Simon Lelic - The Child Who

‘I don’t care!’ Megan gripped the air. ‘I don’t know why you care! Why you seem to care more about a murderer than you do about your family!’

‘That’s not true! And he’s not a—’

Leo stopped himself. Megan stared. She did not speak but she did not have to.

Leo coughed. ‘That… that’s not true,’ he said. ‘You and Ellie come first. You know you do.’

Megan moved from her position by the counter. ‘Then put us first, Leo. Please.’

The track curvedand the train tipped and the ground beneath them seemed to fall away. Out of one window reared a ragged cliff face; in the other, the bucking sea. A wave lunged and clawed the track, then slid back into the writhing mass. The water, in the winter sun, sparkled like a lunatic’s grin. It seemed joyous, heedless, unconstrained in its dementia. It launched itself again and this time lashed the carriage but the train seemed barely to judder. It sped on – lungs full, head down – and dived for the approaching tunnel.

The world turned black.

It had been Leo’s idea. A day out, just the three of them. To the coast. How about Dawlish? Megan had been averse, initially; suspicious, though of what specifically she probably could not have said. Leo had remained steadfast, however, acting as though her objections were grounded in the purely mundane. Agreed, he said: the weather wasn’t perfect but when, in this country, was it ever? The sun was out; it was just a bit windy. So let’s just go. Shall we? It would be good for Ellie. It would be good for all of us. Please, Meg. What do you say?

Ellie, it had turned out, had been even more reluctant than her mother. She had argued, to the point where Leo had nearly given up, when Megan had brought her convert’s zeal into the fight. Together they had convinced her – dragged her – and here, now, was their collective reward. Fun, part one: the train ride.

And it was spectacular. In this final section of the journey from the city, the Riviera Line laced itself along the country’s edge. The ocean was beside them – beneath them, it felt like – and only the tunnels offered intermittent shelter from waves that were rising to the season. Even Ellie, in her withdrawn, anxious way, seemed – almost – thrilled. Seated on her own and facing sideways, her breath was steaming the glass. As they emerged from the tunnel a wave pounced and she recoiled in imitated terror. She even squealed, just as any child might. But then the wave receded and Ellie turned to Megan with a display of something more like genuine fear.

‘Isn’t this dangerous?’

Leo looked from his daughter to his wife. ‘Dangerous?’ He turned back. ‘What do you mean?’

Ellie answered but addressed her mother. ‘The waves. The train. What if we get knocked off the rails?’

There was a woman, Megan’s age, on the seats across from theirs and she caught Leo’s eye and offered a smile. Leo forged one back.

‘We’ll be fine, darling,’ said Megan. ‘They wouldn’t let the train run if they didn’t think it was safe.’

But then another wave broke and this one, Leo would have sworn, wrapped itself over the roof. Megan gave a start and, perhaps forgetting herself, turned to Leo with a schoolgirl’s grin. Leo was too surprised, in the instant he had, to react. He thought belatedly about reaching for his wife’s hand but hesitated and lost his chance.

‘Mum.’

Megan crossed from Leo’s seat to Ellie’s. She slid an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and Leo felt a pang. Even though it was with her mother that Ellie had argued, Leo remained the focus of her ire: his punishment, as far as Leo had deduced, for having complained to his daughter’s school.

‘It’s fine, darling, I promise.’ Megan smiled and Ellie sank into her mother’s embrace. Leo smiled too and waited for Ellie to look towards him – to include him. She did not. The stranger was still watching and Leo turned away to conceal his flush.

He had not expected it to be so busy. The village, he had assumed, would be deserted. One or two hardy tourists, perhaps; local dog-walkers moseying along the beach. But crowded cafes, packed-out pavements: they were not part of Leo’s plan.

They had stopped at the corner of the central green. Leo had, rather. Megan and Ellie were already several paces further on.

‘What?’ Megan said, turning.

‘All these people. It’s just… I thought the idea was to get away for the day.’

‘The idea was to have a day out. The three of us.’ Megan glanced at Ellie, who was staring anxiously at her father. ‘Leo,’ Megan said, when Leo did not answer. Her tone – her expression – was a warning.

Leo considered the crowds. He considered his daughter. How would you like it, Leo?

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Let’s just stay together, that’s all. No wandering off.’

They wandered off.

Leo twisted, turned on tiptoe – and finally spotted them at the window of a clothes shop. He snapped and Megan scowled and proceeded, in retribution, to lead their daughter inside.

Leo made to follow but settled on waiting outside the door. He studied the people passing by. They were grouped in families mainly, just like theirs. But cheerier, less uptight. Some bore ice creams, others shopping bags, others just a flush on their cheeks from the winter wind. There were people by themselves, too: an older woman, a younger man, two black-clad teenagers in quick succession. None, though, seemed a threat. None seemed even to notice that Leo was there. It was just this breeze, that was all; the expanse of sea. He felt exposed because they were not locked away at home. Which was foolish too, in a way. Illogical, because if someone really wanted to find them – to watch them – their home was the obvious place to come looking. Here, amid the crowds, was about the safest place they could be.

By the sackload, Leo. Remember?

He was on edge but there was no need to be. Had he not already decided that? When Ellie and Meg came outside he would see about setting this day of theirs back on track.

‘Ready?’ he said as they emerged. He noticed they each held a bag. ‘You bought something.’ Naturally they had. Something, no doubt, they would never wear. But, ‘Great. What say we find somewhere to get ice cream?’ Somewhere quieter, he did not add, wondering in spite of himself how much of the day a day trip was supposed to take up.

Leo led and the girls trailed. Megan seemed cheered by her purchase and that was something. She did not speak directly to Leo but she attuned herself to his enthusiasm. She seemed, if nothing else, to remember the reason they had come.

‘Ellie.’ Megan nudged her daughter and pointed across the square towards the beach. The waves were storming the sea wall, breaking with the force of a battering ram and hurling up a spray that crackled, as it landed, like sparks. ‘Look at that. Look at those people!’ A crowd had gathered along the promenade but had ventured too close to the shore. Another wave broke and there was screaming, bodies diving for the dry.

Ellie watched but without any evident delight. ‘Will the train still be running?’ she said. ‘Will we still be able to get home?’

Their daughter, this time, had turned to Leo. He started to respond, to reassure – but his words, barely formed, withered. He cast his attention over the top of his daughter’s head.

Who was that?

A man, standing on his own in the square, watching them – was he? – when everyone around him was watching the waves. He seemed young but from Leo’s distance it was hard to be sure. The man was slight, and slightly stooped. He held his chin level with his shoulders, as though his overcoat was leaking the chill. There was something around his neck – a camera? – and a baseball cap covering his crown. Leo raised himself onto his toes to get a view of the man’s face but, as he did so, the man tucked himself into the crowd. Leo shifted but a hand on his wrist tugged him round.