The Rainbow Man Read online

  “You leave her alone,” repeated Daniel. “Or—”

  John grinned again. “Or what?” There wasn’t any threat to the voice; didn’t have to be. Daniel couldn’t reply. “There really is no need for all this hostility, you know. I want us to be friends, just like I am with your mum. With Mikey.”

  “Mikey?”

  “What a lovely little boy he is. He hasn’t long since gone to bed. Insisted on showing me some of his colouring books before he went.” Daniel glanced up the stairs, noting that the light was off. “Oh, I told him not to worry about all that. There’s nothing there in the dark that isn’t there in the light.”

  Maybe we should all be more afraid of what’s in the light, then, thought Daniel, and John gave a chuckle, as if he’d said the words out loud.

  “Who are you?” he asked then, and thought for a moment John might simply answer him.

  Then the stranger said: “Who do you think I am?” Daniel studied him; the man looked like he was waiting for an answer. His eyes twinkled, and did they look just a little bit red then, or even yellow or blue? “Because I just can’t remember a thing, you know,” continued John, eyes returning to their normal grey. “Oh, hi Lorraine.”

  Daniel whipped his head round and saw his mum standing at the kitchen door with another wine bottle, opened. Negotiating the corkscrew must have taken all this time.

  “I told you, John,” she said, words slurring again, “to stay sat down.”

  “It’s okay, I needed to stretch my legs anyway. They were getting stiff. Plus which, young Daniel and I have been having a nice little chat.” He smirked once more.

  “Glad you two have had a chance to talk, finally,” said his mum, also smiling now. “After all the hanging around Jill and Greg have been doing, they’ve sort of been keeping you to themselves, haven’t they?”

  “Ah yes, two lovely kids. Well, I suppose they’re not really kids any more, are they? And did I detect a bit of a spark there between those two? They’d make such a cute couple.” John fixed Daniel with a stare when he said this, and Daniel couldn’t help thinking about his friends linking arms on the school field; the amount of time they’d been spending together recently alone, and with John.

  Daniel’s mother giggled. “No, I don’t think there’s anything going on between those two… is there?” She asked Daniel now, looking slightly disappointed, probably because of what she’d said back at the hospital about him and Jill.

  “How should I know!” Daniel turned and headed off for the stairs without saying goodnight. He heard his mum and John laughing, saying something about hormones and young love, but he didn’t care about that. It wasn’t the reason why he was slamming the door to his room, locking it and pressing his back up against it.

  Daniel was still thinking about John, about the merest flicker he’d seen again of the colours in his eyes. About the question:

  “Who are you?”

  “Who do you think I am?”

  He was scared of what the answer might be, scared because the man was still in his house and would be overnight.

  Scared because he knew, in spite of the fact nobody else could see it...

  Knew how much danger both he and his entire family were in.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE LAST WEEK OR SO had probably been the best that Shorepoint had ever experienced. And the worst Daniel had ever known… No, not quite the worst; the second worst. Because the worst had been when he’d heard the news about his dad. When they’d finally decided to tell him what was going on and not hide it from him anymore; not give him presents to try and stop him asking questions about why his father was getting thinner; why he was losing his hair at such a rapid pace.

  Not as bad as that. But close.

  That first night with John in the house had been hard enough. After retreating to his room and locking himself in, Daniel had spent a sleepless few hours again, just as he had done the night of the storm... Perhaps he’d known even back then what the downpour was bringing? He’d heard the laughter continue downstairs, as John told his mother jokes, as she got increasingly drunk. He’d heard them come upstairs at about half-two in the morning, and go their separate ways—thank Heaven!—his mum to the room opposite, John up the far end to the spare bedroom. But he still hadn’t been able to close his weary eyes, was still listening for any creaks out there on the landing. Ironically, he’d become like Mikey: jumping at every sound, praying for the day to come and chase away the darkness.

  Maybe we should all be more afraid of what’s in the light?

  He hadn’t even risked going for a pee when he was desperate during the night, but at some point he’d slipped into another “coma,” and only woken when it was light again. Daniel had dressed, opening the door quietly, wincing at the squeak of the hinges, then crept to the bathroom. When he thought he heard John stirring down the end of that corridor, he decided against that course of action, and instead went downstairs, grabbing something to eat before anyone else was up.

  Mikey caught him leaving early for school. “Where are you going?” asked his brother, and Daniel shushed him.

  “I don’t want to hang around this morning.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because of John.”

  Mikey thought about this for a moment. “I like him. He said he’s going to help me with my model of the town.”

  “Okay,” said Daniel, pulling open the front door—which hadn’t even been locked last night. In all fairness, the chances of being broken into on the island were slim, Yeats would have been on the burglar’s doorstep within the hour, but that wasn’t really the point…

  Mikey came over to him and tugged on his sleeve. He said one word: “Stay.”

  Daniel considered it, then heard more noises from upstairs and remembered the reason he was leaving so early in the first place. “Go and watch your cartoons, Shrimp,” he told his brother, closing the door behind him and making his way up the path.

  He took the long way round to school, which still got him there a good hour too soon, so he sat at the gates and read more of his mystery book until kids started to filter in. Daniel looked up and saw Jill and Greg approaching; together again, laughing and joking. Jill was nudging Greg because of something he’d just said. When they saw Daniel, they stopped, but then looked away. They did what he’d asked them to do the previous night, even left him alone during breaks, and Daniel started to really feel the loneliness by the end of the day. He began to wonder whether this was what his mother felt on a daily basis, especially now he thought he might have lost Jill.

  Daniel only found this out after the fact, but his mother had overslept and taken the day off. Then, later, she’d taken John on a tour around the island, in particular down to the harbour to show him the main source of income for most of the population here: though times were rough for a lot of them.

  It was as Daniel was walking back from school, undecided as to whether he would actually head home just yet or maybe grab something to eat from the fish and chip shop, that he saw and heard all the ruckus. Following a group of townspeople, including more kids just out of school like him, he found himself at the harbour, where crowds had now gathered. Word had already spread about the day’s miracle, fishermen who were used to returning with empty nets were suddenly back early, their boats overloaded.

  Daniel peered down into Milligan’s Bay and saw the vessels, some mooring and unloading, others still out at sea and waiting to get into the harbour. He’d seen them before of course, usually when Greg brought them down here to wait for his dad to come back from a trip. The boats were all yellows, blues, reds, whites, greens… but for the most part the paint was faded on them, peeling off from the sides due to overuse and neglect (there was a general feeling of apathy amongst the fishing community of Shorepoint…or at least there had been). Now the colours seemed vibrant and true—perhaps due to the sun gleaming off them, rays leading the boats home to dock. Or something else? In any event, the brightness of the boats refle
cted the lightness of spirit, as men laughed and joked, dragging their catches from the boats onto the dock itself.

  Daniel spotted Greg, here to meet his dad again, and the big bear of a man gave his son a hug when he saw him. Once again, Daniel felt those pangs of loss; all the hugs he’d never get from his father. The closer he came, making sure that Greg couldn’t see him of course, the more Daniel could make out—not only from Greg’s dad, but all the fishermen. “They were just leaping into the nets today. So many fish we had to come home early because we couldn’t carry any more!”

  And there, on the far side of the harbour, were his mother and John. The man was leaning on her for support, staring and smiling at the scene. Some of the fishermen had seen him and were going over to chat. Others, Daniel heard, were even saying it was something to do with his presence. That ever since he’d come to the island things had started to turn around. And, somehow, John had found Daniel in that crowd: his eyes boring through the masses to search him out. Those grey, nondescript eyes flashed in the sun when he blinked, the colours from the nearby boats caught in them momentarily—though only Daniel appeared to notice.

  He’d fled the scene, running from the cheers and laughter and general happiness, which he knew would continue on in the local pub, The Anchor, the evidence of which came when his mum and John finally returned later that night, after he’d gone to bed again.

  It hadn’t been the only “miracle” on the island. He found out from listening to chatter at school that John had returned to the hospital: putting something back. “Said he was so grateful for visitors when he was there, that he decided to go visit some himself,” Daniel overheard a lad called Colin Finlay saying. But that wasn’t the end of it, oh no. Apparently one of the longer term patients—Sidney Bolton—who was starting to develop kidney problems, discovered that suddenly and amazingly his affliction had been reversed. Daniel had caught snatches of his mother talking about this one: “It was like the damage wasn’t there any more.” In fact all the patients were either starting to find they felt better after a visit from John, or their ailments began to clear up. And the same went for the surgery when Daniel’s mum took John there on the Monday as well.

  In the meantime, Daniel tried to keep out of the way as much as possible, feeling a little like an intruder in his own home sometimes. He avoided contact with John when he could, and when he couldn’t, got out of the room as soon as he was able. That didn’t stop him watching the way his mum was with John. The way Mikey was, too, like they were both under some kind of spell. John hadn’t confronted Daniel again personally, but then he hadn’t really given him much of a chance to. Daniel still remembered that first evening when they’d been left alone, and that had been enough.

  The one time he had dared to venture out of his bed, dying for the loo and not being able to hold it in any longer, he could have sworn he’d seen a figure in the shadows down the length of that corridor. But when he blinked again it was gone. He’d used the toilet quickly, not even bothering to flush in case he alerted anyone to his presence, and dashed back to his own bedroom to lock the door again. After that experience, he dug out a metal hammer with a black rubber grip from one of the drawers downstairs they used for repairs about the house, and he “slept” with it under his pillow for protection.

  He was growing more and more distant from both Jill and Greg, who still called at the house but now wanted to see John rather than Daniel. And if Jill brought Vincent, she would tie him up outside.

  Not sure what else to do, Daniel called once more on Sergeant Yeats. After a few occasions of not being in, and the policeman not getting back to him in spite of leaving messages, Daniel finally caught the man while he was at the station.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just been so hectic around here,” he told Daniel, wiping his brow and sitting down behind his desk. He offered the other seat to his young friend.

  Must have been a run on cats up trees, thought Daniel. “I was just wondering if you’d got anywhere trying to find out who John Dee is?”

  Yeats looked at Daniel blankly, as if the notion had never even occurred to him. Like he hadn’t had the conversation in the hospital on the night John had been found, or the meeting with Daniel the following day. “Erm… to tell the truth I haven’t really been looking into it, Daniel. Like I said, it’s just—”

  “Been so hectic. Yeah, I heard.” Yeats pulled a face at the tone, and Daniel apologised. “It’s just that you were so keen on finding out.”

  “Has this got anything to do with your mum looking after him?”

  Daniel opened his mouth and closed it again. It was a legitimate question, and the answer was probably yes. He didn’t like it, he wanted John out. Wanted him away from his mum, his brother, his friends (that image of Greg and Jill linking arms again flashed through his mind).

  “Look, Daniel…” Yeats laced his fingers, leaning forward to rest them on his desk. “I know it can be difficult when someone comes along and… well, I think your mum really likes him and—”

  “Have you been to see John over the past week or so? Asked him any questions?” said Daniel. Another legitimate enquiry. And one that if he’d been doing his job properly, Yeats should have been able to answer.

  “Didn’t have to,” Yeats suddenly said, taking Daniel by surprised. “He came to see me. A couple of times, actually.”

  “About what?”

  Yeats’ brow furrowed, as if trying to dredge the memory up from his mind. He shook his head, then answered: “You know, this and that.”

  “No, I don’t know,” said Daniel, barely keeping the edge from his voice. “You can’t remember, can you?”

  “Course I can… but it was official police business, Daniel. I can’t discuss it.”

  “Are the computers working yet?” asked Daniel nodding to Yeats’ blank screen. He doubted the man had even tried, though he knew from other kids that the computers and the net were still acting crazy. Yet nobody seemed to want to do anything to fix things. “Maybe we could do a search on that photo you took right now. Those fingerprints?”

  “I’m sorry Daniel,” said Yeats, “but I’ve got a lot to do today, and I’d really appreciate it if you came back some other time.”

  Daniel nodded, getting the message. “You know, my dad would have been all over this like a rash,” he said as his parting shot. Then he left, letting the door to Yeats’ office swing to behind him.

  So, Daniel mused as he left the police station, John had also got to the one person he thought he could rely on: his dad’s oldest friend. Daniel didn’t have the resources to get to the bottom of this himself, didn’t have the prints even if he could find a working computer.

  But you do have a camera, he told himself. You can take a picture of John and post it somewhere, maybe? Somewhere it can be seen by the outside world.

  That was the major problem that he could see. It was as if Shorepoint was inside its own little bubble, closed off from everywhere else. Once that might been a comfort to Daniel, but now he just felt trapped.

  Daniel’s camera was the simplest he’d been able to find. Digital, because hardly anyone used film anymore, not even him; just a point and shoot kind of deal. Not even he could mess that up… he hoped. It also had a fantastic zoom.

  So, whenever the opportunity arose, Daniel would lie in wait, trying to grab a picture of John. To begin with, he just wanted a photo for identification purposes, but as he started following the man around he grew more and more interested in documenting his movements. Daniel trailed him, at a safe distance, over the course of a day—skipping school again. He’d explain it away if anyone actually pulled him up on this, which they didn’t seem to bother doing these days; not since John arrived on the scene.

  He took snap after snap of the man, who’d parted ways with Daniel’s mum at the surgery, then visited house after house in town. Daniel captured him talking to people he knew, from the retired Mr. and Mrs. Warren—who took him inside and waved him off half an hour later—to
shop owners like Mr. Humble the butcher and the Hawkins’, who ran the local shop & post office. He stayed as far back as his zoom allowed, trying now to get shots of John deep in conversation with the people he called on. As with Mikey, John would chat to them openly, then lean in and whisper things, grinning that strange grin of his. Daniel had no clue what any of this meant, or what John was up to, and he wasn’t going to ask him directly. Once or twice he got the feeling that John knew he was being tailed, looking around almost at the exact place where Daniel might be hiding: behind rocks or fences, round the corner of buildings. But to his knowledge, Daniel was never spotted.

  It did make for quite a few good shots of the man, though, which he examined later on in his room. There was one especially that if he could upload to the net, he might get results from. A head and shoulders portrait of John as he was walking down the street. Daniel decided to call in to his local library and ask about using the computers there, but they seemed to be having the same trouble as everywhere else. “We’re not really sure what the problem is,” explained one of the island’s only two librarians, a middle-aged woman called Hilary Thickett, who looked much older than she was due in no small part to her love of knitwear. “We had a connection intermittently yesterday, but it doesn’t seem to be working right now. What is it you wanted to do specifically?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Daniel said, sighing. “I’ll try again some other time.”

  He was beginning to wonder if it was just his presence upsetting the electronics. Daniel didn’t care for anything of that sort, so maybe it was mutual: maybe the machines had decided not to help him? Or maybe there was another explanation. Maybe there was a John-related explanation?

  It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t be able to get anyone to believe him.

  So, here he was, sitting thoroughly miserable at this wedding. It was like everything over the last couple of weeks had been building to this event. Like it was celebration not just of this particular couple getting wed (Jill’s cousin Lily was marrying McLean from the police station; she’d been worrying about her bridesmaid duties for some time now) but also of the good fortune the island appeared to be having of late.