The Gloaming by Melanie Finn

Author:Melanie Finn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Two Dollar Radio

Tanga, May 30

Harry is at the Yacht Club bar. His face lights up. ‘Hello, pet.’ He orders me a beer. I drink it very quickly. He raises his eyebrows, but orders another. I think Harry would be perfectly happy if I became his drinking buddy. Possibly, I might, too, in a numb, muffled way. He wants to chat, wants to know what I’ve been up to. I tell him I went to the caves with Gloria.

‘Gloria hates the caves. Why the hell did she take you there? It’s a godawful place.’

‘I have no idea,’ I say. But I do. The idea creeps up my arm like a caterpillar. I take the beer, down nearly half of it. ‘What don’t you like about the caves?’

‘Bad,’ he says and takes a swig of his beer.

‘Bad?’

He laughs now, but not really.

‘Why are the caves bad, Harry?’

He shakes his head and pushes back from the bar, as if he might leave. But he can’t, I know that. I lean in, whisper gently, ‘Harry, I’m in trouble. Something happened at the caves that I don’t understand. I saw something that maybe was left for me. A message. But I’m not sure. So I need you to tell me about the caves.’

‘Why did she take you there.’ It’s not a question anymore.

‘Tell me, Harry.’

He licks his lips, then moistens them more with beer. ‘Jesus,’ he says. And takes a long draft. There’s a new feeling about him and I think it might be fear. ‘I didn’t see you coming.’

‘Harry, you’re not making any sense.’

‘Sense? You want sense? Darling, don’t stick around here.’

I put my hand on his, very deliberately, my soft, young hand over his gnarled mitt. Go on, I say with my hand. He puts his other hand over mine, and gives it a pat.

‘I’m cursed,’ he says.

‘What kind of a curse?’

‘I wasn’t always like this, a sad old sod.’

I wait, and after half a beer, he obliges. ‘A young couple went missing in the caves.’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘The guide told me.’

‘People heard them for days. Longer. A week. They’d gone looking for their dog, that’s what the theory was. But no one could find them. Too many echoes, too many tunnels.’ He takes another sip, Dutch courage. ‘The local police even brought a sniffer dog from Nairobi. But it couldn’t smell anything because of the bat guano.’

I imagine them, the young couple, entering the caves with their little dog, the dog disappearing, their searching for him, possibly falling, possibly climbing into the hole. They lost their way, slowly, turn by turn, and did not quite appreciate the calamity: they thought they were found; they heard their friends calling for them; they thought they were going to be all right. And then terror when the voices faded.

‘Did you know them?’

Harry shakes his head. ‘Sisal people. Expats. Before my time.’

‘Then what do they have to do with you?’

‘Messengers. They were messengers.’

‘They were bringing you a message?’

‘She was. She came to me. She was pretty like you. Slim, dark hair.

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