My Sister's Bones(95)

He leaves the sentence trailing as I pull him towards me and kiss his cheek. I feel his body relax into mine like it always did and for a moment I almost succumb; almost let him back in.

‘Goodbye, Chris,’ I say as we peel apart.

His eyes glint in the reflected light of the hospital entrance as he presses a finger to his lips then places it on my mouth.

Then, turning, he walks towards the row of cabs and I watch as he opens a door and climbs inside. I watch as the taxi pulls away and the back of his head grows smaller and smaller, until it’s just a dot quivering on the edge of the watery horizon.





48


It is almost 2 p.m. when I arrive at the seafront. The fishing boats are moored and a group of men stand on the beach untangling their nets. I cross the road and head towards the boats, reading their names as I go: Castaway; Star of the Sea; Merlin; Captain’s Mate. And then I see it: The Acheron, with its ominous black and white stripes. But there is no sign of him as I walk along the shingle crunching mussel shells with my boots.

It’s my last day here and, though I’m scared, I know that I have to ask him before I go.

The men look up from their nets as I approach. They smell of sweat and salt.

‘Excuse me,’ I call out above the growling waves. ‘Is Ray around?’

‘He’s on his break,’ says one of them, a young man in his late teens. He stands looking at me; his eyes narrowed.

‘Oh,’ I say as the wind pummels my face. ‘Do you know when he’ll be back?’

‘You’ll find Ray at the cafe over there on the corner, love,’ says an older man, stepping forward. He pushes the younger one aside. ‘Sorry about this one; he has no manners.’

I thank the men and as I walk back across the road I can feel their eyes on me. It’s like they know.

The cafe smells of egg and chips. I step inside and look around. Then I see him. He’s sitting at a table by the window looking out to sea; a big mug of tea in his hand.

As I walk towards the table he looks up.

‘Kate,’ he says, getting to his feet. ‘I saw it all on the news. Poor wee Sally. I’m so sorry.’

‘I need to know, Ray,’ I say as I sit down at the table. ‘About David’s death. And this time you have to tell me the truth.’

He looks at me, his eyes full of pain, then he gestures to the waitress.

‘I’ll get you a warm drink first,’ he says.

We sit in silence while the waitress places a mug of steaming hot tea in front of me. When she leaves I lean forward and put my hand on Ray’s.

‘Ray, please. Is it true?’ I ask him. ‘Did I kill my brother? I need to know.’

His eyes widen.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ he says, shaking his head.

‘According to Paul it was,’ I say, Paul’s words still ringing in my ears. ‘He said Sally told him that I . . . I drowned David.’

‘Oh Jesus,’ says Ray, putting his head in his hands.

‘Ray, please,’ I say, squeezing his arm. ‘You have to tell me what happened.’

He lifts his head and looks out of the window. His voice quivers as he starts to speak.

‘I was in my boat,’ he says. ‘Moored up just by the rocks. I had a day of fishing ahead of me and I was just setting up my line when I heard children’s voices. Happy voices. I looked over towards the beach and I saw a little girl with black hair. You.’

My heart is pounding and I can taste the saltwater in my mouth as he continues.

‘Your brother was with you,’ he says. ‘Tiny little thing he was, with a mop of dark hair. I smiled as I sat there casting my line, watching the two of you playing. You were holding hands and jumping the waves. And all the time I could hear your laughter. It was such a lovely sound.’

His voice catches and he gulps then goes on.

‘I got a bite,’ he says. ‘I could feel it tugging on the end of my line and I started to reel it in. But just as I was about to bring it overboard something made me look up. You see, the voices had stopped.’

‘Voices?’

‘Yours and your brother’s,’ he says, clutching his teacup. ‘It was silent. Oddly silent. I could see you on the shore. You were bending down to pick something up though I couldn’t see what.’

As he speaks a shiver ripples through my body and I’m back there. I can see it as clearly as if it were yesterday. I’m bending down in the shingle to pick up the pink heart-shaped shells that clustered on the beach. Years later I would see those shells and feel an odd sensation, a fearful feeling, yet I never knew why. I do now.

‘Shells,’ I murmur. ‘I was collecting shells.’

I look up at Ray. His mouth is open. We pause for a moment to take in the fact that I have remembered something.

‘Yes,’ he says finally. ‘I think you were.’

I nod my head. I can still feel the rough shell in my hands as Ray continues.

‘But as I watched you my heart froze,’ he says, his eyes widening. ‘You were alone. There was no sign of the littl’un. Something was wrong. I dropped my line and stood up in the boat to get a better look. That’s when I saw him.’

He stops and takes a breath.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘It’s just . . . it’s still so fresh in my mind.’