit peckish.’

By the time they arrived back at the flat they were wet through with the unrelenting rain. It wasn’t just a few spots that the sky had been threatening, it was a virtual cloud burst.

‘That’s the thing about clouds, isn’t it?’ Ulric remarked as he towelled Jeremy’s fair hair. ‘Sometimes they just drizzle and sometimes they pour buckets. Can’t always tell.’

When Jeremy had dried off, he walked over to the living-room window and peered outside. It suddenly seemed a tremendous view. He scanned the vista and picked out some of the landmarks he’d come to know - there was the Lafford monument just sticking out from the buildings on the High Street, the run-down theatre near the seafront, and there were the mule-making arcades. Their colours were even more washed out as the rain continued to lash down on the gloomy buildings.

It felt like he could see the entire town from there and he could literally feel some sort of brooding turmoil emanating from it, manifested in the form of this vicious rainstorm that attempted to cleanse a sinful world. It felt as though the town was crying out in its tortured anger, unable to contain the frenetic feelings that surged through every street and every building, those same silent feelings that seeped into the inhabitant’s psyches like malicious poltergeists.

The young boy could feel the heavy shadows drawing him into their vortex of darkness. As he could imagine the waves of Moonlight Cove sweeping through him, so too today he could feel the town’s shadows creeping into his very being, blending his colours into their own, like a black cat as it absorbed the falling dusk.

The young boy knew that this was where he belonged. This was where he was supposed to be. A stranger to the town at first, it had not taken long for Jeremy to feel a part of Dark Harbour and the shady world of his grandfather.

During the final days of the school term, Jeremy continued to walk around in his grandfather’s shadow while Simon sat it out at school. Being the new kid there he struggled to make many friends, but there was one lad called Oliver whom Simon had taken a shine to, quite possibly because the boy had a yellow belt in karate.

The more Simon clenched his fists and the more his grandfather bashed his fists against his own head, the more fragile life seemed to young Jeremy. He felt as though he had to hold on to everything so tightly for fear of them slipping away through his fingertips, as had happened with his mother. The cold winds of adversity still rustled in the distance, but Jeremy somehow wanted to keep the encroaching misfortune at bay.

Jeremy had sensed for a while that something was waiting for him, like poisonous brume lurking in his mind, slowly creeping in to eclipse the light of his soul. It was just a matter of when it would come but he knew its arrival would fulfil his dark metamorphosis. It was, in fact, announced by the telephone call.

It was a Wednesday evening in July and Simon had just finished his last day at school. He and Jeremy sat in the living-room watching
Blue Peter
, not because they wanted to, only because they both assumed that the other wanted to watch it. Ulric was in the kitchen preparing bangers and mash for tea.

And so the telephone rang.

‘Can you get that, Simon?’ they heard their grandfather call out.

Simon was already picking up the receiver. ‘Yeah,’ he said to answer the call.

The voice on the other end spoke firmly. ‘It’s time we spoke, Ulric. Meet my man down on the beach in ten minutes. And make sure you leave those boys of yours locked up while you’re down here.’

The line went dead. Simon slammed down the receiver. For a moment he looked towards his grandfather in the kitchen. His mind was in overdrive, his eyes sparkling like firecrackers.

‘Who was it?’ Ulric asked.

‘No one,’ Simon replied. He disappeared into his room for a moment and then returned. ‘I’m just going out,’ he muttered to his brother. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘Where are you going?’ a confused Jeremy asked.

‘Stay here.’

Hearing the front door go, Ulric popped his head around the door. ‘Where did he go? Tea’s nearly ready.’

‘I don’t know,’ Jeremy replied.

A timer in the kitchen sounded.

‘Can you go after him for me?’

Jeremy stood and then picked up a couple of his action figures. He just felt that he needed them.

It did not take long to spot his brother. It was a muggy evening but Simon had still gone out wearing his coat. From the promenade, Jeremy could see him standing far across the sands. It suddenly struck Jeremy that Simon’s coat looked a little too big for him.

What Jeremy could not see from the back of the beach was his brother’s pale face, and his hand reaching into his coat pocket to bring out a packet of cigarettes. Nor could he see Simon’s hand shaking as he did this.

As Simon popped a cigarette into his mouth he heard a familiar voice approaching.

‘Simon! Simon! Granddad says tea is nearly ready.’

He casually hid the cigarettes as he turned to face his little brother. ‘What are you doing here? I’m busy! I’m meeting someone.’

‘Can I come with you?’

‘No, you can’t! Look just bugger off home would you, you stupid little shit!’

Why is he so angry?
Jeremy’s nerves began to feel on edge, as though he could feel the ground trembling as the leviathan of disaster approached.

Simon looked across the beach. There was a man in the distance walking towards them.

‘Look, go and wait over there,’ Simon instructed his brother as he pointed towards a small wooden shelter at the back of the beach.

‘Why don’t you just come back and we can play with these?’ Jeremy said as he held up Luke Skywalker and Boba Fett.

‘Yeah. I will later.’

Jeremy didn’t know what he should do, but feeling Simon’s heavy glare on him he reluctantly did as he was told. Slumping down beside the beach hut he looked back towards his unhinged brother.

The lone figure eventually walked up to him. He was a grown-up, but not the same as those you pass on the street. He had such a black aura and emitted a poisonous charge in the air, like a demon that had crawled out of the shadows and had come to swallow Simon into his world. Jeremy wanted to go back to his brother and just pull him away from him.

This isn’t a movie I’m watching. I can still do something! I can save him!

The man folded his arms and began circling around Simon. Jeremy also noticed that he’d taken his T-shirt off and stuffed it into his back pocket, most probably so that he could deliberately intimidate with his large muscles.

The next moments went by in a flash. The demon pushed Simon slightly and Simon lashed out, pushing him back as he would the playground bully.

Stop it, Simon, stop it! Just run away
!

But Simon was oblivious to Jeremy’s thoughts and the sick feeling that was swelling in his stomach. Suddenly the bare-chested man had a flick-knife in his hand. Suddenly he thrust it into Simon’s chest. And suddenly Simon fell to the ground.

Now Simon was oblivious to everything.

Jeremy lost control of his body and found himself running as fast as he could towards his brother. He came to a halt as the bare-chested man reached down to pull the knife out of Simon’s guts. And it was at that very moment that an image was permanently etched within Jeremy’s mind, a vision that would haunt him for the rest of his life, a vision that would represent to him the darkness that had suddenly exploded within his soul. On this man’s back was a tattoo of a spider. A black widow spider.

On removing the knife, the man turned to face Jeremy, but the young boy could only stare at his pale brother lying still on the ground.

Lifeless. Gone. Forever.

‘Get out of here, kid,’ the black widow man said, but Jeremy just sank to his knees in the sand.

Eventually, however, the demon slinked away.

Jeremy’s mind was blank. He knelt rigidly, staring at Simon’s eyes. There was nothing within them and it pushed Jeremy over the edge into the abyss.

An abyss of such penetrating darkness.

For a good ten minutes Jeremy had been completely numb, rooted firmly to the ground beside his brother as if some invisible force was holding him there.