Jim who? I dont know any Jim.
Wow! Ronny smiled.
Wow what?
Its just Ronny shook his head, Im surprised that you think being dirty is such a bad thing. I mean its no bad thing. There are certainly worse things.
Lily slit her eyes. My parents breed pigs, she said, I know all about dirt.
Ive heard that pigs are very clean animals, Ronny said, all sincere contrariness.
Well, I wouldnt know about you, Lily spat, but I dont call making a habit out of eating your own shit clean.
Some people drink their own urine, Ronny contributed, unfazed, because they think its good for the skin.
Sod off, Lily bawled, and attempted to ride away in a razzle of sand and gravel. Her wheel lost its grip though, and she didnt move quite as quickly as shed anticipated.
Nice bike, Ronny said. I like it. Very smart.
She heard his compliments as she struggled in the sand.
They struck like darts. She was completely bullseyed. He was the most interesting man shed ever met. And ridiculously handsome. Oh fuck fuck fuck how she hated him.
Luke had Jim cornered.
I need a fag, he said, just one. Just a little puff.
Why?
Jim resented him even asking. He didnt care. Even so, he had a loose obligation. Has it ever happened to you? Luke patted at his wide stomach while he spoke because it kept on aching. Was it wind? Was it excitement?
Has what ever happened to me?
That real kick in the guts kind of feeling? That love thing?
Jim shook his head. Never.
Its really never happened to you? Wham-bam in the belly?
I dont think so.
Luke was obviously disappointed. Why not?
Uh Jim had been preparing a flask of tea and an egg sandwich for Ronny. Luke eyed it covetously. Jim was holding a kitchen knife. He wanted to cut the sandwich in two but Luke clearly demanded his whole attention. I dont respond to other people in that immediate way, he said softly, not on the whole.
Like a real smack in the balls, Luke said, relishing it. Jim shrugged and cleared his throat, bemused and slightly embarrassed.
Luke had wandered over to Jims, not just to beg a cigarette, but also for a spate of mannish confirmation, for some friendly reassurance. Jims reticence was making him feel oafish. Too butch. Too ballsy.
Im very pleased for you, anyway, Jim said eventually, blushing slightly. Agonized.
I mean there was the physical attraction, Luke said, withdrawing a little, but it was the intellectual thing mainly. She just looked at that picture and then she said, Why is she wearing her sandals in that way? It was so strange.
Jim nodded. Hed already heard this part. He didnt understand what it was that he was supposed to contribute, if anything. Luke was actually becoming something of an encumbrance. Jim did not want to be his friend. He didnt make friends. If hed ever troubled to have a life gameplan then friendship would never have been a part of it.
Luke was waiting, though, his face puckered with anticipation.
Well yes, it does seem strange, Jim managed finally, fumbling, stumbling, feeling around in the dark.
Because no one had ever said that before, Luke continued, warming up again, but when I initially conceived the image for that photo and when I actually took it I was thinking shoes. I dont know why. I was thinking sandals. And then I got Beverly my ex-wife, shes the model to unfasten the sandals. And so whenever I see that picture I think sandals, but whenever anyone else sees the picture they think breasts. High breasts.
Jim nodded.
You thought that too?
Yes.
But Sara thought sandals. It waskinetic. Is that a word?
Jim touched his chin which was soft as chamois leather. I think so. Perhaps you both have a similar way of looking at things.
Thats precisely what I thought. Luke was beaming. Youve hit the nail on the head there.
Jim was pleased hed hit something but now he wished Luke would go. Luke sensed as much. I shouldnt have intruded. Its just that I was so
Understandably.
Yes. Excited. And youre right. I dont need a puff. This is all natural energy. Its positive energy. Its just that he frowned, as a photographer, how you see the world is the most fundamental thing. And you yearn for other people to see things in the same way you do.
Jim was nodding dumbly at this when Lily burst in, unannounced, a random firecracker. OK, she said, panting, her hair, hands, everything all atangle, so whos Jim?
She never knocks, Luke said, turning to Jim, his face suddenly creasing with displeasure, and I only came to this godforsaken hole in the first place to escape that kind of thing.
Jim said nothing. He didnt want Lily in his home. He didnt want any kind of interaction with her. Even his acquaintance with Luke had been stretching it, though Lukes car had proven invaluable.
The fact of the matter is this, Lily announced, genuinely undaunted by her lack of a response, you are a fat dick who stinks of fish, she pointed at Luke. And you, she pointed at Jim, you are a skinny baldie runt of a man. And I dont care if youve got some kind of fatal disease. I dont care. Fuck off!
She stormed out.
Would you believe it?
Luke shook his head in amazement. Jim was still holding his breadknife.
No.
He turned and cut into the sandwich. The yolk had gone cold, and the blade was much sharper than hed anticipated.
Twelve
Remember Big Ron?
He didnt want to remember, he didnt want to.
Remember Big Ron?
Who came home from his long trip away when Nathan was only eight years old.
Remember?
Hell wasnt black after all. It was an endless, hollow, grey colour and it felt slippery. Nathan could find no fingerholds. Even though his hands were still small. He was eight years old and there was nothing to cling on to.
Just Big Ron.
Remember him?
Then Little Ronny was born.
What a relief.
Big Ron and all his friends. Feel of brickwork. Half smile. Smell of camphor. Wet sheet.
Its a mould, the letter said, a mould. You wipe it off the wall but it comes back because theres damp in the wall. It comes back. You bleach the wall, you scrub it, but the mould comes back. And the moulds in you. You cunt. You fucking evil cunt. And your brother. Do you know what youve done? Do you know?
Remember Big Ron?
Empty. Twist. Wind. Grave. Lonely. Sharp. Stiff. Spoiled. Breath, no-breath. Ruined. Empty. Hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow.
Oh thank God little Ronny came. Oh thank God, thank God.
But hes only little.
Only.
Little.
And even that didnt stop him.
Nathans thoughts were a giant, angry sea tap-tap-tapping on a small dyke wall. He tried to hold the sea at bay.
He tried to run it off. He ran, sometimes, through the park, along the road, down by the canal. He ground his teeth on buses. He bit his nails to the quick. He held his breath. He tried to be a gentle man.
But the sea kept on tapping.
After Connies visit, a blood vessel burst in his eye. He gazed at it in the mirror. It resembled a river. A tiny, bloody Amazon.
Nobody saw. Nobody ever saw. Because Nathan was grown up now. The past was such a long time ago. And Big Ron was dead dead dead. He was dead.
Thirteen
I was very surprised by your bathroom cabinet, Ronny said, wiping egg from his mouth with the back of his hand.
What were you doing in my bathroom cabinet? Jim asked, an edge in his voice.
I was hunting for a razor, Ronny said, and theres an edge in your voice.
I dont have a razor.
Jim was clearing the hearth. It was full of ash.
But do you have an edge?
Jim stopped clearing and almost smiled. An edge? Doesnt everybody? Dont you?
Ronny grinned. Sometimes.
I have an edge, Jim confided, but what I dont have is a temper.
Ronny sat down on the sofa. He was holding a small pair of nail scissors.
Im going to cut off my beard.
Jim said nothing. Ronny began snipping. The way you said it! he chuckled, sotto voce.
Said what?
I dont have a temper. Have. Like a temper was something you were really searching for.
Jim straightened up. Ronny continued. Like in a childrens story. He was looking for his temper. He looked in the fireplace. He looked in the bread bin. He looked in the bathroom cabinet
No. You looked in the bathroom cabinet.
Ronny snorted, but then continued mining the same vein, un-repentantly, So Ronny looked for Jims temper. He thought hed found it in the bathroom cabinet but in fact all hed found was an edge, he looked up, and loads of pills. What are they for?
Indigestion, Jim said.
Really?
No. Jim smiled.
Hair is extremely flammable, Ronny muttered, cutting with vigour.
We need kindling and driftwood if you want a fire later, Jim said, standing up with the ash-can in one hand and a brush in his other. Do you want to come out and collect some?
Sure.
Ronny chucked a handful of his hair into the empty fireplace and then followed Jim outside with all the casual ease and familiarity of an old basset hound.
They walked along the beach. It was mid-afternoon.
So why did you lose your hair? Ronny asked.
I had a habit, Jim said, bending over to pick up a stick, of pulling out single strands.
Why?
It was a nervous habit. A bad habit. I didnt even know I was doing it. After a while I made a little bald patch.
Where?
At the back, underneath. You couldnt see it. But one day it began falling out spontaneously. Id find handfuls of it on my pillow in the morning. Then I was prescribed certain drugs, hormones, which made it worse. Eventually it all went. Even my lashes.
Ronny kicked at a large log. How about this?
Not if its damp.
Ronny picked up the log. He grinned. I thought I might find your temper under it.
Jim scratched his nose. I dont think Id keep my temper under a log.
He walked on.
How come those chalets are all fenced off? Ronny asked, catching up, readjusting the log under his right arm and then nodding towards the hamlet.
Its a private community. They think the locals are all freaks. Anti-social. Inbred. So they put the fence up to distinguish themselves. And we tend to think theyre weird because they put up the fence and because they come here principally on summer weekends to use the nudist beach.
Could I squat one?
The chalets? I shouldnt think so. But a couple of the prefabs near mine are empty.
They had walked far enough along the beach to reach Ronnys shell display which had remained untouched since its completion that morning. Jim paused in front of it, Ronny too.