Where the manuscript was blank, I had defined my future.
24
There was one last island before Jethra: a high, grim place called Seevl, approached at evening. All I knew of Seevl was that Seri told me she had been born there, that it was the closest island to Jethra. Our call in Seevl seemed unusually long: a lot of people disembarked and a considerable quantity of cargo was loaded. I paced the deck impatiently, wanting to finish my long journey.
Night fell while we were in Seevl Town, but once we had left the confined harbour and rounded a dark, humping headland, I could see the lights of an immense city on the low coastline ahead. The wind was cold and there was a considerable ground swell.
The ship was quiet; I was one of the few passengers aboard.
Then someone came and stood behind me, and without turning I knew who it was.
Seri said: 'Why did you run away from me?'
'I wanted to go home.'
She slipped lien hand around my arm and pressed herself against me. She was shivering.
'Are you angry with me for following you?'
'No, of course not.' I put my arm around her, kissed her on the side of her cold face. She was wearing a thin blouson over her shirt. 'How did you find me?'
'I got to Seevl. All the ships for Jethra stop there. It was just a question of waiting for the right one to come.'
'But why did you follow?'
'I want to be with you. I don't want you to be in Jethra.'
'It's not Jethra I'm going to.'
'Yes it is. Don't delude yourself.'
The city lights were nearer now, sharply visible over the blackly heaving swell. The clouds above were a dark and smudgy orange, reflecting the glow. Behind us, the few islands still in sight were indistinct, neutral shapes. I felt them slipping away from me, a release from the psyche.
'This is where I live,' I said. 'I don't belong in the islands.'
'But you've become a part of them. You can't just put them behind you.'
'That's all I _can_ do.'
'Then you'll leave me too.'
'I had already made that decision. I didn't want you to follow.' She released my arm and moved away. I went after her and held her again. I tried to kiss her, but she turned her face away. 'Seri, don't make it more difficult. I've got to go back to where I came from.'
'It won't be what you expect. You'll find yourself in Jethra, and that's not what you're looking for.'
'I know what I'm doing.' I thought of the emphatic nature of the manuscript: the inarguable blankness of what was to come.
The ship had hove to a long way from the entrance to the harbour. A pilot cutter was coming out, black against the city-bright sea.
'Peter, please don't go on with this.'
'There's someone I'm trying to find.'
'Who is it?'
'You've read the manuscript,' I said. 'Her name is Gracia.'
'Please stop. You're going to hurt yourself. You mustn't believe anything written in that manuscript. You said at the clinic that you understood, that everything it said was a kind of fiction. Gracia doesn't exist, London doesn't exist. You imagined it all.'
'You were with me in London once,' I said. 'You were jealous of Gracia then, you said she upset you.'
'I've never been out of the islands!' She glanced at the glowing city, and the hair flattened across her eyes. 'I've never even been there, to Jethra.'
'I was living with Gracia, and you were there too.'
'Peter, we met in Muriseay, when I was working for the Lotterie.'
'No . . . I can remember everything now,' I said.
She faced me, and I sensed something new. 'If that was so, you wouldn't be looking for Gracia. You know the truth is that Gracia's dead! She killed herself two years ago, when you had a row, before you went away to write your manuscript. When she died you couldn't admit it was your fault. You felt guilty, you were unhappy ... all right. But you mustn't believe that she's still alive, just because your manuscript says so.'
Her words shocked me; I could feel the earnestness in her.
'How do you know this?' I said.
'Because you told me in Muriseay. Before we left for Collago.'
'But that's the period I can't remember. It's not in the manuscript.'
