Holy Island

SHOTS IN THE DARK II

Holy Island

Dipali Das

1

The tide was washing onto the causeway. Veena accelerated and the front tyres scattered sea water. Not trusting the car mirrors, she turned and stared through the back window. Nothing. Only the rising sea and the rapidly submerging road. Then Holy Island neared, and she saw the outline of the castle and its ragged ramparts on the hill.

She found a car park, threw some coins at the machine and retrieved a ticket. Hers was the only car there. She grabbed her flask and blanket from the boot and huddled into the back seat of the car, sipping tea and trying to keep warm.

The car began to sway. A wind started up. She pulled the blanket tightly around her shoulders then lay down and patted her hand around the seat. Where’d it gone? She stretched to reach deep under the driver’s seat. The package was still there. Exhausted, she slid into a fitful sleep.

Three short sharp blows. The blood pouring in a lick of wolf. Red hairs clotted at the mouth. The smack on the temple. Smack. Hello Miss! Miss! Hey! She turned and saw him. It was still dark but the outline of a man was visible outside her car. Police. How did they know she was here? He signalled for the window to be opened. She hauled herself up and did so. Morning Miss. Morning. He was glancing around the inside of the car. Here for the sunrise? Veena reached under the driver’s seat and pushed the package further back. She nodded. He followed her arm. Are you looking for something? She nodded again, lifting the flask from the floor. I’m gasping for a brew. Enjoy.

She watched as the police officer slowly returned to his car then she slumped again but couldn’t find a comfortable position. More footsteps. Yes Officer? The café across there, they do a great breakfast. It’ll be open soon. Great. I’ll head over. After the sunrise. He was looking around the footwell again. She waited, volunteering nothing. He left.

An hour later, Veena ventured over to the café.

Warm steam from the coffee machine caressed her frostchilled face. She was sitting at a corner table where she could see the door. A man wearing orange waterproofs and a red lifejacket entered and gave a small shrug to the woman behind the counter. Hi Sal. Six bacon rolls to take away, please. You okay, Carl? We just hauled two bodies off the causeway. Can’t they read the bloody signs?! I said…

Sal nodded stiffly in Veena’s direction. He glanced at Veena then picked up the morning paper, mute. Sal came over to take her order. The card in the window? Do you still need someone? Got any experience? Some. I’ve no paperwork though, just moved here. That’s fine. Let’s do a trial period for a week. Really? Why not? You’ve got an honest face.

2

Veena watched enviously as the dunlins teetered around the North Sea’s edge. Whenever the sun was out, Veena loved to join the wildlife and paddle in the crisp water. But in her rush to get to work today she had forgotten her towel and she hated damp feet. She had watched people at the beach put their socks and shoes on over wet feet and walk around like that for the rest of the day. The thought made her queasy.

The man in the phone box was now bellowing down the line. She made a point of moving away slightly, though not too far that another person turning up could assume to be next in the queue. She stared out at the causeway. It was twenty days since she had driven over to Holy Island. It had maintained her secret so far, but for how much longer? The weather had been unforgiving that night… Slow down. If they catch me, I’m dead. You’ll be dead anyway, driving like this. Let’s just stop. You’re tired. You’re running low on petrol.

If you broke down and they caught up… The thought made her shudder. Need to keep going. There’s a place. There has to be a place…

The door creaked open. Veena turned around to see the man force a smile and both of them ignored his puffy eyes and blotchy face as he held the door. Here you go, love. Veena smiled, took the handle and entered the phone box. The box for dysfunctional relationships, she thought wryly, waiting for the door to close. In slow motion.

She took a deep breath and dialled the number, pushing each digit slowly and methodically. The phone rang out. She hung up. Coins clanked back into the Returns box. She pushed to open the door but it barely moved. Why were these telephone box doors so heavy? She decided to give it one more try. This time there was an instant response. Hello? From the background noise, Pebble Mill at One had ended and now the mice from Bagpuss were singing, ‘We will fix it, we will fix it…’. Daddy! Look at the mouse. Look! Veena’s stomach lurched at the sound of her daughter’s voice. Mousey. Squeak. Squeak. Hello? Hello! Veena? Is that you? Say something, please! How’s Nil?

I knew it was you. Why didn’t you call sooner? You know why. We’ve been so worried. I nearly contacted the police. A breath. Well, I was considering it… if you hadn’t called… in the next day or two… maybe. How is she? Asking for you all the time. Is she eating properly? She’s fine… What did she have today? …but she needs you to come home. Fish fingers. It’s too soon. Just tell me where you are. I’ll come and get you. I want to, but more time needs to pass. It’s been three weeks. Enough so people forget. What’s to remember? Three guys drowned in a car. It was two. That’s what I meant. Anyway, they ignored all the warning signs about the causeway. I was reading about it in the library Hold on, you went to the library? I take Nil every Saturday. Oh, why three? Nil’s confused me. She’s counting those mice. But… Look, I know how many friends I lost that night. Sorry. It’s fine. Look, speak to Nilly… No, Ravi! Veena! Sorry. Veena pushed all her weight against the door to get out. If she’d spoken to Nil, her resolve would weaken and returning home was not an option. She slumped onto a nearby tree stump, gulping down the Northumbrian air in a bid to suppress the rising nausea. Her focus shifted to the telephone box. She recognised it from a design project she researched at high school. It was the K8, one of the first telephone boxes

with large glass panes and a brighter interior. They contrasted with the glass grids on the older boxes, which let in much less light. Her teacher gave her permission to have the afternoon out of school to take photographs of different phone boxes in the town centre, an hour which she used to bunk off to the cinema. No one ever knew. Happier times.

Veena pulled herself off the makeshift seat and walked back to the café. She’d been longer than intended. Everyone was entitled to a cig break, even if they didn’t smoke. But she didn’t want to annoy Sal unnecessarily. She liked working there, and you could have your fill of bacon rolls or sausage buns at closing time.

3

What took you so long? Sorry Sal, there was someone in before me and they talked for ages. You can use this one. Sal pointed to her payphone on the wall next to the hat stand. It was a kind offer but the acoustics within the café were reminiscent of the Whispering Gallery in St Paul’s Cathedral and even the quietest conversations would travel around the tables and chairs. Also, Veena enjoyed getting out to watch the sea. It had a calming influence on her agitated thoughts. The only body of water she had grown up with was the Rochdale Canal.

One of their regulars was waving at her. Veena swapped her coat for the apron on the hook by the till and as usual hitched the material up around the waist, as it was clearly not designed for the smaller frame. She had only ever worn an apron for Home Economics at school. Her mother would change into her cooking sari, which could get splattered and marked but you still had the freedom of movement. Even the loop around the neck had to be reduced in size and it often cut into the nape. Since starting at the café, Veena had bought several turtlenecks from the charity shop. Pulling out her notepad and pen from her apron she walked over with a beaming smile. Hello Mrs. Abbot. What can I get for you, your usual? Yes please, Veena love.

Toasted teacake and a milky coffee coming up. Ooh, your face brightens up the whole place with your white teeth dazzling against your black skin. Erm, okay. Thanks. Veena suddenly had a strong sense she was being watched again. She looked up and chewed her pencil as if she was deep in thought while glancing around the café and through the windows. Mrs Abbot shouted her order.

Teacake and a coffee, love! Mind you, maybe I want chai instead. You know it? I know chai. But we don’t have it. You’ll enjoy your coffee. My Auntie Doreen made the most delicious chai. She was taught by an Indian soldier friend who stayed with us after the war, you see. They went down to Newcastle every few months to stock up on the spices. If we visited on a Saturday afternoon, Doreen would brew up some chai for a treat, with some iced buns and we’d watch World of Sport. What was his name again? Dickie Davies? No, the Indian soldier. You might have known each other. Veena wondered if she should go outside and have a proper look around to make sure she wasn’t going mad. She let the thought go. She didn’t want to risk annoying Sal further.

The afternoon went by in a whirl. Veena was ready to collapse when Sal finally turned the sign to ‘Closed’. She offered Veena the last couple of spare bacon butties. Veena nodded a thanks. Now she didn’t have to worry about her tea that evening.

4

Veena lived in a small room above the local bakers. It was her first unshared space. Access was by the side of the building and on entering you were greeted by an ornate, spindly staircase. Unsure of its history, Veena imagined it was built hundreds of years ago by a monk who had taken a vow of silence but had probably sworn a few times when accidentally hitting his thumb with a hammer. Each morning the sound of lapping waves and the smell of freshly baked bread and cakes would wake her. It was a contrast to her morning commute into the

city centre and all those back streets that men often mistook for an oversized urinal.

That evening when Veena stepped out from the café, the quiet and stillness was eerie. Everything closed down at 5pm on Holy Island. The wind whistled through the leaves, or was it someone’s footstep scraping on the pavement? Turning around slowly, she saw the chestnut tree swaying gently. She exhaled and walked on, increasing her pace slightly. The few shops that existed on the Holy Island had large glass panes, rather than the metal roller shutters she was used to back home. Prints draped in the haberdashery, the white trays scattered with fake green plastic parsley in the fishmongers and old barrels housing autumn apples at the greengrocers. Her favourite window was the hardware store. Stan would change the display every few weeks. It was a waste of artistic talent, since his day job was to sell sandpaper, wire wool and washers. This week Stan had suspended tools with invisible wire at jaunty angles including a hacksaw, planer and hammer, just like the ones in the Pink Floyd music video, with nails casually sprinkled below. She instantly recognised the box from which the nails belonged: she last time she had seen that yellow and black box was when her father had decided to build a small table for her. Sometimes she could hear his voice, a faint version, as if he was in the next room. Then it came to her, this memory. She was young, in pig-tails. Her father was discussing wood and nail requirements with someone at great length in a DIY store. While he did this, she ran up and down the aisles. A wall of paint tins stopped her. Copying a woman nearby, she took some cards from a Perspex stand. They were imprinted with small rectangles of colours that had glamorous names: Midnight Blossom. Aurora Orange. Chilli Crush. She heard her name echo through the store. She rammed the card into a pocket and ran back to her father. He gave her the box of nails in a bag to carry home. Be careful with them. Baba, can we paint the table as well? Acha. Okay beti. Veena pulled out the card from her pocket. Can we buy some… Cornflower Blue?

There is eggshell and magnolia left over from last year. This will be fine and no waste. Okay? Yes, Baba. A sudden wind rose up. Veena buttoned up her coat and turned up her collar. A tin can flew out of the yellow bin attached to the lamp post and clattered onto the road. She missed the crowds of Manchester. People bumping into her. Elbows at dawn when getting on the bus. Even the snaking queues for the toilets in dance clubs. The only place to dance on Holy Island was the Shipwreck Inn. Once a month Eileen would dust off her best cassettes to treat the locals to classics from Wings, Jethro Tull and Bony M. On her first and only visit, Veena was made to stand in the middle of a circle, orchestrated by Mrs Abbott, as she and her friends disco clapped to the tune of Brown Girl in the Ring. Veena went along with it and even threw out some dance shapes in an attempt at irony. The old dears began to copy her moves. They were surprisingly good at it.

The bakery hove into view. A wedding cake was in its window, ready for yet another happy couple. She rummaged in her bag for her door keys. At the precise moment she fished them out to open the door, two cats began screeching and she dropped her keys. She fumbled around for them on the pavement. Creeping footsteps. She was convinced she’d heard the same footsteps earlier. Hello? Hello? I can hear you! You don’t scare me! The two cats paused. Quickly, Veena scooped up her keys and entered the house. She turned the lock and slotted the chain in place then leant back on the door for a moment. The letterbox rattled. She screamed. The wind. Only the wind. She sighed, berating herself. She unlocked the door and opened it slightly to check. As she’d thought. There was nothing and no one there. She locked the door, tiptoed up the stairs and switched the boiler on, then turned both lights on. She went down and hung her coat up on a hook. The letterbox clattered again. This time Veena was bolder. She flung open the door, expecting the same as before – nothing. Hello, Vee. Veena slammed the door as fast as she could. It refused to

close. A boot was blocking it. She pushed again, but there was no give.

5

That’s not a friendly welcome. Please, Kam. Please go. After coming all this way. I’m just keeping my head down. You’ve managed that. Even in Whitesville, it took a while to find you. Why’re you here? To see you sweetheart. Three? Oh fuck! Three... See Ravi couldn’t keep his mouth shut, again. So, you gonna let me in?

Kam slowly pulled out a knife. Veena sighed with relief, knowing he could have produced any number of weapons out of his pocket. As he entered the hallway soon became crowded. I’ll put the kettle on. Don’t I get a hug first? I’ve missed you. Veena reluctantly stood underneath the coat pegs as Kam enveloped her. He pushed their torsos tightly together whilst rubbing her up and down. Let me go. I can’t breathe. Oh God. You smell good. What is that? L’eau de spam fritters. Your sense of humour. Missed that. But you know what I’ve really missed? We both have. Come on.

He took her hand and led her up the staircase. Veena did not appreciate him taking control of her space and his presumptuousness. Above all, she was annoyed by the lack of disrespect for the delicate stairs, clomping up in his huge boots… his back looked smoother and broader than it usually did, Maybe she agreed with him.

Kam sat on the bed and looked around slowly and almost robotically scanning her belongings. Veena held her breath while following his line of sight. Where is it? What?

You know very well what. Kam. Listen… Where the fuck is it?! After three weeks of independence, Veena didn’t like being spoken to like that but Kam was not someone to antagonise. Before she could respond, Kam spoke again.

Sorry sweetheart, it’s been a long few weeks. Come, sit down. Veena perched on the edge of the bed and stared ahead. Look at me Vee. God I’ve missed that face. I didn’t know if I’d ever see it again. I love that I was always the one to get close. Even close enough to see your irises.

Kam kissed her tenderly on her forehead and then on her cheeks. Veena looked away again. It was unavoidable but as he pulled her towards her and kissed her lightly. Her lips tingled. He kissed her again, slightly harder. Veena had never fully forgiven and forgotten but soon enough they were under the covers. She threw out the various hot water bottles from the previous night. Being kept warm by another body, rather than vulcanised rubber felt good. Unbelievably good. But now, as she dressed quietly in the faint light, she felt ashamed. She was leaving him again and knew she would never feel the same towards him. She picked up her rucksack and the green shoe box and walked towards the door. Getting some breakfast? Veena looked over to Kam. His peaceful expression had become pained. Taking some stuff to the Priory. There’s a Jumble Sale on. Now? God’s always open for business. You’re going all the way down there to dump a pair of shoes. Veena looked around the small room and decided to take an old painting from the wall. And this. Some one’ll pay a few quid for that. The landlord doesn’t mind if you help yourself? Landlady. She said I could take whatever I wanted. It’s all for a good cause. I’m a good cause. Come over here and give me a hand. Fuck off, Kam. I haven’t got time for this.

Neither have I. Get over here now!

Reluctantly, Veena put her rucksack down by the door. She unzipped the bag and carefully placed the shoebox on top and re-zipped it. She even tightened the security straps for good measure and made a point of placing Mary’s painting next to it. Then she returned to the bed.

Take your coat off, sweetheart, otherwise you won’t feel the benefit. It’s freezing in here and I’m not going to need long. Kam groaned with enthusiasm and excitement as Veena began stroking and rubbing. As predicted, it was over quickly. Veena crept out while he slept.

She headed to the car. She would miss seeing the sunrise. It was her first memory after arriving in Holy Island and spending the night in the car. She looked up to the beautiful pinks and oranges forming in the vast sky. The rucksack and shoe box were placed on the back seat. She had a compulsion to see Stan’s display one more time. She ran across the street to the window. Bye, Baba. I miss you. She returned to the car, got in and composed herself. She had barely used the car in her time on Holy Island and had forgotten the vehicle required a gentle start to its day, not an abrupt rude awakening, similar to Kam. She smiled at the thought of Kam still sleeping. Using her trusted technique, she jiggled the key and tried the engine again. This time it started up and began to pull away from the kerb before choking and spluttering to a halt again. Why are you doing this to me?! She tried a few more times, feeling herself close to tears. She kept glancing at the bakery door. Kam didn’t appear. She was thankful she’d tired him out. She took a deep breath and spoke gentle encouraging words to her car. Come on, you can do it, you know you can. She closed her eyes and slowly turned the ignition. It sparked to life. Then deflated within seconds. Fuck. Why don’t you fucking start?! You stupid lump of metal! Do you want us to end up at the bottom of the sea like the other two? For fuck’s sake come on. Please!

With one last effort, Veena turned the ignition with such force and held it for the longest time and although the engine didn’t fully kick in, the car began to creep forward. As it picked

up pace, she heard the most wonderful noise. She released the clutch, gave it gas. The engine fired. Oh, thank you. Thank you. Sorry, sorry, you’re not stupid at all. You absolute beauty.

She glanced in her mirror and she was seeing things. Kam smiling at her through the rearview mirror. Then a flash of three white stripes against a bright green background. Suddenly, it was no longer imaginary. Kam opened the passenger door of the slowly moving car and clambered in. Oh, my fucking god Kam! Oh, my fucking god. You’re fucking welcome. If I hadn’t pushed the car for the last 100 yards, you’d have still been head-butting the steering wheel and crying into your diamonds and emeralds.

Veena ignored him. As she drove away, she took one last look at all the sights and monuments of the Island. The tide was rising but the causeway was still exposed enough to cross. She was leaving her home of nearly a month. What a home it had been. It felt quite emotional, but, with Kam there, she refused to become visibly upset. She focused on the skeletons of trees. The glinting water. Anything but the presence beside her in the car.

6

So where are we heading, Vee? Scotland maybe? Could try some haggis.? I’m not going anywhere with you… Don’t be like that. We finally start again. …and haggis is offal and blood. That’s grim. Come on. You want another adventure and this time there’s no money problems. No. Especially not with you. After everything we’ve been through… It’s because of what we’ve been through. What happened to the old Vee? She had a baby! I need to get back to Nil. Thank god for

Ravi. Oh yeah, him! Ravi - you’re so wonderful. So handsome. So sensible. So boring! And you? So mature. And he’s not boring.

Weren’t thinking about him much last night. Really? Why’d you think I came so quickly? Shut up. Don’t bring him up then. I didn’t. You started it… No, no, no! Veena, you said… No! Not again. Don’t do this! The car shuddered to a standstill halfway across the causeway. Veena got out of the car and grabbed her rucksack. She began walking towards the mainland. Kam ran before her and blocked her path. No problem. I can push-start it again. It’s not gonna work. You haven’t even tried. Or I can just push it all the way. Don’t be stupid. It’s half a mile and the tide’s coming in. I want to be with you. I love you. I don’t love you. Veena turned away and walked on. This time she was unable to stop the tears from falling. She started to run. A pain stung the back of her calf. She looked down. Kam’s swiss army knife was stuck in her leg. Blood was pouring down her leg. She fell down onto the road. The faint yet close voice of Kam. She felt herself being lifted up. She was aware she was being carried. Then she was back in the car, on the back seat. She felt a jolt in her leg. The knife being pulled out. Now he was applying pressure to the wound. There’s a first aid kit in the glove compartment. Sorry, Vee, I’m so sorry. You walked away. I had to stop you. You could have just called after me, like most people. Would you have stopped? The thought of not being with you… We can’t. Cos you’re like this! I refuse to let Nil experience this madness. It’s over, Kam.

Veena closed her eyes. She felt Kam clean up the wound and bandage her leg. In the quiet, both could hear the water lapping nearer to the car. Veena opened her eyes, slowly sat up and picked up the shoebox. She offered it to Kam.

Take this and make that new start. And it better be good. Don’t we go halves? I only needed something small to help me get out of my situation. Did you tell Ravi about it? Not everything, but he doesn’t care. Seems to care about you and Nil. He does. Veena watched Kam open up the box. She saw him taken aback by the gleaming splendour of the jewels. He stepped out of the car and threw the knife into the sea. The sea levels were as high as three weeks ago when Veena had crossed the causeway. Kam ducked back into the car. He placed a small kiss on her forehead. Then he scrambled into the driver’s seat and cracked his knuckles. He pulled the key out of the ignition, gave it a couple of blows, then re-inserted it. The car chugged to life.

It was an old train with windows you could shift. At Berwick Upon Tweed, Veena pulled the window down and hugged Kam. The train guard blew his whistle. Kam put his hand in his jacket and pulled out something. He held it above her head, playfully. Veena bent forward and Kam placed it around her neck even though he was now walking alongside the moving train. A necklace. Of deep, rich gold. Like that of the bride at an Indian wedding. She waved to him as the train gathered pace then pulled her arm in fast. The train shot through a tunnel. She went to find a seat.

***

She fell asleep dreaming of Nilu playing with the Bagpuss mice while they both ate a picnic of baath, dhal, aloo baza, and shinghara.