“Daddy,” Flora said, “what’s going on? Why is Martin here?”
“You can put me down now. Thank you, Richard,” Gil said, and he made his way towards the sea. “Martin,” he called.
“How are you doing?” Martin didn’t come forwards, and Flora saw that he held a rope in one hand and behind him a boat was lodged in the sand.
“Who’s Martin?” Richard said to Flora.
“Shit,” Flora said, under her breath. “I knew it wouldn’t be a simple trip to the beach.” She went forwards to help her father. Gil and Martin shook hands.
“Your shiner’s coming along well,” Martin said. “Nice to see you on the beach. Not too choppy, good day to go out on the water.”
“You got the boat, then, and the bird?” Gil peered behind his friend.
“Couldn’t get a rubber dinghy or a motor, but I thought a nice little rowing boat would be fine. This young man looks like he’s got some muscle on him.” Martin raised and bent his own arm, clenched his fist, and laughed. His bicep didn’t get any bigger. “We could have managed it ourselves once upon a time, eh?” Martin said, slapping Gil on the shoulder.
“But you got the bird?” Gil asked again, staring at Martin over the top of his sunglasses. “There’s no point in having the boat without the bird.”
Martin stood back to reveal a small skiff, a knocked-about blue with two benches inside and a rill of dirty water slopping about in the bottom. It would have been big enough for three if it weren’t for a small wire cage jammed in the bow. Inside, a cockerel jerked its head, staring at them with one beady eye and then the other, its wattle swaying.
“Daddy,” Flora said, “what is this? I thought we were bringing you to look at the sea.”
“I’m going out on the water,” Gil said. “I’m not sure Martin’s up for the rowing, so it’ll have to be one of you two.”
“But the chicken?” Richard said.
“Cockerel,” Martin said.
“It’s a little trick Flora’s mother told me about,” Gil said. “A long time ago . . . well, not so long ago.” He stepped forwards into the water beside the boat, his trouser bottoms turning a darker grey. “Hold it steady, Martin.” Gil lifted one shaky leg and the cockerel croaked in the back of its throat.
“Wait, Daddy, wait,” Flora said. She dropped the folding chair, flung the blanket and cushion into the skiff, and moved to her father. “Richard,” she said, “come and help.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, but he stood beside the old man, put an arm around his chest, and lowered a shoulder for Gil to lean on. Flora and Richard manoeuvred his limbs like those of a stiff-jointed doll until they got him sitting on the bench in the stern, opposite the cockerel. Gil clung on to the side with his good arm and caught his breath, his sun hat knocked off and hanging down his back. The others stood on the beach, undecided, while the bird watched.
“What is going on, Martin?” Flora said in a low voice.
“Don’t ask me. You know what Gil’s like. He wanted me to meet him here this afternoon with a boat and a cockerel. It took some getting, I can tell you. I had to pay twenty pounds just to borrow the bird for the afternoon from a farmer over near Sydenham. He’d better not come home with a single feather ruffled or I’ll be done for.”
“So one of us has to row him? But where to?” Flora looked at the sea. A couple of yachts were moored far out, and the silhouette of a container ship sat low and motionless on the horizon.
“He always liked a bit of an adventure,” Martin said. “God, we used to get up to some stuff around the village, you wouldn’t believe.” He seemed about to go on to give an example and then changed his mind. “Look, the man is dying.” His voice was quiet, and the three of them glanced at Gil, who sat with his head pushed forwards on his scrawny neck, staring at the cockerel, which was eyeing him back. “Take him out on a little row around the bay and home again. That’s all he wants. So what if he’s taking a cockerel with him. People have asked for stranger things.” He didn’t give an example of these, either.
“You go,” Richard said to Flora. “It would be good for you to spend some more time alone with him.”
“There’s enough room for us both.” Although she wasn’t sure there was, with the cockerel’s cage.
“I’ll wait with Martin.”