by Ali Shaw
Remembering this forced her to dry her eyes. She sniffed conspicuously, but there was only the priest’s mumbled sermon to distract her from her thoughts, and it had no power to do so. Then, to her comfort, Dot’s tiny, buckled hand reached sideways and squeezed hers. She breathed out, bit back her tears, and got a grip. Dot turned her head and gave her a long, studied look. Elsa met it, and the two women regarded each other for a minute before the nun smiled and returned her attention to the rambling priest.
Eventually the sermon was over and the priest was leading a prayer of grace Elsa did not recognize. It was murmured by everyone who was not her, addressed equally to everyone who was not her (save for Dot who turned to her to recite it) and then the service had ended. Spines clicked and creaked as the worshippers rose to their feet, making their way back towards the closed front doors, around which an outline of daylight glowed. Elsa looked over at Daniel Fossiter at the front of the church. He rose slowly from his seat, stretched out his spine, then glanced back across the pews and caught Elsa’s eye. She looked at the ground immediately.
The priest had opened the doors, but had backed up into a slice of shadow, and she shook his frail hand on the way out and wished him well for the week before stepping out hurriedly into the late morning. She wanted to get away from the church doors before Daniel Fossiter strode out of them. The sky had filled with a sheet of grey cloud, binding the town and the surrounding mountains together.
‘Altostratus,’ she thought, then realized somebody else had said it out loud. It was Dot, emerging behind her.
Dot winked at her. ‘You look like you’ve other places to be. Don’t worry, I won’t keep you. But we fellow cloud-watchers should never abandon each other. You must come up to see me at the nunnery. Kenneth can give you directions. And don’t wait too long about it. I could show you things. More pictures. I have a great many pictures up there.’
‘Thank you,’ said Elsa, meaning it. ‘I’m sure I will.’
Dot nodded, and turned back up the church steps, just as Daniel Fossiter emerged, stuffing his hat on to his head and scanning the assembled crowd until he saw Elsa. He moved towards her as if he intended to speak to her, but then found his path blocked by the little old nun, who cooed about how good it was to see him and pinched his elbow and asked after his health. Meanwhile Elsa seized her chance, and slipped away towards Prospect Street.
10
BETTY AND THE LIGHTNING
In the late afternoon Elsa headed for a little teahouse she had happened upon whilst exploring the town. The Wallflower was reached via a snaking alleyway with walls overgrown with vegetation. Flies and moths buzzed in and out of the leaves, or hovered over gutters whose cracked covers revealed plunging shafts. Overhead, a green roof of creepers stretched from one wall to the other, some of its stems as thick as children’s arms. Further along the alley she passed an electric lamp, twinkling in a prison of foliage, and this lit up a sudden memory of a hedge maze her mum and dad had taken her to once, for a birthday treat. She alone had found the centre of that maze, and had waited for a fruitless hour for either of her parents to discover her there.
Eventually the passage opened on to a courtyard enclosed by similarly verdant walls, with trellises dotted with trumpet-headed flowers. Hidden water gurgled somewhere nearby and made the air humid.
There were six small tables and a kiosk, where she ordered the same syrupy honey drink she’d enjoyed when she first found this place. The only other patron was a shrunken old man in his waxy rain cap. She recognized him as Abe Cosser, from Kenneth’s choir, but he did not appear to have noticed her. He was smoking a pipe with his eyes in upturned reverie, sedentary save for the puffing of his mouth at the pipe’s lip.
She chose a seat and watched an orange butterfly, whose wrinkled appearance suggested it was as old in butterfly years as Abe was in human ones, fly jerkily from flower to flower along the trellis. After a while it swept down to her table, where its wings sagged like damp cloth over its carapace. She used her teaspoon to drop a bead of her drink beside it. The butterfly approached and uncurled its doddery proboscis. It seemed to relish the taste of the liquid, for it took off rejuvenated, swerving drunkenly through the air.
She settled back into her seat and enjoyed a sip of the sticky drink. Then a movement out of the corner of her eye made her look up.
Abe Cosser had come to life. He was suddenly full of action, like those buskers who used to annoy her in subway stations by pretending to be statues, only to burst alive at the drop of a coin. He raised his hand to his head and doffed his rain cap. At first Elsa thought he had doffed it to her, but then she heard a heavy footfall behind her and looked over her shoulder.
She gasped when she saw Daniel Fossiter, then screwed up her fists under the table for being so impressionable. He stood tall in his creased old shirt, his britches, and his boots that were hobnailed and scuffed. ‘Miss Beletti,’ he declared in a gruff voice, then nodded to Abe, ‘and Mr Cosser. A pleasure as always.’
Abe Cosser sprung to his feet. ‘All mine, Mr Fossiter. But I was just on my way.’ He doffed his cap again and scurried out of the courtyard.
Keep cool, Elsa thought to herself. She didn’t feel it.
Daniel motioned to the spare seat attached to her table. ‘May I?’
She shrugged.
He eased himself into the chair; it was difficult for him to squeeze his big body between its arms and to find a space for his legs beneath the table. ‘I had hoped for the chance to discuss a certain matter with you, Miss Beletti.’
She swallowed. ‘And what’s that?’
He placed his fists down on the table. He sat rigidly – in contrast to Elsa who suddenly could not sit still – but inside he was shaking. His thoughts had been fully occupied these last few days with how best to intervene. He had prayed on his knees for the right words to persuade her, until the unrelenting church flagstones made the pain in his bones too overwhelming to pray any more. If he got this wrong, if he failed to persuade her to steer clear of Finn, then he was not sure he could cope with the guilt the inevitable disaster would bring.
‘I had hoped to discuss,’ he said tremulously, ‘Finn Munro.’
She was agitated. ‘What is there to discuss? You’re going to tell me I shouldn’t see him any more, and I’m going to tell you that we’ll do as we please.’
He sighed and looked down into the broth he had bought at the kiosk. They were kindly to him here, keeping a sour, fermenting vegetable stock in a special jar, even though nobody but him would buy it. ‘It is more complicated than you think. It isn’t safe.’
‘Perhaps it’s less complicated than you think.’
Elsa wondered whether he had any genuine hold over Finn, whether if she let her anger loose and made an enemy of him he could really make their lives difficult.
For his part, he watched her and observed that she was capable of a hundred thinkings at a time, and in this he could not help but be reminded of Betty, who had been the one to teach him that human hearts were never alike. He had known that to be true between species – the mountain shrew’s heart, for example, pounded ten times faster than a human being’s – but Betty’s had operated at ten times the speed of his own, and he had felt like a glacier around her.
He sipped his broth. Its warmth was reassuring and gave him courage. He cleared his throat and spread out his fingers on the table. He stared at his nails as he spoke. They were grubby with mountain dirt. ‘You will think me a tyrant, with no right to make demands on the boy.’
She didn’t disagree.
‘But, Miss Beletti, you should understand that I am not asking you to stop seeing Finn because of any wrongdoing on your part. On the contrary, I am asking you because I fear for your safety.’
She gave him one of her best sarcastic smiles. ‘How very selfless of you, Mr Fossiter, but I’ve already had this conversation with Finn. He kept insisting he was dangerous. Because of the weather in him, he said. I told him I would be the judge
of that.’
Daniel slumped back in his chair, too stunned at first to digest what she’d just said, for Finn had looked him in the eye and promised him he’d told her nothing. ‘You mean to say you know what’s inside of him?’
‘I saw and heard what’s inside of him.’
He suddenly felt very cold. The sunlight on his neck and the hot broth in his mouth were icy. Finn had deceived him. ‘Do you mean to say,’ he asked as steadily as he could, ‘that you have seen and listened to the weather in him, and that you still wish to befriend him?’
‘Yes. Why is that so hard to believe?’
Daniel chewed his thumbnail. It was a moment before he could speak again, and even then it was hard to regulate the anxiety in his voice. ‘Have you told anybody else?’
‘Of course not. It’s far too ... personal for that.’
He breathed out. ‘Thank heaven for that. At least in that matter you are not so reckless.’
‘Reckless? I think you ought to know that just because I haven’t told anyone, it doesn’t mean I think he should be ashamed of what’s inside of him. You know what? I actually think it’s wonderful.’
‘I am telling you this for your benefit, not his.’
‘I don’t think he’s dangerous. I don’t think he could hurt a fly.’
Daniel rubbed his eyes. ‘If by that you mean that he couldn’t hurt a fly on purpose, then we are in agreement. What I am fearful of, Miss Beletti, is what he might do by accident.’
‘Both he and I are grown-ups. We can deal with it. You’ve got to stop treating Finn like he’s still a kid.’
Daniel could not see why she was so predisposed to find him patronizing, but as a consequence he was eager to be as straight with her as possible. It did not matter, he supposed, what she thought of him. Only that she stayed away from Finn after this conversation. ‘I do not treat him like a child. I treat him as I would a wild beast.’
‘Jesus, that’s even worse.’
He frowned. ‘I find you strange, Miss Beletti. A mystery, if you will let me use the word. I cannot pretend I understand what brings you to Thunderstown, nor why you risk so much by seeing this boy.’
‘I don’t think I’m risking anything. On the contrary, I think this boy and I have everything to gain.’
‘Are you quite sure of that?’
‘Of course I’m sure.’
‘You have not seen what Finn is capable of.’
‘Yes, I have. He’s capable of sweetness and softness and silence.’
He sighed. ‘Perhaps it is because you are young. Only the young put their lives at risk so brazenly.’
She was about to retort but stopped herself. ‘Excuse me? What do you mean?’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘He has not told you, has he?’
‘Told me what?’
‘What he did to Bett—’ he paused, exhaled; ‘to his mother.’
‘Please,’ Elsa asked quietly, ‘tell me what happened.’
Daniel closed his eyes for a second. It was painful to remember and Elsa could see that too. ‘I don’t know,’ he began, ‘how much he has described of his childhood, but it was by necessity a sheltered one. To begin with, Betty tried to pretend he was a normal little boy, but not long after he started school the other children began to pick on him. One afternoon in the playground a stone was thrown. It hit him here – ’ Daniel pointed to his cheekbone, ‘ – and a swelling came up. He ran to the teachers to show them the bruise, but when they looked more closely, they discovered it was not a bruise at all. It was more like a patch of dark cloud emerging from his very skin. They were horror-struck – they had no idea what they were seeing. They hurried him out of sight, thank goodness, and eventually the school nurse gathered herself together enough to try to wipe away, whatever it was. But it was useless; more cloud just seeped through the bruise, marking out again the place where he was wounded.’
Daniel shuddered and sipped his broth.
‘There was no way Finn could return to school after such an incident, and it took all of my powers to persuade the staff to stay silent. From then on, Betty taught him at home. She kept him safe from other children, and that was for the best. He was happier because he was safe and she was happier because she saw more of him. Yet it did not take away the fact that his body was full of foul weather. I sometimes wonder ... if she had not kept him so safely hidden ... might there have been warning signs that would have shown just what he was capable of? Might we have been more alert to the dangers? As it was, when it happened, we saw it at full force. One night, when he was sixteen and we were at supper in Betty’s house, he revealed that he had met a girl. He said she was staying in Thunderstown for the summer and that she had approached him while he lay in the sun in Betty’s garden. He said he did not understand why, but that he had found it hard to talk to her. He said that in her presence he had felt things twisting inside of him, and he did not know whether he had enjoyed the feeling. Betty told him not to worry, and then she looked at me to help explain to him something of what a young man goes through when he grows up.’
He leaned back in his chair with a puff.
‘Well,’ asked Elsa, ‘what did you tell him?’
‘I told him that friendship with this girl was not for him, because he and the girl were made out of different stuffs. And I told him that his twisting feeling was like a serpent he should fight. At this advice he became lost in himself. Betty was furious – I knew she would be – but I had only said what he needed to hear.’ He stared down into his drink, as if its surface were a screen replaying the past. ‘Then our knives and forks began to vibrate, and I could feel every follicle of my body stiffening. I watched the hairs on Betty’s head lift. Finn thumped the table and at once the knives and forks flew together and locked as if they were magnets. The very air felt like pins and needles. And then it came out, as if he’d been keeping it all bottled up and something had released inside him. He demanded to know why he had been kept so isolated. Why hadn’t he been able to have friends, to talk to girls and keep their company? Why had Betty kept him hostage at home, like some freak in a sideshow? Well, I took exception to this. He’d gone too far. I told him to fasten his mouth. And then ...’
Daniel frowned. ‘Things happened so fast. Betty stood up in a rage. Her chair fell over behind her. I thought she was angry at Finn, but she leaned across the table and she struck me across the cheek.’ He grimaced and downed the dregs of his broth. ‘She turned to Finn, she reached out to him, she tried to embrace him ... he tried to hold her at bay, and then something flashed across his face. I am not talking about an expression, I am talking about a light. I just sat there like a damned fool, pitying myself, while Betty tried to embrace Finn again. Then all of a sudden came more flashes of light, but this time coursing through him. Elsa, it was as if he had electricity in his veins instead of blood – I could see every one of them like a branch of forked lightning!’ He swallowed. ‘There was a wicked, crackling sound, and then the lightning jumped into Betty’s outstretched arms. The shock threw her across the room so hard that the impact broke a rib.’ He stuffed his wrists into his eyes and gritted his teeth for a moment. ‘If only you had smelled her burned skin ... Elsa, please. I tell you this for your own safety. You are being too reckless – Finn was not born to live among people. He should not have been born at all.’
He waited for Elsa to take it in, grimly satisfied at her white face and wide eyes. It was right that she should be appalled. He had no desire to see her this way – it gave him no satisfaction. But what his father had told him was true – the most important lessons are the ones that hurt the most.
She drained her honey drink, which had now gone tepid, in one quick motion. ‘My dad died last year.’
Daniel scratched his beard uneasily. He had not expected her to say that, nor to look so suddenly composed. ‘I ... I’m sorry for you.’
She shrugged. ‘Thanks, I suppose. It was hard. Until then I thought he was invincible, because he had spent hi
s life walking through storms unharmed. Once he was even struck by lightning.’
‘And was he hurt very badly?’
‘He was completely fine. He had a blackout, and then was back on his feet. He was storm-chasing again the very next day. So you see, sometimes when it happens, it doesn’t always end in hurt.’
Daniel’s spirit sunk. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what her father would have been like. Cavalier, that much was for certain. ‘He sounds,’ he said, ‘either very lucky or very foolish.’
‘No!’ She jabbed a pointing finger at him. ‘You’re the foolish one. If you hadn’t made matters worse for Finn, it might never have become as bad as it did!’
He gasped. It had been many decades since anyone had dared to call him foolish, and then only his grandfather, cackling at him from his deathbed as Daniel tried to pray for his eternal soul.
‘When I was with Finn yesterday,’ she continued, tearful all of a sudden, ‘I felt like we were aligned somehow. But you couldn’t possibly understand.’
‘No,’ he said; ‘on that we agree.’ He shook his head and pushed back his chair. When he got to his feet his legs felt old and weak. He could not find the strength to fully straighten his spine. He was trying not to picture Elsa with the same burns he had nursed Betty through, or worse. ‘I have appreciated your time this afternoon, Miss Beletti.’ He punched his hat into shape and looked at it wearily. ‘I am not a man who needs to have the last word, so this will be the final thing I say. You can have the last word after I have spoken it.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Everybody thinks that they will be spared. Betty was lucky to survive. Your father was lucky to survive. Not everybody is lucky.’ He put his hat on his head, tucked his thumbs into his britches, and waited for her to speak.