Washy and the Crocodile (11 page)

“Don't expect too much,” said Uncle Otto. “It isn't a very big... property. But it's very near Pengelly, and maybe we
could
take a boat out, Jack, if the weather allows it, and catch our supper without having to go to the shop which isn't there to buy it, if you see what I mean...

“And we could take the ferry across to Lundy Island, which is right out in the Bristol channel, and it has hundreds of wrecks all around its coast, because ships were always sailing straight into it in the fog, and you can watch puffins strutting around like drum majorettes, and see seals basking on the rocks below, and listen to the waves bashing on the rocks and throwing spray hundreds of feet up into the air, and if you've never heard that sound you haven't really lived...

“And if you don't want to do that we could take a bus inland and go for a scramble on Dartmoor, and climb a few tors, and we could have our picnic at a little stone circle I know, and make friends with the Dartmoor ponies, although they're quite shy, and see if we can find an ancient Briton or two, I'm sure they're still around—”

But Uncle Otto found that he was talking to himself, for the others had shot past him to pack, and Tommy had rushed outside to dig up his favourite bone. He liked the sound of Devon very much.

Forty minutes later they were all in the car, packed in almost head to two, like sardines, and ready to go.

Tommy had packed a dead mouse that he found in the garden, and which he thought would be really useful.

Evie had packed all her clothes, even her winter outfit, because you never knew. She wasn't quite sure what you never knew, but she thought it was a very good motto. She would certainly insist on having her own room; and she would make sure that she was always first in the bathroom!

Jack had packed his other pair of shorts, a steel kettle so that they could brew tea on the embers of a wood fire—he didn't like tea, but he knew that the grown-ups were addicted to it—and his Swiss army knife, so that he could cut the wood to feed the fire. His motto was to be prepared.

Mummy had packed her paperwork, so that she could carry on with it in Devon when the children were asleep; and Jack had watched her pack it all without saying a word.

“Shall I take your case downstairs, Mummy?” Asked Jack innocently, when she had finished.

Annie was very pleased. “That would be really kind of you, darling!” Whilst she went carefully down the old and rather rickety cottage stairs, Jack put all his mother's paperwork back in her little bureau, so that she wouldn't be able to do her book-keeping whilst she was on holiday. In its place he put her little paint-box, and some cartridge paper. Jack thought that that really was kind of him, but he wasn't sure that Mummy would see it that way; and that was why he had made sure that she went down first.

Jack could be quite a clever little boy. Sometimes.

“Come on, Jack!” Called his sister. “What are you playing at? We're all waiting!”

“Coming!” he shouted, and paused in the sitting room, and put something very carefully in his bag, and ran out of the house. He didn't want Daddy to be lonely.

***

“We've got to stop!”

‘Why?” Jack asked his sister. He knew why. He just enjoyed asking her.

‘We've just got to, that's why! Don't be horrid, Jack! You can be a very... obnoxious little boy, sometimes!”

“I'm sure he didn't mean it, darling,” said Annie reassuringly. “And we all need a break. Especially Tommy.” Tommy wagged his tail and barked in agreement. This had been a very long trip, and he hadn't been offered any more sandwiches, after he had found the packet that Annie had prepared with such care for him.

“I know,” said Annie, patting the dog's wiry head forgivingly. Dogs would he dogs, after all. “There's a cafe just coming up, on the left. And we can all have a cream tea. After all, we're in Devon already. Aren't we?” So Otto parked the car very carefully behind the little cafe, and Evie went to the loo as she had been bursting to do, and Jack went as well, and then they all ate a delicious cream tea, and felt extremely happy!

Afterwards, none of them felt like driving on, straight away.

Jack said he would take Tommy for a walk, around the old barn beside the cafe; and yes, they would be very careful and not go inside.

Evie said she wanted to stay right where she was, thank you, and to write a postcard to her best friend Samantha.

Annie and Otto said that that was fine, and that they were going for a little stroll in the copse behind the cafe, and they would meet in the car in half an hour. In the meantime, the children would be very sensible. Wouldn't they? So they promised that they would.

Jack and Tommy found their way into the old barn, and Tommy found a rat. Nearly. He certainly found the smell of a rat. Probably. But it was still very exciting; and they became very excited.

Evie couldn't find her postcard after all, and decided not to write to Samantha about her plan to be a psychiatrist, which she had been thinking about for ages. It would keep.

Annie and Otto really enjoyed not having to worry about the children for a while. They walked into the copse, which was bigger than they had expected, and found a bench by a stream; and they were very happy to sit there and talk.

Evie followed them, out of curiosity. She walked very quietly through the trees, and when she came to the adults they were talking very seriously, and didn't notice her arrival. In fact, they would have found it very difficult to do so, as she stayed behind a tree, where it just so happened that she could hear their conversation. Was that wrong? Not really. After all, she did want to be a psychiatrist. And so she did have to practice. Didn't she?

“Are you sure about this... Malachy?” Said Mummy doubtfully, and in a very adult voice, which was not quite the same as the voice she used with the children. “How much do we really know about him? He lives on his own in a very isolated place, and he doesn't have a job. Isn't that all a bit... odd?”

“I know it sounds a bit iffy,” answered Otto quietly. Evie could tell from his voice that he wasn't at all annoyed or upset by her mother's questioning, and was answering her to the best of his ability. What a wonderful person was Otto, thought Evie, slightly to her surprise, for she wasn't used to evaluating him: and how lucky they were to have him in their lives! Her uncle, meanwhile, was still speaking.

‘I know him pretty well,” he said. “Or at least, as well as anyone knows Malachy. He's a very private man. And I know we can trust him.”

“That's good,” said Annie.

‘The name is Irish,” went on Otto, almost as if she hadn't spoken, although he had clearly heard what she had said, and was pleased by it. Evie could tell that from the tone of his voice. Tone was important for a psychiatrist. “He grew up on a small farm in Donegal, and somehow won a scholarship to Oxford and read medicine,” went on her uncle. “Everyone said he was a brilliant student. Exceptional. In fact, after he qualified they wanted him to stay on and do research in genetics.”

“So what happened? Perhaps he didn't qualify,” said Annie.

“He did,” said Otto. “But he was a very young man, and there hadn't been very much excitement and adventure in his life, and he wasn't really committed to research, and besides, he'd fallen desperately in love with a young lady who wouldn't have him at all-”

“Oh, dear! A real romantic,” sighed Annie.

“Yes,” said Otto. A real romantic. So after he qualified he went off and joined the army as a medic.”

“Did he?” Asked Annie, who sounded very understanding. “Lots of young men do that sort of thing. But it doesn't explain why he's living in a tiny cottage in Pengelly and working as a fisherman.”

“I know,” said Otto. “Did you hear something, just then?”

Evie held her breath, and wished she hadn't moved her position and trodden on a rotten branch. Psychiatrists didn't tread on rotten branches. They were more careful. And this was really interesting!

‘No,” said her mother, who had ears only for the story. “Go on, Otto! What happened to Malachy, in the army? Why is he living as a recluse?”

“I don't really know,” said Uncle Otto irritatingly. “He served in Afghanistan, and something happened to him there which he just won't talk about, which has really messed him up. That's all.”

“All?” Said her mother in disappointment, almost as if she were acting as a mouth-piece for her daughter. “That isn't all at all! You'll have to tell us more than that!”

“I can't tell you what I don't know,” said Otto. “Maybe the children will find out. They're good at that. Oh, and by the way, there's just one other thing about Malachy.”

“What's that?” Asked Annie.

“He doesn't say very much,” said Otto. “In fact, he doesn't really talk at all. And now we must go back. I'm sure I heard something; and we've left those two kids for quite long enough.”

Evie could hear the two of them standing up from the bench, and ran lightly up the track without a sound. She had a lot to think about; and she wasn't going to share it with anyone. Not yet.

***

The cottage looked absolutely perfect, and not too small at all. In fact, Jack thought as they drove up the surprisingly long drive, there might even be a room for everyone: and then he wouldn't have to share with his sister after all. Oh, bliss!

He jumped out of the car almost before it had stopped, closely followed by an over-excited Tommy, and raced towards the front door before any one else had even left the car.

The door opened, and a giant came out and stood on the step.

Jack stopped.

He had not expected to meet a giant.

He gathered his courage, which appeared to have deserted him.

“Please, Sir,” he said, “could I possibly have a room at the back, facing the sea?” He said it very politely; but he was determined to make his request before his sister spoiled things. Or his mother.

The giant, however, did not appear to have heard him.

“How are you, Malachy?” Asked Uncle Otto, and gripped him firmly by the hand. At least, he tried to do so; but the giant's hand was so much larger than his own that his was engulfed, and he barely suppressed a yelp of pain.

The giant relaxed his grip.

“No real harm done,” said Otto, shaking his crushed hand in apparent anguish, and smiling. “This is very kind of you. Very kind indeed.” He looked around at the others, who were watching in fascination. What would the giant do next? Pick up their car in his huge hands, and put it in the garage? They had never seen anyone so big and strong before, not even at the circus!

“This large person,” said Otto rather seriously, “is called Malachy MacNamara. But you can call him Mac, if you like.”

The giant smiled rather sadly, although you could hardly see his smile through the great thicket of shaggy grey hair that surrounded his face; and Jack knew, all of a sudden, that he wasn't going to get the room at the back with the view of the sea.

Which was just as well; because as it turned out, they weren't going to stay in the cottage at all.

Mac picked up all their suitcases as if they were light as a feather, and set off with great, heavy, limping footsteps down a shaded, steep path, beside a noisy brook.

The path seemed to go on for ever, right down towards the sea, which they knew must be at the bottom somewhere. It must be.

They came to a colonial-style bungalow: a long, old-fashioned, wooden structure with a shaded verandah and fastened shutters on the windows. It was entrancing; and besides, they had walked a very long way.

“This is nice!” Said Jack.

“This is lovely!” Said Evie.

But the giant shook his head, and strode on down the path; and they had no choice but to follow him until they reached a tiny secluded beach, with grey granite cliffs on either side.

There was a gypsy caravan parked on a little swathe of patchy grass, and a huge horse investigating the contents of a nosebag beside it.

It was remote. It was intriguing. It was mysterious.

Evie, who had stumbled down the path without saying a word, stopped and stared in amazement.

“Wow,” she said, and stared and stared.

“Is this it?” She asked; and no one spoke.

“Where are the bedrooms?” She asked. “The washing facilities? The you-know-what? The kitchen? Where, in fact, is everything?”

The giant shrugged his massive shoulders, and put down their bags, and waved his hands expansively; and said not a word.

“Awesome,” said Evie. “We'll take it from here, if you don't mind. We have a lot to do. Thank you... Mac.” Gently but firmly, she put her tiny hand in his gargantuan paw and shook it. “You can stack the firewood over there.”

“Firewood?” Said Jack bemusedly. What had happened to Evie? Where was his little sister?

“For cooking,” answered his little sister calmly and authoritatively. “And to keep you warm at night. You and Otto will be sleeping in the tent.”