Darkhouse - Alex Barclay 4 стр.

Well, the mercury level has dropped a small bit. So the rollers underneath the lens are probably taking a little more weight than theyre supposed to. But its not a big problem, especially if the lights not going to be on all the time.

Im just hoping Ill be able to light it at all.

Ah, you should be fine, said Sam. Id say theyll make you agree to light it only at a certain time and to have the beam travel inland.

Anna held her breath as Sam studied the base of the lens, checking the clockwork mechanism that rotated it.

I dont believe it, said Sam eventually. I think its all right. After nearly forty years. Well need to get the weights moving, but I think youre in luck.

Thank God, said Anna.

A mantle, like the wick of a candle, burns inside that, he said, back to the lens. If you didnt have a mantle, thered be no light. And its only a little silk thing you could fit in your pocket. He chuckled. Anyway, the prisms in the lens refract the light, the lens rotates and there you have your lovely lighthouse beam. Sam climbed the ladder inside the lens, breaking cobwebs as he went.

Its filthy, he said. Youll have to get at this later, probably after you strip the walls. And youll need to get your hands on some new mantles, by the way 55mm.

They moved back down through the lighthouse and out through the old doors.

Youll need to replace them too, said Sam.

Theyre on their way, said Anna. He was impressed.

Now, what Ill do, said Sam, is clean the rollers and check the pressure in the kerosene pumps. Ill leave you to clean the lens and the brass. He smiled.

OK, said Anna.

Then we can give it a run-through, see if its all still in working order, said Sam.

Maybe not right away, she said. Ill let you know whens a good time.

No problem at all.

The last ripples of conversation died and the audience turned to the stage. Haunting music filled the room. Katie Lawson stepped forward and began to sing. Shaun smiled. Here was his beautiful girlfriend, stunning the audience into silence with the sweetest voice hed ever heard. She had changed his life. He had come to Ireland reluctantly, miserably, desperately missing baseball, cable, twenty-four-hour everything. And then came Katie. On the first day in his new school, she was all he saw. She was bent forward on her desk, slapping it with her fist, bursting with her contagious, singsong laugh. Then she sat back, pushing her dark hair off her face and wiping tears from her eyes. Shauns heart flipped as he walked towards her. She had the cutest smile and it lit up her whole face. She was all natural; glowing skin, fresh cheeks, sparkling brown eyes. Once they locked onto his, he was gone.

Katie left the stage to sit beside him, her head bowed, embarrassed by the applause.

Wow, Shaun whispered to her. You were amazing. You blew everyone away.

Katie blushed. No, I didnt, she said, shaking her head.

Shut up, said Shaun. You rocked.

Ali Danaher, Katies best friend, came next, with a poem she had written herself. Shaun was smiling before she even started because he knew it would be black and heavy, like her clothes and her eye shadow. Ali had dry bottle-blond hair and if she pulled her sleeves up too high, skinny razor marks on her arms for effect. She never admitted she came from a happy comfortable home, because her art would suffer. She finished the poem solemnly:

Shaun and Katie cheered over the parents polite applause. Ed Danaher rolled his eyes at his wife, but was the last one to stop clapping.

When it was over, Shaun took Katies hand and guided her through the hall.

Joe kissed Anna goodbye and left with Ed for Danahers. She turned away, still smiling, and saw Petey Grant, the school caretaker, loping towards her. Petey had sallow skin and dark brown hair cut tight before it started to curl. Under thick eyebrows, his almond-shaped eyes were a soft blue and rarely made contact with anyone elses. When he spoke, he leaned to one side, holding his big hands in front of him, moving his slender fingers in and out as if he was about to catch or pass a basketball.

Hello, Mrs Lucchesi. Nice to see you tonight. Did you enjoy the performance? I thought it was excellent. Katie is a lovely singer. Shes also a pretty girl. I heard her practising the other day. He blushed. Is Mr Lucchesi here? I wouldnt mind dropping into his workshop tomorrow if thats OK. Is he doing anything tomorrow? I have a day off. I wouldnt mind helping him on that table hes making.

Petey liked to reveal every thought that came into his head. Hed had learning difficulties since he was a child and the kids in school were split between those who gave him a hard time and those who defended him fiercely. Anna adored him. He was polite, enthusiastic, sensitive and charmingly innocent for a twenty-five-year-old. From early on, Petey had found a friend in Joe and someone who shared his interest in lighthouses. Although, for Petey, it was his specialist subject and the only thing he would talk about if he could get away with it. When Joe was working on furniture for the house, Petey would come in, lean back against the worktop and talk for hours about the history of Irish lighthouses.

Youre welcome at the house any time, Petey, said Anna.

Thanks very much, Mrs Lucchesi. That would be great.

He hesitated, never knowing quite when a conversation was over.

The keys to Seascapes were heavy in Shauns pocket. His job was to mow the lawns and carry out repairs at the holiday homes, but now it was September and most of the houses were vacant. His plan was to slip away with Katie to one of them later that night. She had told her mother she was going to his house, he had told his he was going to hers. Martha Lawson was a tough woman to get around, but she trusted her daughter.

There seems to be a bit of a mix-up about tonight, said Martha as she approached the pair. I was just talking to Mrs Lucchesi and she says youre coming to our house.

Shit thought Shaun.

I thought we were watching Aliens tonight, said Katie.

No, said Shaun. Playstation at my house.

Well, Im leaving now, so Ill give you a lift, said Martha.

Shit, Katie mouthed at Shaun.

Anna stayed for another two hours, tidying up after the performance with some of the other sucker moms as Joe called them. It was midnight by the time she left. She walked along by the church, lost in her thoughts.

Well, if it isnt the beautiful Anna. The tone was all wrong.

She held her breath, then turned around. She was stunned at how John Miller now looked. The glazed eyes, the mottled red face and the unsteady legs she could put down to drunkenness, but everything else came as a shock: his hair, greying and greasy, his skin, puffy, his shirt straining across his stomach. He swayed in front of her.

I know I look like shit, he said, his arms outstretched.

No, you dont, Anna said quietly. Not at all.

Fuck off! Youre French. Youre fucking perfect.

She didnt know what to say.

So, its Anna Lucheesy now or so Ive heard. Very nice.

Lu-caze-y, she said, trying to smile.

So, you married your cop then? Lucky guy. Lucky, lucky guy. He grinned. Any chance of a fuck?

Jesus Christ, John! she said, looking around. What are you saying?

That I want a fuck.

And where is your wife?

Still in Australia. Kicked me out. Hah! Can you fucking believe it? Im back here living with Mother. Psycho up on the hill. About to take over managing the orchard. The one thing I swore Id never do.

Im sorry, John. She turned to walk away.

Youre a great girl. A gorgeous girl, he called after her.

She kept walking. Her hands were shaking, her face burning.

Suddenly he was behind her again, grabbing her, forcing her up against the wall, his breath smelling of onions and alcohol, his clothes reeking of fish. There was a shiny smear on his chin and crusty white corners to his mouth. She pushed his heaving drunkenness away.

John, go home and sober up.

You were always a tough bitch, Anna... you little ride. She stared at him, searching his face, but she found no trace of the John she used to love.

Two

Stingers Creek, North Central Texas, 1978

He wont bite you, Duke. Its not his beak you gotta be worried about. Its his claws. His clawsre his weapon. Bout sixteen pounds worth of pressure he can use to tear through your skinny little arm. Duke looked up at his Uncle Bill, worried. Bill was smiling.

Solomon wont hurt you. Youre givin him food. He knows who his friends are. And if he laid a claw on you, Id shoot him dead.

Dont you dare shoot him, Uncle Bill. Dont you dare.

Bill chuckled, ruffling Dukes hair. He turned to the Harris Hawk perched on his hand, untied the leather straps that tethered him and with an outward sweep of his arm, released the bird upwards. They watched him land gently on a cottonwood tree high above them.

How bout you, Donnie? You wanna try it? I think Duke heres a little scared.

Dukes eyes narrowed to a slit, his face hot with anger. He flew past his uncle and went straight for his best friend, Donnie, charging him to the ground.

Duke Rawlins is never scared, he hissed.

Jeez, Duke. Take it easy, fella. Take it easy. You OK, Donnie?

Sure am, sir.

Duke got up and dusted down his jeans, putting his hand out for the leather glove. Bill handed it to him, pulling a piece of raw meat from the satchel that hung at his side. He pressed the meat between the thumb and forefinger of the glove and went through the routine.

Stretch out your left arm, there, the one with the glove, and aim that shoulder at him. Then call him and wait for him to land.

Solomon swooped down and landed on Dukes hand, pulling with his beak at the meat until it gave way.

Now show him your open palm, so he dont think you got nothin in it that he can eat. Duke held out a shaky hand to the bird.

Now catch a hold of the leather straps on his legs and slip them through your fingers, make sure he wont get away.

Duke fumbled with the straps and Solomon flapped his wings, but stayed where he was until he was secured.

Well done, Duke. Let him go now, just like I showed you. Solomon flew again.

Bill walked over to the bow perch nearby where his second Harris Hawk was tied.

Come on, Sheba, now its your turn. He released the second bird, who landed high on another cottonwood, flicking her head from side to side.