Clive Barker - Sacrament

'You said something about Jacob learning to be a man

'Did I?' she said, feigning distraction.

-but he was already a man. You said so.'

'I said he wasn't a child. That's not the same thing. He had to learn the way men are in the world, as I had to learn the ways of women. None of it came naturally to us. Well ... perhaps some of it. I do remember thinking one day how I loved to hold babies in my arms, how I loved softness and lullabies. And Steep didn't.'

'What did Steep love?'

'Me,' she said, with a sly smile. 'At least.. .' the smile went '... I imagined he did, and that was enough. It is sometimes. Women understand that; men don't. Men need things certain. All certain and fixed. Lists and maps and history. All so that they know where they are, where they belong. Women are different. We need less. I could have been quite happy to have children with Steep. Watch them grow, and if they died, have more. But they always perished, almost as soon as they were born. He'd take them away, to save me the pain of seeing them, which showed he felt something for me, didn't it?'

'I suppose so.'

'I named them all, even though they only lived for a few minutes-'

'And you remember all the names?'

'Oh yes,' she said, turning her face from him to hide her feelings, 'every one.

By now The Claymore was ready for departure. The mooring ropes were cast off, the engines took on a livelier rhythm, and the last stage of the voyage was underway. Only when they were some distance from the island did Rosa finally look around at Will, who was sitting down, lighting up a cigarette, to say: 'I want you to understand something about Jacob. He wasn't barbaric all his life. At the beginning, yes, he was a fiend, he really was. But what did he have for inspiration? You ask most men what it is that makes them men and it won't be a very pretty list. But I mellowed him over the years-'

'He drove entire species out of existence, Rosa-'

'They were only animals. What did it matter? He had such fine thoughts in his head; such godly thoughts. Anyway, it's there in the Bible. We've got dominion over the birds of the air

-and the beasts of the field. Yeah, I know. So he had all these fine thoughts.'

'And he loved to give me pleasure. He had his troubled times, of course, but there was always room for music and dancing. And the circus. I loved the circus. But he lost his sense of humour, after a time. He lost his courtesies. And then he began to lose me. We were still travelling together, and there'd be times when things were almost like the old days, but the feelings between us were slipping away. In fact the night we met you we were planning to go our separate ways. That's why he went looking for company. And found you. If he hadn't done that we wouldn't be where we are now, any of us. It's all connected in the end, isn't it? You think it's not, but it is.'

She returned her gaze to the water.

'I'd better go and find Frannie,' Will said, 'we'll be arriving soon.'

Rosa didn't reply. Leaving her at the railing, Will wandered the length of the deck, and found Frannie sitting on the starboard side, sipping a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette.

'I didn't know you smoked.'

'I don't,' she said. 'But I needed it. Want some coffee? The wind's chilly.' He took the plastic cup and drank. 'I tried to buy a map,' she said, 'but the ship kiosk's closed.'

'We'll get one on the island,' Will said. 'Speaking of which...' He got to his feet, and went to the railing. Their destination was in view. A line of land as unpromising as Coll, the waves breaking against its rocky shores. Frannie rose to stand beside him and together they watched as the island approached, The Claymore's engines slowing so that the vessel might be safely navigated through the shallow waters.

'It doesn't look very hospitable, does it?' Frannie remarked.

It was certainly spartan at this distance, the sea surging around dark spits of rock which rose to bleak headlands. But then the wind veered and carried the scent of flowers off the land, their honey fragrance mingled with the sharp scents of salt and kelp, and Frannie murmured: 'Oh Lord...' in appreciation.

The Claymore's approach had become a tentative crawl now, as the vessel made its cautious way to the jetty. And as it did so the charms of the island steadily became more apparent. The waters through which the vessel ploughed were no longer dark and deep, but as turquoise as any Caribbean bay, and swooned upon beaches of silver-white sand. There were a few cattle at the tides' edge, apparently grazing on seaweed, but the beaches were otherwise deserted. So too were the grassy dunes which rose from them, rolling away to meet the lush meadows of the island's interior. This was where the scent of vetch and sea-thrift and crimson clover originated: expanses of fertile pasture dotted here and there with modest houses, whitewashed and brightly roofed.

'I take it all back,' Frannie said. 'It's beautiful.'

The village of Scarinish, which was little more than a couple of rows of houses, was now in view. There was more activity on its pier than there'd been at Coll: fully twenty people waiting for The Claymore to dock, along with a lorry loaded with goods and a tractor with a cattle-pen in tow.

'I should probably go and fetch Rosa,' Will said.

'Give me the car-keys,' Frannie said. 'I'll meet you downstairs.'

Will headed back to the bow, where he found Rosa at the railing still, studying the scene ahead.

'Do you recognize anything?' he asked her.

'Not with my eyes,' she said. 'But ... I know this place.'

There was a gentle bump and creak as The Claymore nudged the pier, then the sound of welcoming shouts from both land and ship.

'Time to go,' Will said, and escorted Rosa down into the hold, where Frannie was already in the car. Will got into the passenger seat beside her, and Rosa slipped into the back. There was an uncomfortable silence while they waited for the ferry's door to be opened. They didn't have to wait long. After a couple of minutes, sunlight flooded the hold and one of the crew played at traffic control, signalling the half dozen vehicles alighting here out one by one. There was a second, longer delay on the pier itself, while the laden lorry moved out of the way of the exiting cars, this manoeuvre performed with great hullabaloo, but no sense of urgency. Finally, the congestion was cleared, and Frannie drove them down the pier into the village itself. It was no larger than it had appeared from the seaward side: just a few rows of small but well-kept houses with even smaller, well-kept walled gardens, all facing the water, and a scattering of older buildings, some in despair, several in ruin. There were also a few shops, amongst them a post office, and a small supermarket, its windows bannered with news of this week's bargains, their silent advertisements still too loud for the hush of the place.

'Do you want to go and get us a map?' Frannie suggested to Will, bringing the car to a halt outside the supermarket. 'And maybe some chocolate?' she called after him, 'and something to drink?'

He emerged a couple of minutes later with two bags of purchases, 'for the road', as he put it: biscuits, chocolate, bread, cheese, two large bottles of water and a small bottle of whisky.

'What about the map?' Frannie said, as he loaded the bags into the back seat beside Rosa.

'Voila,' he said, pulling a small folded map from his pocket, and along with it a twelvepage tourists' guide to the island, written by the local schoolmaster and crudely illustrated by the schoolmaster's wife. He passed the booklet back over his shoulder to Rosa, telling her to flip through it for any names or places that rang a bell. The map he opened on his lap. There wasn't much to study. The island was twelve miles long and at its broadest three miles wide. It had a trio of hills: Beinn Hough, Beinn Bheag Bhailemhuilinn and Ben Hynish, the summit of the latter the highest point on the island. It had several small lochs, and a handful of villages (described as townships on the map) around its coast. What few roads the island boasted simply joined these townships -the largest of which consisted of nine houses - by the most direct route, which, given the flatness of the terrain, was usually something approaching a straight line.