Lucas

I first saw Lucas on a fine afternoon at the end of July last summer. Of course, I didn’t know who he was then … in fact, come to think of it, I didn’t even know what he was. All I could see from the back seat of the car was a green-clad creature padding along the Stand in a shimmering haze of heat; a slight and ragged figure with a mop of straw-blond hair and a way of walking – I smile when I think of it – a way of walking that whispered secrets to the air.
We were on our way back from the mainland. My brother, Dominic, had been staying with friends in Norfolk since finishing his first year at university the month before, and he’d called that morning to let us know he was on his way home. His train was due in at five and he’d asked for a lift back from the station. Now, Dad normally hates being disturbed when he’s writing (which is just about all the time), and he also hates having to go anywhere, but despite the usual sighs and moans – why can’t the boy get a taxi? … what’s wrong with the damn bus? – I could tell by the sparkle in his eyes that he was really looking forward to seeing Dominic again. It wasn’t that Dad was unhappy spending all of his time with me, but with Dom away at university I think he felt there was something missing from his life.