In The Shadows

Forty years after leaving Kevin’s seaside home, the decline is palpable along the winding streets. Many of the old places are boarded up, and some businesses have changed hands more than once. He passes the usual tawdry trinket shops designed to trap tourists into paying exorbitant prices. Less than five minutes from the sea, with the seagulls circling, he finds himself making a detour into one of the dilapidated side streets.

That’s when he sees it.

Set back a little and squeezed between two equally insalubrious establishments, a blue plaque above a door reads:

Earnest Dunway

1832 - 1908

Architect of the Old Pier

lived here.

Kevin can’t remember noticing the sign when his brother had been alive. But the door, now a faded blue with paint chipping off, could easily have been missed. Staring at it, the universe seems to shrink and for a moment he’s a young lad back with his mother; the wind is rattling the panes of their seaside house as they sit at the kitchen table poring over newspaper cuttings and Old Pier memorabilia. A harmless enough hobby, yet a joint fascination with the past that was to cost them everything. Intriguingly, the door has no handle, number, or letter box. Kevin wonders whether he’s imagining things, but the wood feels solid enough.

A group of the town’s undesirables are hanging around one of the doorways further down the street. Being pestered at this juncture would be an unwelcome distraction. Reluctantly, Kevin continues on his way, resolving to investigate what lies behind another time.

~~~

At high tide, the late autumn sea swirls grey and menacing. As the sky turns twilight, the shingle along the main beach seems at odds with the surroundings, but then Kevin recalls the stones had been transferred from a quarry as part of a regeneration project.

In any case, such observations hold only a passing interest for a man haunted by a scene directly across the water.

Kevin is riveted by a stretch of sea less than half a mile away. Wrapped in the town’s folklore where tales of ghosts and spectres abound, the remains of the Old Pier jut out of an unfathomable sea like a huge iron beast. Forming the bedrock of Kevin’s inner life, it’s an image that has turned his dreams into nightmares and disturbed his waking hours.

If there’s to be any peace in his later years, Kevin must confront the nightmare image once and for all.

It’s his only hope of liberation.

~~~

Kevin walks along the New Pier, stopping at one of the railings. From this vantage point, Kevin’s memories run thick and fast. He pictures himself as a ten-year-old boy running to keep up with his older brother, Vic, further along the beach. Fifteen-year-old Vic had been the apple of his father’s eye, and a strong swimmer with a devil-may-care attitude. Unfortunately, Vic’s athleticism combined with a tendency to scorn his younger brother’s apparent deficiencies. That may have been why Kevin found himself acting against his better judgement one evening and agreeing to help Vic drag the family dingy out from the cobwebs of the family garage onto the beach. When all he really wanted was to curl up indoors

Now unwilling to pass a landmark birthday without facing his old demons head on, Kevin plans on returning to the site that has always haunted him, later that evening.

~~~

Briefly, allowing himself to pretend nothing bad has happened, Kevin wallows in boyish memories of listening to his mother’s tales about Weston-on-sea’s Old Pier, especially the more ghostly ones. Her scrap book had contained a newspaper article about how the townspeople had gathered on the beach in 1860 to watch enormous columns being skewed into the seabed. Among the crowd had been one Earnest Dunway, the architect of “the Great Pier Project.” There was a faded photograph of him overseeing the placement of girders strong enough to hold the weight of structures that, when finished would appear to float above the sea. They were to include a grand concert hall made from iron arches, as well as accommodating a number of Victorian tea rooms. The public would be able to enjoy promenading from one building to another by means of wooden planks half a mile long.

By the mid 1860’s, the glass domed music hall was a much-loved feature, thronged by pleasure-goers donned in their finest. However, a century later, fashions had changed, and its genteel elegance had been replaced by an amusement arcade complete with game machines, garish shops selling seaside must haves, and a funfair consisting of rides which included a big dipper and a haunted house.

When the Old Pier had first opened, before most of it had disappeared as a result of storms and neglect, visitors were caught up in its grandeur. However, the final death knell came one night when the sky turned red, and the remaining buildings burst into flames. Though many speculated, no one knew the exact cause of the fire, but on the beach, Kevin had watched the bulk of an architect ‘s dream collapsing into an unforgiving sea leaving only iron bones behind.

~~~

Kevin’s mum hadn’t known about the human side of the construction, or the toll it had taken on those involved. Maintaining the pier against constant obstacles had turned Earnest into a vindictive and bitter man. It had cost him his finances, his health and even his sanity. In the end, all Earnest’s life’s efforts amounted to a few people witnessing a disheveled old man shambling to the end of the pier on a cold winter’s day.

Earnest Dunway had never been seen again after that. Some of the more gullible townsfolk said if you were bold enough to walk to the end of the pier of an evening, you could hear his ghost railing against the world.

But all that was all a time long ago. The remains of the Old Pier old had long been abandoned to the elements.

~~~~

On the evening that had turned Kevin’s young life upside down, Vic had grown bored of tramping along the beach searching amongst the rubble for any interesting items deposited by the day’s visitors.

“Time for some some real fun, Goosey.” Those were his exact words.

The nickname had come about after a goose had chased him in the park and Kevin had run to his mother as a small boy.

“We used to have great times on the old Pier, didn’t we?” Vic’s eyes glittered dangerously.

“Yeah, it was alright.”

It was unlike Vic to openly express admiration for anything. Kevin who was used to spending most of the school holidays trying to keep on Vic’s good side, spotted a chance to do a bit of needling himself. With the moon shaping into a bright silver disc above their heads, a hybrid plan was forming.

Maybe, just this once, he might manage to get the better of Vic.

“Isn’t the the old pier supposed to be haunted?” The question was less innocent than it sounded.

“Are you on about the story of the architect’s ghost?” Vic had asked.

“Yeah, guess so.”

“Typical Goosey! Don’t you know ghosts are only invented to scare people? They’re not real!”

“Well, if they’re not real, we needn’t be scared of the one at the Old Pier.”

“Who said anything about being scared? I’d go anytime.” Vic looked thoughtful. “Only problem is getting there.”

“Maybe we could drag dad’s old dingy out. He never uses it. Go on. I dare you to swim under the girders.”

“Hmmm. Might be a bit risky. The lifeboat people are always warning about the dangers of currents and getting sucked in.”

“You’re a strong swimmer. And you’ve never let anything stop you before… unless you really are scared?”

Vic stuck his chest out. “Stop talking rot! I’m not like you, Goosey. And I’ll prove it by swimming the last part. Maybe I’ll even touch one of the creepy iron girders. The sea looks calm enough tonight.”

~~~

Beneath a moonlit dome, the sea spun out like a vast expanse of shimmering glass. Armed with a flashlight and a pair of binoculars, the brothers rowed steadily. As the Old Pier pressed closer, it was like looking onto the backlot of a long-abandoned watery film set.

As Vic readied himself to step over the side, Kevin’s heart was in his mouth. Engulfed by fear, he tugged his brother's sleeve.

“I’ve changed my mind, Vic. You don’t have to swim there. We’ve seen enough! Let’s head back.”

“Don’t be a wussy, Kev!”

Taking a deep breath, Vic launched himself into the water. Up to then, he’d always found the coldness of the sea exhilarating, but this time even wearing a wetsuit beneath his clothes it felt different. The boys could hear the wind whipping through the Old Pier, howling like a wounded animal. Waves dashed against the beams, magnifying the tension.

Vic was used to treading water for long periods, but at some point, he began complaining of a heaviness in his limbs.

“Get back in the dingy.” Kevin rasped. Before then, he’d never have dared to order Vic around.

To his astonishment, Vic nodded weakly, his teeth chattering.

“Something is squeezing my leg. I can’t pull it off, Kev,” he said, suddenly frantic.

“What is it? A piece of debris?”

“I dunno, but it’s dragging me down.”

Without warning, Vic’s legs buckled, and he was unable to move. Before long, only his face and neck were visible above the water. He waved a hand in the air, his face a mask of terror. “Help me, Kev!” He gasped.

Kevin stared at Vic in horror. The dinghy was less than a few feet away. He should have reached out and grabbed his brother’s hand, but he was frozen to the spot. A few seconds later Vic had disappeared completely. When Kevin lifted the lantern, he saw nothing except the dense swell of endless sea. He thought he saw a hand come out of the water, but just as quickly it vanished into the depths.

“Vic!” Kevin’s cry sounded like the cry of a soul strangled at birth.

The wind had picked up, thrashing against the groynes. Hands trembling, Kevin forced himself to grab the oars. He could either dive in and try and search for his brother or abandon him. Instead, summoning every last bit of energy, he held on tight and rowed for his life.

The Return

Maybe there’s a kind of freedom in confronting a tragic scene. Only by reliving it in some form can the past be exorcised. Gripping the old flashlight in a symbolic gesture, Kevin recalls carrying it home after reporting the news of his brother’s loss, and his father running out of the house to alert the coastguard.

Tonight, the sky is once again lit by stars and a full moon. The sea is an ancient messenger knocking against the dingy. The pulse pounding through Kevin’s ears seems deafening. He’s finally ready to face the past and quell the shame that has eaten into him, never giving him a moment’s respite.

The time has come to lay his brother’s ghost to rest.

Permanently.

Heading towards the Old Pier, with every detail of the original journey reignited, Kevin understands why he’s been haunted for so long. It wasn’t that he’d done nothing to save his brother. A poor swimmer, Kevin had always known any attempt to rescue Vic would have resulted in the loss of two lives. It was the discovery of a newborn exhilaration on reaching the safety of the shore. That was when the guilt had come.

Freed from his brother’s influence, there’d be no reason for his father not to love him.

Except it hadn’t worked out like that.

Vic’s body had never been recovered and without a body there could be no closure. Instead of drawing father and surviving son together, Vic’s absence had driven the wedge even deeper, only serving to show how far Kevin fell short when it came to matching up to his older brother. From then on, Vic’s shadow was always there.

~~~

There’s an inevitability to the middle-aged Goosey heading off alone in that dark sea. Once again, up close there’s an air of unreality to the Old Pier. Bearing down, Goosey reaches the spot. The dank smell and sense of danger are overwhelming, but he forces himself to reach out and touch an algae-infested girder before shrinking back. A shrill wind burns out any sounds of creaking.

Seeking reparation, Gooesey waits a while, but then the old instinct kicks in and using every last vestige, he pulls away wanting to put distance between himself and those cursed iron bones. A middle-aged man half mad with grief and fear, realising all along he’d been fighting for a sense of identity. He had been swamped by his brother’s formidable presence. Yet however much he tried to run away from his pain, he always ended back here mentally. Now, it’s literal. In spite of everything, he must try and move forward because simply being alive has to mean something.

Reassured, Kevin grips the oars, feeling he can finally lay Vic’s ghost to rest. But then turning around, a hand suddenly rises out of the water like a spear. An illusion, surely borne of a frazzled mental state.

Determined to get away, he rows with all his might, but it follows like a snake’s head. Half-expecting it to be the hand of his dead brother, he’s surprised to see the withered hand of an old man.

Emerging from the the ocean and attached to a huge veiny arm, the hand latches onto the dingy. Next, the head and torso of a man dressed in Victorian garb, complete with top hat, is revealed. Who does the grizzled face belong to, if not the old architect of Kevin’s mother’s news cutting? Whoever it is, the thing – for it is hardly human – reaches in and pulls Kevin out. For a few agonised seconds, hit by the knife-biting cold, he grapples the ghost which has wrapped itself about him like an octopus refusing to relinquish prey. As the water freezes Kevin’s lungs, he has a vision of his brother swimming towards him, arms spread wide. There’s a a final tug, then a feeling of release.

With no strength left, Kevin is forced to relinquish whatever hold life has on him, until reaching a point where he’s no longer aware of himself as an animate being. He sinks down until his feet brush the seabed. At first, there’s nothing but debris and greyness ahead. After a while though the murkiness clears, and he glimpses his future. A little way ahead, he can make out the remains of the old concert hall. In this new dimension where time is purely subjective, he finds himself passing through an ornate entrance into an atrium leading to a hall. Doors swing open and before him are the faces of the old Victorian concert goers clapping in time to the music being played on the stage.

Kevin spots a stirring in the back row seats. The Victorian architect, still attired in his grandest, and Kevin’s older brother, turn to face him. It’s almost a relief when the orchestra stops playing.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Kev,” Vic says. “I knew you’d have to come in the end.”

“I have a proposition,” the architect declares with a rictus grin.

Kevin hears himself asking the man what he wants.

“Your brother’s life in return for your own.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not if you want to atone for leaving your brother. By sacrificing yourself and acting as a channel for his soul, he will be given a chance to roam the earth before passing over to the other side permanently.”

“Why me?” Vic asks, fearing he already knows the answer.

“You always believed in the power of the Old Pier while your brother never did. He’s hardly in a position to scoff at the existence of ghosts now, but Vic always lacked your imagination and appreciation of the past. Having his life cut short has served no real value. It was always meant to be you.”

~~~

In the darkness, a bin rattles and a rat scurries off into the early morning gloom. The undesirables have sloped off into their dens, or wherever it is they go at this ungodly hour. No one notices the door of the old architect’s house opening from the inside, nor the bedraggled fifteen-year-old emerging onto the street in clothes that are so last century.

But the boy, unsure if he is alive or dead, has spent long enough in the architect’s company to know the Old Pier will always cast a long shadow.