The shining, yellow eyes of Irina’s cat observed him from the gloom.
‘Get out,’ Max spat.
The cat kept its eyes on Max for a few seconds longer. They were lifeless and cold, like doll’s eyes. Max stood and faced the beast.
‘I said out.’
The cat appeared to smile, if such a thing were possible, then slowly withdrew into the shadows. What a time for Irina to bring that thing into their home … Max started putting away the projector and the films. The thought of returning them all to the garden shed and having to go outdoors in the pitch dark wasn’t tempting, so he decided he would do that in the morning. He turned off the lights and went up to his bedroom. As he opened the door, he imagined Jacob Fleischmann placing his hand on that same handle years ago, entering what was now to be his room. He lay down on the bed and turned off his bedside lamp. For a while he listened to the thousand tiny noises a house makes when it thinks nobody is listening. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine he was back in the city walking along the streets, passing familiar faces and places he used to go to. He smiled to himself and slowly, without realising, began to slip into sleep.
The last image that flitted through his mind before he succumbed was his sister Alicia’s unexpected smile. It had been an apparently insignificant gesture, but for some reason Max felt as if a door had opened between them and that, from that night on, he would never again view his sister as a stranger.
6
ALICIA WOKE SHORTLY AFTER SUNRISE TO FIND two amber eyes staring intently at her from the window. She sat up with a jerk. The cat calmly padded away from the windowsill. Since they had arrived in their new home Alicia had learned to detest the animal, with its superior attitude and that penetrating smell that seemed to announce its presence before it even walked into a room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught it watching her. From the moment Irina had managed to introduce the feline into the house, Alicia had noticed that it would often spend whole minutes not moving at all, vigilant, spying on the movements of some family member from a doorway, or lying hidden in the shadows. She usually loved animals but for once – she wasn’t quite sure why – Alicia secretly relished the thought that some stray dog might finish off the beast during one of its nightly outings.
Outside, the sky was losing the purple hue of dawn and the first rays of a blazing sun pierced the forest that extended beyond the walled garden. There were still at least two hours before Max’s new friend was due to pick them up. Alicia slipped under the sheets again, and considered going back to sleep. Morning naps were her favourite and they always brought the best dreams. She closed her eyes and listened to the muffled sound of the waves on the beach, yet sleep seemed to elude her. She started wondering about Max’s friend, Roland. She climbed out of bed, walked to her wardrobe and studied her collection of clothes. They still smelled of the city. Suddenly two hours didn’t seem like enough time to decide what she was going to wear.
But only an hour later, Max rapped gently on her door.
‘Morning … Roland’s here,’ he called.
‘I’ll be straight down.’
Alicia gave herself one last look in the mirror and sighed, then she tiptoed down the stairs. Max and his friend were waiting for her outside, on the porch. Before going out she stopped in the hallway and listened to the two boys chatting. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
Max was leaning on the railings. He turned round and smiled at her. Next to him stood a boy with tanned skin and straw-coloured hair who was almost half a head taller. He smiled shyly at her. He had the greenest eyes she had ever seen.
‘This is Roland,’ said Max. ‘Roland, my sister, Alicia.’
Roland nodded politely and turned towards the bicycles, but the look that had passed between the two did not go unnoticed by Max. He smiled to himself. This outing was going to be more fun than he’d thought.
‘How are we going to do this?’ asked Alicia. ‘There are only two bikes.’
‘I think Roland could take you on his,’ replied Max. ‘What do you think, Roland?’
Roland stared at the ground. ‘Yes, of course,’ he mumbled. ‘But you’ll have to carry the gear.’
Max clamped Roland’s diving equipment onto the small rack behind his seat. He knew there was another bicycle in the shed, but the thought of Roland having to transport his sister amused him. Alicia sat sideways on the handlebars and held on to Roland’s neck. Despite Roland’s tan, Max noticed how he was struggling not to blush.
‘Ready,’ said Alicia. ‘I hope I’m not too heavy.’
‘Let’s go,’ pronounced Max, and he began pedalling along the road.
After a while Roland overtook him, and once more Max had to push himself in order not to be left behind.
‘Are you all right there?’ Roland asked Alicia.
Alicia nodded and watched as the house by the beach disappeared into the distance.
*
The southern beach, on the other side of the town, was shaped like a vast crescent moon. Beyond the strip of white sand the shoreline was covered with shiny pebbles smoothed by the sea. Behind the beach, rising almost vertically, loomed a wall of craggy cliffs, on top of which stood the lighthouse, dark and solitary.
‘That’s my grandfather’s lighthouse,’ said Roland, pointing to it as they left their bicycles by one of the paths leading down through the rocks to the beach.
‘Do you both live there?’ asked Alicia.
‘More or less,’ Roland answered. ‘Over time I’ve built myself a hut down on the beach. I’d almost say it’s my home now.’
‘Your own beach hut?’ Alicia asked, trying to spot it.
‘You won’t see it from here,’ Roland explained. ‘It was an old fisherman’s hut that had been abandoned. I fixed it up and now it’s not too bad. You’ll be able to see it in a minute.’
Roland led them onto the beach, where he removed his sandals. The sun was already quite high and the sea shone like liquid silver. The beach was deserted and a salty breeze blew in from the water. Roland pointed towards the shoreline and the larger stones glowing beneath the surf.
‘Mind these stones. I’m used to them, but it’s easy to trip if you’re not.’
Alicia and her brother followed Roland along the beach to his hut. It was a small wooden cabin painted blue and red with a narrow porch. Max noticed a rusty lamp hanging from a chain.
‘That’s from the ship,’ Roland explained. ‘I’ve brought up a whole pile of stuff from down there. What do you think of it?’
‘It’s fantastic,’ exclaimed Alicia. ‘Do you sleep here?’
‘Mostly in the summer. In winter it gets too cold, and anyway I don’t like leaving my grandfather alone up there.’
Roland opened the door and let Alicia and Max go in first.
‘Welcome to my palace.’
The inside of the hut was like some old bazaar filled with nautical antiques. The booty Roland had pulled out of the ocean over the years shone in the dark like a mysterious hoard of treasure.
‘It’s mostly cheap nonsense,’ said Roland, ‘but I like to collect it. Maybe we’ll find something today.’
The hut also contained an old cupboard, a table, a few chairs and a rickety bed. Above the bed were shelves, with a few books and an oil lamp.
‘I’d love to have a house like this,’ said Max.
Roland smiled sceptically.
‘I’m open to offers,’ he joked, clearly proud of the impression the hut had made on his friends. ‘Right, let’s go.’
They followed Roland to the water’s edge and he began to untie the bundle containing his diving gear.
‘The ship lies about twenty-five or thirty metres off the shore. The water gets deep very quickly; three metres in and you can’t touch the bottom. The hull is about ten metres down,’ Roland explained.
Max and Alicia exchanged a look.
‘Yes,’ said Roland, noticing. ‘It’s not a good idea to try to reach the bottom the first ti
me you dive. Sometimes, when there’s a heavy swell, the currents can be dangerous. Once I nearly scared myself to death.’
Roland handed Max a mask and a pair of flippers.
‘There’s only enough equipment for two. Who’s coming down first?’
Alicia pointed to Max.
‘Thank you,’ whispered Max.
‘Don’t worry,’ Roland reassured him. ‘You just have to get started. The first time I went down I nearly had a fit. There was a gigantic moray eel in one of the funnels.’
‘A what?’ Max jumped.
‘Nothing,’ Roland replied. ‘I’m only joking. There aren’t any strange creatures down there, I promise. Which is odd, because usually sunken ships are like a kind of fish zoo. But not this one. I suppose they don’t like it. You’re not going to get scared now, are you?’
‘Scared?’ said Max. ‘Me?’
Although Max was busy putting on his flippers, he noticed that Roland was having a good look at his sister as she removed her cotton dress, revealing her white bathing costume – the only one she had – and waded into the sea.
‘Hey,’ Max hissed at him. ‘She’s my sister, not a piece of cake. OK?’
Roland threw him a cheeky grin.
‘You’re the one who invited her, not me,’ he replied with a cat-like smile.
‘Let’s get in the water,’ said Max quickly. ‘It will do you good.’
Alicia turned and when she saw them in their masks and snorkels she grinned.
‘You should see yourselves!’ she said, unable to stop herself from laughing.
Max and Roland looked at one another through their masks.
‘Before we go,’ said Max. ‘I’ve never done this before. Swim underwater, I mean. I’ve swum in swimming pools, but I’m not sure that I’ll know …’
Roland rolled his eyes.
‘Do you know how to hold your breath underwater?’ he asked.
‘I said I didn’t know how to dive, not that I was an idiot,’ replied Max.
‘Well, if you know how to hold your breath, you know how to swim underwater,’ Roland said.
‘Be careful,’ Alicia said. ‘Listen, Max, are you sure this is a good idea?’
‘We’ll be fine,’ Roland assured her, turning to Max and patting him on the shoulder. ‘You first, my captain.’
*
For the first time in his life, Max submerged himself beneath the surface of the sea and a whole universe of light and shadow – more amazing than anything he had imagined – opened up before his eyes. Sunbeams filtered through the water in veils of nebulous light that swayed gently with the motion of the waves, and the surface was transformed into an opaque dancing mirror. Max held his breath for a few more seconds, then re-emerged for air. A few metres behind, Roland was watching him attentively.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked.
Max nodded enthusiastically.
‘You see? It’s easy. Swim next to me,’ Roland advised him before diving again.
Max took a last look at the shore and saw Alicia waving at him. He waved back then swam off next to his friend, heading for the open sea. Roland guided him to a point which seemed quite far from the beach although Max knew it was barely thirty metres away. At sea level, distances seemed to grow. Roland touched his arm and pointed towards the ocean bed. Max breathed in and put his head underwater, adjusting his diving mask. His eyes took a few seconds to get used to the submarine gloom. Only then was he able to admire the spectacle of the sunken shell of the ship, lying on its side and enveloped in a spectral light. The ship must have been about fifty metres long, perhaps more, and had a large crack all the way from the bow to the bilge, a gaping black wound inflicted by the sharp claws of the rocks hidden in the shallows. On the bow, under a layer of copper-coloured rust and swaying seaweed, Max could make out the ship’s name, the Orpheus.
The Orpheus looked as if she’d been an old freighter, not a passenger ship. Her splintered steel was covered in algae but, just as Roland had said, there wasn’t a single fish swimming around the hull. The two friends swam over her, keeping to the surface and stopping every now and then to have a good look at the remains of the wreck. Roland had said the ship was lying about ten metres down, but from the surface the distance seemed vast. Max wondered how Roland had managed to recover all the objects they’d seen in his hut. As if he’d read Max’s thoughts, his friend signalled to him to wait on the surface and then dived down, kicking powerfully with his flippers.
Max watched Roland descend until he could touch the hull of the Orpheus with his fingertips. Then Roland slowly crept towards the platform that had once been the ship’s bridge, holding on to anything he could grasp. From the surface Max could make out the wheel at the helm and other instruments that were still inside the vessel. Roland swam towards the doorway of the bridge and went in. Max felt a pang of anxiety as he saw his friend disappear into the sunken ship. He kept his eyes riveted to the entrance while Roland moved about inside the bridge, wondering what he would do if anything happened. A few seconds later, Roland emerged and swam quickly up to him, a garland of bubbles rising behind him. Max lifted his head out of the water and breathed deeply. Roland’s face appeared just a metre away, grinning from ear to ear.
‘Surprise!’ he yelled.
Max saw he was holding something in his hand.
‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing to the strange metal object Roland had salvaged from the bridge.
‘A sextant.’
Max raised his eyebrows. He had no idea what it was.
‘A sextant is a gadget that’s used to calculate your position in the sea,’ Roland explained, his voice faltering after the effort of holding his breath for almost a minute. ‘I’m going down again. Hold it for me.’
Max was about to protest but Roland plunged down before he could even open his mouth. He inhaled deeply and dipped his head below the surface to follow Roland’s dive. This time, his friend swam the whole length of the hull until he reached the stern. Max watched Roland swim up to a porthole and try to look inside the ship. Max held his breath until his lungs were burning, then let out all the air, ready to resurface and breathe again. But in that last second his eyes caught sight of something that chilled his blood.
Through the darkness he could see an old flag undulating in the water – rotten and ragged, it was fastened to a mast on the stern of the Orpheus. Max observed it carefully and recognised the faded symbol that was still visible: a six-pointed star within a circle. He felt a shiver course through his body. He had seen that symbol before, above the spear-shaped tips of the gate, in the garden of statues.
Roland’s sextant slipped from his fingers and sank down to the shadows below. Overcome by an inexplicable fear, Max swam back to the shore as fast as he could.
*
Half an hour later, sitting in the shade of the porch at the beach hut, Roland and Max watched Alicia as she collected seashells from among the pebbles on the shore.
‘Are you sure you’ve seen that symbol before, Max?’
Max nodded.
‘Sometimes, underwater, things are not what they seem—’ Roland began.
‘I know what I saw,’ Max butted in.
‘OK?’ ‘OK,’ Roland conceded. ‘You saw a symbol which, according to you, is also in that graveyard behind your house. So what?’
Max stood up and faced his friend.
‘So what? Do you want me to repeat the whole story?’
Max had spent the last twenty-five minutes telling Roland everything he knew about the walled garden, including Jacob Fleischmann’s film.
‘There’s no need,’ Roland replied dryly.
‘Then how can you possibly not believe me?’ snapped Max. ‘Do you think I’m inventing all this?’
‘I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Max,’ said Roland, smiling softly at Alicia, who had returned from her walk with a little bag of shells. ‘Any luck?’
‘This beach is a real treasure trove,’ Alicia repli
ed, jangling the bag containing her stash.
Max rolled his eyes impatiently.
‘You believe me, then?’ he retorted, staring at Roland insistently.
His friend returned his gaze but said nothing for a while.
‘I believe you, Max,’ he said eventually, turning to look at the horizon, unable to hide a shadow of sadness in his expression. Alicia noticed the change in Roland’s face.
‘Max told me your grandfather was travelling on the ship the night it sank,’ she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Roland nodded vaguely.
‘He was the only survivor.’
‘What happened?’ asked Alicia. ‘I’m sorry. Perhaps you don’t want to talk about it.’
Roland shook his head.
‘No, I don’t mind,’ he said. Max was looking at him expectantly. ‘And it’s not that I don’t believe your story, Max. It’s just that it’s not the first time someone has talked to me about that symbol.’
‘Who else has seen it?’ asked Max, open-mouthed. ‘Who’s talked to you about it?’
‘My grandfather. Ever since I was a child.’ Roland pointed towards the inside of the hut. ‘It’s getting chilly. Let’s go in and I’ll tell you the story about this ship.’
*
At first, Irina thought it was her mother’s voice she’d heard downstairs. Andrea Carver often talked to herself while she was busy around the house, and no one was surprised by her habit of voicing her thoughts aloud. An instant later, however, Irina saw her mother through the window, standing in the front yard, saying goodbye to her father. The watchmaker was setting off towards the town with one of the porters who had helped them bring the luggage from the station a few days earlier. Irina realised then that she was alone inside the house and therefore the voice she thought she’d heard must have been imaginary. Until she heard it again, this time in her bedroom, like a whisper filtering through the walls.