Nicola Barker - Wide Open

“To the left.”

Ronny rubbed at the pane where his breath had steamed it up, then pointed. “See? Far left. Next to Luke’s prefab.”

Jim stared. He could distinguish a small, sloping expanse of beach and the pale waves devouring it, that was all. He felt Ronny next to him. His arm. His shoulder. And then he remembered Connie’s ears. Her ears . So small. Like tiny conches.

The moon came out. Not properly. It didn’t beam or radiate. It peeked quickly from behind the clouds like a commuter glancing up briefly from his newspaper. But that was long enough. “Oh shit,” Jim’s heart was struck wide, “what’s he doing?”

Ronny’s fingers gripped a hold of his arm. They were damp and cold from their previous contact with the windowpane. Jim felt them, just above his elbow.

“You know what?” Ronny whispered. “I think he’s looking at the sea.”

A giant, shaggy beast, perfectly still, his four feet firmly planted in the sand and the shells and the shingle, staring , mesmerized, at the sea.

“He’s wondering whether he might challenge it,” Jim said.

“He isn’t.”

“Yes. He’s a wild beast. He longs to dominate everything.”

“No. He’s just staring. He’s probably never seen the sea before. He’s struggling to understand it.”

The boar lifted its head and sniffed.

“Pigs have poor eyesight,” Jim said.

“What does he make of it?” Ronny wondered. “What do you think he makes of it?”

Jim couldn’t answer immediately. He felt Ronny’s fingers.

“He’s probably thinking that today’s been worthwhile after all,” he said, finally.

Ronny’s eyes shifted from the boar and focused in on Jim for a second. “You really think so?”

Jim had been joking, but the instant Ronny reacted with such sweet credulity he swallowed the joke down like a headache tablet. “Yes. The escape, the stress, the risk, everything. Today was worth it. Just to get to see the sea.”

Ronny’s eyes returned to the beast. “He isn’t moving.”

“He’s in a trance.” Jim paused and then he found himself saying, with perfect calmness, “Perhaps we should leave this place.”

Ronny didn’t react. Jim repeated himself. “Let’s leave this place. Soon. Tonight.” He didn’t really know what he meant or what he wanted. Ronny continued to stare at the boar. “Why?” he asked softly. “Everything’s closing in,” Jim said.

“No.” Ronny’s mouth was smiling. “It’s opening up,” he murmured gently, “don’t you see? It’s opening .” He squeezed Jim’s arm, one more time, and then let go.

“This was the spot,” Lily said, interrupting the kind of silence all but the most vocally assertive might think twice before violating.

“Here?” Sara’s head rotated fiercely, like a hawk’s. “You’re sure?”

“Yep.”

Nathan stopped the car. It was raining heavily. It was horribly dark. He didn’t like the dark. It was always too deep, too inpenetrable.

“And this is where you think you saw Luke?”

“Luke?” Lily fingered her chin. “Is that his name?”

Sara didn’t weaken. “That’s his name.”

“No. He was down the road a way.”

“Then we should drive on. He must’ve walked further.”

“But he was intending to turn back, wasn’t he?” Nathan interjected, he thought, quite helpfully.

Sara looked confused. “Why?”

“Because he was walking in the wrong direction. For the pub. He was after cigarettes.”

Sara continued to stare at him. “But that isn’t logical. The pub’s a half mile further on up this road.”

“Oh,” Nathan withdrew, “I must’ve got my wires crossed.”

“Yes,” Lily said tightly, choosing, however, not to elucidate.

Sara wound down her window and the rain hit her in the face.

“It’s bucketing. There’s no visibility.”

Nathan felt a moment’s concern about the car’s upholstery. “Perhaps he left the road and walked over the fields or something.”

Sara shook her head. “He wouldn’t risk it. Especially in the dark. He’s new to the area.”

“He’s probably home and dry by now.”

This was Lily’s deeply unperturbed contribution from the back seat.

“Don’t be stupid,” Sara’s jaw was stiff. “We should drive on.”

Nathan did exactly as he was instructed. He drove slowly. But even squinting, he could see only a few feet in front of the car’s bonnet. After a couple of minutes, when he was beginning to lose all faith in the existence of anything beyond the dull glare of the headlights, he suddenly noticed something vague and ghostly reflecting in their shine. A shirt, a pale face, two white hands. Like a scarecrow, cowering close to the dark hedgerow.

“Look,” he pointed, “is that anything?”

Luke. Drenched, depressed, desperately seeking shelter next to a stunted hawthorn. Lily chuckled at the sight of him. They pulled up adjacent and Sara opened her door a fraction. “Luke!” she yelled. “Climb in.”

Luke looked towards the car, his expression awash with suspicious antipathy. It took him a moment to recognize Sara. Once he had, his frown deepened. “No. I’m fine.”

“What?” Sara could barely hear him over the engine and the wind.

“I’m fine. I don’t need a lift.”

He waved her away like she was a dirty pigeon eyeing up a slice of pizza.

Lily began sniggering again. Sara ignored her and clambered out of the car, leaving the door wide behind her. “You’re drenched,” she said, “get in.”

Luke was shivering. Improperly dressed in Farahs, a cotton shirt and a cardigan. Sara noted that he still wore his hospital bangle.

She lowered her voice. “Come on,” she said, “get in the car. One of my boars has escaped. It’s risky walking.”

Luke glanced over at the car. The light was on. He saw Lily gurning at him from the back seat.

“I don’t want a lift,” he said coolly, “I’m fine walking.”

Sara felt rain water slithering past her collar and down her neck. She shuddered. “This is silly…”

He resented her quick selection of such a nursery-style word to describe his distinctly tragic predicament. “It’s not silly at all,” he said, brimming with righteousness, “I simply want to be left.”

Sara lowered her voice even further. “I can’t leave you here. It’s much too risky. You might get hurt and then I’d be held responsible.”

Lily was leaning forward in her seat, listening intently. “I’m not getting into that car.”

“Why?”

He said nothing.

“Why? You’re soaking wet. You’re being ridiculous.”

“That’s enough.”

Luke stepped off the grassy verge and on to the rough tarmac of the road. He began walking. Sara followed. “I won’t leave you here. Are you listening? It wouldn’t be professional.”

“Oh yes,” Luke sniped, “I understand all about professionalism…” he spat out water as he spoke, “after all, I’m a real pornographer.”

Sara was nonplussed. “What does that mean?”

“You should know,” Luke glared forward resentfully, “you said it.”

“I said what?”

He was walking at a good speed. “A real pornographer.”

Sara slowed down for a moment — as if thinking posed an obstacle to concerted motion — then speeded up and stuck at his shoulder, easily keeping his pace again.

Nathan trailed along behind them in first gear. From the rear, the car’s lights were disorientating. It felt like being on stage in the world’s most inhospitable theatre.

“Stop following me!” Luke bellowed.