Read Online The Salt Marsh by Clare Carson - Free Book Online Page A

hand out at the last moment and caught it, cradled the vial in his palm.
    â€˜How do you contact Allin?’ she asked.
    â€˜He comes and he goes. I can’t always command it. Like a signal, an interference in my mind. Sometimes his voice is flaky and I can’t tell what he’s after. Sometimes it’s clear. Insistent. When people are in trouble of some kind or another...’ He stretched out an arm, selected a white tern’s wing from the avian ossuary on the crate, fanned it in front of his face, scrutinized her through the wafting grey vapour. ‘Do you want me to see if I can contact him for you?’
    She folded her legs up in the chair, feet on seat. ‘No thanks. I’m fine.’
    She grabbed her mug of tea, slurped, swished the tepid liquid around her mouth, swallowed, conscious of the noises she was making.
    â€˜You’ve lost something,’ he said. ‘I can sense it.’
    She shook her head, alarmed at his clairvoyance.
    â€˜Seriously. Maybe I can help. What are you searching for?’
    She squirmed around in the chair, tried not to watch the white wing fluttering, and then she thought, why not give it a go. Perhaps he could help.
    â€˜A person actually.’
    â€˜Oh? Who?’
    â€˜Luke. My boyfriend. I was supposed to meet him down here this evening and he hasn’t materialized.’
    â€˜Luke. The guy who organized the meetings?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜He’s your boyfriend?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜You were supposed to be meeting him this evening?’
    â€˜Yes. We were going to drive down together but then something came up.’
    â€˜Drive? Did he drive down alone then?’
    â€˜Yes.’ His questions irritated her, she couldn’t see the need for his tone of surprise. ‘He drove down this morning. I was going to meet him on the beach at six, but he didn’t turn up. Misunderstanding, I think.’
    â€˜Misunderstanding, yeah, must have been.’
    He sounded wary now. Uncomfortable. He thought she’d been stood up, she was sure. She wanted to correct him, let him know it was nothing like that. ‘We missed each other. He must have had a different meeting place in mind.’ She was annoyed with herself for blurting, her voice cracked with emotion.
    â€˜A different meeting place,’ he repeated. ‘Of course. Let me see if Allin can help.’
    He took a deep breath, flicked the white wing in front of his face in rhythmic sweeps, stared at her through the feathers, mumbled, ‘He’s not on the beach. He is somewhere else.’
    â€˜Sorry?’
    â€˜He’s in another place.’ He paused. Flicked the wing. ‘I can see a boat.’
    Her stomach tightened, her eyes caught his; all pupil, no iris.
    â€˜A boat?’ she demanded. ‘Where?’
    He fanned the wing again, stalled, looked embarrassed. She wondered whether Allin had let him down this time, failed to deliver any useful information.
    â€˜On the flatland.’ He whispered the words.
    â€˜The flatland? The marsh?’ A starburst flashed in her head, she shouted, ‘The Lookers’ Hut.’
    Obvious. Now she understood. The Lookers’ Hut on Romney Marsh, that’s what Luke meant when he said they should meet at the usual place. Not the beach.
    â€˜I can taste saltwater,’ he said.
    She wasn’t listening, eager to leave and drive to their secret camping spot, filled with a certainty Luke was waiting for her there. Alastair replaced the wing among his table-top mortuary, carefully avoided her eye.
    â€˜Did that help?’
    â€˜Well, you confirmed what I half knew anyway.’
    He smiled, seemingly relieved by her answer.
    â€˜Sure. Communicating with the spirits is almost a way of accessing the subconscious. Our sixth sense. Things we instinctively know to be true but can’t trust ourselves to believe.’
    She couldn’t be bothered with any more dope-fuelled