‘That’s better.’ I had an urge to talk. All this silence was depressing me. ‘I must apologise for my colleague Simon. He was very rude to you earlier.’
Andrew shrugged. ‘We’re used to it.’
I swirled the brandy around the bottom of my paper cup. ‘I’m puzzled. Are you part of some larger organisation or group? How do you know each other?’
‘We don’t have an organisation,’ said Andrew. He spat the last word like it tasted foul. ‘It’s too dangerous. It would be so easy for the government to monitor us.’
‘The Government?’
‘Yes, they—’
‘Richard might think we’re a little paranoid,’ Marie interjected.
‘Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.’
My joke sputtered and died in the night air.
Marie said, ‘We met online.’
‘That’s how I know these guys,’ said Pete. ‘There’s a huge network of believers all over the world.’
I said, ‘And you came all the way from . . .’
‘Portland.’
‘You came all the way from Oregon for this?’
‘Oh no. I was in Europe anyway, staying with other people that I’d met online, in France. There have been a couple of really interesting sightings in Normandy. When I heard about the Hastings lights I thought I’d take a look and caught the Eurostar over. It’s what I do. I travel all over the world. Chasing UFOs.’
‘And how many have you seen?’
‘Um . . . none yet.’
‘None?’
He laughed. ‘People call me The Jinx. I’ve been everywhere – Roswell, South America, Japan, all over Europe . . . Not a single sighting. People say that if there was ever a threat of hostile alien invasion they’d just have to stand me on top of a mountain and the aliens wouldn’t show.’ He scratched his beard. ‘Not that that would happen, of course. Hostile aliens. That’s a crazy idea. But I know they’re out there. One day I’m going to make contact.’
‘I would have given up by now. What about you two?’ I said, addressing Marie and Andrew. They looked sheepish. ‘What, you’ve never seen a UFO either?’
‘Well . . . no,’ Andrew.
‘But how can you believe in something you’ve never seen or had any experience of?’
Marie said, ‘Millions of people believe in an entity they’ve never seen. They call it God.’
‘I know, but . . .’
‘You either believe or you don’t,’ Andrew said tersely. ‘And besides, we’ve spoken to them. Now let’s just watch, shall we?’
I drank some more brandy. I felt a little sorry for them. They were so desperate. And I could imagine how jealous they must have been of Fraser who, ironically, looked like seeing a UFO was the last thing he’d ever wanted. After downing half the bottle of brandy, Fraser had crawled into his tent and fallen asleep. I could hear him snoring.
Pete fell asleep too, sitting upright in his chair, mouth hanging open.
Marie stayed awake, looking upwards calmly, while Andrew peered intently at the sky, his jaw muscles clenched. I could sense him willing the heavens to produce something inexplicable. I found myself wishing for it too, if only for his and Marie’s sake.
We were disappointed.
As the sun rose, the sky turning violet then blue, we packed up. We rolled up the tents and Andrew and Pete loaded their rucksacks. I helped them carry their equipment down the hill.
‘I’m sorry we didn’t see anything,’ Andrew said. He seemed chastened by the aliens’ no-show. ‘But thank you for joining us.’
‘Maybe you’ll have more luck next time. Are you going to try again tonight?’
Andrew shook his head. ‘Fraser’s going to keep a lookout while he’s working. If there are any more sightings he’ll let us know.’
They headed off in the opposite direction to me, along the seafront. The town was eerily quiet. No cars or people, just a few large seagulls pecking at discarded chip wrappers.
I watched them retreat along the promenade. I had wanted to ask Marie for her phone number, but I felt too awkward with the others standing there. The whole night had been like that. I’d yearned for an opportunity to talk to her on her own, but the three men stuck to her like they were her bodyguards.
When she said goodbye she had raised her hand, smiled at me and fixed me with a look that I was sure was full of meaning.
Kicking myself for being too passive, I set off up the hill. I didn’t expect to see any of them again.
3
Two weeks passed. Simon’s piece appeared on page seven of the Herald, with my photograph of Pete and Andrew (caption: Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft), but we had heard nothing more about UFOs or impending alien contact. We received one crank letter, scribbled in green ink, in which a man recounted in great detail a sexual encounter with ‘a beautiful, golden-skinned lady alien with two mouths’, which we had pinned on the notice board in the office. And a woman phoned to say she had seen what she thought were alien craft while out walking her dogs on the West Hill. She saw white globes hovering over the sea. On closer inspection they turned out to be street lamps.
That afternoon – the day when everything began to happen – had been, as Simon put it, ‘shit’. We had been called out to the scene of a house fire where two primary school age girls and their dad were trapped. The fire was still blazing when we got there, two fire engines sending great arcs of water into the flames. The heat coming from the building was indescribable. Eventually, the fire crew got the better of the elements and went into the house. A little while later I watched in horror as they carried out three bodies: two small, one my size. I could smell their charred flesh.
Back home, afterwards, I couldn’t get the images of the dead girls out of my head. I lay in the bath and scrubbed myself, my face, my hair. I felt unclean and irrationally guilty. I had wished for this. I had wanted excitement.
I sank beneath the water. When I surfaced the telephone was ringing. I didn’t want to answer it, but the caller was insistent.
Cursing, I climbed out of the bath and wrapped a towel around me.
It was Simon.
‘I feel like I’m in shock,’ he said. ‘Even though I didn’t know them. And I’m going to have to write about it. Two children died in a tragic fire in their home . . .’
‘Did you phone to make me feel worse?’ I asked.