Redemption Song (22 page)

The sun was way past its zenith when they stepped onto the pier; the sticky air cold, a reminder that winter was barely out. Most of the huts were closed, or closing, many were boarded up. Saffron looked down at the sea through the gaps between the boards, thrilled by imagining what would happen if they collapsed.

‘I’m not sure the chip shop will be open. Do you want to turn round? We could go to the one in town,’ Joe said.

‘Let’s carry on, I can wait.’

She was enjoying the walk, enjoying the little huts with their candy-striped façades. She tried to guess what they sold or offered from the names painted across the tops, those that were clear enough for her to read. There was tarot reading, hand-made jewellery, doughnuts. All the usual pier offerings. Gulls perched on the railings and watched them as they passed, hand in hand.

Just the other side of the amusement arcade in the middle of the pier, Saffron noticed a faded red and white striped stick perched on the top of one of the huts. It could have been a barber’s pole, but she guessed it was Eifion’s rock shop. As they neared, a head poked out of the saloon style doors.

‘Well, hello there. Fancy seeing you here,’ Eifion sang.

Instantly, Saffron and Joe released their hold, arms falling by their sides.

Another head appeared besides his: Ceri. ‘Watcha! Buy a stick of rock, why don’t you?’ She waved a pink stick. ‘Or a dummy if you prefer?’ She brandished a transparent red rock dummy. Saffron had coveted them as a child, always refused by her parents. She stopped in front of the shop and laughed. ‘No thanks. I value my teeth.’

‘You and every other bugger round here. Dad blames the Americans and all those perfect gnashers.’

Joe addressed Eifion. ‘Business slow? Might pick up during the holiday weekend itself?’

‘Might do.’ He circled the hut with his eyes. ‘Need to spruce up this place before the summer season. Needs a new roof and counter, window frames are rotten too. But it all costs and the rent’s gone up by you wouldn’t believe. Lick of paint if nothing else.’

‘How comes you two are out and about?’ Ceri appeared beside them, leaving her dad to close the window and shutters.

Saffron and Joe went to talk at the same time. He waved an arm, indicating she should speak first. ‘We bumped into each other on the prom. Both hungry, thought we’d get some chips.’ The lie came easily and she knew had he spoken, he’d have lied too.

‘You’ll be lucky. Place has closed down. Surprised you eat chips, Saff,’ Ceri said. ‘I’m starving too. We could all go into town.’

Eifion appeared beside his daughter. ‘Toppling like dominoes, they are. At this rate, might be the last shop standing this end of the pier. I wonder if it’s that,’ he pointed to the tumble-down ballroom at the far end, ‘that puts people off. It needs to be renovated, it really does.’

Joe peaked a hand across his forehead and looked into the sky. A flock of starlings swarmed overhead. ‘Let’s take a look.’

Eifion was reticent. He wasn’t sure the structure was entirely safe, he said, but Joe argued, convincingly, that if it was in serious danger of collapsing the whole pier would have been closed to the public. Ceri was keen to investigate, as was Saffron.

‘Life doesn’t get any more exciting than breaking and entering!’ Ceri said, charging towards the tip of the pier.

Chapter Twenty

A few metres in front of the entrance to the ballroom a makeshift barrier decorated with frayed yellow tape stretched from one side of the pier to the other. Tacked above the double doors was a wooden board with hand-painted lettering: Danger. Do Not Enter. It had a bodged feel to it, as if cobbled together by amateurs. Joe wondered who was responsible for the site while the wrangling over restoration or a new building played out. From what he could see the interior of the ballroom was magnificent. Externally it reminded him of the Taj Mahal, with its domed roof, twisting spires, and arched windows. Much of the glass had been smashed or blown out of the windows but coloured fragments remained at the edges and it brought to mind a church. This was a temple too, once, a place to worship at the altar of pleasure.

Saffron was talking to Eifion about the pier’s ownership. Joe hadn’t been listening fully but this line of enquiry caught his attention. He refocused on the little gang who stood admiring the structure.

‘A trust owns the pier,’ Eifion explained. ‘The dispute is over the exact nature of the work to be carried out. The council has the power to veto planning and so forth. There are many who want the ballroom to stay, to be made like new again. There’s a minority who want to tear it down and have something new.’

‘And that’s what’s delaying everything?’ Saffron said.

‘Yes. And in the meantime, the structure’s getting more and more ruined. Getting harder and harder to make good.’

Joe was only half-listening again; he was considering if it was safe to enter. He swung one leg, and then the other, over the barrier and stepped towards the open doorway. The frame felt solid enough. He leaned in. It was a shell, pretty much, but it wasn’t the building itself he was interested in any more. He thought he saw movement in the far corner; he definitely heard something stirring. He made his way across what must have been the dance floor to the far left hand corner, stopping occasionally to wipe his fingers over tiny heaps of dust. Underneath the beams, the floor was splattered with pigeon waste. A dead chick lay decomposing beside an empty bottle of vodka, half a dozen cans of Special Brew, and a neat pile of cigarette butts. Whoever had been here was a heavy smoker. Joe wasn’t the first intruder. Near the corner, Joe craned his neck and peered at where once there must have been a ceiling.

There, where the stud wall had crumbled. He was sure of it. Movement. He tiptoed closer, his eyes never leaving the rafters. He stopped again. Yes. He was right. It came again, a stirring, and just as he thought it was about to move …

‘Oh my God, it’s flipping disgusting in ’ere.’

Ceri.

He jumped and spun on his heels, finger pressed over his mouth.

Behind Ceri were Saffron and Eifion, treading gingerly across the dance floor, heads circling, eyes sweeping across the space, admiring. They stopped dead when they saw Joe, hushing them all.

Without speaking, Joe pointed to the eaves and they looked up, mystified, and, judging by the glaze in their eyes, anticipating something horrific.

Saffron looked back down at him first and mouthed, ‘What?’

‘A roost,’ he whispered.

‘Roost?’ Ceri said, at full volume. ‘I can’t see no chickens.’

The others turned and, in unison, said, ‘Hush!’

‘Bats. Pipistrelles,’ Joe said. ‘They might be out at sunset. Not sure if it’s warm enough. Shall we wait and see?’

‘You’re kidding me, right? No way, am I staying here till it’s dark. Place is spooky enough as it is. I’m out of here,’ Ceri said, edging backwards.

Joe turned to Saffron, who stood by his side now, eyes fixed on the eaves. Next to her was Eifion, also fixed on the eaves.

‘You’ve fantastic eyesight. Whatever made you think they might be here?’ Eifion said.

‘A hunch. I’ve been fascinated by bats ever since I was a boy.’

‘All boys like Batman and that,’ Ceri said.

‘Maybe. But I was interested in the real animals, not the fantasy. I still am.’

A gust of wind rushed in; a can rattled across the floor with a tinny echo. Joe turned to find Ceri creeping back towards the group, mouthing, ‘Sorry. Me and my big feet.’

‘Hey, don’t worry. Look, I think it’s too cold for them anyway. They’re probably still in torpor. If we stay our body heat will disturb them too. And you’re right about the light. We should get out of here. Leave them in peace.’

From her pocket Saffron pulled out a small hand gel and offered it to Joe. ‘You touched the floor,’ she said.

‘Bats are clean. Their droppings are only crushed insects.’

Saffron screwed up her nose and he took the gel. He wanted no excuses not to be able to hold her.

Back on the working section of the pier, Eifion indicated to Ceri they needed to make a move. ‘What about chips?’ she said, petulant.

Eifion glanced at Joe. It was momentary, but it was enough for Joe’s message to be clear: Leave me alone with her. ‘I’ve all the ingredients to make shepherd’s pie, your favourite,
cariad
. Mince’ll turn if we don’t make it tonight,’ Eifion said. ‘And you’re back at your mam’s tomorrow.’ Ceri shrugged an agreement.

They walked to the end of the pier, stood underneath the old clock, and said their goodbyes. Joe knew Eifion would be discreet. Joe’d never said anything to the older man, but Joe knew he understood that Joe didn’t want anyone thinking badly of Saffron and he didn’t want Rain, or anyone else, poking around in his business.

Joe and Saffron remained still as Eifion and Ceri ambled away. Joe watched and saw how alike they were. The same lilting gait and solid frame; the way they held themselves. Family. Something he’d never had. The closest he’d got was Freddy and Allegra.

Ceri turned and, walking backwards, shouted, ‘Have a good time, lovebirds! You might have fooled him,’ she gestured at her father, ‘but not me. Sharp as, I am.’ And with that she turned her back on them and linked her arm in her father’s.

Alarmed, Joe turned to Saffron, who shrugged and pressed her lips together. ‘She guessed ages ago that I liked you.’ She slipped her hand in his. It felt cool and comforting. ‘It’s OK. She’s not as gobby as she first seems. I trust her implicitly. I think Mum’ll be fine too.’

Joe smiled, but he wasn’t convinced. Not at all.

Rain was nervous; she could feel it throughout her body.

She surveyed the hall. Was it really big enough to accommodate the Cub Scouts as well as the junior group of the Boys’ Brigade? How she wished she hadn’t offered the hall to the scout leader. It was a character flaw, this impulsiveness. She never used to be like this; Stephen was the impulsive one. She was measured and controlled, just like Saff.

She’d felt sorry for the man. That was it. When the leader, who wasn’t even a regular at church – he’d been twice, maybe three times in the eight months she’d been here – had mentioned that the scout hut was out of use while essential repairs took place, she’d merrily said they could use the church hall. What she hadn’t anticipated was a meeting time clash with the Boys’ Brigade. Again, somewhat rashly she realised, she’d said she couldn’t see it being a problem. The brigade was all about promoting habits of respect, obedience, and discipline, though she admitted now there was precious little evidence of such traits in the boys. Their behaviour was more animal than Christian. And as for the scouts, wouldn’t they be worse? There was no ethos of promoting Christ’s kingdom there. It was all about knots and running wild in the countryside. Given half a chance the boys would revert to savages.

The area was still tribal in tone. To Rain, there was a sense of the outpost settlement about Coed Mawr, a frontier town in the Wild West. Visitors from neighbouring towns were treated with suspicion. The Cub Scouts and the Boys’ Brigade were rival gangs and trouble was surely brewing.

Trembling, Rain trotted outside and looked at the sky. Perhaps the scouts would be content to use the grassy area out front, or even the small one at the back? Now that the work on the chapel roof was almost complete, JJ had removed most of the tools and materials dumped there. It would be perfectly safe. Dark clouds hovered overhead, threatening. She withdrew to the hall and took a deep breath. It would have to do.

Goodness me, Rain. Whatever happened to your Christian charity? The boys will be charming, delightful. All will be well. And it might stay dry.

She began to put out chairs. The volunteer who ran the Boys’ Brigade had twisted his ankle on a hike the group had undertaken some weeks ago and recent activities had consequently been more sedentary. Without clear instruction from him this week, she placed the chairs in a circle. He’d said they were going to do either a photography project or a cooking one. She couldn’t imagine they’d want tables for photography, and for cooking … well, they’d need to retreat to the kitchen. As for the scouts, she hadn’t a clue. She wondered if she should divide the space in some way. A line of chairs perhaps, or a line of chalk on the floor?

Goodness, it’s going to be chaos. The noise will be insane. And Dear God, if they do cooking, the mess afterwards … Though cooking will keep them apart … Bugger, I must remind them to clear up after themselves.

Her mind whirred.

‘Hellooo?’

Rain jumped. She’d not heard the bell, or the door. Goodness, anyone might have come in. She turned to find Eifion creeping into the hall, looking apologetic.

‘There was no answer, but I could hear the scraping of the chairs. The door was open …’ his voice trailed away and he stopped moving.

‘Oh, please don’t apologise. It’s my fault. In cloud cuckoo land again.’ She waved him in. ‘How can I help you?’

He bit his lip. ‘I’m here for the scouts. And the Boys’ Brigade, as a matter of fact.’

‘Oh. I had no idea.’ What a surprising man he was. ‘The Boys’ Brigade too?’ She was confused.

‘I know Leigh, who runs it, and his ankle’s got worse. They think it’s a break now, not a sprain. And he told me about sharing the hall, how you very kindly said the Cubs could use the space too, and I thought it might be tricky, what with them all in here, so I suggested we bag them in together. Do a joint activity. It’ll be good for the boys too. See how the other half lives, make new friends, develop skills of co-operation.’ He smiled. ‘Though that might be over ambitious with those little sods!’ He screwed his face up. ‘Sorry.’

‘No need to apologise. I’ve been fretting about that.’ She noticed the carrier bags in his hands for the first time. ‘What are you going to do with them all?’

‘Make rock,’ he said, confidently. And then a little less confidently, ‘if they behave themselves.’

‘That is ambitious. Won’t you need adult helpers? There’s hot water involved if I’m not mistaken.’

‘I’ve mates pitching up, but any extra is more than welcome. I’ll need someone to supervise those out here. After we’ve sorted the pencils, string, and paper clips, I’ll divide them into two mixed groups. One in the kitchen, one out here making posters advertising the rock. Fancy it?’ he said.