Turning Blue - part 2

           Jaz was on a roll again, "Y'know what ? Do you remember when you were first down here ? You remember Paddy - the fisherman guy, or Jonno the lifeboat skipper who used to live up behind the shop ?"

          Terry nodded, wondering where this was going.

           “I used to really idolise those guys – never told them as much, but I really did. Wanted to be one of those leather-faced old men of the sea one day. Don’t even know how old they were – probably only as old as we are now, but I was just seventeen or thereabouts and there was something quite amazing about them. You’d see ‘em standing on the sea wall or over on the cliffs; they’d gaze up at the sky, looking at the seagulls winding and swooping their way ‘round. Giving it that endless stare. They never looked fashionable or as if they noticed that the world changed ‘round them. They looked like they were rooted into the sand, part man, part brine, big old sweaters; good gear mind you – none of that surf shop shit.

         
          Anyway, yeah, big old boys with faces that looked as if they’d seen the world and all its glories and decided that for them there was no better place than this. They’d all the wisdom of the ages stuffed up in those heads of theirs, leastways it seemed they did. Never said much, inscrutable, gnomic even. They were part of the world that seemed untouched and unmarked by all the fuss and bother that went on around them.

          I figured they’d seen some stuff, faced some real big adventures out there on the sea and come through it all with a greater understanding of what made the world tick. But above all, even though I doubt that they knew it, they just looked so bloody incredible. Jonno with that face that looked like it was carved from whatever stuff they used for Jack Hawkins in the Cruel Sea, you know the film ? Proper old fashioned granite jaw an’ all.

          Paddy with skin which seemed to have been salt cured, hair bleached and almost turned into a solid mat, hands like wood. Yeah I idolised them because of all that stuff but truth is mostly it was the look.

          I once saw Jonno stand there just looking up, for a good two hours. A good bit more really. I was working in the kiosk one summer and he stood there over the road from me, just staring up at the sky. I figured he was looking out for the weather or watching how the air currents were being ridden by the gulls.Or maybe he was just into some connection, some meditation on life and the insignificance of a single person when set against that whole great world out there. Maybe it was the smell of the sea he was taking in, maybe he was feeling the wash and roar of the waves, maybe he was hearing music in it all. I don’t know. I just wanted to be able to be so old and so wise and so grounded in everything one day.

          I couldn’t help it – when he finally got down off the wall and walked back over to my side of the road I just jumped out of the kiosk and ran over to him, all eleven stone and spots worth of me, wanting, no, needing to know what it was all about. I mean I wasn’t expecting the secret of life or the mysteries of the universe, but I was looking for something. I ran up to him and, well I can’t remember exactly what I said, but it must have been something excruciatingly naïve because I’ve wiped it from my memory. But I asked him what it was all about – what'd he been doing there all that time, oblivious to the people walking by, to the people on the beach? And do you know what – the old wanker just said he’d been watching the seagulls, not thinking about anything much and not looking for anything more than to just simply watch them. No mystery, no mystic. Just watching fuckin’seagulls.”

          Terry laughed.

          “Took me am age to get over that – like seeing the Queen fart or something – he was just some old bloke who watched seagulls with no other higher purpose in mind. I hated him for a long time after that.

          Then, one day, I realised something else. Just watching seagulls is as good a way of spending your time as any. And more than that, sometimes there aren’t any hidden depths to people, no secrets, no great knowledge, sometimes the most that people are doing is watching seagulls, or whatever it is they use to let their minds go blank. And that’s no bad thing. I’m a bit of a seagull watcher myself these days. Jonno did me a bit of a favour and I never realised it.”

 

 

          “What happened to Jonno ?”

 

 

          “Still about, still lives up the back there, must be in his eighties or maybe even his nineties now. Doesn’t get out apart from when the local ambulance picks him up for hospital visits. To most people he’s just some old bloke who doesn’t look after his garden. Saddest thing though, he lost his sight about fifteen years ago, cataracts he left too late to get sorted. So, worth learning from that Terry, worth learning to watch those gulls whilst you can cause you really don’t know what the fuck will happen next.”

           Jaz finished up his drink and looked at Terry for a refill, Terry took the glass,

          “What the fuck Jaz, what the fuck.” He sighed sadly, “Same again ? You’ve depressed me enough for at least another two of these. What happened to Paddy ?”

          Jaz’s face seemed to sink in on itself. “Round about when I was twenty eight or nine, there was a big storm one night. One of those bucking, rearing seas, cold rain, winds at gale force eight, one of those nights. Paddy was last seen going ‘round the headland about three in the afternoon.”

          “What?” Terry was already resigned to another dismal tale, “He was caught up in the storm? Drowned ?”

          “Well thing is, no one saw him all night – radio wasn’t answering – boats going down all over the shop - lifeboat, with Jonno on funnily enough, couldn’t even get out of the harbour. Of course the next day when it all calmed down a bit that’s when they found out….”

          “Poor sod”

          “Hang on a minute. That’s when they found out he’d moored up two villages along and was shagging the daylights out of some pub landlady there ! He couldn’t get back ‘cause of the storm and he didn’t know how to explain it all. But the moment he heard they’d been about to mount a search operation he had to come clean. His missus went fuckin’ berserk. Bet he wished he’d faced the storm after that! So’s anyway, he left and we ain’t seen him around here ever since. It ain’t all tragedy and shipwrecks ‘ere you know you fuckin’ flatlander.”

          Jaz laughed – pleased to have made Terry uncomfortable and pleased to still have some stories up his sleeve. Terry stood up to get the drinks in again when Crush walked through the door; he was out of breath and red in the face. He looked, Terry thought, like one of the leather faced old men they’d just been talking about.

           His face was stony, his eyes darted about as he stood by the table looking from Terry to Jaz and back again as he waited to get his breath back, he silently brushed aside a couple of comments that Jaz made about his age and turned his attention firmly to Terry.

          “You been talking to Dave today?” he asked, knowing the answer but waiting for it anyway.

          “Yeah, earlier, why ?”

 

 

          Crush winced slightly, his eyes narrowed.“He’s in a right state that’s why. I just saw him in the shop – he ain’t open for business thank god, but he’s in there. Just sitting in there with the lights off, sitting behind the counter, smoking his head off and not talking to anyone.”

          “Uh oh, told you didn’t I?” Jaz couldn’t help himself. Crush swatted this one aside too and ploughed on.

          “Anyway, he wouldn’t let me in so I could only shout at him through the glass, so I don’t know what the hell this is all about. But he wants to see you. Christ knows why.” He looked at Terry with an air of suspicion. Crush wasn’t that keen on anyone outside of the village, he’d made an exception here and there, but these were always on licence. Terry’s licence looked like it was about to be revoked.

          “Don’t give me that!” Terry's voice jumped out louder than normal, surprising himself, then he quietened slightly when he realised it was ringing around the bar, “I spoke to him this morning, yeah? But that was all fine, no problems, just fine. We even shook hands! If anything he was pretty weird when I first saw him, so don’t lay it on me whatever he’s gone and done or is doing.”

 

 

          “Well,” said Crush in a slightly more conciliatory tone, “He seems to want to speak to you – Christ I’ve known the bugger all his bloody life and he wants to talk to you. Glad I found the pair of you up here – come on, get on down there – he looked like he meant it, whatever it was all about. And don’t get funny with him; he’s an old mate even if he’s a bit of a strange one sometimes. He’s had a lot to deal with you know, a lot of shit to deal with.”

          Terry pushed back his seat with a scraping noise and stood up. He looked at Jaz for support. Jaz reluctantly stood up as well.

          “You’re only doing this to get out of a fuckin’ round…..” he mumbled.

          Crush was already standing by the door, holding it open and letting a fine spray of drizzle and sand blow in across the wooden floor. He lit a cigarette in his cupped hands and looked impatiently across at them.

           Eventually the three of them left together, collars pulled up against the stinging wind and hands pushed deep down into pockets, trying to conserve the last of the beery warmth they were grudgingly surrendering. They half walked, half trotted down the hill as gravity helped them on their way. Past the whitewashed houses and down onto the flat stretch at the top of the beach.



Turning Blue - part 1

          Jaz and Terry sat in the bar of the pub, it was late Saturday lunchtime and most of the other customers had drifted off. If it had been, say, July or August the place would have been teeming with families desperately trying to force their place in the queue for drinks or sitting around disconsolately waiting for the food to arrive. Now, out of season, the place reverted back to its normal mode of half-full local pub for the villagers and a few fleece-wearing beach walkers. No surfers at this time of the day, they didn’t usually make it in until the sun went down.

          Not that there was much sun today. The intimidating storm clouds had moved closer and the sky was awhirl with high grey towers which seemed to boil as you watched. No storm yet though. The sea reflected the uneasy colours and the tops of the waves toppled ice white and unforgiving. 

          The juke box was playing some old soul that Terry had picked out, Aretha followed by Otis. He missed the sound of the records changing over now everything was digital.

          “So why are you really here Terry? I was Ok with what you said at first, but it all seems a bit more than just getting away from it all?” Jaz looked at him with a precision stare.

          “Good question…” Terry tailed off.

          Jaz roared, “So, what’s the fuckin’answer then?”

          The barman looked over in their direction then began putting glasses away on the shelf under the bar. The jukebox went silent for a second, it resumed with the opening bars of “Try a little tenderness”. Terry looked up from his shoes.

          “D’you know what – truth is I’m not really sure. I mean, I wanted to get away from everything – from that mind and soul destroying pointlessness of work – I’ve spent twenty odd years, getting up, going to work, coming home, sleeping, going back again and for what ? It pays the mortgage; it pays for the cars and the clothes. But beyond that, I feel like I ought to be making some difference, but do I see any? Do I fuck? I might as well never have existed as far as work goes. I doubt if they’ve noticed any difference without me there.

          I know I’ve bullshitted and fumbled my way into what’s quite a reasonable job really, well, in the scheme of things it pays well, people listen to me and do things for me, stay on the right side of me – all that crap. But when it comes down to it I just thought one day how immensely mundane and irredeemably useless it all was.

          I know I know…” He waved his hand at Jaz to stop him interrupting, “I know I’ve said all this before, and you know all the stuff about Marie, but yeah there is something else.”

          “Go on then”

          “That’s the thing – I don’t know, I’m not sure. But there’s something I’m just not sure about and it's here.”

          “What do you fuckin mean mate? What’s here?”

          “You’ll only take the piss.”

          “Go on, try me”

          “Well, I’ve never really thought about things as much as I have in the last week, thought about why I used to come here and why I went off when I did, not coming back and all.”

          “You ain’t the only one”

          “Well – the thing is – I just feel that something isn’t right, like there’s something just outside my field of vision, flickering away but not something I can grab onto. Like the other day – I thought I saw someone watching me from the edge of the beach, but when I looked there was no-one there.”

          “An’ you think this has got something to do with them ….?” Jaz looked bewildered.

          “No, no you fuckwit, nothing to do with them – what I mean is that there’s something I’m not quite getting, something about me that I ought to get isn’t making sense. I was talking to Dave earlier, he was a bit flaky – like I know he usually is, but more so. He was talking about missing Joe and he had this look in his eyes, a kind of faraway look, but faraway inside – not looking outwards. That’s how I feel, like I’m looking inside for something and not able to find it any more.”

          “Yeah, but why here? Why come back to Cornwall after all this time?”

          “Thought it was about getting away from everything and maybe finding that place I used to hang out, get some peace. But it isn’t. There’s a reason why I’ve come here. I don’t even think it was on purpose.  That is, I came down partly because I heard about Joe, but if it hadn’t have been that then something else would have turned up eventually that would have made me come here. Does that make sense?”

          “Sort of….well, to be honest, no.”

          Terry smiled at the ceiling, at no one in particular. It wasn’t a problem that he couldn’t explain it. He had only just realised it himself and was having trouble working it out in his own head let alone verbalising it. He stood up to get two more drinks and stopped by the juke box on the way to the bar. In his pocket he fumbled for then found a pound coin and dropped it in. Otis was coming to his conclusion and Terry listened as the brass wound up for the big finale, triumphant and sad in the same last gasp. He punched in some numbers at random and walked to the bar to the sound of something he’d never heard before, all bleeps and basslines. Jaz looked at him with a ‘What the fuck is that ?’ look.

          “Sometimes,” Terry said in response to the unasked question,” You’ve just got to go with the randomness, see if it throws up something that you might like – or might hate – but whichever way it goes you get to try out something new.”

          Jaz nodded sagely, “Yeah, o wise man - but this is still a bit shit innit?”

          Terry laughed and turned to get the pints in.

          Later, as they sank their third pint and were talking about the weather, Jaz suddenly stared at Terry with a real look of concern, “Look, you’ve got to find out what it is that’s bugging you – you have to mate. Seeing you down there in that crappy caravan might be a laugh for a few weeks but come on, you’re not twenty, you don’t want to end up like some of the people ‘round here. You know that. Can you seriously imagine what life is actually like for someone like Dave?”

          “Dave? Well, apart from the whole people-dying-around-him thing I always thought he did OK”

          “Yeah, maybe, once upon a time. But these days, these last ten years – you ain’t seen it – he’s falling apart, very slowly, but he is. There’s something there that he didn’t find – something that he needed to once.”

          “What do you mean ? Once ?”

          “Reckon now it’s too late. It’s like you said, he looks inwards too much. He’s not exactly the full pasty. I wouldn’t recommend religion to anyone but if there’s someone who needed some sort of faith and hope then it’s probably him. He don’t show it much, but I’ve been around when he goes off big style – I don’t know how to describe it but it's like a slow burning fuse that gradually, finally reaches the powder keg then ‘boom!’. Last time was about a year ago – after some sort of fight with Joe, dunno what about. He stomped around for days looking greyer and more weird by the hour, he stood up there on the cliffs for ages, out in all weather, didn’t talk to no-one. Then all of a sudden he was in here,  the first person who bumped into him spilt his drink, got all the words that Dave seemed to have been saving up. The anger and whatever else it was just poured out of him, he shouted and raved at this poor guy, some Emmet, until the guy turned away from him.

          Bad move. Dave grabbed him and thumped him one. Some of the locals got involved and dragged Dave away before this bloke could do anything – he was bigger and younger for a start – Dave was still swearing and shoving all the way out of the car park. Next time we see him he’s in the shop that afternoon smiling sweetly at the old ladies and it’s like nothing has happened.

          Now tell me that’s normal? S’what happens to you if you stay around here with the same people too fuckin’ long.”

Working up a storm....