Fangtooth Read Online Free Page A

lock, he thanked
Duncan for his help and walked out of the shop with Jack in tow.
    “You see, there are young people here
too,” Bruce said, indicating the small group by the harbour.
    Jack screwed his face up.
    “Why don’t you go and introduce
yourself?”
    “Are you crazy? They’ll think I’m a sad
case.”
    Bruce shrugged. “Come on then, you can
keep your old man company and get some dinner.”
    Jack pulled his cap down to shield his
eyes and then followed Bruce to the Sheet and Anchor bar.
    Bruce entered first. The interior was
brighter and more appealing than the outside suggested. A real fire roared away
in the hearth. The walls were freshly painted a pale straw colour and there
were plenty of nautical whimsies on the walls, including sharks’ jaws, a ship’s
wheel, an old diving helmet, netting, a harpoon, starfish and shells. The
oblong tables had been covered with glass, underneath which were ancient sea
charts and examples of how to tie knots.
    The barman
cleaning glasses behind the counter looked as though he had stepped right out
of the pages of Moby Dick or Treasure Island . A black patch
covered his left eye, and he had a thick black beard and bushy eyebrows. He
wore a cream coloured fisherman’s sweater and a shark’s tooth dangled from a
chain around his neck.
    “And what can I do
you for?” the barman asked.
     “I’ll have a beer. Jack, what would you
like?”
    “One for me too.”
    “Nice try. He’ll
have a Coke. And one for yourself.”
    “That’s mighty
generous of you. Are you on holiday, or just passing through?”
    “Actually, we’ve just moved here.”
    “I see,” the barman said. “Well, if you
keep buying me drinks, you’re welcome here any time.” He laughed, a deep sound
that reverberated around the empty room. “I’m always open to new neighbours. My
name’s Graham by the way.”
    “Bruce.” He shook Graham’s hand. “Is it
always this quiet?”
    “It picks up in the summer when we get
the fair-weather sailors and the sightseers. ’Bout now’s the quietest it’s been
in ages.”
    Bruce picked up a menu from on the bar
and scanned down the page. Graham scratched his beard. “If you’re after a meal,
we have everything on there but the fish. Seems the boys have had trouble
catching anything of late.”
    “Really?” Bruce arched his eyebrows. “I
would have thought you’d be swimming in fish this close to the sea.
    “It happens now and again. Perhaps
there’s some truth in this fishing story the government’s been spouting–but
don’t let the locals know I said so. Fishing was the lifeblood of this village.
Now even the few tourists we used to get are being poached by the new resort.”
    Bruce looked over the menu, finally
deciding on chicken in a basket. Jack was going through a vegetarian phase, and
he settled for the vegetable lasagne with fries.
    After ordering, Bruce picked up his
drink and walked across and sat at a table in the corner by the window where he
had a view of the harbour. The aged map under the glass on the table was
decorated with sea monsters and faces with puffed out cheeks blowing a gale. As
Bruce set his glass down, he noticed that one of the sea monsters looked
remarkably like the graffiti scrawled on the walls of his house, its long teeth
in the process of taking a chunk out of a boat. He shivered.
    Jack sat staring
through the window at the teenagers by the harbour. Bruce remembered his own
teenage years. He didn’t think he’d been as surly as Jack, but then his father
would cuff him around the ear if he showed any sign of being rude.
    Bruce sipped his beer. He stared out the
window, the top panes of which had circular indents like portholes. A small
boat was heading into the harbour. Bruce watched it slice through the water.
Eventually it disappeared from sight below the wall of the quay.
    Not long after, he saw three figures
climb onto the harbour and head towards the road. All three were dressed in
thick black coats.