The Fire-Eaters Read Free Page B

go anywhere. You know what they're like, that lot.”
    “Aye.” I shook my head. “She's daft.”
    The new kid's house was where another of the lanescame down onto the beach. It had been a fisherman's place; then it had become derelict and half buried in the sand. Now there were a garage and some new rooms at the back and a huge window at the front facing out across the sea.
    We shut up as we got closer. We walked with our heads lowered and our knees bent. We crouched at the dried-out battered knee-high fence. The curtains were open. The new kid was sitting on a box, reading a magazine, holding his hair back with his hand. There were boxes all around him. His dad was stretched out on a sofa with a book. His mam took a record out from its cover, put it on a record player. The sound of drums and saxophones drifted into the night.
    “Bloody jazz,” said Joseph.
    We watched. We kept ducking when the light came round. The new kid's dad poured some wine. The new kid swayed, like he was half dancing. Somebody said something and they all laughed together.
    “Seen them by the lighthouse, on the headland,” said Joseph. “They had sandwiches and that. They were taking photos.”
    “He's called Daniel,” I said.
    “Aye. He's a jessie, eh? Look at him.”
    He lit another cigarette.
    “Don't,” I said. “They'll see.”
    “No, they won't. Light inside, dark outside, they'll never see nowt.”
    He breathed out smoke. “He'll be with you,” he said. “He'll be at your school. Him and you and all the other nancy boys.”
    “Don't be stupid.”
    “What?”
    “Nowt.”
    “Huh. Look at them.”
    He threw his cigarette away and stood up and climbed across the fence. He crouched low and prowled toward the window.
    “Joseph, man!” I whispered.
    He stood up right in front of the window. He spread his arms wide like he was daring them to see him. He stuck two fingers up at the window with both hands.
    “Joseph!” I whispered. “Joseph!”
    The light came round and swept across his back. The new kid jumped from his box. His dad sat up. Joseph turned and ran and vaulted the fence and raced into the darkness of the beach. I followed close behind. After a couple of hundred yards he went sprawling. He giggled and grunted as I threw myself down beside him. He cursed the new kid and his family. I laughed; then I sighed and said I'd have to go.
    “You're stupid,” I said.
    He got me by the throat. He shoved my face into the sand.
    “Don't call me stupid,” he snarled. “Bloody never. Right?”
    I tried to speak but couldn't. “Right?” he said.
    I twisted my head. I tried to spit, dribbled sand and saliva.
    “Right,” I muttered.
    He gave me one last shove, one last curse; then he got up and went away.

I watched Joseph disappear; then I took my shoes and socks off and waded into the icy sea. I scooped up water and rinsed my mouth. I thought I tasted blood but it might have just been the salt. The night was clear and bright. I tried to discern the horizon, to see where the stars became the reflections of stars. I watched the airplane lights. I tried to distinguish the far-off roar of engines from the ever-present rumble of the sea. I looked toward the east. If the bombers came, is that where they would come from? I tried to imagine them, great crossshaped shadows, no lights, unmistakable roars. I tried to imagine everything destroyed: no beach, no dunes, no house, no family, no friends, no me. Nothing. Nothing left but poison sluggish sea and poison drifting dust.
    I watched the massive cone of light approach me.
    “Bobby!”
    The call came from behind me.
    “Bobby, is it you?”
    I turned. Ailsa. The light swept over her, and her eyes glittered and her face bloomed.
    She laughed and came in beside me.
    “I was looking for you today,” she said.
    “I know.”
    “Daddy said you could have come and helped us. He would have paid you, Bobby.”
    “Mebbe another time.”
    “He says he can always use another