Itinerant Child

by Sarah Osborne

  She turned her head slightly as the became aware of his scrutiny. “What?”

  He shrugged and took another bite of the boring pie. “Just thinking how beautiful you are.”

  She pulled a face and turned back to admire the view. “I love it here.”

  “I know.” He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

  She fell silent again. Nitro swallowed the last of the pie and washed it down with his soda. Then, taking a deep breath, he took her hand. “I want to tell you what happened the day I got shot.” He smiled as she turned to look at him. “Well, I don't want to, but you deserve to know the truth. An' I'd rather lose you than keep on hurting you.”

  Mouse opened her bottle of juice and took a swallow. “Do you think you will lose me?”

  He shrugged. “I dunno. I hope not.” Nitro brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “I guess that'll be down to you.”

  She turned her body towards him and looked into his eyes. “I love you, Nitro. I don't see that changing.”

  “It might when you've heard what I have to say.”

  Mouse leaned forward and kissed him. “I'm listening.”

  He told her everything.

  Mouse didn't interrupt as he told her of Vince's lies, or of the events leading up to Tiny's death. Her hand remained in his as he explained why he'd agreed to do as he'd been asked. And as he told her about that terrible moment when it had all gone wrong, she remained silent.

  Then she kissed him and stood up. “I'm going to go for a walk. I won’t be long.”

  “Mouse...”

  “I'm coming back, Nitro.” She smiled and laid her hand on his cheek. “Just need some time alone to put my thoughts in order.”

  ~oOo~

  A short walk from where they'd been sitting were some steps leading down to a small, secluded cove. It had been fenced off many years previously, after a storm had washed part of the steps away, but it was still accessible, and if she hadn't thought it too difficult for Nitro, it would've been where she'd taken them to eat.

  Mouse climbed over the fence, and made her way carefully down the steep steps to the rocky beach. Undisturbed by tourists, and with only the sound of the gulls and waves crashing against the rocks, she sat on the bottom step and tried to analyse her thoughts.

  There was no shock or outrage at what he'd done. There were more than a couple of books in his bookcase that had indicated that he had more than a passing interest in explosives, and his recent behaviour confirmed his guilt for killing that guy. Nitro wasn't a killer, and what he'd done was self-defence. His revelation had also, weirdly, eased some of her concerns about the club. Nitro could have walked away, but he hadn't. Not because he was under pressure from the club, but because he saw it as a way of righting a wrong—or at least, drawing a line under what had happened. Mouse understood, now, that the club wasn't the big, threatening mindless animal she'd thought it was, but a group of individuals who were drawn together for a myriad of different reasons. Some were good, and acted out of altruism, and others only acted out of greed.

  Nitro was a good man who sometimes did bad things. But he tried to do them for the right reasons. She still wasn't sure whether the club was the best place for him, but the decision to walk away would be his, not hers.

  What had surprised her the most was her own reaction to what he'd said. If she'd been an outsider, looking in, she would have expected her reaction to be one of shock and anger, but instead, all she'd felt was relief. Maybe that made her self-centred, but if it did, she didn't care. All Mouse knew was that the realisation that his behaviour wasn't because he couldn't love her had silenced her inner bitch, once and for all.

  Nitro really did love her. And he trusted her enough to share his darkest secrets.

  Mouse stood and made her way back up the steps to where her man was waiting.

  He was sitting with his legs outstretched, and looked, to the untrained eye, relaxed. But as he turned to watch her approach, she could see how tense he was. She smiled and held out her hand. “Ready to go?”

  He shook his head and patted the seat next to him. “Sit awhile.”

  Mouse sat and rested her hand on his thigh. “What's on your mind, biker boy?”

  Nitro laughed and planted a kiss on her temple. “Not much. We okay?”

  “Yeah.” She leaned against him and watched as a cormorant dived down under the waves. “Although I do need another wee.”

  29

  Mouse stared at the hospital doors. “I can't do this, Nitro.”

  “Yes, you can.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “You wanna see our kid, don't you?”

  She shook her head. “I'll see it when it's born. Please, can we just go?”

  Nitro sighed. “You need to get past this. What if he gets sick? You just gonna let him suffer cus you're too scared to take him to hospital?”

  “He might be a she.”

  “Well we won’t know if you don't have a scan.”

  “We won’t know anyway. This is just to give us a due date. And we already know that.” She turned and tried to walk away, but Nitro kept a firm grip on her hand. “Don't make me do this.”

  He didn't want to force her, but Mouse really was going to have to deal with this. “Fine, okay. Go an' sit on that bench over there while I go in an' explain why you're not gonna show.” He bent and kissed her. “But we are gonna get to the bottom of why these places freak you out so much.”

  If he'd learned anything over the past few weeks, it was that bottling shit up was unhealthy. Since sharing his load with Mouse, things had improved beyond his expectations. He still felt guilty, and if he was honest, felt undeserving of his patch—a fraud, somehow—but most of the time, he felt like his old self, and when he felt himself slipping back, his little punk was there to hold him together.

  They'd talked a lot. Some of the stuff she'd told him, he'd rather not have heard, but at least now he understood why she had trust issues. He was also gonna find the care worker who'd come into her room at night and ensure that he never touched another kid again. And her ex... Well, he'd already killed once, he reckoned a second time would be easier.

  He was still kind of worried about her, though. She might've agreed to have his kid, but she didn't seem even slightly excited about the prospect—in fact terrified would be a better way to describe it—and she refused to discuss the reason for her fear. And then there was the whole hospital thing. Mouse insisted that she didn't know why she was so afraid of them—she was cool with seeing a doctor, and didn't even mind going to the dentist. It was the buildings themselves that triggered the panic attacks, and no amount of cajoling could get her to search out the reason why.

  Nitro watched as she hurried away, then headed inside to apologise for her missing another appointment. They would get to the bottom of this.

  ~oOo~

  Mouse sat on the bench and tried to slow her breathing. Nitro was right, she really had to get a handle on this, but she didn't know where to start, and she was kind of scared to try.

  One thing she was sure of, though, was that he'd be with her, every step of the way.

  Since that day, when they'd sat on the top of that cliff, there had been a seismic shift in their relationship. That he'd trusted her enough to tell her that shit was astonishing. Mouse wasn't stupid; she knew that if the club found out, he would lose more than his patch. But she also knew that he'd needed to tell her, and that if he hadn't, their relationship would've failed.

  They were more open with each other now. Although it had always been her who was holding stuff back; Nitro was the open one. He still drove her nuts—still ploughed ahead with shit despite any misgivings she might have—but at least now he knew why she freaked out about shit sometimes.

  She looked up as Nitro sat next to her. “Are they pissed off?”

  He shook his head and handed her a leaflet. “It's a private clinic—not a hospital. You can have your scan there.”

  “Is it expensive?” Money
, or the lack of it, was becoming a real issue.

  “I'll do the Rotterdam run. That'll cover it.”

  “I dunno, Nitro. I don't want you getting arrested.”

  “Me neither.” He grinned, and that place, low in her stomach, fluttered. “It'll be cool, punk. All you gotta do is relax an' let me take care of everything.”

  “You shouldn't have to.” Mouse was having trouble adjusting to the idea of living in the 'real world'. There were bills to pay, and things to buy. She was going to have a kid, and neither of them had a regular income—hell, she had no income at all. “If we moved to Bath...”

  “Not gonna happen, Mouse. We're gonna have a house with running water and electricity.” He kissed her, and stood up. “Trust me, everything will come together. You just gotta have a little faith.”

  They were going to have to come up with something fast. She hadn't officially moved into his place, and on the nights he worked at the scrap yard, she'd sleep at Hope Farm. Nitro was making some money tattooing, but he hadn't got a regular spot in any parlours. And although he'd been paid well for the business he'd done in the States, most of that had gone on a new bike. Even if he increased the amount of runs he did, and by some miracle, Mouse found someone who'd employ her, they would struggle to find anywhere they could afford.

  Mouse stood and slipped her hand into his. “You know I don't care where we live.”

  Nitro squeezed her hand. “No, but I do. We ain't living in a teepee.”

  As they walked back to his bike, Mouse's free hand touched her belly as she tried to summon up some enthusiasm for her impending parenthood. In six months, they were going to be responsible for another life, and to say she was scared would be a understatement.

  Nitro looked down at her hand and smiled. “It'll be okay, Mouse.”

  “Will it?” She shook her head. “What if I can't love it? I'm not good at loving things.”

  “You love me.”

  She did. “Yeah, but you bullied me into it.”

  “I won you over with my devastating good looks, charm and charisma.” He grinned. “And my enormous cock.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You're a twat, biker boy.”

  “I'm a charming, good looking, well endowed twat. Get it right, punk.”

  He really was. Mouse reached up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I really do love you.”

  “I know. It's hard not to.” He pulled her into his arms. “An' I love you too.”

  ~oOo~

  They hadn't planned to go to Bath, but it was a nice day, and Nitro's new Fatboy was the sweetest ride, so when Mouse had suggested it, he'd not argued.

  His shoulder was almost as good as new. He still had the occasional twinge, and sometimes after long rides, he'd get pins and needles, but it wasn't enough to worry him, and certainly not enough to stop him riding. Aches and pains were nothing new to Nitro; he'd never let them stop him before, and had no intention of letting them stop him now. And as they'd ripped up the country lanes, he knew that every twinge was worth it.

  As they passed through a village about five miles from Hope Farm, Mouse tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to a lane on their right. It didn't seem to lead anywhere, but he did as she'd requested, and rode slowly up the steep hill, until the lane petered out at the entrance of a small church. As soon as he'd killed the engine, Mouse dismounted and handed him her helmet. She grinned at the expression on his face. “Just want to say hello to someone. You coming?”

  “Sure.” He swung his leg over his bike and followed her along the path to the entrance of the church. “You got religion all of a sudden?”

  She laughed and pushed open the door. “Put me down as an agnostic.”

  As churches went, it wasn't especially impressive. The vaulted ceilings and windows were nice, but it lacked grandeur and had an unloved feel about it. Nitro followed her as she walked between the pews to the alter, and automatically crossed himself before sitting next to her on the hard wooden seat.

  Mouse raised an eyebrow. “You're Catholic?”

  “Lapsed.” He grinned. “Very lapsed.”

  The door creaked, and Nitro turned around as a young priest closed the door behind him and walked towards them.

  “Mouse. Good to see you again.” The priest, who was too young and good looking to be getting friendly with his ol' lady, smiled as Mouse stood and allowed herself to be pulled into a hug. “And you must be Nitro.” He turned back to Mouse and laughed. “You're right, there is a definite resemblance.”

  Okay, this was getting weird. Nitro stood and held out his hand. “Father.”

  “Andrew, please.” Andrew took his hand and shook it warmly. “Welcome to St Peter's. I'm glad you're now recovered.”

  “I thought I'd drop by and say thanks for the prayers.” Mouse dimpled—was she fucking flirting with him? “Just in case.”

  “It's lucky you came when you did. I'll be leaving at the end of the week.” Andrew smiled and looked up at the huge window above the alter. “The diocese has decided that this place is no longer viable.”

  “What will happen to it?” Mouse looked around.

  “It'll be sold. I expect it will be converted into a home.”

  Nitro felt the spark of an idea. “What sort of price will it fetch?”

  Andrew shrugged. “A church of this size usually sells for far less than you'd think. Well under a hundred thousand.”

  Nitro stood and walked toward one of the stone walls. He ran his hand along it. “Are there restrictions?”

  “Some. The exterior would have to stay the same, I imagine. And obviously the cemetery at the side would have to remain untouched, and you'd have to allow access for people who wanted to visit the graves, but it isn't listed, so internally it can be altered.”

  “And structural issues?”

  “Nitro...”

  Nitro ignored her. “It looks solid, but the roof would cost a fortune to replace.”

  “The roof was replaced about thirty years ago. There are a few minor things, as you'd expect from a building this age, but it's in remarkably good condition.

  “Nitro...”

  “Who do I have to talk to about putting in an offer?”

  “Nitro!”

  “Come with me to the vicarage. I have a number you can call.” Andrew smiled. “Although you might want to talk it over with Mouse first.”

  “Have you gone completely off your rocker?” Mouse looked back at their future home as they followed Andrew to the vicarage. “Even if we could afford it—which we can't—neither of us have the first clue how to convert it.”

  “I'll get the cash, punk.” Nitro grinned and threw his arm around her shoulder. “An' we'll learn.”

  “You're actually serious about this?”

  “Sure. The location is perfect, and there's loads of space.” He bent and kissed her. “How else could we afford to live around here? If we do a decent job, we'll quadruple our money if we decide to sell.”

  “I don't actually have any money, Nitro. Four times nothing is still nothing.”

  “What's mine is yours, Mouse.” He kissed her again. “This is a future for our kids.”

  “Kid.”

  “Whatever.”

  ~oOo~

  God, he pissed her off. As Nitro and Mags sat at the kitchen table, scribbling figures and tapping on a calculator, Mouse sat opposite them with a scowl on her face, and wishing she could go out for a smoke. Of all the stupid ideas he'd had—and he'd had plenty—this topped the lot. It wasn't helped, of course, by the fact that both Maggie and Digger thought it was a great idea. Obviously her opinion counted for nothing.

  “I'm going out for a fag.” Digger nudged her with his elbow. “Wanna come an' watch?”

  “Might as well. It's not as though anyone will listen to what I have to say.” Giving Nitro one final glare, she followed her friend outside.

  “Gonna tell me why you've got your knickers in a twist over this?” Digger sat on the plastic chair and pulled out his
pouch of tobacco. “Seems like a good idea to me.”

  “In what universe is this a good idea?” Mouse moved her chair closer to the open wash house door.

  “You need somewhere to live. Foxcoombe is a nice village. It's got a shop and a school, an' you're only down the road from us.”

  “It's a church, Digs. It looks like a church, smells like a church. Has a fucking graveyard like a church.”

  “You've squatted in the church in Bristol.”

  “That's different.”

  “How so? Only difference I can see is that you'll own this one, an' after a bit of work, it'll be a house.” Digger lit his foul smelling cigarette and grinned. “Hurting your Anarchist sensibilities, huh? All property is theft, an' all that?”

  Actually, that hadn't occurred to her. “I don't know why we can't get a van and live here.”

  “You grew up in care, Mouse. You'll be on social services' radar the minute that kid pops out. If you don't have what they consider to be a stable home, they'll be all over you like a rash.” Digger jabbed his cigarette in the air to emphasise his point. “You know how it works. Don't matter if the kid's happy an' healthy, as far as they're concerned, just having a mother who grew up in the system puts him at risk. If you can show that you're supported, with a house an' an income, they'll back off.”

  A memory pushed its way to the front of her brain. A woman screaming, a smell, the sound of footsteps echoing down a corridor. Of being terrified. Mouse's throat tightened and her vision narrowed. She stood, her chair clattering on the floor. “I...” She turned and ran outside. Her heart was racing and she couldn't catch her breath. She needed to... She felt her legs buckle, and staggered towards the stable before collapsing onto her knees on the soft straw of Rodney's stall.

  “Mouse?” Nitro dropped down onto one knee and lifted her chin. “What the fuck, punk?”

  Mouse sobbed as he pulled her into his arms. “Don't let them take my baby away.”