12 February 1956
Finished late down by the quay. Cold off the water cutting through the coat.
Stopped in at Carter’s. Had a couple. Maybe three. I was steady enough.
Cut along the yard instead of the road. Quicker that way.
There’s a run of corrugated sheeting along the old storage wall. Been there since before the war. It rattles if the wind catches it.
There was no wind.
Halfway along I heard it going. Not a rattle. More like someone dragging a nail slow across it. A low tremor.
I stopped.
It carried on a second more.
Then nothing.
Could’ve been the tide shifting. Sound carries odd along the water at night. Or a fixing working loose. There’s always something coming slack down there.
I went up and put my palm against the sheet.
Nothing in it. No shake.
It went quiet just then.
Stood there longer than I meant to.
Felt daft after. Likely just the drink.
Set off again and it came once more, same as before. Not loud. Just steady. Running the length of the wall beside me. Keeping pace.
I slowed without meaning to.
It did not.
I kept walking.
Took the main road home.
I’ll not cut through the yard after hours again. No need.