The Silver Dark Sea. Susan Fletcher

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СКАЧАТЬ pulls it up over her patient, over his long, muscular legs. It does not reach beyond his chest so she tucks it round him, brings his arms to his sides. There is, Tabitha thinks, a strong smell in the room – of sweat, from the men, and cigarette smoke, but also fish and brine and an earthiness. Sheep.

      She turns to them. You needn’t stay. It’s late.

       He’s OK? He’s not dying?

      No, he’s not dying. A childish question from Sam. He stands there – awkward, thin, with sunburn and his unbrushed hair. Tabitha had delivered this boy. That day feels like yesterday. She remembers his mother in this room, refusing to lie down or to sit – she’d paced the room as an animal might. And then Samuel came out as she’d crouched on the floor, gripping the table legs, with Tabitha saying one more! That’s it! How long ago was that? Two decades and more. She feels sorry for him, suddenly. He is both so old and so young.

      He’s dehydrated, and he’s exhausted. And I’ll give him a tetanus jab for the sake of it. But other than that, he seems alright. She shrugs. We’ll see what happens when he wakes. It’s sleep he needs, now.

      They look at each other, briefly.

      Ian moves first. He slaps his thighs once, rises up from the chair saying right. That’ll do me. Come on, Jonny.

      Jonny follows his father, walking in the low, rhythmic way that young men seem to – nonchalant, easy. He says see you, Uncle Nathan. He does not speak to Sam as he passes him. He brushes the leaves of the African violet; his draught moves the unpinned corner of a poster on mental health.

      The two men walk out into the garden and are gone.

      Sam waits for a moment further. Then, will you be alright?

       Alright?

       I mean, here – on your own. With this man who …

      Tabitha smiles. I’ll be fine, Sam. I’ve dealt with far worse than a sleeping man, I can promise you that. Will you tell your father what happened? I’ll call him in the morning. When he was born, Sam Lovegrove had been jaundiced. His skin had the hue of iodine, or old tea, and he had been so small. Now he is – what? Six foot?

       Are you sure?

       Honestly. Go.

      So he, too, goes. He steps into the fading light.

      It means that Nathan is left. He stands against the wall by the door, hands in his pockets, one ankle crossed over the other. His head is down as if looking at the floor, but his eyes are looking through his hair at the stranger who lies asleep on the bed beneath a blue blanket. It is a gaze of intent – a hunter’s look, or a detective’s.

      I thought you’d linger, the nurse says.

      * * *

      He can smell the latex gloves and the glass of pink wine, and Nathan can smell fish in this room. The tang of it.

      His aunt moves carefully. Plump Aunt Tab, with her pearl earrings and cotton-pale hair. She clicks her tongue, as she works – half-humming – and this is a sound that is hers, entirely. She seems to half-hum all the time. When he was a boy, Nathan would hear his aunt before he saw her because of this sound or her bicycle bell. She still has that bicycle. It has a wicker basket, a slight squeak, and he feels like a boy when he sees his aunt on it – leaning forwards with the effort. Tabitha, who warms a room by entering it with her cheery only me!

      What do you think? he asks her.

      She has her back to him. She is standing on her tiptoes, reaching up to the top shelf of a cabinet. With her fingertips she coaxes down a plastic tub that has envelopes in. These envelopes have transparent windows through which he can see needles.

      What do I think? Well … She considers it. It’s strange, that’s for sure. Where has he come from?

       A swimmer, maybe. Got tired.

       Maybe. I’ll call Rona – see if a guest is missing.

      Tabitha places a needle in a metal dish. It chimes like a bell. Then Nathan watches as she moves to a second cabinet, takes a small key from her pocket and unlocks it. Inside, there are vials.

      Tab? Don’t you think …? But he can’t say it. Nathan isn’t even sure what he is trying to say except that he is shaken, confused, and that he does not like what’s happened and does not want to be here but nor can he take his eyes off the iron-framed bed in the corner of the room, or leave. His aunt tilts her head. She is waiting for more words from him, and he has seen his mother stand like this. He has looked for his mother in a crowd and found her because of the way she has tilted her head, as a bird might listen for worms. They have the same nose, too. They aren’t close and never have been. But they are sisters in how they speak, and move.

       Don’t I think … what?

      Doesn’t matter.

      But it does – it does. And Tabitha knows this for she puts the vial down and comes towards him. She puts her hand on the back of his hand and says I know what you’re thinking. I thought it too. When I opened the door and saw the four of you holding this man in the air, I saw his hair and his beard, and I thought … She pauses, smiles. But –

      He nods.

       We’ll find out who he is. When he wakes up, we’ll ask him.

      Nathan knows there are many words that were never said, and must be said one day – but he cannot say them now. Not late in the evening and not in this room.

      He feels tired, suddenly – bone-tired, heavy.

      Go, says Tabitha. She squeezes his upper arm.

      * * *

      Nathan walks back through the fields. It is past nine. The sky is eerie – not light, not dark. At the north of the island the lighthouse is awake and it finds him – five half-seconds every minute of being dazzled, white. He climbs over fences, ducks under wires.

      Last night there had been a northerly wind and last night he had not slept. All night, he had lain awake. I should have known, he thinks.

      He thinks, too, how sore his back is from the man’s weight. He thinks of the words he’d been trying to say, as they carried him – sea? It had sounded like sea, which isn’t so odd since he must have been in it for a long time, at least. Whoever he is, he has swum – lungfuls of salt, salty-eyed. And as Nathan walks up the driveway to his home he thinks, suddenly, of the time when he and his younger brother had caught a crab off Litty’s pier with a piece of string and a chicken bone – the biggest crab they’d ever seen. It was huge, orange-mottled. They’d wanted to keep it as a pet – and so they’d charged home, put it in the bathroom sink and hidden side by side in the airing cupboard, waiting for Hester to come to clean her teeth. Two screams from their sister – one at the crab, and one as they burst out at her with a shouted boo! He hears it now – her screaming. And he can hear his brother’s laughter – bright, like piano scales. He can see that crab.

      He sniffs. Nathan СКАЧАТЬ