The Rainbow Man Page 4

  “I don’t know what you mean,” said Daniel in his least convincing tone of voice.

  Yeats leaned back in his chair, and it creaked in protest. “No? How come I don’t believe you?”

  “It’s just that… Oh, I dunno.”

  “Tell me, Daniel,” said Yeats. “It’s okay. I want to get to the bottom on this as much as you do. Probably more so. I really hate loose ends.”

  “You’re going to think I’m being silly.”

  “Try me. We’ve known each other too long for all that, haven’t we?”

  Daniel shrugged once more. “I guess.”

  “So…?”

  “It’s just that when I found him… John…” The name seemed to stick in Daniel’s throat. “I thought he was dead. He wasn’t breathing. Mum says it was the shock, the cold water or whatever.”

  Yeats rubbed his chin even harder. “She does have a point.”

  Daniel shook his head. “She wasn’t there. Neither were you.”

  “And you also have a point,” he admitted, allowing himself another smile. “So what are you saying, that he was dead and he… what? Came back to life?”

  “No…yes…Oh, I don’t know!”

  “Look, why don’t you take it from the beginning. Go through everything you can remember. I need to write it all down anyway. You were, after all, the only one who saw everything.”

  So Daniel did: he told Yeats everything he could remember about the previous day, while the policeman took notes on a pad, nodding every so often; he’d definitely got the routine down to a fine art. When Daniel had finished, Yeats flipped through the pages, and it was his turn to frown. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’m not sure quite what to make of all this.”

  “Told you it was silly.”

  “Not silly, no. But when people are involved in events like these, well, it gets the adrenalin going, you know? Sometimes what we think we’re seeing isn’t really what we’re seeing.”

  It’s your overactive imagination. Mikey had his pirates, you had—

  Daniel accepted this with a small nod.

  “His eyes flickering… I can imagine they might well be red, maybe some blood got in there from the wound, not to mention the salt water. But the other colours… I don’t know what to tell you. He looked pretty normal when we spoke to him last night, didn’t he?”

  A reflection, that’s all. Remember? Just a reflection. Reflecting the rainbow…

  But then the rainbow wasn’t there anymore.

  “Maybe… maybe I was seeing things,” Daniel admitted, noting how much Yeats was struggling with this. He knew how the man felt. “But there’s just something about…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I’ll feel better when we’ve got an ID on him, I won’t lie to you,” said Yeats. “But could it be perhaps you’ve taken a bit of an unfounded dislike to the guy, just because of what you saw? What you thought you saw?”

  It was possible, Daniel supposed. He gave a final shrug.

  Yeats looked at his watch. “Is that the time? I’ve kept you long enough, Daniel. But thanks for stopping by. And we will talk about this some more, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Daniel, but again he didn’t sound convincing. Even given as long as they’d known each other, he was pretty certain what he’d told Yeats would be put down to heat of the moment “seeing things” as the policeman had phrased it. An adrenalin rush causing hallucinations.

  “In the meantime,” said Yeats, getting to his feet when he saw Daniel rising, “we’ll keep all this to ourselves, right?”

  Daniel agreed; he wasn’t about to go blabbing about it all over town. Get labelled a loony? No way. But there were a couple more people he wanted to chat to about it all.

  As if reading his mind, Yeats suddenly said as Daniel was leaving. “Oh, and if you’re looking for your mates, they were at the hospital earlier on when my officers were there. I think our Mr. Dee wanted to say thanks to them, like he did to you.”

  A nice gesture, Daniel supposed. Or at least it was meant to look like one. A flash of Greg and Jill going to the hospital together entered his mind, and he wondered why they hadn’t tried to get hold of him to let him know. They could have used the house phone, if they didn’t want to text. Carrier pigeon, whatever…

  Daniel swung by the hospital when he left the station, but didn’t go inside—just looked through the doors. For one thing there seemed to be quite a few people there to see John Dee, the aforementioned Mayor included having a crafty smoke outside. For another he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to intrude on Greg and Jill. He told himself he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t help how he felt. They always did everything together, the three of them. All for one and—

  He shrugged it off and returned home, grabbing a burger and fries on the way. Daniel found Susan in the house, watching TV with Mikey. He didn’t need the babysitter to tell him that his mother was also still at the hospital.

  Barely acknowledging either of them, regardless of Mikey calling him, he went to his room and locked the door, flopping down backwards on his bed. He thought about reading for a while (he was halfway through one of his mystery books, and desperate to see if he’d guessed the killer), but he knew he wouldn’t be able to settle. Wouldn’t be taking in the words as he read, because his mind was elsewhere. Thinking about other things.

  It wasn’t long before he began to drift off again, tiredness catching up for the second time in as many days; as much to shut out the real world as anything.

  He didn’t dream, at least not that he could remember. If he had it would probably have been of colours and of eyes, of zombies washed up on beaches.

  Daniel woke just once, but when he did it was dark outside. He was still in his clothes, but couldn’t be bothered changing out of them.

  Then next thing he knew it was daylight. Morning.

  And it was time for school.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DANIEL DIDN’T LOOK FOR HIS FRIENDS at the gate of Shore-point Secondary, they found him.

  They approached together, both wearing the uniform of the place, which certainly lived up to that name: a functional black for trousers and blazer, white for shirts and blouses. The only colour present was a muted green for the thin stripes in the tie, and the red, yellow or blue of the badges that denoted which house you were in. These were named after some of the first people who’d settled on the island and founded the school.

  “Hey, Daniel,” shouted Jill, waving. “Hey!”

  He pretended not to hear, all the time watching the pair approach out of the corner of his eye. The next thing he knew, Greg was there, giving him a playful punch on the arm. “Oi mate, you deaf or something?”

  “I wish I was,” he replied.

  “Look who got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Greg said to Jill and they both laughed.

  Daniel said nothing.

  “We didn’t see you yesterday at the hospital,” Jill said next.

  “Didn’t know I was invited,” Daniel replied without missing a beat.

  Jill frowned, puzzled. “Invited?”

  “Practically the whole of town was in and out of there yesterday,” Greg told him. “Even reporters from the Shorepoint Echo. That’s guy’s pretty popular, I can tell you.”

  “They were looking for you Daniel, actually,” Jill pointed out. “You’re a bit of a hero.”

  Daniel folded his arms. “I expect they got enough quotes from you two for an article or several.”

  “They did take a couple of photos of me and Jill with John,” Greg announced, proudly.

  Daniel’s face soured. “John,” he said, that name again like a fishbone in his throat.

  “What is your problem?” asked Greg.

  Daniel turned to face him, but Jill stepped between them. “Come on, you two. It’s Monday morning, a school day. There’s enough doom and gloom in the air without this.” She stared at Daniel. “So where were you?”

  “I was at the police
station,” Daniel informed her.

  “Didn’t they take your statement on Saturday night, like they did with us?” asked Jill.

  “Obviously not,” he snapped, and her face fell. It reminded him of his mother’s expression when he’d barked at her a couple of days ago. He’d hardly even seen her that morning, in her rush to get off to the surgery. Getting that out of the way so she could return to the hospital. Susan was dropping Mikey off at primary, which left Daniel to make his own way to Shorepoint Secondary alone. John again… blasted John.

  “There’s no need to be like that,” Jill said, pursing her lips, and he felt a well-deserved stab of guilt.

  “Look,” Daniel sighed, his hard exterior melting somewhat, “I was there to see Sergeant Yeats. To tell him what I witnessed on Saturday. My side of the story.”

  “What are you on about?” asked Greg.

  “There’s something not right about him.”

  “Sergeant Yeats?” Greg looked confused.

  Daniel shook his head. “John, you idiot!”

  “Hey, don’t you call me a—”

  “What do you mean by that, Daniel?” Jill broke in. But the alarm went for first period, and Daniel was actually grateful. He’d never been in a hurry for double science before, but he was that morning. It got him out of the uneasy conversation that needed to be had with his friends, and he made sure he sat by himself that lesson so he didn’t have to answer either Jill or Greg’s questions for a while.

  But they found him again on the field at lunchtime: he was sitting down the bottom end, eating the sandwiches he’d packed himself out of his backpack.

  “You can’t get away from us that easily,” Jill said, sitting down on one side of him. Greg sat on the other; a pincer movement. “And you can’t keep on avoiding us.”

  “Oh, so I’m the one avoiding people now, am I?” Daniel started, but his deflection didn’t work.

  “Tell us what you meant about John,” pressed Jill.

  Daniel let the sandwich he was holding drop back into his lunch-box. “It’s… it’s hard to explain, and I’m not sure either of you want to hear it.”

  “Course we do,” said Greg. “We’re your mates.”

  He looked from Greg to Jill, then back again. They were his mates, he knew that. And he should stop acting like such a Grade A moron and just tell them what was on his mind. But he couldn’t help thinking about Yeats, about how he’d reacted, flipping through those pages of his notebook.

  “Okay, I’m not sure quite what to make of all this… But sometimes what we think we’re seeing isn’t really what we’re seeing.”

  “I just get this feeling that something’s really wrong about John, that’s all.”

  “Are you mad?” said Greg.

  You don’t know the half of it, thought Daniel.

  “You haven’t even spoken to him, have you?” his friend continued.

  “A little, on Saturday night after you two left. It was enough.”

  “He is such a nice guy,” Jill said, taking up the tale. “Even after everything he’s been through he was cracking jokes, saying he was going to be out of there in no time.”

  Oh dear God, no!

  “And he kept thanking us, didn’t he, Greg? Kept on asking about you, telling us to pass on the message that he’s really, really grateful.”

  “If we… if you hadn’t found him like that, Daniel, he might have died.”

  But he already was dead, don’t you get it? He. Was. Dead. That’s part of the problem.

  “He wants to see you,” Jill told Daniel. “Maybe after school, we could all—”

  “I don’t want to see him, though,” Daniel said emphatically. “Like I said, there’s something—”

  “Something not right about him, yeah we heard. We’re not the deaf ones.” Greg cupped his ear for emphasis. “Eh, Jill?” He nudged her, but she ignored him. Daniel had to admit that made him feel a little better.

  “You can’t just pretend it never happened, hide away from everything. From us. You saved a man’s life, Daniel. You should be proud of that.”

  You found life. You saved a life.

  Your dad would have been proud of you today. I’m proud of you, too.

  “I wish… I wish we’d never even found him,” Daniel blurted out.

  Jill’s hand went to her mouth. “What a thing to say!” She stood up and he reached out for her then, not wanting to take back what he’d said, just wanting her to understand why he’d said it.

  But it’s all based on something you thought you saw, he reminded himself. Perhaps Sly Yeats is right, and I’m basing all this on something—

  Daniel shook his head, but she was already preparing to walk away. “I’m sorry.”

  Jill paused and turned back. “I should think so. Look,” she said, “why don’t you come with us, we’re going to see John again tonight.”

  The very thought of that made Daniel want to scream.

  “Go on,” Greg added. “He really is a good guy, once you get to know him.”

  That’s just it; none of us do know him, thought Daniel. We don’t know a thing about him, and we’re not likely to until the computers are back up and running normally.

  Jill bent and took his hand; Greg bristled slightly at that. “Please,” she said.

  “We’ll see,” replied Daniel. He didn’t know what else to say.

  “That’ll have to do, I suppose,” Jill replied, letting go. “Come on, Greg, let’s leave misery-guts alone with his thoughts.” She linked arms with Greg and Daniel watched them walk back up the field. As they became dots on the green, he picked up his sandwich again, but he’d lost his appetite. Seeing those two waltz off like that was bad enough, but the thought of seeing John again…

  In the end he’d bailed, in spite of what he’d said. Rushing out of class (ICT, which was a bore as none of the computers were working properly there, either) and out through the gates, he’d gone straight home. Susan was there yet again, fixing Mikey something to eat for his tea. “Do you want anything, Danny?” she asked.

  He shook his head; he still wasn’t hungry. “I’m not feeling great.”

  Mikey came rushing across, desperate to tell Daniel about his day at school and a project they were about to start where they had to build a model of the town. “Will you help me, will ya?” asked Mikey, tugging on Daniel’s sleeve.

  “We’ll see,” he told his brother. It had worked earlier on so he thought he’d try it again.

  “But will ya, pleeeeeesssse? Will ya, will ya, will ya, will ya?” Each plea was accompanied by a tug of the sleeve, the last of which almost pulled Daniel over. “Will y—”

  Daniel whirled around and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Look Mikey, I’m not your dad and I never will be, okay? Get someone else to help you with your stupid project!”

  Mikey let go of Daniel’s sleeve, and the boy’s face went slack. Then came the tears. Daniel felt another twinge of guilt, so many in only the last few days (since John, he reminded himself), but left him to it. Susan came to see what all the fuss was about.

  “Just Mikey being his usual whiny self,” said Daniel. “I’m going to my room. If anyone comes to the door or calls for me, tell them I’m not well.” It wasn’t a lie; he felt sick to his stomach.

  In his room, he switched off his mobile just in case. Ironically, now he was hoping that nobody would call. But in his mind’s eye, he saw Greg and Jill again, arm in arm, walking back up that field.

  He managed to swing the next day off school. His mum had been knocking on his door that morning, having been told about the incident with Mikey. But she left it alone when he told her he felt sick. “Let me in, so I can have a look at you,” she said. When he hadn’t answered she’d called through the door: “Right now, Daniel Edward Routh!”

  Reluctantly, he’d obeyed, and she’d felt his head for a temperature, then his throat. “It’s more my head,” he told her. “And I feel a bit like I’m going to throw up, too.” Again, it wasn’
t a lie.

  His mum knew he hadn’t had anything to eat yesterday, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt. If there was one thing you couldn’t prove or disprove, it was good old “feeling under the weather.” And Daniel had been feeling that way since last Friday night.

  “All right, home today. But you’re going in tomorrow, young man.”

  Daniel nodded half-heartedly.

  After his mother had gone, and Susan had taken Mikey off to school, he emerged from hiding and flicked on the TV. His appetite was returning gradually, and by the time breakfast television had given way to the talk show which followed—lots of shouting and arguing about who was the father of who’s baby—he was in the kitchen, rustling himself up some cereal. He looked around again for traces of wine bottles, but couldn’t find any. Either his mum was getting craftier, or she actually wasn’t having her usual few glasses to “unwind” in the evening. Daniel hoped it was the latter, but he’d hoped that many times before only to be disappointed.

  It was while he was flicking through the local channels that he caught a piece about John. Daniel froze, spoon halfway to his lips, as the reporter jammed the microphone into John’s face. The reporter was asking him question after the question, which the man couldn’t answer.

  The stranger Daniel had “saved” was looking directly into the camera, almost like he was looking through the TV screen and into Daniel’s living room: those steely eyes seeing into his very soul. He shivered, putting down the half-eaten Cheerios on the coffee table. “So,” the local reporter continued, looking back into the camera as well, though he just looked like he was talking to the cameraman, “if you have any information about… John, or might be able to help identify him, please ring us on…” A pity the broadcast was only going out to people who actually lived on the island, though it was obvious from the hopeful look on the reporter’s face he thought this might get picked up by a larger network somehow. That maybe it would even make his career. But something told Daniel that the broadcast could go no further, just like Sergeant Yeats was having no luck contacting the outside world about John.