Hammerport

‘My?’

‘I’m supposed to be the strong one here,’ Tom said with a constipated smile. ‘It’s your life that was dashed against the rocks, not mine. Look at me. Perfect health. With a beautiful eye for terrible cardigans.’

Colin pulled a bit closer to Tom. ‘Rrrreally, ‘sokay. I wuh-wuh-wanna help. Paaayback. You jus’ name.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Whasss problem?’

‘Did you watch the news recently? Oh no, of course you didn’t. Silly me. You wouldn’t have known. There was this American tourist you see…’

Colin knew immediately. ‘Missshell Norf.’

‘Yes,’ Tom said, turning to face Colin, puzzled.

‘I ssssaw pick-pick-ture in Metro. I… rrrremembered. You talk… long time.’ The effort to get these words out was grinding him down. Exhaustion was creeping up on him. He wanted to go back to the multi-coloured jigsaw; it was more restful than this.

Tom smiled. ‘Actually she did most of the talking. She preferred to be called Mizzy. She was a strange girl. Happy and blessed with opportunity, but unable to deal with success. I’m glad you remember. I saw you skulking about at the back.’

Colin felt aggrieved. ‘Not sssspying. No, no. My firssst week an’ an’ wun’ned to ssssee-‘

Tom grabbed Colin around elbows, almost restraining him. ‘Colin, Colin, don’t get so agitated. I’m not trying to attack you. I’m your friend. Always remember that. Calm down.’

Colin nodded but shook out of Tom’s grip; touching was uninvited and unwelcome. ‘Whassit? Wha’ you… wan? Fr-fr-frrrrom me?’ His mouth was the wrong shape for every syllable and consonant, mutating them into grunts and slurrs. He wanted Tom to get to the bollocking point.

‘I went to see the police. They… they don’t have a clue. She died in a bad way. They did not tell me the truth. She deserved better. She had come unstuck in her own life, drowned by events of – of her own making. She had such pretty eyes that looked so sad. She was-‘

‘Tom!’ The point, get to the bloody point.

The reverend couldn’t quite look into Colin’s eyes as he made his request, his gaze fixated on Colin’s neck instead: ‘The police won’t do it. So I want you to. I want you to find out who did it. She deserves that.’

Colin saw the deep honesty in the young reverend’s eyes and was compelled. Even though what Tom was asking was huge, Colin was overwhelmed with a sense of duty. He waved his arms towards his chest, imploring the reverend for information. ‘Al-rrright. Tell. Tell meeee. All.’

Tom began to tell Mizzy’s story. When Tom was finished, dawn was piercing the skin of the horizon.