Thirteen Days By Sunset Beach (29 page)

If she recognised him, she was suppressing any sign. "You said your tattoos were no good," he reminded her. "Why?"

"He said."

Apparently she meant Julian, who was leading William uphill. "Dad," Doug said.

"Just bear with me," Ray said if not begged, and kept his eyes on the young woman. "You said more than he did. You told us it was too late."

Sandra had turned back now, and in a moment the teenagers did. Either the young woman had decided she wasn't being questioned or she was determined not to be, since her gaze had drifted to the stall. "Too late for what exactly?" Ray said, but when she didn't raise her eyes or speak he had to ask the question that he dreaded putting into words. "Too late for whom?"

Her gaze was flickering from Tim to Jonquil when Doug intervened. "Dad, you're harassing somebody again. We all know why you're feeling bad, but you mustn't let it make you act like this."

"That isn't why," Ray protested, but Doug had turned to the woman, having stepped between them. "Please excuse my father," he said. "He has a lot on his mind."

Ray thought Doug had no idea how much, but was there any use in saying? As he laboured uphill in the midst of the family he might have thought they were escorting him so that he wouldn't trouble anybody else. At least the route was leading them to the church, where he might have a last chance to gain some information—and then he remembered that the church was well beyond the highest shops, which meant they mightn't reach it. When the shops gave out he carried on. "I'm just going to the church."

"What do you want there?" Doug called after him.

"Maybe I'll pray," he said wildly and tramped panting up the hill.

As he crossed a junction he recognised a lane where a word had been sprayed on a wall, which was bare of letters now. From the square at the top of the hill he saw a distant island catch light from the sun behind the clouds above Vasilema. When he hurried into the church, having regained some breath, he had to blink his eyes clear of the dazzle that met them. Even once he succeeded in focusing, the wavering of air above the multitude of candle flames and the smell of hot wax felt like a threat of dizziness and nausea. At first he thought he was alone apart from the saints flattened on the walls and in the windows, grim figures too lacking in dimension to suggest any power, and then he glimpsed movement near the altar. It wasn't just the quivering of flames; the custodian had emerged from his room. "Hello?" Ray called—not too inappropriately loud, he hoped—and tramped along the aisle with an irrepressible clatter of sandals. "I was here last week when you chased those people out of your church."

The man greeted this with a scowl like a summation of the dimness that the flames failed to reach. At least he didn't retreat to his room, and Ray was about to question him when heard the door open behind him. He turned to see Sandra letting herself into the church. Surely she wouldn't try to silence him. "What did you say to those people?" he persisted.

The man glowered at his downturned hands and swept them apart. "Not welcome here."

"We saw they weren't, but why? What was it you called them?"

The man clasped his hands and rubbed them together with such force that the sound roused an echo, and Ray wondered if he could be sweating at the memory. When this was his only response Ray urged "What are they? Tell us that, then."

The man looked up to scowl at Sandra. "Not here. Shouldn't be in church."

"But why exactly?" As the custodian's disapproval stayed mute Ray abandoned caution. "Shall I tell you what they are?" he said, though his voice felt in danger of falling short of his words. "They feed so Skiá feeds."

Sandra was beside him now. Diminished flames trembled in the lenses of her sunglasses, and Ray wondered if this was the sight that seemed to fascinate the custodian. The man was licking his lips to separate them when Ray heard the door open again, and several people entering the church. "Dad," Doug called.

At the very least this was a warning. Ray swung around to see Doug and Pris and a pair of silhouettes behind them. Those didn't belong to Natalie and Julian, and even when they advanced into the candlelight he didn't immediately know why the men looked familiar. Then he made out their uniforms, and recognised the officers he'd seen behind the counter of the police station at Sunset Beach.

The door of the custodian's room shut with a decisive thud, disturbing so many flames that the golden figures seemed to start forward from the walls. When Sandra caught hold of his hand Ray thought she was going to lead him out of the church until he saw she wanted him to face her. She tilted her head towards him, emphasising the mark on her neck, while she whispered "I hope you're right, Ray."

As Ray leaned over the balcony in case he could determine how the night had treated everybody else, Sandra called "Come and see me."

He could have thought she had sex on her mind, but it seemed unlikely while she was in the bathroom. He straightened up too fast, which made the clouds above Vasilema appear to sink towards him and grow darker, putting out the hidden sun. He gripped the concrete wall until the bout of dizziness finished lingering, by which time he was afraid that Sandra might think he was ignoring her. "I'm on my way," he called as he opened his eyes and let go of the wall. He limped into the apartment and then faltered in the doorway of the bathroom.

Sandra was gazing at the mirror above the sink. For a moment that Ray couldn't help attempting to prolong, he was able to believe that nothing was amiss except a last trace of his dizziness. Couldn't this be why he found it hard to focus on the reflection in the glass? He took an uncertain step towards Sandra, which brought him too close to deny what she was seeing. It felt as if the wordless peace they'd shared last night—a calm that might have been the culmination of all their years together, of no longer needing to speak—had abruptly ended. His reflection was in focus, as it had already been, and so was the reflection of the bathroom. Only Sandra's image in the mirror was so indistinct that Ray felt as if he were straining to distinguish it in utter darkness.

Perhaps it wasn't quite that bad, he was desperate to think. As his eyes began to sting he managed to make out her face, even if the features were softened by the blur. Now it looked as if the section of the mirror within her outline had been transformed into mist or deep water, through which he was attempting to grasp the sight of her. He was struggling to recapture its clarity when Sandra reached for his hand. "You see it too," she said.

He thought she was reaching for solidity, and he hoped he could provide enough—hoped with a fervour that left words behind. As her hand closed on his he grew dizzy again, terrified that she might feel as her reflection looked. For a breath, or rather while he fought to draw one, he had the impression that she'd grown too fluid for him to take a firm hold—as indefinite as water. Then she gripped his hand tight, and her grasp seemed to regain substance. "That's all that's left of me," she whispered.

"What do you mean? You're still very much here." Dismay made his voice harsh until he brought it under control. "Never mind how it looks," he said and did his best to agree with his words. "How do you feel?"

"I've kept trying to tell you. More alive than I have for months."

"Isn't that what matters, then?" However absurdly grotesque it felt to say so while he gazed at her imprecise reflection, Ray added "Maybe we needn't care why too much."

"I wish it were that simple. What I said to you in the church, I wasn't thinking. I was being selfish."

This bewildered Ray as much as the sight in the mirror had. "Why should you think that?"

"It isn't only me, is it? It's Tim and Jonquil too."

Ray was dismayed to realise that he'd been so grateful to learn that she believed—indeed, welcomed—what he had deduced that he'd put the teenagers out of his mind. He was still more disconcerted to hear himself suggesting "If you don't think it's doing you any harm..."

"It's not the same or anything like it," Sandra said, turning from the mirror to give him a shocked look. "Maybe it's brought me more life, but they already have theirs, and they don't want that kind."

He felt pitifully glad of the excuse to look away from the mirror. "I shouldn't be so thoughtless."

"No wonder we both are with all this happening. I've got it to thank for taking away the pain and all the other bad things. It did that first night when I stayed on the balcony." Ray gathered this was meant to reassure him and perhaps herself as well before she said "But it's a bad thing too, isn't it? What are we going to do about Tim and Jonquil?"

"All we can do—" Ray said and winced as her hand clenched on his. Somebody was knocking at the door.

He was so confused by events that he was close to fancying the unacknowledged subject of their discussion had come to put a stop to it, and then Doug called "It's me and Nat. Is it convenient to have a word?"

"Don't you believe in knocking twice?" Ray said without managing to laugh.

"That's the sort of thing we want to talk about if you'll let us."

"Just give me time to get dressed," Sandra called as she left the bathroom and then released Ray's hand.

He waited while she donned not just a dress. He wondered if she'd put on her hat and sunglasses as a sign to Doug and Natalie, since she murmured "I'll help you convince them."

As soon as she opened the door she reverted to being maternal. "Doug, aren't you well?"

"Just a bit tired."

"Why, did something else happen in the night?" Ray said and rather hoped. "I'm afraid we were asleep."

"You shouldn't be afraid at all," Natalie protested. "If you're both sleeping, that's what we like to hear."

"You haven't told us what happened," Sandra said.

"Not a thing," Doug said in weary triumph. "Maybe Jules and I made sure it didn't. We've been up all night keeping watch."

"Why did it take both of you?" Sandra was eager to learn.

"Me at the front and him at the back. Maybe we nodded off in our chairs now and then, but we're certain nobody came anywhere near."

"You think that's why nobody did up here?"

She might have been asking Natalie and Doug as well as Ray. The only response, if it could be called one, came from Doug. "Shall we talk inside?"

"Or outside if you like," Natalie said. "Everyone's by the pool."

As she brought an extra chair onto the balcony Ray asked Doug "So were you just helping to watch because of William?"

"Not just him."

"Jonquil?" Sandra prompted. "And Tim?"

"Not them at all. Especially not Tim. He's never been disturbed at night that we know of." As Sandra made to reply Doug said "We want to show dad he oughtn't to believe any of the stuff in that book."

"None of it?" Ray was taken aback by his own bitterness. "Not even all the chapters about the rest of Greece?"

"You know what we mean, dad. The kind of thing you've been bothering people with."

"The sort of question the police turned up to stop me asking at the church."

"I hope you don't think we had anything to do with that. And I don't believe you can say they meant to stop you either."

"They did, though, didn't they? You must have seen how fast the chap I was talking to fled when he saw them."

"Maybe he was running away from you," Natalie seemed sad to think, "like the disabled lady did."

"Sorry, Natalie, you weren't there," Sandra said. "Doug, why else do you think they came to the church?"

"We'll never know, will we? I should think they were looking for someone. They left speedily enough when they saw whoever it was wasn't there."

"That's because they scared off my informant." Having Sandra on his side emboldened Ray to add "I think they'd heard I was asking too many questions around the town. Perhaps someone called them. I wouldn't be surprised if the woman in the icon shop did."

"Actually," Natalie said, "maybe we did have something to do with them."

"How's that, Natalie?" Sandra said at once.

"That boatman was threatening to call them, wasn't he? It looks to me as if he did."

"And they just happened to be two of the police from Sunset Beach?" Ray saw this didn't prove much, and tried to think what did. "You should ask Julian about the way we were interrogated," he said. "Why we went to the beach with the cave, how we knew it was there, why I was in the cave—you'd have thought we were criminals. And I don't care what anybody says, you need to think why the man who questioned us lied about how long Ditton had been dead."

"Don't say that," Natalie pleaded. "You need to care what we're saying to you."

"We do," Sandra said, "but it has to go both ways."

"I'm not sure I understand you."

"Aren't you still afraid there might be some disease on the island?"

"Not since Jamie told us what must have happened to Mr Ditton, but I don't mind admitting that was a relief."

"Maybe you shouldn't feel so relieved." As Natalie's eyes widened to magnify her concern Sandra said "Maybe you should keep looking out for symptoms, just not the kind you thought."

"What kind, then?" Doug said before Natalie could.

"Sleepiness to start with," Sandra said, then touched her hat and glasses, a gesture that resembled a parody of an observance. "Sensitivity to sunlight but first of all this," she said, fingering the mark on her neck.

Now Doug seemed even less ready to speak than his sister, who was left to say "Symptoms of what?"

"I think you both have to know. What your father has been trying to tell you is the case."

Natalie closed her eyes as if this could shut off the situation. "Don't say dad has you thinking that as well," Doug protested.

"I'm quite able to think for myself at my age, thank you." Less sharply Sandra said "I gave it a lot of thought last night, and there are all sorts of things we should have noticed."

"Such as what?"

"You could try listening to yourself a bit more, and Pris too."

"I don't think we've said anything to give you the idea you seem to have."