“First love,” Jago commented. “It’s brutal.”
“They were both too young,” Angarrack said. “Not even seventeen when they met, and I don’t know how old when they began…” He made a gesture with his hand to indicate they were to complete the sentence.
“Became lovers,” Bea said.
“It’s not love at that age,” Angarrack told her. “Not for boys. But for her? Stars in the eyes and cotton wool in the head. Santo this and Santo that. I wish I could have done something to prevent it.”
“Way of the world, Lew.” Jago leaned against the doorway to the glassing room, mug in his hand.
“I didn’t forbid her seeing him,” Angarrack went on. “What would have been the point? But I told her to have a care.”
“As to what?”
“The obvious. Bad enough she wasn’t competing any longer. Even worse if she came up pregnant. Or worse than that.”
“Worse?”
“Diseased.”
“Ah. Sounds as if you thought the boy was promiscuous.”
“I didn’t know what the hell he was. And I didn’t want to find out by means of Madlyn being in some sort of trouble. Any sort of trouble. So I warned her and then I let it be.” Angarrack had not yet taken up his mug, but he did so now and he took a gulp. “That was probably my mistake,” he said.
“Why? Did she?”
“She would’ve got over him faster when things ended. As it is, she hasn’t.”
“I daresay she will now,” Bea said.
The two men exchanged looks. Quick, nearly furtive. Bea noted this and made two more mental ticks against them. She said, “We found a T-shirt design for LiquidEarth on Santo’s computer.” Constable McNulty brought the drawing forth and passed it over to the surfboard shaper. “Was that at your request?” Bea asked.
Angarrack shook his head. “When Madlyn finished with Santo, I finished with Santo as well. He might have been doing a design to pay for the new board?”
“Another board?”
“He’d got way beyond the first. He needed another, beyond the learning board, if he was going to improve. But once I sacked him, he had no way to pay me back for the board. This might have been it.” He handed the design back to McNulty.
Bea said to the constable, “Show him the other,” and McNulty brought forth the design for Commit an Act of Subversion and handed it over. Lew looked at it and shook his head. He passed it on to Jago who knuckled his spectacles into place, read the logo, and said, “Will Mendick. This was for him.”
“The bloke from Clean Barrel Surf Shop,” Bea said.
“Used to be. He works at Blue Star Grocery now.”
“What’s the significance of the design?”
“He’s freegan. Least that’s what Santo said he calls himself.”
“Freegan? I’ve not heard that term.”
“Only eats what’s free. Clobber he grows’s well as muck from wheelie bins behind the market and in back of restaurants.”
“How appealing. Is this a movement or something like?”
Jago shrugged. “Don’t know, do I. But he and Santo were mates, more or less, so it might’ve been a favour. The T-shirt, that is.”
Bea was gratified to hear the sound of Constable McNulty jotting all of this down instead of studying the nearby surfing posters. She was less gratified when he suddenly said to Jago, “Ever see the big waves?” He’d coloured as he spoke, as if he knew he was out of order but could no longer contain himself.
“Oh, aye. Ke Iki. Waimea. Jaws. Teahupoo.”
“Big as they say?”
“Depends on the weather,” Jago said. “Big as office blocks sometimes. Bigger.”
“Where? When?” And then apologetically to Bea, “I mean to go, you see. The wife and I and the kids…It’s a dream…And when we go, I want to be sure of the place and the waves…you know.”
“Surf then, do you?” Jago asked.
“Bit. Not like you lot. But I?”
“That’ll do, Constable,” Bea told McNulty.