Castles Made of Sand (50 page)

‘Hey,’ she said, suddenly, ‘why are you telling me all this?’

‘Ooh, just making conversation.’

Somewhere underfoot there was a sigh and a murmur. Sage grinned at her. She looked back and the quay was moving. Padstow Harbour retreated, the trees above that pretty jumble of buildings still dark under a depthless sky.

‘We’re leaving! What changed your mind?’

‘Can’t think of what the fuck else to do with you, my brat. I carn’t just leave you standin’ there, and who’d help me? There aren’t too many people in Padstow, off the top of my head, would piss on Steve Pender if he was on fire. Let alone hold Fiorinda down, screaming, while he runs off without her—’

‘
Again
… So you agree we’re going after Rufus together?’

‘We can discuss it. Let’s get up the front, I want to watch this bit.’

She sat on the rail in the bows while the Camel River slipped by. Sage, his arm around her, his cheek against her hair, counted off the landmarks of his misspent youth—which she’d never seen before, because he’d never wanted to come back here. The Doom Bar, Brea Hill, Hawker’s Cove, Trebetherwick: names that had fascinated her when she was a pre-teen Heads fan. There are the dunes where Aoxomoxoa lived in the famous beach hut, when he was writing
Morpho
. There’s where the Hoorays used to have their parties, and Steve Pender used to sell them drugs, and experiment on their tiny minds with his proto-immersions.

The river opened into the expanse of Padstow Bay. The murmur of the
Lorien
’s engine cut out. They slipped down together to the deck, hugging and kissing, until Sage was on his back, Fiorinda lying on top of him, propped on her elbows.

‘What am I going to do with this horrible Sage?’ she crooned, ‘I’m going to eat his strawberries, nibble bits of his dinner, I might even
tidy his room
. Oh Sage, what idiots we were. The moment Ax had gone we knew how desperately much we loved him, and we were such
fools
we thought it was a disaster.’

‘Instead of being the best news we ever had in our lives. Fiorinda, what do you think? Do you think he still loves us?’

‘Don’t be stupid, of course he does. That was just a spat.’ She put her head down on his breast, and they lay in silence, just breathing. She slipped her hand under his teeshirt, to feel the warm beat of his heart. ‘How thin you are. What happened at Caer Siddi, Sage?’

‘I don’t know what I can say. I was
out
, of this body, for a very long time.’

‘Are you going to tell me how long?’

His left hand gently massaged her spine. ‘When it scares me less to think about it… I had no idea. It felt like a single perception, there was no illusion of duration, no anxiety for what I’d left behind. I could have been gone for hundreds of years, Fee. I would never have known the difference—’

‘But you were
there
, where you are complete.’ She propped herself up again, to look down into his face. ‘What brought you back, my pilgrim? Miles to go and promises to keep? If it hadn’t been for Rufus, would you have stayed?’

‘
No!
’ He grabbed her, bone-cracking tight, arms and legs, showering her with kisses. ‘No! Don’t you
ever
believe that! I came back for you and Ax, a whole life that would not miss one second of. This is,
this
,
this,
holding my Fiorinda—’

‘Okay, okay, I believe you! Knock it off, you’re breaking my ribs!’

He relaxed. Side by side they gazed at the sky.

‘Serendip says we’ve left the bay,’ said Sage. ‘Let’s have a look.’

The
Lorien
had entered a vast, transparent world of blue. Not a sign of human activity, only the seabirds. Hardly a sound but the slap of the waves against the hull. Sage looked up at the complex planes of the sails, shifting and adjusting to catch every lick of breeze, and consulted silently with the mainframe. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Everything’s fine, perfect conditions. Nothing happens now for hours, except more of this. The next incident should be Fastnet. There’s food, how about breakfast, d’you want to eat?’

She did not want to eat. She wanted to sleep, she felt as if she had a year of sleep to recover, but neither of them wanted to leave the blue world. Sage fetched a rug and they lay down again, indifferent to the hard bed, the way they always slept when they were alone: Sage wrapped around her back, Fiorinda holding his hand tucked against her breast.

‘Sage, can I tell you the worst thing?’

He steeled himself. ‘Tell me anything.’

‘I think I killed my baby. I’m afraid I killed my baby, to stop Rufus from getting him. I didn’t know I was magic, but I knew what he wanted. I was only a kid, but I’d spotted he didn’t leave me until he knew I was pregnant. I wouldn’t have known I was doing it, I would have been just wanting to keep him safe, but I’m afraid…’ She started to cry, hiding her face. ‘Oh, Sage it was
okay
. It wasn’t as bad as you think, even the worst. I had my plan and I was taking it a minute at a time. But I would lose concentration, and then I would remember that there was no other side, because I knew from the start I could bargain for other people but not for me. He kept on at me and on at me, even in prison. I—I would be with him for ever, with the dead man, fucking me, oh dear, oh dear—’

‘Hey, ssh. Hey, sweetheart, look at me,
look
—’

They escaped together, again, to the refuge she had found or created long ago, which she had dared not visit since she’d known the truth about her father.

What will happen now?
she wondered.
What will we do, Sage and I?

What a strange thrill, to think that perhaps they had a future.

‘That could get addictive.’

‘Mmm. Certn’ly a pleasant kick.’

‘But I prefer to stay in the unreal world. Only, my head is so full of hateful—’

She cried and he held her, telling her, you did not kill your baby. You looked after him, you loved him, he died of pneumonia, accidents do happen. Hush, my brave girl. You did amazing. You did fantastic—

‘Am I spoiled meat? Will you and Ax never want to fuck me again?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. But I don’t want to because Ax isn’t here—’

‘Yes. We want Ax, we won’t fuck without him. Say
everything real is good
?’

‘Everything real is good.’

‘Will you sing me the Jigglypuff song?’

‘Coming up.’

So he sang a cartoon lullaby, and rocked her, and eventually she slept. Sage stayed awake, watching her sleeping face, not deceived by the ephemeral, adrenalin-fuelled recovery. It’s going to be hard, he thought, it’s going to take a long time. But Ax will be with her, and she’ll know she’s loved. She’ll be okay. The
Lorien
flew on, cruising at thirty knots under sail, like a knife through butter, what a boat. He watched the silvered alloy wings shifting, he watched the beauty of the ocean, and tried not to think of what he’d like to do to Rufus O’Niall. No anger, no ultra-violence, don’t muddy the waters, just do what has to be done.

It was late afternoon when the computer woke him.

‘What is it?’ There should be at least another hour of the crossing. ‘Something wrong?’

‘No,’ said the voice Serendip used when she spoke aloud, welling from the empty air. ‘Everything’s in order. I didn’t want you to miss the dolphins.’

There was a school of them, a striped kind. They stayed for miles, surfing the bow wave as if the
Lorien
was a big ship: leaping up, bright-eyed, to beam at their whooping and cheering audience. By the time they left, banking off and vanishing to the south, the yacht had passed between Fastnet Rock and Cape Clear and changed her course. They were heading into Roaring Water Bay, at the southern tip of West Cork, with its skein of islands strung between the sailing ports of Baltimore and Skull. One of which, the hourglass-shaped Inis Oir, Island of Gold, was the private property of Rufus O’Niall.

Their perfect breeze was breaking up as they left the powerful calm of the open sea; and they were not alone anymore. There were other smart pleasure craft, chugging ferries; fishing boats and little outboard-motored dinghies. They went down to the galley and brought back sandwiches of bread and sliced ham, with some red wine. The wine was extremely superior, wasted on both of them, but they ate, and drank it anyway, passing the bottle between them at the rail, admiring the traffic. It was very strange to see all these people out enjoying the beautiful weather—as if through a clear but impenetrable veil.

‘Okay,’ said Sage, ‘given the situation at home, and given that this trip would be breaking quarantine, if there was nothin’ else going on, this is the tricky bit. We can be sure there are suits in the
Dail
who would be glad to hold our coats while we take out Rufus, but officially the Irish government is neutral and we must not be caught.

‘No need to worry about the radar on Mount Gabriel—that’s Mount Gabriel, the hill above Skull—it won’t spot the
Lorien
. But there’s three Irish cruisers standing off Kinsale, which is a little too close, and Serendip’s not sure what they’re doing there. We seem to have sneaked by…just have to hope for the best. It’s the right time to be coming into the bay. This is party central for West Cork sailing folk, it’s hit the pubs hour and we are lost in the crowd: fuck of a sight better than trying it after dark. We have a fake radio identity, and
Lorien
’s radar profile is non-existent. Once we’re between the Calf Islands and Inishodriscol, that’s the one over there—

‘You’re very convincing, motor mouth. Is this all from Serendip?’

‘Not all of it. I’m remembering some: I’ve been here before. My dad brought me on a sailing trip, when I was fourteen. Last-ditch bonding attempt.’

‘Was that good?’

‘Diabolical. I hated him, I couldn’t do fuck around the boat, an’ although I didn’t count myself as addicted it was my first experience of missing the smack, which he knew nothing about, an’ he would have gone beserk—’

‘I get the picture. Hey, shouldn’t we be talking about what happens next?’

‘Yeah. Let’s get parked first.’

The
Lorien
slipped through the islands, the sunset behind her, looking no way out of place; just very classy. On the land side of Inishodriscol they lost the crowd. They passed Rufus’s boat dock in the waist of Inis Oir, with the village climbing above it. About half a mile further, and they entered an inlet under engine power. There were no buildings in sight, only rugged little cliffs, capped with a rising ground of gorse and heather. It was darker suddenly, without the great sky.

They went back to the wheelhouse.

‘So,’ said Fiorinda. ‘What now?’

‘Ah… Well. We’re somewhat exposed. There’s not much chance he doesn’t know we’re coming. But we have things in our favour. Rufus is a fearsomely powerful magician, but he’s also been a superstar for forty years. He hasn’t the sense he was born with. He can’t tie his own shoelaces.’ Sage grinned. ‘As I would know. Also, if he’s like any other senior rock musician I ever met, he’s more than a little
deaf
.’

Fiorinda crossed her eyes. ‘Eh?’

They laughed. But there was something wrong. Sage had been acting shifty since they left the ocean and turned towards the land. Oh, here it comes. He took her hand and led her to one of the cockpit chairs. A solemn look. She realised they’d never had that discussion he’d promised.

‘Sweetheart. I’m going on alone.’

‘Don’t do this to me.’

Never trust Sage when he gives in easily, over anything. ‘Fiorinda please.
Please
, my baby, have mercy on me. How could I ever face Ax if I let you come along? You can’t be involved. No one must know that you or Ax were in on this. I brought you with me because I realised you were as safe on board the
Lorien
as you could be anywhere, and I have been so happy with you today. But you’re going to wait here. The
Lorien
won’t be seen, even if someone comes looking. I have a mirror-routine running, sampling the light on the rocks and the water. Serendip won’t let you leave the boat; she’ll stop you by knocking you out if she has to, but she’ll stay here as long as it’s safe. If I’m not back when the next tide turns, or if for any reason it’s time to go, she’ll take you home.’

‘You bastard,’ said Fiorinda. ‘I should have known.’

What could she do? Make things harder? No.

She looked out at the inlet, thinking, this is
Ireland
, where I have never set foot, while he went below. When he came back, he’d changed into his sand-coloured suit. He looked amazing. She kissed him goodbye and watched him row to the cusp of beach. He must have been rowing for the fun of it: as soon as he got out and shipped the oars the dinghy came gliding back to the
Lorien
’s side all by itself. He waved, blew her a kiss, and set off into the gold and indigo twilight.

She sat for a while, chin on her hands.

‘Serendip. I’m very sorry I said that about you being only a computer. You wouldn’t hold me here against my will, would you?’

‘Of course not, Fiorinda,’ said the empty air. ‘And apology accepted.’

‘Thank you. Tell me when I should go after him.’

He looked back, from the ridge. The
Lorien
was invisible. There was nothing to be seen except the water and the rocks; and a couple of odd shadows. That’s good, he thought, that’s
very
good. He climbed down into the next bay, and here there was a real beach, a great wide sweep of golden sand, with romantic little cliffs and picturesque boulders; and the castle on the opposite headland, facing the west.

Nice pad, Rufus. Location, location, location.

He walked by the ebb tide, where the minor colours of twilight lay caught in the wet sand, thinking of the miserable fuck-up he’d made of his life, and how he’d failed his darling, again and again. But Ax trusted me. When Ax left, he trusted me to look after Fiorinda. He was wrong, but
Ax trusted me
, I remember that and it all falls away, the chances missed, the hope refused, all that sorry record. I’m all right now. I’m sorted.

The cliff was a piece of piss, likewise the curtain wall of the bawn, the outer defence of Rufus’s castle. The stonework was new but it wasn’t sheer; the infra-red traps and the photo-opportunities easy to miss. Once within the bawn he forced an ordinary Yale lock on someone’s back door in the domestic staff’s quarters. Everyone was out, according to Serendip; for the moment, anyway. He sat gathering himself, looking around: at kiddie art magneted to the door of the fridge, the ancient oilcloth on the table, the brand-new webtv beside the cereal packets; a photo of a football team. A dog-eyed, sepia Jesus gazed from the wall, pointing to his Sacred Bleeding Heart… This palimpsest of histories that we live in. These human things, that look so precious, so vulnerable and fragile: but it’s not true. A tiger is vulnerable. Trees, rivers, mountains,
they
are fragile. He wondered about the woman who ruled here. Did she have opinions? Or did she just live from day to day, not knowing anything except that she loved a few people? He thought he ought to have a clear head. Why am I doing this? To avenge my darling? To protect England? To save the billions? Are my motives pure?