Perry Scrimshaw's Rite of Passage Read Online Free PDF Page B

slack, ‘She’s
dead.’
    ‘ Your Irish
Ma?’
    Words caught in
his throat, he nodded, yes. He picked the paper up and read it
again just in case he’d been mistaken: The
sanatorium list over two dozen infected and the county coroner
lists five deceased; Gavin Straker, Terence Colestaff, Billy
Cudgill, Drew Fletcher and the first female, Norma
Donnegan.
    His throat tightened, and he
suddenly wished he were alone. He barely knew this boy and didn’t
want to cry in front of him. He looked away, focusing on the crowd
on the bell tower steps. He would not cry.
    ‘ I’m
sorry.’
    He felt Joel’s hand upon his
shoulder but couldn’t bring himself to say that he’d miss her
sing-song Irish voice, or that she was the closest thing he’d had
to a mother since…. he couldn’t remember when. He had to pull
himself together. He was no softie. He was the eldest. He had to be
tough.
    Perry cleared his throat, ‘It’s
not like she was my mum or anything but still…she was fair to us
boys.’
    ‘ Maybe you’ll
stay with us for good now?’
    Joel was likable enough but he
couldn’t imagine a worse place to stay.
    ‘ Maybe.’
    A clergyman emerged from the
bell tower, a crucifix held aloft and shaking in his hands. He
bellowed something in a deep and hollow voice and the group of
waiting townsfolk bowed their heads, murmuring a prayer for The
Sick. The clergyman flicked water out on the crowd and the people
jostled and elbowed for a drop on their faces.
    ‘ Idiots, what’s
holy water going to do?’ Perry shook his head, ‘I should go to the
wharf to see if any of her boys are there. Only fair they hear it
from me rather than some stranger.’ Perry rolled up the newspaper
and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. ‘You coming?’
    ‘ Course,’ Joel
hopped down, ‘then I’ll take you somewhere guaranteed to cheer you
up.’
    Being cheered up was the last
thing on his mind, but he might as well have company as not.
     
    The wharf was busy; it was as
if a deck had fallen from a ship and landed perfectly in the water,
complete with iron wrought benches and well-to-do folk taking a
stroll. Perry paced the wharf, squinting to spy the outline of the
littleuns, Peter or Rodney.
    ‘ They’re not
here.’
    ‘ Let’s go to
the end anyway,’ said Joel.
    ‘ What’s the
point?’
    ‘ At least then
you’ll know they’re not bobbing face down in the drink.’
    He shuddered, such a thing
hadn’t even occurred to him and he found himself walking faster. At
the end of the wharf there was an old fisherman sitting on a stool.
Perry ran to his side and looked down into the milky green water
below. It was dirty; corks bobbed, a fish skeleton, a constellation
of sawdust and a couple of bottles but no sign of the boys. His
chest unknotted in relief.
    ‘ I wasn’t being
serious about them being in there,’ Joel said, ‘it were a joke.
Just trying to lighten the mood.’
    Irritated,
Perry took a breath and looked for calm in the fold between sea and
sky, ‘Early days between us Joely, but your sense of humour is your twos, not your aces.’
    ‘ Alright,
alright.’
    Perry checked both sides of the
wharf, just to make sure. The fisherman was whistling a tune. If
Perry knew anything, he knew fishermen; they were superstitious
folk that tended to have their favourite beats and kept to them
regular.
    ‘ Excuse me
mister, you happen to be here yesterday?’
    The old man looked up from his
stool, his eyes were cloudy blue, white stubble frosted his
cheeks.
    ‘ I was,’ he
said in a gap-toothed whistle.
    ‘ Did you see
some boys fishing down here?’
    ‘ Hmph,’ he
stretched his woolly hat a little further down his forehead,
‘Yesterday aye. Not today and a good thing too. Bleaters were so
damn noisy I reckon they scared away the mackerel. Barely caught a
thing, if you see ‘em tell them to stay clear of here. Now Shhhhh,’
he said softly, his finger placed on his lips and turned back to
the water.
    Perry turned to Joel, who