exactly how it seemed to them: a heavenly place full of warmth and light and music.
3
The Little Utopia
The Little Utopia was a small boat, not much more than thirty feet in length. The wooden sliding hatch was pulled across to stop the rain coming in but the cockpit doors were slightly open, for the rain was pouring from the other side, the starboard bow. Above Johnny’s head, hanging from the backstay, was a Union Jack transom flag flapping wildly in the wind. They stood there motionless, hand in hand, soaked to the bone yet oblivious to the weather, quite transfixed by the light and sounds from within. The angel’s voice had brought them here. The song was coming to an end and despite the wet and the cold neither of them wanted it to stop, for the mermaid to become human. Right now just the promise of safety was enough.
When the strumming of the guitar ceased and the rain took over the night again, Johnny cleared his throat. ‘Hello?’ he called out above the cacophony of the elements. A bolt of lightning flashed above them.
A moment later the hatch was pulled back and a man stuck his head out. He was a big, fine-looking man, dark and unshaven, almost bearlike. He shielded his eyes with both hands from the light within to see them better.
‘Hello?’ he replied, stepping out into the cockpit. His T-shirt was dry and pale and the rain darkened it almost immediately in 45-degree stripes across his chest.
They watched him take them in, his expression changing from caution to concern. Johnny realized how desperate they must look. He turned to Clem and in the light from the saloon he saw how her chin was cut and the blood had run down on to her shirt, a mess of red smeared across her chest. She’d lost a shoe and her hands, feet and ankles were covered in grazes. Underneath the wetness and the blood she looked barely more than fifteen years old. He knew that he himself didn’t look much older.
‘Jesus. Are you all right?’ the bear man asked but neither of them could think of anything to say. It seemed quite evident that they were not all right. The man glanced down the quay towards the shore as if there might be more of them. Johnny too looked around him but the bay was deserted, the other boats all empty. Another growl of thunder rumbled across the sky above them.
‘Please,’ the bear man said, gesturing. ‘Come in out of the rain!’ He offered his hand and Johnny passed him the soaked sail bag and turned to Clem. She was unable to move, her limbs locked frozen.
‘It’s all right, love,’ the man said to her, helping her carefully on to the boat, taking her hand in one of his giant paws and her carpet in the other. ‘You’re safe here.’
She looked up at him and suddenly the kindness of a stranger proved too much and the tears spilt freely from her eyes.
‘Come on now,’ he said gently, opening the cockpit door with his foot, putting the soaking sail bag over his shoulder. ‘Get yourselves inside and let’s get you warm.’
Johnny led the way down the companionway steps and stood there dripping water on to the floor of their dry warm boat. A woman, presumably the mermaid, was sitting on the port side of the saloon, a guitar on her lap. Next to her was a young child, not more than four or five years old. She was the spit of her mother but with her father’s dark colouring. Neither of them said anything; their identical unblinking eyes stared at the strangers from underneath their identical skew-whiff fringes. The child’s gaze swung solemnly from Johnny to Clem and down at their bleeding, torn legs.
‘Why’s that lady crying?’ she asked her mother.
‘OK. Bed now, Smudge,’ the woman said, standing up, taking the child’s hand. The girl wriggled free and scurried away from the strange new arrivals into the forepeak, her big, dark eyes peering from behind the door as she slowly closed it.
‘Annie, get the first aid,’ the bear man said to his wife, his voice low and soft. Then he
3
The Little Utopia
The Little Utopia was a small boat, not much more than thirty feet in length. The wooden sliding hatch was pulled across to stop the rain coming in but the cockpit doors were slightly open, for the rain was pouring from the other side, the starboard bow. Above Johnny’s head, hanging from the backstay, was a Union Jack transom flag flapping wildly in the wind. They stood there motionless, hand in hand, soaked to the bone yet oblivious to the weather, quite transfixed by the light and sounds from within. The angel’s voice had brought them here. The song was coming to an end and despite the wet and the cold neither of them wanted it to stop, for the mermaid to become human. Right now just the promise of safety was enough.
When the strumming of the guitar ceased and the rain took over the night again, Johnny cleared his throat. ‘Hello?’ he called out above the cacophony of the elements. A bolt of lightning flashed above them.
A moment later the hatch was pulled back and a man stuck his head out. He was a big, fine-looking man, dark and unshaven, almost bearlike. He shielded his eyes with both hands from the light within to see them better.
‘Hello?’ he replied, stepping out into the cockpit. His T-shirt was dry and pale and the rain darkened it almost immediately in 45-degree stripes across his chest.
They watched him take them in, his expression changing from caution to concern. Johnny realized how desperate they must look. He turned to Clem and in the light from the saloon he saw how her chin was cut and the blood had run down on to her shirt, a mess of red smeared across her chest. She’d lost a shoe and her hands, feet and ankles were covered in grazes. Underneath the wetness and the blood she looked barely more than fifteen years old. He knew that he himself didn’t look much older.
‘Jesus. Are you all right?’ the bear man asked but neither of them could think of anything to say. It seemed quite evident that they were not all right. The man glanced down the quay towards the shore as if there might be more of them. Johnny too looked around him but the bay was deserted, the other boats all empty. Another growl of thunder rumbled across the sky above them.
‘Please,’ the bear man said, gesturing. ‘Come in out of the rain!’ He offered his hand and Johnny passed him the soaked sail bag and turned to Clem. She was unable to move, her limbs locked frozen.
‘It’s all right, love,’ the man said to her, helping her carefully on to the boat, taking her hand in one of his giant paws and her carpet in the other. ‘You’re safe here.’
She looked up at him and suddenly the kindness of a stranger proved too much and the tears spilt freely from her eyes.
‘Come on now,’ he said gently, opening the cockpit door with his foot, putting the soaking sail bag over his shoulder. ‘Get yourselves inside and let’s get you warm.’
Johnny led the way down the companionway steps and stood there dripping water on to the floor of their dry warm boat. A woman, presumably the mermaid, was sitting on the port side of the saloon, a guitar on her lap. Next to her was a young child, not more than four or five years old. She was the spit of her mother but with her father’s dark colouring. Neither of them said anything; their identical unblinking eyes stared at the strangers from underneath their identical skew-whiff fringes. The child’s gaze swung solemnly from Johnny to Clem and down at their bleeding, torn legs.
‘Why’s that lady crying?’ she asked her mother.
‘OK. Bed now, Smudge,’ the woman said, standing up, taking the child’s hand. The girl wriggled free and scurried away from the strange new arrivals into the forepeak, her big, dark eyes peering from behind the door as she slowly closed it.
‘Annie, get the first aid,’ the bear man said to his wife, his voice low and soft. Then he
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