Last Tango in Aberystwyth

'Wait for it now,' she whispered.

We stared out, holding our breath, waiting and watching for I knew not what, the lighthouse the only point of focus in the darkness. And then it happened.

'Oooh! Here we go,' hissed Marty's mum.

Something happened to the light from the lighthouse. Something that I had seen only once before in my life, that I struggled to find words for, seen once many moons ago at a meeting of children whose purpose was now lost to me. A shadow temporarily obscured the light, like a cloud sliding across the face of the moon. And then it passed and was followed by another smaller shadow. And then a bigger one. Marty's mum nudged me and pointed further to the south where the object that had temporarily eclipsed the sun of the lighthouse threw a shadow, one huge and measured in miles across the face of the darkened hills and all at once I realised in astonishment what it was. It was a bunny.

'It's Mr Cefnmabws,' explained Marty's mum in a hushed voice. 'The lighthouse keeper. He's a dissident.'

The county-sized rabbit waggled its ears across the benighted hamlets above Llanfarian, and for a moment I was transported back to my seventh birthday party where a conjuror had done a similar thing with the shadow of his hand on the kitchen wall.

'What's it all about?' I asked in disbelief, as the rabbit was joined by three others who chased it.

'It's his way of publishing the truth,' she said. 'About the death of Mrs Cefnmabws on Pumlumon.'

A shadow-chase ensued across the hills south towards Llanrhystud.

'He had a printing-press and a radio station but they closed it down. This is his only way.'

The three rabbits caught up with the first and started beating him. Then the shadows disappeared and the light returned to its usual steady blinking.

'That's your lot for tonight, he'll be on again tomorrow. Doesn't do it for long in case someone notices.'

We stayed there staring out into the night even though Mr Cefnmabws's passion play had ended.

'What's he trying to say?'

'He wants an inquiry, doesn't he? He wants them to ask Mrs Bligh-Jones the question, the one they dare not ask.'

*

The caravans were strung out like plastic diamonds on the cheap necklace of the River Rheidol. I sat in the car for a while, listening to the radio, and waited for her to go to whichever caravan she lived in. And then I waited some more and got out.

Dew was forming on the bonnet of the car and the town was asleep. I walked up to her trailer and a man appeared out of the shadows in a way that suggested he had been watching me.

'Do you want something, mate?'

I looked at him. He didn't look the type to be accosting strangers at this time of night. He looked about sixty, with a scared face and old, tired eyes.

'What's it to you?'

'I'm the security. You don't live here, what do you want?'

I walked up to the caravan and knocked. 'Just visiting a friend.'

'Miss Judy doesn't accept visitors after midnight.'

'That's funny, last time I came here you said you hadn't seen her for weeks. Why don't you shove off home before you get hurt.'

The man reached out to grab my coat and I shoved him back viciously. 'Look, old man, whatever they're paying you, it's not worth it.'

The door opened and Judy Juice stood there in a silk dressing-gown.

'What's going on?'

'Someone snooping, Miss Judy.'

I turned to Judy Juice. 'Sorry to trouble you, miss, but I was wondering if I could talk to you about Dean Morgan —'

Her eyes flashed scorn. 'Do you know what time it is?'

'Yes I'm sorry, miss, but it really is important. Someone's life could depend on it ...'

She narrowed her eyes and considered me. 'Cops?'

I shook my head, said, 'Private investigator,' and held out a card.

She took it and read and then looked at me again, this time with a sense of recognition. 'You're the guy with the little girl.'

I nodded.

'It's OK, Lester. Thanks.' Then she pulled open the door and let me in.

The place had a cloying, sour smell of unwashed bedclothes and not enough air and what little air there was had been burned up by the camping-gas stove. The floor was littered with discarded clothes and so many foil take-away trays they were ankle-deep like silver ingots on the floor of a vault. On one wall was a makeshift dressing-table before a mirror with a halo of light bulbs set around it. And at the far end a three-piece suite was angled into the space beneath the big window. She waded through the silver sea of ingots and sat on the sofa and poured herself a gin with a shaking hand and drunk it in one go. She didn't offer me one. I sat down opposite her.

She took a deep drag on a cigarette and screwed up her eyes with what might have been pleasure.

'Was he a friend of yours?'

'No. I've been hired to find him.'

'But you said no cops, right?'

'No cops.'

'I'm sick of cops. They either want to lock you up or fuck you up.'

'Usually both.'

'What makes you come here?'

'The Dean used to have one of your fudge-box tops — he lit a candle to it every night.'

She refilled the gin glass, took a violent swig, and a drag on her cigarette. 'Yeah, he was sweet like that.' She took another life-saving drag. 'Is he dead?'

'Not as far as I know.'

'Well, there's not much I can tell you. I haven't seen him for weeks. Met him at the Heritage Museum. I was spinning and he got the part as the coracle man for a while. But he didn't stay long, they never do. He was different from the others, though. I wondered what he was doing there, and then I realised it was because of me. I meet plenty of guys like that.'

'Anything going on between you two?'

She looked slightly puzzled for a second and then let out a laugh. 'Me and him?! Are you nuts?! What do I want with a man?'

I waited while she refilled the gin glass and then lit another cigarette. Between puffs she asked me, 'Is it true he was a professor?'

'Yes, he was.'

'I'd rustle something up from the fridge for you but they took it away.'

'We could go out, if you're hungry.'

'I haven't got the energy to dress, but thanks anyway.'

'I could get a take-away. Chinese.'

She smiled. 'You worked out I like Chinese food all on your own?'

'It was a hunch.'

I returned to the trailer half an hour later laden with a set meal for two that was so good the girl at the take-away assured me even a real Chinese person might have eaten it. Judy Juice peeled away the lids and threw them on the floor. Then she picked up a knife with a 'Come to Sunny Aberystwyth' handle and used it to scrape the rice on to some plates.

'The girl at the Chinese knows you, says you eat there every day.'

'It's all I eat. You ever been there?'

'The take-away?'

'No, China.'

'Do I look like I can afford to go to China?'

'How would I know how much it costs? Someone told me the other day, when they open this tunnel to France you'll be able to get a train all the way from Aberystwyth to Peking. Is that right?'

'As far as I know.'

She nodded, somehow relieved. 'One day I'll go there; get on that night train to Shrewsbury and never get off. Yes sir!' The bright look faded and she said, 'You know, some other guy came asking about the Dean.'

'Was he wearing a Peacocks' coat?'

'I wouldn't know where he bought it, but it was long and black and he was a bit creepy. He wasn't sweet like you so I told him to sling his hook.'

'What did he want?'

'Oh, you know, asking about the Dean and when I last saw him. And then he said the Dean had taken a case that belonged to him and asked me for it. And I said why would I have it, and he said he knew the Dean had left it here. I said shows you how much you know, buster, and then he said, "Don't give me the runaround, you tart." So I called Lester the guard here and he threw him out. Lester looks out for me because I get quite a few cranks turning up.'