Chapter Three
Down but not out.
Once my supplies have dwindled away to nothing I decide it is time to return home. The evening on the riverbank with Ashley had been quite charming, maybe more and it helped me make up my mind not to return. She didn’t need a miserable bastard like me in her life right now, or ever. No-one does.
I’m not here to cause others misery.
The girl must have far better things to do than nurse-maid an eccentric and inept Brit’. Before she left in her own pick-up truck; I had told her of my decision. The smile had stayed in position and I took it as a sign she accepted it. To be fair we had only shared a bullet-ridden fish.
She didn’t know why I was in Kansas, she didn’t know I had gone there to shout and scream and create havoc and inflict even more pain on myself, she didn’t know I had gone there to deprive myself of my remaining loved ones, she knows nothing of what has happened. We had talked for hours but mostly only about
In a way it made it all the more difficult but I had done the right thing. I had left her to carry on as before, without any visible scars. Our parting had been wholly painless. Maybe Ashley had saved me from myself, it’s a possibility. I sure hope I saved her from me. And I believe I did.
Macdonald Junior is asleep in the warmest carriage. I am awake in the tiny add-on sitting room. I have bought a lap-top computer since returning home, my first computer.
Dusty has been using one for years and he showed me how to use this. I am not one for modern toys but just before I left McCarthy; Ashley had given me a small slip of paper. She had written an e-mail address on it, her own. I had noticed at the time the piece of paper was a little damp but thought nothing of it.
Dusty had shown me how to send and receive e-mails and right now; they are all I have apart from my little son. I have Ma of course and I have the ugliest bleddy dog in the world beneath my feet. I have friends, many friends. Far too many to mention here but right now I don’t want them anywhere near me. They wouldn’t want to be near me.
The internet is different. Once proficient; I had written to her and she had replied almost instantly. I couldn’t believe she had been waiting for a message from me. It must have been coincidence. Very soon e-mails were exchanged thick and fast. And then one day there was nothing. A second day and still nothing. This is the third day without word from
I am becoming impatient and right then for some reason I realise what a fool I am. Why on earth can I expect her to spend all her time writing to me? She has a life. I have no idea what that life entails but it has got to be better than sharing some of mine.
It is time. My patience is almost spent. I jab a finger at the button and the machine springs into life. I still have to wait for the opening programmes to run through their routine. I almost curse aloud in my frustration. At last! My fingers tremble with anticipation and I clumsily hit the wrong key. “Sod it!” Another wait.
I watch the opening page appear and my eyes flit to the tiny envelope that will open up to show me if I have new e-mails. The envelope stays closed. I feel the beginning of a tear-drop form as the realisation hits me; she hasn’t written again.
I push the button to bring my lap-top to a sudden halt. Under my breath I count to ten before I restart it. Again I wait for the opening page and the re-appearance of the envelope. Still there is no tell-tale movement and the fully formed tear now exits freely. I feel it slide down my cheek and it slips away. The droplet spreads and soaks into the table-cloth. I look down and wonder how such a small thing can grow so quickly.
This has been the third day without news. It’s heart-breaking. I feel like launching my coffee cup at the already stained wall. Somehow I control my temper and lean back into the deep leather chair. There might be a good reason for her not writing. She isn’t so stupid after all.
I look at the ugly Alsatian lying stretched out at my feet, one ear drooping down flat. The mangled other standing taut and alert. He tilts his head, maybe waiting for me to break another coffee mug. I rub my foot along his back, he settles down again. One eye is left open as he pretends to sleep. He can hardly shut it anyway.
The dog had a terrible accident with a power-boat engine when he was a youngster. He’s as ugly as sin, he doesn’t have a name but somehow, he’s mine. Maybe I’m his.
My hand rests on the electronic mouse and I search successfully for the icon which will enable me to adjust the sound volume. I raise it to maximum and settle back in my chair, one foot gently on my desk, the other firmly on the dog’s back. The ugly mutt groans a long complaint and shuts his good eye.
I begin to doze. It is a long night. The time difference between us is taking its toll. I will sit here all night, waiting, praying for Joanna Lumley to announce “you have e-mail” Still the voice of the well-lusted after actress stays silent.
A sudden clatter brings me around. My eyes seek out my virtual mail-box, nothing. I realise the noise is from the letter-box in the front door. The morning post has arrived. I have bills! They can wait.
No e-mail arrives and I sleep all day and into the evening. When I awake and dress; I again sit in front of the screen. Still, there is nothing but silence. I feel it is the end. It’s all over. Whatever it had been was no more.
I don’t even know how it had all started. It was nobody’s fault. It had crept up on us. It began with questions, just normal, simple and sometimes silly requests for information. I remember. I didn’t have all the answers and so longer discussions ensued. They went on into the night, sometimes mine and other times hers.
These exchanges had no importance at all at the start. Now they have stopped, they have stopped and I have no idea why. Maybe I did know. I had become rude and impatient, perhaps demanding. I had become a royal pain in the arse.
To be fair; it hadn’t started that way. It had all begun on a river-bank in southern
I fished again and she returned. I caught my first fish and she shot it. We shared the remains and that’s about all there is to it.
I call Ma. It is two am and she isn’t in the best of moods. I know how she feels. I’ve been in a bad mood for almost a year. I have to get out of the carriage and I need someone here with the little one. Ma agrees to come right away as I knew she would.
As I walk away from the door I know she is already cuddled up with the boy and I won’t have to worry about him.
I ride my mount across the fields and down over the headwater of Lost Souls Creek. For a moment; I wish I was one of those lost there and then I remember little Macdonald and keep riding. It is a full moon. It is easy to find my way towards the twinkling lights of Camelann.
It takes me almost three hours to reach my destination. I have always been one for bolt-holes and this is one of my favourites. I can see the tops of the sailing boats bobbing on the choppy water. I have a large mug of steaming tea and the Alsatian is at my feet. The dog had followed me the eight miles to Camelann. I can’t hurt anyone here. My pony is safely tied up at the rear of the Lighthousekeeper. I’ll see to it later.
Old Bert will arrive any minute. Bert is the semi-retired bloke employed to clean the quayside restaurant every morning in readyness for opening. He knows me as well, if not better than anyone. There have been many mornings when I have greeted him at his place of work. I know every inch of Camelann. I know every lock on every door. Nowhere is unavailable to me. Oh, I wouldn’t steal a thing. Well maybe the odd teabag and a bacon sandwich, sometimes even a fried egg but I always try to repay whatever I have taken, in kind.
As I look down over the quayside; I can see the town is slowly crawling to life. Nothing ever happens in a hurry in
“So Maccy, Whaddya know?”
Old Bert had taken the full mug without a word, just the usual crooked toothed smile. “Nothing Bert, I just don’t know anything right now.”
“It’s a woman then, who is she lad?”
I have no idea how the old geezer does it, but he does it. It’s always the same, I tell him absolutely bloody nothing and he knows all there is to know. “A foreigner Bert, a Yank.”
“Hmm, strange bunch I hear. Where did you meet her, lad?”
“In
“That was ‘andy, if you hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t have.”
“True enough, true enough.”
“How’s that young laddy of yours coming on, Maccy lad, still growing is he?”
“He is Bert, just like the other one.” Only Bert and Dusty know of my late night tinkering with Alice Copestick a few years ago. Well
“So Maccy, what about this Yank lady the foreigner?”
“I dunno, Bert, nothing I suppose. She lives there and I live here, it doesn’t make for a good relationship, does it?”
“Naw, I don’t suppose it does. Maybe you should do something about it, maybe you should forget about it. Maybe you should do nothing and let her do something about it. Maybe you can’t do anything about it, maybe she can’t.”
“There isn’t one of them a good choice Bert but I’m for just getting on with things. I have the little one to consider. He needs me here.”
“That might be true, Maccy, or maybe it isn’t. He has your Ma and Padraig to keep an eye on him. Why don’t you go back, see how the land lies?”
“I don’t think so Bert. I have stuff here needs my attention. My pub won’t run itself will it?”
“Lenny is looking after that side of things for you. He’s doing a good job, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, course he is, I know. But, well I have to do some myself. I believe it’s time for me to look after my businesses.”
“Up to you, Maccy, you know best.”
I leave old Bert to let him get on with his work. I have taken enough of his time and to be honest; nothing has changed. He’ll be scouring the floor now for loose change dropped by yesterday’s customers. This time of the year coach parties of senior citizens swarm into Camelann. If they drop coins on the floor they never hear them as they hardly ever turn their hearing aids on. Bert doesn’t earn much from the job but he does well after closing time and before opening time.
For me now; I have to get my tiny mind back and try and get my life back in some sort of regular order. It may take a while. I make the decision there and then to leave my lap-top turned off. It has gone far enough. Maybe it has gone as far as it can. I think it has. All the staring in the world won’t change anything and I’m fast running out of coffee mugs.
I let myself into the back of my pub. I find an old newspaper to read and await the arrival of Lenny. Lenny and I have been friends since nursery school. The two of us have been inseparable ever since, unless of course either of us had a woman in tow, which was quite often. Lenny should have been part owner of the Lighthousekeeper but at the last moment he pulled out. He has worked for me almost ever since. When I was away managing other pubs for a brewery; Lenny and Jen’ looked after the place. When Jen’ was lost to me; Lenny did everything, he still is. It is time I do my bit.
“Maccy, how are you mucker?”
Lenny has arrived and he is the same old Lenny. “Lenny, I am back.”
“Well matey, I have me a tad of trouble here right now. Some bloke thinks I have been tinkering with his womenfolk and he have made some nasty threats to certain parts of me. I’ll take some holiday if it’s okay with you. If he comes here looking for me; tell him I am away for a year or two. How would that be?”
Dear Lenny, nothing has changed at all. If he wasn’t already in trouble; he would go out and look for some, just like me. “Lenny that is just perfect matey, you get off to
“You have returned in the nick of time mucker. You might have saved me from partial decapitation, maybe even worse.”
“What could be worse, Lenny?”
“Who knows, Maccy, who knows?”
Home sweet home and it seems nothing at all has changed. Lenny has already gone to collect his belongings. Methinks he is in a lot of trouble. It takes my mate a lot to get moving this fast unless there is a female in front of him…. or a husband behind him.
Okay, for me now it is time to give the chef a holiday too. I’m not one for keeping a dog and barking myself, and the food trade this time of the year is almost non existent.
First things first, Dusty, Lenny just had time to inform me Dusty is behind with his rent for the landing stage that crosses Lost Souls Creek. Dear Dusty has spent half a life-time squeezing money out of me one way or another and now it is my turn.
I bide my time in getting the Lighthousekeeper spruced up for opening time. I know the kid will be in sooner or later. Someone once told me “never chase money, let it come to you” sounds good.
The memory of the little gun-slinging fish shooter, Ashley will begin to diminish in time I’m sure. She will always have a place. She is a beautiful girl but I realise now; I’m not ready for her. She’s not ready for the likes of me. I would make her life an instant misery. And anyway, she talks strange. I have other things on my mind. I decide I would sell the lap-top. I won’t be requiring it any more. I might even give it to Lenny. He can start his own dating agency. He has more than enough clients to call on.
“Dusty, my little brother. How I’ve missed you.” Dusty has arrived and looks a tad shocked at my appearance behind the Lighthousekeeper’s bar. I believe he has a sudden look of doom and gloom.
“Maccy and about time.”
“Are you sure, are you feeling okay, little brother?”
“Never better brother.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it. We need to talk about financial things. Six hundred financial things, pounds. Six months rent on the landing stage.”
“Is that all, I thought it was something serious.”
Dusty pulls a large wad of notes from his back pocket and counts out the amount there and then. It pleases me no end. The last thing I want right now is a heated discussion with the kid about cash. The kid’s look of doom and gloom is all a sham. The day is beginning to take just perfect shape after a doubtful start.
From the looks of things I now need to find myself a cleaner. It won’t be easy. The middle of winter in Camelann sees a desolate place. As usual the population is in hiding until spring’s arrival. I have my work cut out to find anyone. Just at that very moment Ashley’s face appears before mine but she just as quickly goes again. Maybe it will be the last time I ever see her. Maybe the chef can double up as a cleaner. Maybe…..
I hand Lenny the cash given to me by Dusty as he brings me the keys to the Lighthousekeeper before leaving for Gatwick.