Иэн Рэнкин - The Flood

He had fallen in love on that first day, and had known it, for he had thought about her all the next week at school and had walked often past the mansion hoping for a glimpse of her. On the following Friday, as had been agreed on that first day, after that surprise meeting (he had expected to find nothing but ghosts and memories in the old hospital), he had returned to the room. Robbie, drinking from a beer can and smoking a cigarette, had noted Sandy’s acute embarrassment at even being in the same room as her. He had leaned across to the boy and given him a stinging slap on the thigh, saying, ‘Ah, Sandy, Sandy, so you’ve caught the fever, eh? Too bad, son, too bad. It happens to the strongest men when they look at Rian, when they see that shining innocence, that knowing look, that mystery.’ He had risen to his feet. His eyes were on his sister as she sat on her blanket. He had staggered a little, dragging his feet around the room while the candle sent grotesque shadows dancing on the walls. ‘Me too, man. Me too. She caught me before anyone else, before she could walk even, and only the thought of my...’ he struggled with language, the mystery of words he needed but did not know, and frowned ‘... my task, or something — only that knowledge, and the drink of course, keep me from... keep me sane.’ He had leaned over his sister, studying her face as if he were a painter, his words hanging in the smoky air. Sandy had thought it time he was going. His cheeks were burning. He was full of questions and emotions. Robbie had slid silently down the wall and rested his chin on his chest. She had risen, had seen him silently to the window, had allowed him out on to his ledge before reaching forward to kiss him on the cheek. Still her face had remained a mask. She might have been kissing the minister. He slipped down the pipe uneasily. His heart had been trembling. It would tremble for a long time as the kiss grew in his fertile mind.

That had been a full month ago. Now Robbie looked on Sandy as part of the scenario, albeit a moving, trustless part; the kind of thing a gypsy could appreciate.

‘What’s it like being a gypsy?’ had been Sandy’s first question to Rian. She had shrugged her shoulders. Robbie had answered for her.

‘If gypsies are outcasts from their own tribe, then they’re shadows in the dark, which is to say useless.’

Sandy knew that there was a loneliness in Robbie, and he could feel his visits bolstering the young man’s sense of purpose. They were friends of a sort now. Rian was not Sandy’s friend, nor could she be. A larger intent lay behind their thin but strengthening bond. It was something Robbie might one day find himself unable to stop. Sandy knew that his relationship with Rian would work inversely to his relationship with Robbie, and these were knotted strings with which his nimble fingers but clumsy brain played. Something was unfolding, and Sandy shut from his mind the notion that its culmination would be pain or despair or frustration. He simply refused to consider those possibilities. But he knew. And Robbie knew also, so that there was an inevitable tension in his visits: psychological jousting, with Rian looking on as impassively as a fair princess. There would be no favourites in the game. Not yet.

Tonight Robbie was speaking about some of the day’s incidents. Rian had been begging in Craigore, a nearby town. They had some cheese and bread if Sandy was hungry, and a little milk besides. ‘Time was,’ Robbie was saying, ‘you could have gone down to the river and used the water straight from it for a pot of tea, but not now. Pollution. A gypsy used to fend well for himself before all this... this... plastic shit.’ Sandy studied the beer can in Robbie’s hand as he waved it around. He felt that Robbie’s drinking was frowned upon by Rian. It might prove a useful weapon in the fight. He had not accepted a drink from Robbie yet, though he was keen to, for it was something that had to be done at his age. He had resisted in order to impress Rian, and she looked across at him whenever he denied himself as though she were unusually full of curiosity about him. ‘Suit yourself,’ Robbie would say, and would then finish the contents of the tin quickly and noisily, smacking his lips in challenging satisfaction afterwards. Tonight Sandy felt like saying: ‘Always enough money for drink, though, eh Robbie?’

That would have scored points, but it seemed unnecessarily cruel. Sandy said nothing; only listened and hoped that his princess would speak. Robbie talked about the snooker hall in Craigore. ‘You can sometimes make a few bob on a game, but not often and never much money. They’re tight-fisted in that town all right. Mean shower. Rotten snooker players too. Almost embarrassing.’ He looked at Rian, then at Sandy, and crushed the thin beer can with one hand, rubbing at his nose with the other.

‘An itchy nose,’ said Sandy. ‘My mum says that means you’re going to come into money.’ Having said it, he felt stupid. It seemed banal. Robbie’s eyes lit up, however, and he shook his head vigorously.

‘Your mum’s wrong. An itchy palm means money. An itchy nose doesn’t mean anything. No, wait a minute. That’s not right. It does mean something but I just can’t think what.’ He furrowed his brow, put a hand across his eyes like a mind-reader. ‘My Aunt Kitty used to tell me about all that stuff when I was a kid, but I’ve forgotten most of it. Superstitious crap. No,’ he shook his head and waved his hands in the air, ‘I’ve forgotten it. She could help, though. My Aunt Kitty at the caravan.’

‘Caravan?’ said Sandy.

‘Caravan,’ said Robbie. ‘Where the hell did you think we came from? We didn’t just appear out of thin air, man. Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t Rian? We belong to the tinkers’ site at the foot of Craigie Hill.’

‘Then why did you move here?’ Robbie hesitated at Sandy’s question. He looked over to his sister, then at Sandy. Sandy nodded, though he felt that he had only half the picture. ‘Oh,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Robbie continued, ‘we should visit my Aunt Kitty some day.’ He again looked to Rian, who suddenly came alive.

‘She’s my aunt too! She’s not just your aunt!’ She stared at her brother in a rage while he scratched his beard, then she blushed and dropped her eyes. Robbie chuckled.

‘Oh?’ he said. ‘Well, maybe that’s something to ask her, after what happened. Maybe all three of us should go up there just now and see what Aunt Kitty says to it. I seem to remember her saying something like “She’s no relation of mine.” Isn’t that right then, Rian?’ The girl was already on her feet. She moved swiftly, and in her movement Sandy was attracted to the shape of her body. She slammed the door as best she could behind her. Robbie hooted loudly, smiled at Sandy, then turned his eyes to the floor and thought to himself.

‘I suppose I should be going,’ said Sandy.

‘But you’ve only just got here!’ complained Robbie, who seemed genuinely upset.

‘Yes, but my mum will have my tea ready. I’m hellish late for that.’ Sandy had a sudden inspiration. ‘And I want to ask her about the itchy nose. Then we can go and see your auntie. Okay?’ For a second Sandy thought that it might have been a mistake to mention this, but Robbie nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You do that. Will you come back tomorrow?’

‘Maybe, Robbie.’ Sandy was already on his feet.

‘Fine then.’

There was no sign of Rian in the corridor. ‘Cheerio, Sandy,’ said Robbie. As the door closed on him, he was hunting in his pockets for a cigarette.

‘Cheerio, Robbie.’

He sat on the window ledge for a long time. Rian did not appear. Robbie was whistling in the far room. Sandy did not want Robbie to come out and find him still sitting there. It would be too much of an admission of interest in Rian. He sat for a full count of sixty. The golfers had abandoned the course. It was too dark now to play, though there was still a faint red glow in the sky. He reached out for the drainpipe and shimmied down, jumping the last five feet and feeling the drop through space thrill in his stomach. He landed with a grunt on the lawn. Some jotters had fallen from his satchel. He crouched and replaced them. When he stood up, she said something behind him.