Chapter 9 #2
I can’t see anyone out on the water. ‘No one ever go in swimming?’
Lockhart looks at me and chuckles. ‘I forget. You’re new to Florida. He gestures towards a sign I hadn’t spotted before:
NO SWIMMING. ALLIGATORS LOVE A PICNIC TOO.
‘Ah, I see.’
‘Look but don’t dip,’ Lockhart says.
‘You ever had an alligator attack?’
‘Once, years ago. A teenager took a boat out on the lake at night and fell in. But he survived. Most people here are sensible. They follow the rules because they know what’s good for them.’
Lockhart takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at his forehead. ‘Shall we stop for a moment before we visit the school?’ he suggests. ‘Maybe get a cold drink?’
‘Sure. Just some water for me.’
He nods and walks off towards one of the carts.
I sit on a nearby bench to wait for him.
It’s pleasant. The gentle lapping of the water, the cries of children playing, tinkling chimes of relaxing music drifting from somewhere.
For the first time since we arrived, I start to feel the tension ease from my shoulders.
And then I spot the boy. He’s about four or five, dressed in blue shorts, a yellow T-shirt and a cowboy hat.
He’s on his own, right by the edge of the lake.
I glance around to see if I can spot his parents, or any adult, but there’s no one nearby.
I glance back. Shit. The boy has gone. A cowboy hat floats on the lake’s surface.
My blood slows and chills in my veins. No.
‘Hey,’ I shout to no one in particular. ‘A little boy … I think a little boy just went in the water.’
But no one stops what they’re doing, no one turns. They’re too far away to hear. I stand and run down towards the shoreline. The hat bobs on the water.
It occurs to me that one drowning in twenty-four hours is a terrible accident but two is starting to look like a pattern, or a jinx.
I reach the edge of the lake. The hat is floating further from the shore.
Could the kid have gone under, maybe got trapped by weeds or mud?
Or gators. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I yank off my trainers and socks (again) and wade into the water (again).
It’s much colder than I expected. I hear shouts from behind me, but I ignore them.
The water is up past my shins, dragging down my shorts.
Just a little further and I can reach the hat. And then someone grabs my arm.
I turn. It’s one of the muscular, sweaty joggers.
He glares at me. ‘What the hell are you doing? There are gators in that lake, man.’
He starts hauling me back towards the shore.
‘No,’ I cry. ‘The hat. There’s a kid in the water.’
But it’s no good. Another jogger joins him and grabs my other arm. I could try to resist, but it would be pathetic and pointless. The two men are younger and fitter than me. They drag me back on to the bank, where I slip and land on my backside.
‘I saw a boy—’ I say again … and the words curl and die on my tongue.
A young woman stands on the bank. She’s holding a little boy in her arms; chunky legs wrapped around her slim waist. Blue shorts, yellow T-shirt.
I try to stand. ‘Hey. Is that your son? Is he okay?’
She walks up. ‘He’s fine. I just lost him there for a while. I guess he must have dropped his hat in the water. I’m so sorry—’
Sorry you lost your kid, and I almost became an alligator’s lunch? But the anger and humiliation are tempered by relief. ‘It’s fine,’ I lie. ‘I’m just glad he’s all right.’
She looks me up and down. She’s willowy, long blonde hair, dressed in an ankle-length flowered sundress, feet bare beneath.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks. Her voice has a lazy southern drawl.
I look down at my dripping shorts and legs, slimy with pond weed. ‘I’ve been better.’
‘Well, it was very brave of you. Thank you.’ She looks at the little boy. ‘Say “thank you”, Brandon.’
‘Thanks, mister,’ the little boy says.
The woman smiles and holds out a hand heavy with bracelets. ‘I’m Hailey.’
I shake her hand. ‘Dan Barker.’
Her eyebrows raise. ‘Oh, the new guy.’
‘Word really does travel fast around here.’
‘Well, we don’t get a lot of new blood, so you’re an interesting specimen.’
‘I’m not sure whether I should feel pleased or worried about that.’
Her lips tilt. ‘Time will tell.’
The little boy squirms in her arms. ‘Mama. I lost my hat.’
‘I know, hun. We’ll buy you a new one.’
‘But that was Dave—’
‘Shush.’ She places a finger on his lips. ‘I said we’ll get you a new one.’
She turns back to me. ‘Thank you again, Mr Barker.’
‘It was nothing.’
‘No. It was something.’ She hesitates and then says: ‘I’ve got some cold lemonade in the fridge back home, and fresh cookies. Least I can do to say thanks?’
She seems a nice young woman. But ‘young’ is the operative word. She can’t be much over twenty. ‘I’m afraid I’ve a prior engagement.’
She nods. ‘Well, maybe another time.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I can even pop some gin in the lemonade if you’re not driving.’
I chuckle. ‘Even better.’
She starts to turn away. ‘We’re on Gladness Row. On the corner. You can’t miss it.’
‘Okay.’
‘Just call round. If we’re in, we’re in.’
She waves. The little boy in her arms waves too, and then she saunters away up the grassy bank. The two young joggers have returned to their circuits of the lake. I spot Lockhart hurrying towards me, holding two bottles of water.
‘Mr Barker, are you all right?’ He stares at me in concern.
I try to wring some of the water out of my shorts. ‘Yeah. You saw what happened?’
‘Some of it.’
‘I thought a little boy had gone into the water. But … well, it was a mistake.’
Lockhart shakes his head. ‘Always trouble with that family.’
‘You know her?’
‘Hailey? Yes. Bright girl, intended to go to college. But then she fell pregnant and dropped out of school to have her son – Brandon.’ He sighs. ‘I don’t like to speak ill of people, Mr Barker, but that family are bad news. I’m sure you meant well, but it would be wise to steer clear in future.’
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask whether I should have just let a little boy drown. But self-preservation stops me. I need this job, I remind myself.
‘Understood,’ I say.
Lockhart smiles and hands me the water bottle. ‘Now, why don’t we get you dried off and head over to the hotel?’
‘Sure – sounds great.’
He waits as I pull on my socks and trainers. The cowboy hat has almost been swallowed by the water. Just the tip visible.
It would be wise to steer clear in future.
Unfortunately, I’m not wise.
And I really like cookies and lemonade.