“Ha! That’ll teach you to creep about when I’m asleep.”
“Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“I’ve been awake since I got into bed. My mind’s too active.” The gin, I thought, as I hobbled into the lounge and flicked on a light. “What are you doing up at this hour?” she continued. “Are you going out?”
“Yes. Thought I’d get some fresh air. Bit stuffy in here. Maybe a good walk would tire me out.”
“Doesn’t sound like you at all.” Her pause was one of suspicion, and I had a horrible feeling that—“Sounds a good idea. Think I’ll join you.”
Damn the bloody woman.
The streets were deserted as we strolled past the shops, Marjory looking in the windows and complaining about the prices. And if it wasn’t the shops it was the restaurant menus. Her presence was beginning to annoy me far more than I would have expected. Eventually we came to the sea and took a path that ran parallel to it. Soon we found ourselves approaching Fish Harbor.
Much to our surprise we saw some figures moving in the darkness. They hadn’t noticed us so out of caution I took Marjory’s elbow and guided her to a low jutting wall by the road. She was about to protest when I hissed for quiet and motioned for her to crouch behind the wall. Peeping over the top we watched what was going on.
There were four men standing around the stone table and another by the quayside. One of the four stepped away and I glimpsed something large before he moved back. Marjory saw it, too.
“Is that a fish on the table?” she whispered. “It looked too big, too… unfishlike.”
“I don’t know,” I whispered back, then: “Sshh, they’re talking.”
Their conversation was faint and I didn’t catch all the words, but what I did catch was enough.
“You speak Spanish,” said Marjory. “What are they saying?”
“Something about better fishing at night,” I lied. Had I told her the truth she would have found fault with my ability to translate.
What had really been said was bizarre. One of the men had referred to whatever was on the table as a “poor sacrifice.” Another had said it was too small, too young, wouldn’t sate the appetite of the God-fish. A third said it would have to do, that it was too late to find a better gift. I must admit I did wonder if my translation abilities were as good as I thought they were.
Marjory nudged me. “What’s he holding?” She was referring to the man by the quayside. He was moving to the others with something in his hand. When he handed it to one of the others, I saw that it was a knife. And then I smiled as the obvious hit me. They were cutting up bait for a night’s fishing. Probably had a special fish in mind they wanted to catch. Something fussy and difficult to hook. I started to chuckle. For a moment there I thought they’d been talking about something sinister.
“What are you giggling at?” asked Marjory.
“Us.”
She looked offended and stared along her big nose at me. Then in a loud voice she said, “Huh. You can be such a bloody fool at times.”
Abruptly she stood and stuck her chin out at the men round the table, as if aiming the tip of her nose at them. Her lack of discretion startled me and I glanced nervously at the men. They were staring at Marjory. I looked up at her, saw her mouth open and her eyes widen. I looked back at the men. One had moved a few steps forward, and between him and another I saw an arm hanging over the side of the slab.
I don’t know what I thought or felt when I saw that small arm. The sight simply stunned me. It was a few seconds before I heard Marjory’s strained voice.
“Do something, Jack.”
Stand up, I thought, but before I could do so a bony hand pressed down on my shoulder. I sprung up, turned and stumbled back against the wall. Before me was the old woman in black with the eyes of a dead fish. I stared down at her wrinkled face, dark and mottled like a brown trout. Her mouth was a thin, wide line, and when the lips parted I saw she was as toothless as a… But it was her eyes that hooked me. Hooked me. Like savage barbs in my heart. Not inappropriate for I thought I was on the verge of a heart attack with the hammering in my chest. Those dead fish eyes bored straight into mine. It was like coming face-to-face with a shark and thinking: this is it, my time’s up. Except it wasn’t. Marjory’s voice broke through the background of my perceptions.
“For God’s sake, Jack, do something,” she screeched. “Get that awful woman away, she—she smells disgusting. And those men, they’re coming, Jack.”
But the old woman held my attention. And she spoke, her voice muffled, like underwater noises. Her Spanish was unlike anything I’d heard before. I understood only part of it, but it was enough to guess the rest.
She asked me if I wanted to be free. Free of life’s mundane burdens. Free of the octopus with an eye and a mouth in every tentacle. I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. She continued, asking if I was understanding enough to give, understanding enough to take, understanding enough to know why one must give and take. I mumbled that I didn’t understand. She turned her head slowly to look at Marjory, and that simple movement sent a current of fright right through me, because her eyes stayed fixed at the same angle, as if eye movement was impossible. It was unnerving. Marjory must have thought so too, because she fell silent.
When the woman turned her face back to me, I understood what she had said. I looked at Marjory, glanced over my shoulder at the men, now gathered by the wall, and looked at Marjory again.
“What is it, Jack? What’s going on?” Her voice was shaky, her expression fearful. I continued staring at her, on the one hand enjoying her discomfort, on the other being troubled by mine. She turned to the men. “Do any of you speak English?”
They didn’t move a muscle.
She looked back at me, a new fear in her eyes. A deeper fear. “For God’s sake pull yourself together,” and she grabbed my arm. “I think they’re going to rape me.”
I burst out laughing, repeating in Spanish what she’d said, the men adding laughter to mine. Even the old woman smiled. But Marjory didn’t. Oh, no. She took a step closer and without warning slapped me across the face.
“You despicable bastard,” she said with great enunciation. “How dare you act like this in front of strangers. How dare you!” There was true anger in her voice. “How can you—my husband of thirty years—humiliate me like this? How?” Her eyes brimmed with hatred. She glanced quickly at the others. “I suppose this is your idea of a sick joke, is it? Scaring me like this? Well, Jack-the-big-I-am, you can go to Hell,” and she lashed out again.
This time I caught her wrist and held it tight.
“Let go of me,” she growled. “Let go before I scream the place down.” I kept my grip. “I will, you know, you stupid little man.” The condescension in her voice inflamed me. She started to rant. “How I’ve put up with you for so long I don’t know. But rest assured that when we get back home there are going to be some tough changes for you. It’s time you started showing me some consideration. Now let go!”
I let go and in that instant knew I detested her. Totally. I watched her rub her wrist and it reminded me of something.
“Have you forgotten what’s on the table?” I said.
She stopped rubbing and looked up at me, then slowly scanned the others. A vague awareness seemed to creep across her face. One of the men made a clicking sound with his tongue. I looked at him and he raised his eyebrows enquiringly.
The old woman asked me again if I was understanding enough.
“The table? The God-fish? These I don’t understand.”
She said a name and one of the men began to speak.