Body of Water (11 page)

Read Body of Water Online

Authors: Stuart Wakefield

BOOK: Body of Water
2.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

"Where?"

"Where? Orkney. Where else?"

He looked confused then, not sure what to do.

I held out my hand. "Can I have it back?"

He didn't move. He might have been beautiful but he sure was maddening.

"Please, Dom?"

He gazed down at the little thing in his palm.

I sighed. "Fine, you can have it."

Looking like he was about to cry, he handed it back to me. "No, it's yers. Ah can't take it."

I thrust it straight back at him. "Then I'm giving it to you." I might not trust him yet but I got the distinct impression that Dom hadn't had much in life. If I could brighten it up a little with this then so be it.

The resulting smile practically bathed the room in the light I'd imagined on my arrival. Bright, bright sunlight. He extended his hand which I took, albeit with slight confusion. "It's time ye met yer father."

He tugged my hand and led me upstairs. The higher we climbed the softer his voice became. "Ah dinnae ken how long he'll be able tae talk but ye need tae see him."

The door at the end of the landing did indeed lead to another flight of steps that creaked ominously under our combined weight as we climbed.

We stopped on a tiny landing that barely had room for us both, let alone Dom.

"Are ye okay, moppy?" Dom looked concerned.

My mind turned to the size of this house compared to the others that cowered on the landscape. Why was this house so much bigger, especially as it seemed to be the closest to the shore? Building something this big on an island so ravaged by the weather seemed like an act of defiance itself.

Dom took the handle but didn't open it. "Are ye ready?"

I nodded but found myself gripping his arm. In the letter Mackay had written that he'd tell me the truth about my past. What I really wanted to know was about my real mother.

Dom swung the door open and walked in. As he stepped to the side it took all my strength of will not to gasp at what I saw.

The man sleeping on the bed looked like a pale insect, gaunt and spindly, and nothing like the photo I'd received a few days ago. The bed which dwarfed him by comparison looked no bigger than my own at home and only served to illustrate how withered he was.

I took a tentative step towards him then looked back at Dom who gave me an encouraging nod, albeit accompanied by his usual frown.

My father woke as I approached him. His eyes were milky like Tammie's. He didn't see me at first and he blinked at the ceiling as if recalling a dream of his own. The tip of a small tongue darted around his lips and he swallowed hard before taking a shallow breath.

Dom whipped past me and offered up a small glass to my father's mouth before helping him up into a more upright position. He didn't appear to be able to sit up unaided so Dom stuffed pillows around his lower back.

Mackay noticed me then and lifted a pallid hand to beckon me over. "You're surprised at my appearance."

Mute once again, all I could do was nod.

"I'm not offended. I'm surprised too." He grimaced. "I'm quite ill."

His ill-health had caught me by surprise. "You should be in hospital."

"And be away from home?" he rasped. "No. I intend to die right here in this house."

I couldn't help but think of Mum.

Mackay coughed but it became a retch and again Dom tended to him. My father brought up a wad of brown phlegm. "But I doubt my health is of any concern to you."

"I'm here for the truth you offered me and then I'll be gone." It was as much as I could stand to say. I wanted to tell him that I had as little interest in him now as he had for me my whole life.

He shrugged his shoulders and I imagined the bones might puncture his parchment-thin skin. "You are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish. I don't expect you to care for me as Dom does but he might have some light duties to keep you occupied."

What the hell? "I'm here for some information, nothing else."

"Then you'll be staying for a while longer." He turned his head away from me.

"You said that you wanted me to know about her," I began but I knew this conversation was over when he didn't reply. I sprinted from the room and heard Dom follow behind me but the narrow staircase slowed him down and I was at the kitchen door before he caught up with me.

"Don't go."

To my horror I burst into tears. "I hate it here."

He looked uncomfortable at my distress but patted my hair. "Ye're run ragged, moppy."

I wiped my face on my sleeve. He put his arm around me and the kind gesture made me sob harder.

"Ah'll run ye a bath."

He left me standing by the kitchen door. I slumped against it and cold air from outside tickled my heels as it blew in through the gap under the door. I knelt down to pull my socks up and my head thumped dully with an encroaching headache.

I heard the pipes in the walls shudder and then the sound of running water. The floorboards creaked under Dom's weight as he moved from room to room.

A bath would be good, I told myself. It would warm me through if nothing else. As I shambled up the stairs I heard Dom humming Tammie's lullaby. He swept past me, his massive arms overflowing with fresh towels.

He looked the other way as I undressed and lowered myself into the water. My skin tingled in exactly the same way as it had done when he bathed my hand. I pulled the mountain of bubbles around me, conscious of my physique compared to his.

Dom sat on the dark wooden toilet lid and leaned forwards, his elbows on his knees. His jumper strained around his shoulders and biceps. He said nothing at first which made me want to fill the silence but I resisted. Finally he rubbed his hands together and smiled sheepishly. "How is it?"

"So, so good. Thank you. What did you put in here, and the bowl?"

"It's a secret." He winked at me before turning solemn. "I'm sorry aboot yer father. He's a troubled man-"

"You don't need to make excuses for him."

Dom said nothing and silence grew between us again as I thought over our conversation at breakfast and my first encounter with my father.

"How would ye have felt if I'd just taken the gift yer friend sent tae ye?"

"I would have taken it back."

Dom laughed. "For a peedie beuy ye're awfully sure of yerself."

"What's mine belongs with me, no one else."

"And do ye think that applies tae everyone?"

The conversations had turned cryptic. "What are you getting at, Dom?"

He looked down and then up at the ceiling, as if he was wrestling with something. He took the seal figurine out of his pocket and looked at it before getting up and leaving the room. As the door closed behind him I shook my head in disbelief. When would I ever have a clear-cut conversation with someone here?

A moment later Dom returned and strode toward the bath, dropping to his knees beside me.

"Ah need yer help."

Mackay really did have something of Dom's and he wasn't going anywhere without it.

"This thing my father took from you. What is it?"

"Can't tell ye, moppy."

"It's not stolen, is it?"

His expression hardened. "Only from me."

I understood. Whatever it was, it had been forcibly taken from Dom and not offered freely.

"Are you sure it's here? Maybe he handed it off to someone else?"

He looked frustrated with me now and ran his hands through his inky hair. "Ah ken he has it."

"How can you be sure?"

"He kens Ah can't leave withoot it." His pleading look faded to black. "Ah don't want tae talk aboot it."

"Look, if I'm going to help you then you need to give me something to go on." I smacked the flat of my good hand on the water, frustrated. "I don't know, maybe I'm wasting my time."

He looked over his shoulder and then leaned in to whisper. "Ah'm sorry. Ah ken it's hard tae understand, but Ah can't tell ye too much."

"Too much? You're not telling me anything. Why?"

"Ah don't think ye would believe me..."

"And?"

His head fell. "Ah don't want it tae happen again."

"You think I'd take it, too?"

"It's-"

"Listen, I don't know what the hell went on between you two but I can promise you that I won't make the same mistake. Whatever this thing is, it's yours and not his. He took away my chance of a happy childhood and I can't get that back, but I'll be damned if I'll stand by and let him keep what's yours."

Raising his head, Dom reached into the bath. I flinched, not knowing what he was doing, and painfully aware of the intimacy of the situation, but he only took my hand. "He's a kind man, deep down."

I couldn't, wouldn't believe that. "I don't know what to say."

"Say nothing and do what ye promised. Ah want tae go home."

"That makes two of us."

Dom stood up and left. I sank back down into the water before realising that my cock was hard. For a moment I let my imagination play out what might have happened had Dom touched me, wondered how his mouth tasted, then shook the thought from my mind.

I had to uncover the truth first.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Impossible

I rested for the remainder of the day. Dom cooked me fish for lunch and again for dinner. I'd never tasted food so fresh.

But later that night Dom left the house again and I decided to follow him. What was his fascination with the beach that he'd stand there night after night, gazing out at the sea?

But instead of making his way down the slope he made his way along the cliff's edge, past the pub, to a part of the island I hadn't explored yet. I hung back as far as I could, conscious that there was little cover should he hear me over the breaking waves and turn to look behind him. I cursed the constant twilight this time of year brought and longed for the cover afforded by the relative darkness of a city night.

Dom leapt easily over a small wall and I noticed the canvas bag slung over his shoulder. He'd had that the night of my arrival. We were close enough inland for me to hear and recognise the same brushing sound it made in his hands. When I finally caught up I stayed behind the wall and used it to hide behind.

At first I thought the building he walked towards was a larger croft house but it seemed too big compared to what I'd seen before. This building had two floors and was as large as several of the croft houses I'd seen so far. A smaller one-storey extension jutted out to the side but the bricks around the top had caved in and there was no roof. Most of the window panes were missing. No wonder Dom seemed so cool; the building was abandoned.

I ducked and scurried along the wall that ran around the building to get a better look into the extension, hoping the interior wall was also missing and would give me sight of what Dom was doing. Instead, I was surprised to see the remains of a waterwheel. The outer metal rims looked intact but most of the wooden slats were missing. Those that remained had turned green and white stains mottled their surfaces.

I heard Dom shoulder a door open so I hopped over the wall and looked for a window to look through.

He stood in front of a machine that I didn't recognise. The sides were made up of wooden slats but the frame they sat in had once been red. The colour was faded now but still stood out against the grey walls surrounding it.

Dom examined the machine with interest and then peered down the side of it that ran parallel with one wall. He reached out with one arm for something I couldn't see but then swore and stood back, his hands on his hips.

What was he trying to get?

As I wondered Dom started to dismantle the machine using his bare hands. His muscles strained underneath his jumper as he did so. Gradually the wood splintered under his grip and gave way, revealing a row of large stones propped up against the wall.

As soon as he was able to reach it, Dom pulled on the top surface of the second stone and rolled it towards him.

The surface of the stone was divided by deep grooves. Spreading away from these were smaller grooves arranged in eight repeating patterns. A large hole sat in the middle of what I now assumed was a millstone.

I felt a frown form across my brow. I'd seen no millhouse on my father's land and certainly nothing visible from the house. What did Dom want with something like a millstone?

Once it was out in the open Dom examined it carefully before producing something from his pocket and skimming it along the edge of the stone. He examined the edge and smiled to himself. He ignored the other stones each of which looked exactly the same to me.

Dom shoved the canvas bag into the back of his jeans and rubbed his hands together as if psyching himself up for something.

He knelt next to the stone and gripped it at its widest point, his knuckles turning white. Tucking his buttocks down until they skimmed the floor he started to stand. My mouth dropped open. Surely he didn't intend to pick the stone up.

If I'd thought that his thighs were big before my eyes widened as they exploded beneath their denim covering. The veins in his neck popped and every tendon in his neck strained as he gritted his teeth and continued to haul the stone upwards. It cleared the floor by six inches before Dom opened his mouth to roar into the twilight and, with a final almighty push, raised the stone above his head.

I couldn't help but be moved by the sight of him standing like the ancient Greek titan Atlas, the weight of the stone as heavy as the world itself. If it wasn't for his heaving chest and the slight tremor in his mighty arms I would have mistaken him for a great bronze statue.

But the weight seemed too much for him. He held his breath and sank to his knees. The stone came to rest on his shoulder blades, his head dipped and his eyes closed. I had the sudden urge to leap through the glassless window and tear the stone away from him lest he be harmed but just as I was about to stand he whispered something under his breath and vanished.

I couldn't help but laugh as I fell backwards, the sound thunderous in the stillness of the millhouse grounds. What the fuck had just happened? A rapid thumping began in my chest and I felt my breath become shallow. I looked around for Dom but couldn't see him. The noise of my heart threatened to drown out the one overriding thought that popped into my mind. I had to get out of here.

Other books

Hero Duty by Jenny Schwartz
Knowing You by Maureen Child
Surface Tension by Brent Runyon
Don't Bet On It by J. L. Salter
La Batalla de los Arapiles by Benito Pérez Galdós
Best Food Writing 2014 by Holly Hughes
The Liger's Mark by Lacey Thorn