The Merman (15 page)

‘It's just me here,' I said. ‘You can relax. I've got some water for you.'

It was like when I talked to Robert, I thought, like when I'd try to calm my brother down when he was frightened and needed to hear my voice, and strangely enough, it helped.

I started pouring the water over its body. As the stream got closer to its face, it turned so I could rinse the wounds on its head and cheek. It opened its mouth a bit to drink, and I saw a row of dolphin's teeth and the jawbone behind. When the water was
gone, I filled the ladle again and continued pouring water over it until I understood that it had had enough.

Outside it had started raining again. The raindrops sounded like a faint drumroll on the roof. It would be harder to hear if anyone was coming. The creature closed its eyes, and its body relaxed. Maybe it was going to go to sleep, maybe it had a special sleep rhythm that could not be altered. Its breathing was barely noticeable now; it was entering a dormant phase.

Its gills were closed and covered in congealed blood; it was breathing through its mouth now. The cables had worn through the skin on its wrists. Half-inch-deep wounds had filled with fluid; that's why it didn't move its arms. Without really thinking, I bent down and started to unwind the cables. I wanted to take away some of the pain, give it a little breathing room, help it the way I would have helped any person or any sort of animal. It was slow work: the steel cable was fastened to the floor with screws, but at last one wrist was free.

I immediately regretted it. When Tommy's brothers got here in the morning they would realise somebody had been here. I looked around for a swab or a rag. But before I spotted anything, the creature opened its eyes again. A piece of cable was bent over the edge. I tried to poke it back down.

It happened so fast I didn't have a chance to react. Its movements were incredibly quick, as if it broke the laws of nature. Its arm shot up out of the crate like a projectile and its fingers – or claws – grabbed hold of my hand and held it in a vice-like grip.

I thought my fingers were going to fall off or that the bones would break. That's how tight its grip was. Its claws were ice-cold and clammy. I let out a yelp of pain but stopped almost immediately. It looked at me again, very calmly, determined, as if it wanted to show who was in charge.

‘Let me go,' I said. ‘That hurts.'

Its eyes continued to bore into me. And I felt it again, sensed what it wanted and what it was thinking. It was asking for help. It
was asking me to take it away from here, and it did not intend to let me go until it had got a promise.

‘I promise,' I said. ‘But I can't help you if you hurt me.'

It felt completely surreal. How could I know it understood? And how could I be so sure I understood it myself? Yet I knew that's how it was. I was absolutely certain. More certain than I'd ever been of anything in my life.

The pressure from its grip lessened, as if it was satisfied with my answer. Then it let go and let its arm drop. Its eyes darted nervously and its tail fin started thumping against the base of the crate again.

‘Is somebody coming?' I whispered. ‘Can you hear something I can't?'

Its fin beat faster. A faint sucking noise came from its gills. I looked straight into the creature's eyes; it looked terrified. And at the same instant I knew someone was approaching across the docks, towards the hut.

‘I'll come back,' I whispered. ‘I swear... as soon as I can.'

I just managed to turn off the light and get out through the back door before Tommy's brothers turned up. I recognised their voices in the darkness. They were standing in front of the hut arguing about something. One of them had a torch in his hand and was gesticulating wildly, making the beam point in all directions. I lay down in the grass behind the hut; it was tall enough to conceal both me and my bike.

After a while they stopped talking and unlocked the door. The lamp inside was switched on and a faint chink of light shone through a crack in one wall. Then I could hear their voices again, both agitated, and the back door burst open. I could see their silhouettes against the light. They looked round in every direction, talking agitatedly to each other, went back into the hut and came out again with another torch.

I wondered why I hadn't got out of there while they were unlocking the door. There was nothing stopping me, and they wouldn't have noticed anything until I was long gone. Instead I lay flat on the ground and felt the cold penetrating through my clothes.

One of them was searching by the dock, peering into the boats and checking behind the huts. The other one went down the asphalt path towards the covered moorings. I didn't dare move a muscle. From inside the hut came the rhythmic sound of the creature's tail fin, three thumps, pause, three thumps, but harder now, a sound filled with terror. I wondered whether they had noticed the steel cable was gone.

After a few minutes they returned to the hut. One of them shone his torch over towards the grass where I was hiding. ‘They've got to be nearby!' said the other.

‘Did you see if they took anything?'

‘No, but there's a whole load of water on the floor.'

My heart was pounding. Why did they think there was more than one person? And what is there to steal inside a fisherman's hut? Soon they would look around more closely in there, checking that everything was in its proper place.

It felt like somebody had injected ice-cold water straight into my body when they went back into the hut. My school bag! I'd forgotten my bag with the keys in there. My name was written on the address label; the lock picks and my exercise books were inside. It was lying in plain view on a folding chair. But I didn't have any more time to think. A scream came from inside. Somebody was shrieking in pain.

T
wo days passed with no sign of Tommy. I went to school as usual, did my homework and tried to pay attention in lessons. It was no use. My mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about what had happened in the hut, the weird feeling I'd had of being able to communicate with the creature, that I had somehow known what it was feeling and thinking, and that it had understood what I said. I didn't dare phone Tommy. If he found out I'd broken in, he would go spare. And his brothers could hardly have failed to notice my bag, which was right there in plain sight.

I assumed that sooner or later one of them would turn up and put me on the spot. Give me back my bag and ask me to explain why it had been lying on a folding chair in their hut. And what would I tell them if they did?

Gerard wasn't at school either. People were saying he'd been suspended for the remainder of the term. Caroline Ljungman claimed she'd heard L.G. discussing it with the headmaster outside the front office. But nobody seemed to know anything for certain.

It was convenient for me. At least I didn't need to worry about Gerard for a while. I'd had enough on my plate coming to terms with what had happened in the hut and Dad's sudden return home.

On Wednesday after maths L.G. took me aside.

‘You were absent on Monday as well,' he said. ‘Two afternoon lessons. And you can't have been that ill because you were back yesterday.'

‘My dad came home,' I said.

‘That's no excuse.'

‘Yes, it is. He got out of prison. I hadn't seen him for nearly a year.'

That line of reasoning worked. His eyes started to dart around. He cleared his throat nervously.

‘I understand. But you still could have let me know. I treat that sort of thing as confidential.'

It was so easy to lie, I thought, the words just flowed out of me like water. I didn't even need to think in order to create a sort of logic in what I was saying.

‘I went home in my free period and suddenly he turned up with a mate, with presents and everything. I was really happy to see him, I just forgot about the time. Put yourself in my place, if you hadn't seen each other in a year.'

L.G. hummed in agreement.

‘What about Tommy?' I asked. ‘Is he ill?'

‘He's asked permission to have the rest of the week off. One of his brothers has been injured. They need Tommy to help out at home.'

The creature, I thought. So something had happened when they went back to the hut.

‘We've lost a lot of men,' said L.G. with half a smile. ‘By the way, have you thought about what I asked you the other day? If there's something that's happened to you involving your classmates? Or if there's something you want to talk about?'

‘No,' I said.

‘Are you sure about that?'

‘Definitely.'

L.G. sighed and zipped his portfolio case shut.

‘Well then,' he said, ‘I'll just have to trust you, Petronella. But if anything changes, just get in touch with me. I promise to treat anything you say as confidential. Including that stuff about your dad. I suppose I should say congratulations. It must be nice to have him back home again.'

‘Really nice.'

‘And make sure you catch up on what you've missed. Especially maths.'

‘I promise.'

He gave a little jump when the headmaster suddenly walked past in the corridor.

‘Excuse me,' he said. ‘I've just got to speak to that chap there about something.'

About Gerard, I thought. That's what everything was about these days.

On Thursday Gerard was suddenly back at school. When I arrived that morning, he was sitting on a table in the common room with an unlit fag in his mouth. The trailers had gathered round him: Ola, Peder and some lads from Year Eight. I took a detour so they wouldn't catch sight of me, sought refuge behind the coat racks and managed to make it to my locker without being noticed.

I'd just taken off my jacket when the caretaker turned up, stopped in his tracks and pointed at him.

‘You have no permission to be here,' he said calmly. ‘You know the rules. You're excluded until further notice, and that applies to the entire school grounds. I want you to leave. The rest of you can go off to your lessons and all!'

‘Go fuck yourself!' was Gerard's brief reply.

‘The door is over there,' bellowed the caretaker. ‘You've got exactly thirty seconds.'

The common room fell silent. People stood rooted to the spot, watching the caretaker and the gang.

‘You've got no right to ban him,' Ola said calmly. ‘Education is compulsory in this country, isn't it?'

Gerard sneered in agreement.

‘Exactly. It's not just my right to be here. It's also my duty.'

The caretaker looked at his watch and then at the gang. He was giving them an icy-cold stare that would have scared the shit out of anyone.

‘Fifteen seconds! I'll pick you up and carry you out of here if you don't go willingly. I'm warning you, lad!'

‘Go fuck yourself,' said Gerard again.

I couldn't believe he was still sitting there. The caretaker was close to six foot six with a big build. I'd seen him pick up rowdy pupils before, by the scruff of the neck like they were kittens.

‘I don't give a damn what you or the headmaster say,' Gerard added, taking a lighter out of his jacket pocket. He lit his cigarette and blew two perfect smoke rings. ‘I'll stay here as long as I feel like. So you can clear off. Go and rewire a plug somewhere, you fucking faggot!'

‘Put that cigarette out before I give you a thump,' the caretaker said.

He was furious now; his whole body was shaking. But Gerard sat there as cool as a cucumber, blowing smoke in his direction and taking a swig from a bottle of pop somebody in the crew had handed him.

‘Calm down. Here, want a puff, or are you thirsty? My treat!'

The situation seemed almost rehearsed, as if everybody knew exactly what they were going to do. When I looked round, I realised that more adults had turned up. The headmaster was standing at the foot of the stairs to the teachers' lounge. Several teachers had formed a semicircle behind the caretaker. Oddly enough, it was still completely silent. Or maybe I was the only one who perceived it that way.

‘Okay laddie, I'm going to have to carry you out,' said the caretaker, now a bit calmer. ‘And then I don't want you to show your face here again until we've decided you're allowed to come back.'

‘Give me a break! Do you actually, seriously think I'm scared of you? That I'm gonna run away like a bloody Jew just because you're standing there trying to look all mean?'

‘All right. That's it.'

It happened so fast, nobody had a chance to react. At the exact moment the caretaker took a step towards the table, Gerard was on him. There was not a single ounce of hesitation in his movements. It looked almost comical, like a scene from a cartoon, Tom and Jerry or something. Gerard smashed the drink bottle into the side
of his head. You could hear the glass break and a dull thud from his skull. Something was switched off in the caretaker's eyes and he collapsed onto the floor.

He lay there on his side in an unnatural position with blood gushing straight out from his temple like a fountain. Gerard was standing over him, landing one kick after another on his head, really hard, with no concern about the consequences. The caretaker's head was bouncing all over on the floor. It was an unnaturally long time before somebody took action. And it wasn't any of the teachers; it was Ola who pulled him away. ‘Come on, Gerard, bloody hell! Just leave the bastard... that's enough now!'

Like a school of fish, the trailers made for the door. Before they disappeared out into the schoolyard, Gerard turned towards me. Maybe he just mouthed the words, maybe it was impossible to hear his voice in all the commotion that had broken out, the girls' upset screams, somebody shouting to phone for an ambulance, the teachers and the headmaster crouching in a circle around the caretaker; maybe he said something else entirely, in which case it was just my imagination. But I thought I saw the words he was forming with his lips: ‘This is all your fault.'