Robin Jarvis-Jax 01 Dancing Jax by Robin Jarvis

Author:Robin Jarvis
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: C429, Extratorrents, Kat
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

So in rides he, the best of all. The Jack of Clubs, so strong and tall. Chivalrous and brave is this dashing Knave. Animals and damsels they are in his thrall.

THE PIER AT Felixstowe was once the longest in East Anglia. When it first opened in 1905, it stretched 800 metres into the North Sea, with a landing stage for steamers at the very end. It had even sported an electric tram to transport passengers and their luggage to and from the shore. Now only a little over an eighth of the pier remained and that was unsafe and closed to the public. The amusement arcade at the shore end still buzzed and dinged and blinked with lights, but the high planked roadway over the water would never open again and would eventually be demolished, by man or the sea.

The building in which the amusements were housed was raised on concrete pillars over the downward-sloping shore. The waves slopped and swilled around the base of them, patiently nibbling and gnawing away.

That evening, under the green mossy concrete of the arcade’s elevated floor, a lone figure sat brooding in the growing darkness.

Conor Westlake came here when he was troubled. He liked to sit on the damp, smooth sand in the spot where, when he gazed out to sea, the wooden posts of the pier were aligned directly in front of him and receded out to the horizon, forming a pillared corridor. He would sit there, projecting his mind along it, trying to leave his body and its problems behind, to journey out to the doorway of light at the far end and escape everything.

It had been an uncomfortable day. Owen Williams had told him that Kevin Stipe’s parents had asked if he would be a pall-bearer at their son’s funeral. Many of the young people who had died in the Disaster were being buried next Sunday. There was also going to be a special memorial service for them that morning. Owen wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to refuse, but he didn’t want to carry a coffin with the dead body of his friend in it.

Conor had listened to his concerns with a guilty heart. Kevin’s parents really should be told that their son died trying to help the others out of that car. He had died a hero. Conor couldn’t hold on to that secret any longer. He had to tell them, and the police, everything he knew. First thing tomorrow, he’d call the incident number and make a statement.

He had been so preoccupied with this heavy burden that he hadn’t been aware of the strange happenings at school. At lunchtime the number of lads who enjoyed a kick-about was depleted and when he saw them sitting cross-legged on the edge of the field, reading, he hadn’t thought anything of it. He hadn’t even heard about the attack on Mrs Early.

Taking out his mobile, he called up Emma Taylor’s number. There were grieving people who could be consoled by what he had to tell them.

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