The Water's Edge

CHAPTER 36

Two boys sat hunched over a fifteen-hundred-piece jigsaw. The image was a battle scene, Stamford Bridge in 1066, when Harald Hardråda fought Harold Godwinson. The battle was slowly taking shape in front of their eyes, but there were still many blood-soaked pieces to go. One boy had found a severed arm, the other was holding a head. They had worked on the jigsaw for weeks. The horses and soldiers were in place and dark, dramatic clouds were forming in the sky. Alex Meyer stood silent, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He was watching the boys with interest, but looked out of the window with an alert gaze when a white Mazda slowly rolled on to the drive. Seconds later his boyfriend appeared, but he did not say hello to the boys. Instead he went straight to the kitchen with two carrier bags.

'Nice to see you,' Alex called out.

Johannes took the groceries out of the bags. He still had his back to him.

'How was your day?' Alex was still smiling.

'Same as every other day,' Johannes replied. 'Every day the same trepidation when I get home. Wondering if the house is packed with those kids of yours.'

Those kids. Alex looked into the living room.

'They're called Oscar and Markus,' he said, 'and I like having them in the house.'

'Yes, that much I've noticed, they've been coming here for months. But if you've got any sense of responsibility, you'll put a stop to it. People are talking.'

'You're not responsible for me and my actions,' Alex said, 'and of course people are talking, we're not like them.'

Johannes gave him a reproachful look. His dark hair was cut short and Alex could see the rounding of the back of his head above his slim neck.

'Don't talk rubbish. Of course it affects me too. It's great that you're a star teacher, but you don't have any reason to get involved with their free time.'

Alex sat by the kitchen table.

'So what's the problem, Johannes?' he probed. 'Do you feel threatened?'

Johannes said nothing. He smoothed the carrier bags and folded them neatly before putting them away in a drawer, but he refused to sit down. The fact that he was still standing underlined how important this was to him.

'Two boys have gone missing and people are looking for a scapegoat. They said in the papers today they might have been abducted by someone who knew them. I really think you need to take this seriously. Everybody knows this house is overrun with kids and they're beginning to wonder why.'

'Children need to relax,' said Alex. 'So much has happened and I have to do something. They sit with that jigsaw for hours, Johannes, it's good for them, it teaches them patience and discipline, and kids today don't have much of that. Listen to how quiet they are.' He nodded towards the living room.

'And I sneak in a bit of history. If their parents are worried, all they have to do is call and we'll have a chat about it. And since nobody has been in touch I'll take it as a sign that everything's fine.'

Johannes shook his head. 'You don't understand how sensitive this is,' he said. 'There are some ugly rumours going around.'

'Perhaps it's all in your imagination?' Alex said. 'You think people are out to get you, that they're going to take something from you, but they're not. You need to learn to take it easy.'

He placed his elbows on the table. He was starting to feel angry. 'Life's wonderful, Johannes.'

Johannes started cooking dinner, but his abrupt movements gave him away. Alex returned to the living room, to the boys.

'How are you getting on?' he asked. 'Who's winning?'

'Godwinson,' Markus said.

'Godwinson is wiping the floor with Hardråda.'

'What are you doing at the moment, do you have a plan?'

'We're collecting all the bloodstained pieces,' Oscar said.

'And afterwards you can collect all the pieces with iron,' Alex said. 'Then all the pieces with water. All the pieces with sky. Be clever about it, have a system.'

The boys found the pieces and put them into piles.

Alex held up a severed arm and described with gruesome detail how the wound would have been cauterised with a red hot iron in order to stop the bleeding.

'Imagine the sound,' he said, 'when the iron sank into the severed arm. It hissed like meat in a frying pan.'

'Is Johannes cross?' Markus asked. He looked towards the kitchen.

'He's not cross,' Alex smiled. 'He's scared. Scared of everything that might happen, but never does.'

The boys nodded.

'Do you want some casserole? Johannes has just started making it.'

The boys were not entirely sure what casserole was, but they said yes.

'So who tidied up afterwards?' Oscar asked. 'Who would pick up all the arms and legs? Who buried the dead horses and the dead people?'

Alex shrugged. 'I don't know. But I imagine they had a way of taking care of it in those days, after all, there were so many battles. But it was a tough age and you're very lucky to be alive today.'

He returned to the kitchen to help Johannes with the cooking, took a leek, found a knife, and started cutting it into thin slices.

'They're safe and utterly engrossed in the jigsaw,' he said. 'They're best friends. They're hungry and soon they'll get a hot dinner. Life's really quite all right,' he said. 'Life's better than people make out, Johannes, and people are better too.'

Johannes turned and looked at him. His short hair ended in a long diagonal fringe.

'You know how to talk, I'll give you that,' he said in a resigned voice. 'But life's not a picnic, and you can't trust people. And I worry that you're about to learn this the hard way.' He put water in a pot and added the vegetables, the lid rattling as he put it on.

'But that's why you love me,' Alex smiled. 'You've been with me for ten years and you've never regretted it.'

'Oh yes,' Johannes replied, 'I've regretted it. God knows I have. I'll never be able to match you when it comes to joy and optimism.'

'But I've never expected that,' Alex said. 'You should be yourself, but you shouldn't worry about things that haven't even happened. It will make you ill and stressed and old and grey before your time. Hand me the pepper, please. Let's make sure the boys get something warm inside them.'

'I still think you ought to think about what you're doing,' Johannes said. 'You bring your pupils to your home after school. You play with them, you feed them, and in the evening you drive them home. And it's always the boys, Alex.'

He looked sternly at him. 'There has never, ever been a girl in this house. I think you owe me an explanation for that. After all, you teach girls as well, don't you?'

Alex shrugged and sat down. For a while he scratched the kitchen table with his thumbnail.

'Of course,' he said, 'but I get on better with the boys. Or, I don't know, I've never really thought about it. You're making mountains out of molehills. Haven't you ever heard of chance?'

'Yes and I don't believe in it. If the police come knocking, you're on your own.'

'The police? Oh, please, get some perspective,' Alex said. 'Are you ashamed of me?'

Johannes looked away.

'That's it,' Alex exclaimed. 'You're ashamed of me. You're ashamed that you're gay, you're ashamed about everything. And all the good things in life are passing you by.'

'I'm not ashamed. But there's a child-killer on the loose and people are talking about you.'

Alex got up from the table. He went over to Johannes, leaned against the worktop and sighed. 'It's not like we're ever going to have children of our own,' he said.

'Why would we want to have children?' Johannes said. 'We've already got a house full of them.'

'But I've always wanted a son, that's all.'

Johannes had been dicing vegetables. Now he stopped and slumped a little over the worktop.

'Did you bring in the post?' Alex asked.

Johannes put down the knife.

'Yes,' he said quietly. 'I brought in the post, I always do.'

He picked up the knife again and carried on.

'Where did you put it?'

No reply.

'Johannes,' Alex said. 'Did you put the post on top of the fridge?'

He tried to fathom Johannes's reluctance. On the top of the fridge he found a pile of junk mail, a few letters and a small picture postcard. It depicted a boy and a girl picking flowers on the edge of a cliff and behind them stood an angel with white wings. There was something profoundly touching about the image and for a moment Alex felt as if he was the guardian angel, that he would never let his pupils out of his sight. Perhaps someone else had thought exactly the same and this was their way of showing their appreciation. He turned over the card and read the message. There was a name, an address and a few brief lines.

'Well?' Johannes asked.

Alex turned his back to him and Johannes could see that he was clasping his mouth with his hand.

'It's from the Parents' Association,' he stuttered. 'They've asked for a meeting.'