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just
because he says such things doesn't mean that he can do them, it's
nothing, it's nothing. But at the same time, a voice inside him
said: but how does he know? And what does he want?
    Alex did not
come back to school that day, and he never would again, because he
walked home, fed his fish, and then walked back out again and
jumped from the road bridge above the river, a tiny figure dropping
through the air like a dying crow, visible for a moment and then
lost in the turning eddies of the black water that flowed towards
the sea.
    In the early
hours of the morning the rain came, tapping on the window like
liquid fingers, and eventually, without meaning to, John slept.
     
     

Chapter
Five
     
    When John woke
in the morning the events of the night before seemed less
frightening, and John wondered how he had let himself get into such
a state. He was spooked by the atmosphere of the village, so
different to the boxy houses and ordered streets of home, and when
he ran into the local nutter, an unpleasant old man who enjoyed
scaring children. His sister must have told someone in the village
about why he was coming to stay with her, about what had happened
at school, about Alex. John knew how villages worked, they were
just like a school: one person told another something, in
confidence, and then before the sun had gone down there were only a
handful of people left who didn't know about it.
    The old man had
heard the story. There would have been no problem identifying John
as a stranger, just look how Simon had immediately done the same
thing. One of the drawbacks of living somewhere like this, John
thought. It is beautiful, and I can feel apart from the world here,
but everyone will know everyone else's business.
    When he thought
about how he had curled in bed, terrified, John felt embarrassed.
With the brilliant light of morning streaming through the gap in
the curtains and making the dust dance golden in the air, the
events of the night before seemed distant, from another time, about
another person. Maybe he should speak to his sister about the old
man, John thought. Trying to scare a child like that, there must be
something wrong with him. What else might he want? Could he be
dangerous? But John knew that telling Laura about the old man would
involve pointing the finger of blame at her—how else could the old
man know about what had happened at the school if it hadn't been
for her talking out of turn? Although John hated the idea of his
past being spread all around the village, he didn't have the heart
to say so to Laura, and he knew that she would realise, knew that
her face would crumple in pain and embarrassment for him, and he
didn't want to see that.
    As he got out
of bed and stumbled down to the kitchen, John decided to just put
it behind him. He was finishing off his second bowl of crunchy nut
cornflakes when there was a knock at the door. Laura dried her
hands on a tea towel and went to answer it.
    "Someone for
you," she said as she walked back into the kitchen. John stood up,
but for a moment he could not move at all, paralysed by the thought
of walking to the door and seeing the old man there, his face
radiating menace in the way that some people do body odour.
    Then he said to
himself: John, stop it, stop it now. He walked to the front door
and there was Simon, this time without his bike, leaning against
the door frame and staring out into the street and singing softly
to himself.
    "All right,"
Simon said, without bothering to turn around. "Thought you might
want to come out with me and Sal, you not knowing anyone like."
    Sal? thought
John. "How—I mean yeah, love to. Now? And how did you know where I
live?"
    "Aye, now, if
you like. Thought we could go down the beach, see what there is to
find. Tide's out. Always fossils and that down there."
    "And what the
sea brings in," a girl's voice said, and John stuck his head out of
the front door to see her. She was leaning on the front wall, hands
in the pockets of her