They made a dash for his BMW which was parked at the side of the hotel. The engine purred contentedly as he headed out of town, following the bay around in the direction of the sandhills. The rain was easing, and there was a clear break in the clouds.
‘Get your interview?’
‘With Mr Fowler, yes. His wife’s under sedation. The doctor was still with her. I might go back later.’
‘D’you have to? Why not leave her in peace?’
‘It’s part of the story. The dead boy was her brother after all. It’s clear now what happened. He was out in their sailing dinghy — without permission — and it must have capsized.’ She frowned, puckering her lips. ‘Though that doesn’t explain his face. I asked the police if I could take another look at him, but they refused.’
‘Seeing him that once was enough for me.’
‘It’s my job, Tim.’
‘Morbid, I call it.’
‘You’re trying to make it sound as if I enjoy it. But I don’t. If you want the honest truth, Tim, I was relieved when the police wouldn’t let me view the body.’
‘I hope so.’ He found the whole idea repulsive.
He parked the car facing the sea and turned off the engine. The tide had been in. In fact, it still covered the sandbank where they had found the boy, although by now it was pulling back. White fringes marked the breaking of the waves. Overhead, the seagulls wheeled; their desolate screams made him feel uncomfortable, as though he didn’t belong there at all.
‘I think the rain’s stopped,’ Jane said, winding down the window. ‘Let’s get out. Get some fresh air!’
Before he could reply, she’d opened the door and was struggling into her anorak. He retrieved his own from the back seat and joined her. The air smelled damp; the breeze, stronger than on the previous day, was raw against his face. Out of force of habit he locked the BMW, although there was no one else about. Even the wooden refreshment hut was closed, its hinged counter folded up along its entire length and padlocked.
They saw the first jellyfish immediately they crossed the line of seaweed which was spread out like dreadlocks around the sweep of the shore, indicating how far the tide had reached. It lay stranded on the smooth, wet sand — a flat, gleaming, blue jelly, perfectly round, decorated with four small pink circles in the centre, from which pink lines led off to its perimeter.
‘That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it?’ She felt for his hand as they stood gazing down at it. ‘I dreamed about it last night. Couldn’t sleep.’
‘It’s not the same kind,’ he said.
‘Does that make any difference? Oh, I know it probably does — but what if something else was responsible for that boy’s face? What if the jellyfish was just there by chance?’
‘D’you believe that?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s not a question of what I believe, is it? We have to establish the facts.’
‘Anyway, this isn’t what we’re looking for. The kind we want is pink with little red dots on it, and a big red star in the middle.’
They split up to search the shore. Maybe the camera assistant had been right when he suggested the face had been eaten by eels, Tim thought. It was a possibility. Though when he remembered how the tentacles of that jellyfish had reached deep into the dead boy’s skull, he couldn’t really accept it.
‘I went to the public library this morning as well!’ Jane called to him as she came closer. ‘Spoke to the librarian. We checked the books he had, but there was nothing about jellyfish feeding on people. They eat fish, that’s about the nearest we could find.’
‘You saw it.’
‘I don’t know what I saw,’ she shouted back, ‘and nor do you. That’s why I wanted to see the body — in case there was some injury to the skull, something we’d missed. He might have been hit by a ship’s propeller, and the flesh torn off.’
‘Huh,’ he grunted.
He had found another jellyfish and called her over. It was a pale brown, with a dark brown inverted-V pattern.
‘Did you think of that?’ she demanded as she approached. ‘His face could have been ripped off by a propeller, not eaten at all.’
‘Gruesome.’ He shivered; then put his hands on her waist. ‘I think you’ve made your point.’
‘Have I?’
He kissed her, smothering her words. A long kiss, 24 hungrily tasting the salt on each other’s lips. The tips of their tongues touched for a brief, tantalising moment, but then she drew back immediately.
‘No.’
‘No?’ He still held his arms around her. Tenderly. Needing her. ‘Why not?’
‘Because.’ She freed herself and moved to the other side of the brown jellyfish. ‘Because I don’t want to, I suppose. Not right now.’
She began to probe the outer edge of the jellyfish with the toe of her boot. Some instinct screamed a warning at him.
‘Don’t do that!’ he snapped at her, grabbing her arm to tug her clear. ‘Jane!’
Her face flushed angrily. ‘Let me go, will you!’
He released her, saying nothing. But then the hostility in her eyes faded and her expression softened as she realised what he’d been thinking.
‘You didn’t really imagine that jellyfish would —’ She sounded amazed; and touched. ‘Tim, you were frightened!’
‘Shit-scared,’ he said brutally. ‘If you want to know.’
Her eyes regarded him gravely, as if she were trying to make up her mind about him, and couldn’t. Not about the jellyfish, either; not that. But the two of them, the time they spent together, and could go on spending together if –
If.
He knew there was a barrier holding her back — well, that was obvious. What it was, she always refused to say.
Before deciding to return to the car they found two more jellyfish, but they were both the blue kind. The speckled pink ‘man-eater’ of the previous day was not in evidence. They tramped back up the sandhill in silence. It was not until they were out on the road again that Jane mentioned that the librarian had disputed her description of the jellyfish, especially the colour.
‘We found one in the books that looked a bit like it.’ She fished her notebook out of her bag. ‘Pelagia noctiluca. It’s phosphorescent as well. But it’s much smaller, and the tentacles looked quite different. He said he’d never seen one, and he’s lived here all his life. As for it attacking human flesh, he just laughed.’
‘What about those photographs you took?’
‘The police have the film.’
‘That wasn’t very clever,’ he teased her, ‘letting them know about it.’
‘I didn’t, it was one of the crew. Or that punch-drunk heavyweight you were fighting. Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him this morning.’
‘Keeping out of everybody’s way, I imagine. I’m not sure where he’s staying.’ They reached the first houses, cold-looking brick boxes with bleak, windswept gardens. ‘We’ve missed lunch at the hotel, you realise that?’
‘There’ll be a fish and chip shop. Failing that, I’ll cook something for you. I’ll light a fire in the sandhills and fry bacon and eggs.’
‘A woman of parts!’
‘Girl Guide, wasn’t I? Badges all the way up my sleeve, and a few other places I won’t tell you about. But I’ll try my sister again first.’
‘Is that important?’
‘She’s a marine biologist,’ Jane stated briefly. ‘If anyone can make sense out of this, she can.’
He turned towards the hotel, deciding it would be easier for her to telephone from there. The road took them past the little fishing harbour, now used mainly for pleasure craft, and not too many of those. As he reached it, a group of men emerged from a pub, arguing intently, and one stepped backwards in front of the car without even looking around. Tim swerved, braking fiercely. His tyres squealed over the cobbles.