Long Shadow

At high tide, the late autumn sea swirls grey and menacing. As the sky turns twilight, it seems as if a giant has stamped along the main beach piling the shingle unnaturally high, but then Kevin recalls reading somewhere about stones being transferred from a quarry as part of a regeneration project. It’s been years since he stepped foot on this part of the coastline, let alone walked the length of its most recently built pier.

In any case, such observations hold only a passing interest for a man haunted by another scene.

Kevin is riveted by a stretch of sea less than half a mile away. Wrapped in the town’s folklore where stories of ghosts and spectres abound, the remains of the Old Pier jut out of an unfathomable sea like a huge iron monster. Forming the untold fabric 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.

**

From Kevin’s vantage point on the “New Pier,” memories run thick and fast as if it all happened yesterday rather than thirty-eight years ago. Kevin pictures himself as a twelve-year-old boy running to keep up with his older brother, Vic, further along the beach. Their parents had left the boys alone while they indulged in a rare night out. Fourteen-year-old Vic, the apple of his father’s eye, had been a strong swimmer with the kind of devil-may-care attitude not tolerated in Kevin. Vic’s athleticism combined with a tendency to scorn his younger brother’s apparent deficiencies. That was perhaps why Kevin found himself helping Vic drag the family dingy out from under the cobwebs to the beach, when all he really wanted was to curl up in front of the tv.

But now, having passed a landmark birthday, Kevin is resolved to settle things by facing the old demons head on.

He plans to return to the site of his greatest fear.

***

As a boy, Kevin had enjoyed listening to his mother’s tales about Weston-on-sea’s old pier, especially the ghostly ones. She’d even kept a scrap book of articles and newspaper cuttings and general memorabilia. According to one piece, the townspeople had gathered on the beach in 1860 to watch enormous columns being skewed into the seabed. It had taken skill to avoid nearby caverns that were believed to be deep. Among the crowd had been one Earnest Dunway, the architect of “the Great Pier project.” There was even 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 pier’s 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 Earnest Dunway’s son, Joel, watched as the bulk of his father’s dream collapsed 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, whereas Joel, Earnest’s son, knew only too well. Maintaining the pier against constant obstacles had turned his father 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. What was left of the old pier had long been abandoned to the elements.

***

 Mulling over the evening that had turned his young life upside down, Kevin remembered how Vic had grown bored of tramping along the beach searching amongst the rubble for any interesting items left by the day visitors.

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

Kevin hated the nickname which had come about after a goose had chased him in the park and he’d 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, now spotted a chance to do a bit of needling himself. With the moon shaping into view above them, a hybrid plan was forming in Kevin’s mind.

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 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 there anytime.” Vic looked thoughtful. “Only problem is getting there.”

“Maybe we could drag dad’s old dingy out of the garage. 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 like that 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 moonlight 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 into the sea, Kevin’s heart was in his mouth. Fear engulfed him and he tugged at 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 hauled himself into the water. Up to then, he’d always found the coldness of the sea exhilarating, but this time even wearing a wetsuit it felt different. The wind whipped through the remains of the old pier, howling like a wounded animal, eerily magnified. Waves dashed against the beams, magnifying the tension.

Vic, who was used to treading water for long periods, now complained of a heaviness in his limbs.

“Get back in the dingy.” Until then, Kevin had never dared order Vic around.

To Kevin’s astonishment, Vic nodded weakly, teeth chattering from the chill.

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

“What is it? A piece of debris?” Kevin asked.

“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 surface. He waved a hand in the air, his face a mask of terror. “Help me,” he gasped.

Kevin stared in horror. The dinghy was less than a few feet away. He might have reached out and grabbed his brother’s hand, but a few seconds later Vic had disappeared completely. When Kevin lifted the lantern, he could see nothing except the swell of a dense 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 a soul strangled at birth.

The wind had picked up and was thrashing against the groynes. Mind racing, Kevin tried to grip the oars. His hands were trembling. He could either dive in and try and find his brother or abandon him to a watery grave. Instead, summoning every last bit of energy, he held tight and rowed for his life.

***

The Return

Maybe there’s a kind of freedom in returning to a tragic scene and confronting it. Only by reliving it in some form can the past be exorcised. Kevin has the flashlight from before. He has a vivid memory of carrying it home after reporting the news of his brother’s loss, and his father running out of the house to alert the coastguard.

Not that the flashlight is needed on a night lit by stars and a full moon. The sea is an ancient messenger knocking against the dingy, as a pulse pounds through Kevin’s ears. Finally ready to face the past, he longs to quell the shame that has eaten away at 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 finally understands the true reason he’s been haunted for so long. It wasn’t that he hadn’t done anything 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 when he’d reached the safety of the shore and felt something close to exhilaration. That was when the guilt had set in.

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.

***

Yet nearly forty years later, here he is, surrounded by sea, a man half mad with grief and fear rowing with all his might away from the old pier, realising what had made him fight for so long. However much he tried to run away from his pain, he always ended up back here, even if not literally. Now, in spite of everything, he wants to move forward because simply being alive has to mean something.

Strangely 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 frantically, but it follows like a snake’s head. Half-expecting it to be the hand of his dead brother, he’s amazed when he sees the withered hand of an old man.

Emerging from the ocean and attached to a huge veiny arm, the hand clutches onto the dingy. Next, the head and torso of a man dressed in Victorian garb is revealed. Who does the grizzled face belong to, if not the old architect of Kevin’s mother’s newspaper cutting? Whoever it is, the thing – for it is hardly human – reaches in and pulls Kevin out. For a few agonising seconds, hit by the knife-biting cold, he grapples the ghost which has wrapped itself about him like an octopus refusing to relinquish its 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. As his body floats towards the surface, he’s unsure whether he’s alive or dead.

But then, the pier has always cast a long shadow.