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He sat quietly on the porch, trying to decide whether or not he was saddened by the strong spark between Roland and his sister, a chemistry that escaped all definition and from which he knew he was excluded. While he watched them fooling around in the water Max knew, probably even before they were aware of it, that a lasting bond was growing between them, a bond that would unite them that summer and which seemed as inevitable as destiny.
As he thought about these things, Max’s mind turned to the shadows of a war that was being fought so close and yet so far from that beach, a faceless war that would soon lay claim to his friend Roland and, perhaps, even to him. He also thought about all the events that had happened during that long day, from his sighting of the ghostly Orpheus beneath the sea to Roland’s story in the beach hut and Irina’s accident. Away from the laughter of Alicia and Roland, a deep anxiety took hold of him. For the first time in his life he felt that time was going faster than he wished it to and he could no longer take refuge in his dreams. The wheel of fortune had started to turn, and this time he could not stop it.
*
Later, by the light of a bonfire they had built on the beach, Alicia, Roland and Max spoke about what had been going through their minds over the last few hours. The golden glow of the fire was reflected on the damp, shining faces of Alicia and Roland. Max sat observing them for a long while before deciding to speak.
‘I don’t know how to explain this, but I think something’s going on,’ he began. ‘I don’t know what it is, but there are too many coincidences. The statues, that symbol, the ship …’
Max thought they’d both contradict him, or else reassure him with the sensible words that escaped him, making him see that his anxiety was only the result of a long day in which too many things had happened. But they didn’t. Instead, both Alicia and Roland nodded, their eyes still fixed on the fire.
‘You told me you dreamed about that clown, didn’t you?’ Max asked.
Again Alicia nodded
.
‘There’s something I didn’t tell you before,’ Max went on. ‘Last night, when you all went to bed, I had another look at the film Jacob Fleischmann took in the walled garden. I was in that garden yesterday morning. The statues were in a different position. I don’t know … it’s as if they’ve moved. What I saw is not what was in the film.’
Alicia turned her eyes towards Roland, who seemed mesmerised by the dancing flames.
‘Roland, has your grandfather ever talked to you about all this?’
The boy didn’t seem to have heard her question. Alicia put her hand on his and he looked up.
‘I’ve dreamed about that clown every summer since I was five,’ he said in a muted tone.
Max saw the fear in his face.
‘I think we should talk to your grandfather.’
Roland gave a slight nod.
‘Tomorrow,’ he promised, his voice barely audible. ‘Tomorrow.’
8
SHORTLY BEFORE DAYBREAK, ROLAND GOT ON his bike and rode back towards the lighthouse cottage. As he travelled along the beach road, a pale amber glow began to tint the covering of low clouds. His mind raced with worry and his nerves were on edge. He pedalled as fast as he could in the vain hope that the physical exertion might dispel the hundreds of questions and fears colliding inside him.
Once he’d crossed the harbour and gone up the path to the lighthouse, Roland stopped to recover his breath. From the top of the cliff, the lighthouse beam sliced through the last shadows of the night like a blade of fire. He knew his grandfather would still be there, expectant, silent, and that he wouldn’t leave his post until the darkness had vanished completely. For years Roland had lived with the old man’s unhealthy obsession without querying the reason or the logic of his behaviour. It was simply something he’d accepted as a child, one more aspect of daily life he’d learned not to question.
As time went by, however, Roland had become aware that the old man’s story didn’t quite hold together. But never, until that day, had he wanted to admit to himself that his grandfather had lied to him or, at least, that he hadn’t told him the whole truth. He didn’t doubt his integrity for one minute. In fact, over the years his grandfather had gradually been disclosing the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle, at the centre of which, Roland now realised, was the garden of statues. At times he did so through words spoken in dreams; more often through the half-formed replies to the questions Roland asked him, but somehow Roland felt that if his grandfather was keeping him from his secret, he had done so only to protect him. This state of grace, however, appeared to be coming to an end, and it was time to face the truth.
Roland set off again, trying to put these thoughts behind him. He’d been awake for too long and his body was beginning to feel the strain. When he reached the lighthouse cottage he left his bicycle leaning against the fence and went indoors without bothering to turn on the light. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom and collapsed onto his bed like a dead weight.
From his bedroom window he could see the lighthouse itself, some thirty metres beyond the cottage, and behind the large windows of its tower, the motionless silhouette of his grandfather. Roland closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
The events of that day paraded through his mind, from the dive down to the Orpheus to the accident of Alicia’s and Max’s younger sister. Roland thought it was both strange and somehow comforting to realise that just a few hours had brought them so close together. As he lay there in the solitude of his room, thinking about the brother and sister, he felt they had become his closest friends, two soul mates with whom, from that day on, he’d be able to share his secrets and fears.
He noticed that the very fact of thinking about them was enough to make him feel safe, as if he was not alone. In return, he felt deep loyalty and gratitude for the invisible pact that seemed to have bound them together that night on the beach.
When at last exhaustion won, Roland’s last thoughts as he fell into a deep, refreshing sleep were not about the mysterious uncertainty that hung over them, or the grim possibility that he would be called up to join the army that coming autumn. That night, Roland fell asleep in the arms of a vision that would stay with him for the rest of his life: Alicia, draped in moonlight, dipping her white skin into a sea of silver.
*
Day broke under a blanket of dark, menacing clouds that stretched beyond the horizon. Leaning on the metal railing of the lighthouse tower, Victor Kray gazed down at the bay, thinking about how he’d learned to recognise the mysterious beauty of those leaden, storm-clad days that foretold the advent of summer on the coast.
From his vantage point, the town looked like a scale model meticulously assembled by a collector. Further on, towards the north, the beach extended in an endless white line. On bright sunny days, standing in the same place, Victor Kray was able to distinguish the shape of the Orpheus under the water, like a monstrous fossil wedged in the sand.
