Before Safe Haven (Book 4): Jules

by Artinian, Christopher

  “I know. He’s an idiot, but his heart’s always in the right place, and I don’t suppose you can ever ask any more than that from someone,” she said, looking out of the window as the sun continued its descent.

  “Ben’s not talking to me.”

  George paused then took the pipe out of his mouth. “He cares for you. It was a big risk you took.”

  “I know, but I had to do something.”

  “He’ll come around.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Trust your elders.”

  The door opened, and Maggie walked in.

  “We were just talking about you,” Jules said.

  “What were you saying?”

  “George was reminding me I had to listen to my elders,” Jules said with a cheeky grin.

  “Oh, aren’t you the funny one. I heard what happened today,” Maggie said, perching on the edge of the desk.

  “Yeah well, stuff doesn’t always go to plan,” Jules replied.

  “So it would seem. Rog seems like a nice man.”

  “Yeah, he and Scotty both seem cool.”

  “You do realise the other one doesn’t have long, don’t you?”

  Jules straightened up in her chair. “What do you mean? I know his legs are broken but I thought—”

  “Sepsis. He’s got blood poisoning. Have you seen the colour of his legs?”

  “I thought that was just really bad bruising,” Jules replied.

  “Are you sure?” George asked.

  “I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty confident that’s what it is. My uncle died of it.”

  “Oh shite!” Jules said. “How long?”

  “I don’t know, but not long. I’m pretty certain they both know, Rog and Scotty.”

  “That’s a real shame,” George said, taking a suck on his pipe and releasing a long plume of smoke from his lips.

  Maggie coughed and waved at the air. “You and that bloody thing. It’ll be the death of you … and us.”

  Jules opened the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a bottle and three glasses. She poured good measures into each glass and pushed one towards Maggie and one to George before picking up her own. “To Scotty,” she said.

  “He’s not gone yet,” Maggie replied, picking up her glass and taking a drink.

  “No, but I wanted to toast something, otherwise it looks like I’m just an alky.”

  “I think after the day you’ve had you deserve a drink, don’t you?” Maggie said.

  “Y’see, that’s why I love having you around. Technically, you’re just an enabler, but that’s what I need right now,” Jules said with a smile. All three of them raised their glasses and clinked.

  Maggie downed hers in one and then stood up. “Okay, I’m going to do my rounds before I call it a night, make sure everybody’s okay.”

  “Thanks, Mags. I’m just going to stay up here a while,” Jules said.

  “Aha! Alcohol and avoidance. Two sure-fire routes to a happy life,” Maggie said with a smirk.

  “I’m guessing you’ve been talking to Benicio. Well, you can tell him it’s not like I had a bloody choice and I didn’t see anyone else coming up with any ideas and … and ... fuck him!”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll let you pass on that message. Ooh, I’ve got an idea,” she said, pointing to the bottle, “why don’t you have a few more of those first? That will really open up the channels for you both to have a meaningful discussion.”

  Jules smiled and raised her glass. “Yeah, fuck you too.”

  “A foul-mouthed alcoholic who’s quick to anger. Ben’s a lucky, lucky man. I’m surprised he’s not up here begging to make it up to you right this minute.”

  “Be careful when you’re walking down those steps, old woman, I’d hate for you to have a fall.”

  Maggie let out another laugh before leaving and closing the door firmly behind her. Jules brought the glass up to her lips and took two big gulps then refilled it. “You want a top-up?”

  “Not for me. I’ll have this; then I’ll get to bed. That was some day.”

  “Huh. That’s one way to describe it,” Jules said, taking another gulp.

  “Thank you, Jules.”

  “What for?”

  “If you hadn’t done what you did, if you hadn’t risked your life, I wouldn’t be sitting here now. There are a lot of people who would have frozen, who would have been too scared to act, and I wouldn’t have blamed them.”

  “Yeah, well. That’s not me. Act first; think later,” she said, taking another drink.

  “We both know that’s not true either. This place is lucky to have you. You always hold yourself to the highest standards. You do that despite your fears, and that’s what makes you who you are. You’re special, Jules. You remind me of my youngest granddaughter.”

  Jules smiled. “God, you shouldn’t say that about the poor girl. Surely she can’t be as big a screw-up as me.”

  “On the contrary. She’s ... she was in the squad for the next commonwealth games. She’s only fifteen but she’s got that X-factor.”

  “I hardly think I’ve got the X-factor.”

  “I disagree. You do what it takes. I can sometimes see the fear and uncertainty in you for just the briefest of seconds.” George took a long drink from his glass, then fixed his eyes back on Jules. “But then you push it down deep inside. You don’t want others to see it, to feel it, so you swallow it and make believe everything’s okay. That is true heroism. It’s not the absence of fear; it’s doing the right thing, the hard thing, despite your fear.”

  “Ah shush!” Jules said.

  “You know I’m right.”

  “Away with you,” she said, blushing.

  George smiled and finished his whisky, placing the empty glass back down on the table and standing up. “Right, I’ll do my own rounds, make sure we’re all locked up safe and tight and then get some shut-eye.” He walked around the desk, bent down and kissed Jules gently on the top of her head. “Thank you again.”

  Jules gulped, suddenly overcome with emotion. “Brilliant, my hair’s going to smell of fucking whisky and tobacco now. Thank you very much, old man.” George smiled and Jules took hold of his hand giving it a tight squeeze. When she spoke again, it was in a softer voice. “I’d be lost without you.” They held hands for a few more seconds before Jules relinquished her grip. “Alright, that’s the soppy stuff over, you can fuck off now.”

  George laughed. “Goodnight Jules.”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  The room fell silent as George left and Jules drained her glass then refilled it. George knew her too well. She could not remember a time when she had been more scared, and now all that fear was coming to the surface as tears began to roll down her face. The last of the sunlight was just disappearing on the horizon as she contemplated just how close she had come to never seeing another. She swirled the magic amber potion beneath her nose. She had made a real mess of things with Ben. Maybe after the two of them had a good night’s sleep, the anger and frustration would have dissipated enough for them to talk.

  The door creaked open, and Jules looked towards it. She could just make out Ben’s figure in the doorway. “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  “I owe you an apology,” he said, walking towards her.

  “That’s funny; I was just sitting here thinking that I owed you an apology.”

  She stood up and, as he approached her, their hands reached out and met, fingers entwining. “You scared me today.”

  “I scared myself. If I’d have thought about it a bit longer, I’d probably have figured something else out, but...”

  “I know. I know you had to do something. I suppose I was just angry with myself for not doing something first.” Jules tiptoed up and kissed him on the lips. “Is that a single malt?”

  Jules let out a small giggle. “You want some?”

  “Yeah and I’d like some scotch too.”

  “Benicio Hernandez, I don’t know wh
at kind of girl you think I am, but I have a reputation to uphold.”

  He reached for the glass on the desk and took a drink. “I know all about your reputation,” he said, kissing her on the lips. The light had dipped even further, but he could feel the smile on her face as their mouths met.

  “Is the door locked?” Jules asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, go lock it and come straight back,” she said, pulling her T-shirt off.

  “What about your reputation?” he asked, almost running towards the entrance and locking it.

  “Well, y’know there’s been like billions of deaths, so procreation is kind of a duty and shit. It’s like we’re doing this for mankind.”

  Ben walked back towards her pulling off his own T-shirt and unbuckling his belt. “You are such a martyr.”

  “Totally. St Jules of Carrickfergus. That’s me.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The next morning, Jules woke up at first light. The blinds had not been closed the previous evening. She had consumed more than her fair share of scotch but remembered all the important details. She and Ben had made love over and over in the cool embrace of the moonlight’s glow. They had forgiven each other, and now, as she rested her head on his shoulder while he slept, she realised that not everything was bad about this world.

  She was not in love with Ben. She didn’t know if she would ever love him. But she liked him. He was kind and considerate and fun to be around. His good looks and Mediterranean colouring made her heart jump a little every time she saw him, but she knew that was just physical attraction and that was very different to love. She had been in love once, a few years ago. It had ended badly and that’s why she had left Belfast and moved across to Scotland. She remembered what love felt like, and this was not that, but it was something, and to have something in this nightmarish time was bordering on a miracle.

  She heard someone try the door handle and when it didn’t open, they knocked three times. She jumped to her feet wearing nothing but a look of panic. Ben’s eyes sprung open. “What’s going on?” he asked, still a little groggy from the whisky.

  “Jules, are you okay?” It was Maggie.

  “Err … yeah, give me a second, Mags.” She pulled on her bra and T-shirt as Ben suddenly realised what was happening and began to dress too.

  “What did I do with my knickers? Where are my fucking knickers?” Jules whispered desperately.

  It was taking Ben all his time to focus on putting his socks on. “Calm down, they’ll show up.”

  Jules cast another panicked look around the floor then pulled on her jeans anyway. She slipped on her socks and boots, opened a window and headed to the door. She paused with her thumb and forefinger on the key then, when Ben gave her the nod, she unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Come in, Mags, we were just ... err … getting ready to come down.”

  Maggie stepped into the room and sniffed at the air. “Smells like a distillery in here. Did you have a party last night?”

  “It was kind of a stressful day yesterday; we needed to kick back a little.”

  “I see,” Maggie said, stopping dead and staring towards the poster-sized framed photo of the Home and Garden Depot opening ceremony. Jules was a little confused as to why she looked towards it so long and even more confused to see the grin appear on Maggie’s face. “Anyway, I’m sorry to disturb both of you so early, but it’s Scotty. I’m afraid he’s taken a turn for the worse.”

  “Shite,” Jules said. “Okay, we’ll be right down.”

  Maggie placed a gentle hand on Jules’s arm and leaned in to whisper something to her before turning to leave. Jules stood perfectly still, but her face turned bright red. When Maggie closed the door behind her, Ben broke the silence. “What’s wrong? What did she say?”

  Jules looked at Ben but didn’t say a word. Eventually, she turned and walked up to the large photo that Maggie had been looking at. She plucked her knickers from the top left corner of the thick wooden frame and stuffed them in her pocket. “How fuckin’ embarrassing!”

  Ben laughed. “Come on. Maggie was young once, I’m sure she understands.”

  Jules just shook her head. “How the fuck did they even get over there?”

  “It’s coming back to me now. At one stage you flung them behind you saying you wouldn’t be needing these again tonight.”

  “Oh dear God, where’s a big hole to swallow you up when you need one?”

  “You've got to see the funny side,” Ben said.

  “Erm, no. No, I don’t.” The two of them headed out of the room and down to the shop floor. The bays that used to contain lengthy strips of hardwood, plasterboard and a hundred DIY essentials had been converted into curtained cubicles to give the residents within some small modicum of privacy. Many of these curtains were still pulled across indicating the people behind them were either asleep or wanted to be left alone.

  They reached the front of the store and Maggie was standing outside the small cash office where they had put Scotty in order to give him as much comfort and dignity as possible. “He was asking for you,” Maggie said.

  “For me?” Jules replied.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll leave you to it and go get cleaned up,” Ben said, giving Jules’s hand a gentle squeeze.

  Jules looked at the door then looked back towards Maggie. “What does he want to see me for?”

  “I don’t know. He’s a little bit delirious, but he was adamant about seeing you.”

  Jules took a breath and opened the door. She gagged a little as the smell of necrotic flesh assaulted her senses. Rog was sitting in an office chair by the side of Scotty’s makeshift bed. When Jules entered, he stood up. “It’s been a long night. I’m going to stretch my legs and get some air.” Sadness painted his expression, and he did not look back at his friend as he left the room. The wide one-way mirror let in enough light from outside for Jules to see that the blackish purple discolouration that she had originally mistaken for bruising had spread up to the lower part of his neck. As Scotty turned his head to look at her, perspiration clung to his brow, and each blink looked like an effort.

  “Looks like you’ve had a rough night, darlin’,” Jules said warmly.

  A small smile adorned his lips for just a second. “Had better.” When he spoke, it was with a rasp and his face contorted as if it caused him pain.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  He gave a barely perceptible nod then swallowed hard. “I’d like to plant those seeds you talked about. I’d like to plant them for my family.”

  “Okay. Okay, we can do that. Is there anything else?”

  “Not just yet,” he whispered.

  “Okay, darlin’, just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll get that sorted.” Jules left the office and a tear ran down her face. She had never been asked to grant a dying wish before, and this was most definitely that. She rushed down the end aisle towards the huge enclosed yard. As she pulled the doors open, she looked above the wall, above the chain-link and barbed wire fence mounted on top of it and towards the blue sky. It was going to be another beautiful day but not for everybody.

  She walked over to a shelving unit and grabbed a plastic plant pot. She was about to fill it with seed compost when she stopped. At the back of the shelf, there was a head-sized glazed ceramic blue pot. It was one of the more expensive ones the store sold. She put the plastic one to the side and grabbed the posh one instead. Everybody else here had the opportunity to transplant their memorials into whatever they wanted. Scotty would not have that chance, so it was only right that he had the best to start off with. Jules picked up a sheet of sticky labels and a packet of seeds, putting them in her pocket before grabbing the plant pot and transporting it to the cash office.

  She headed through the store and heard the first sounds of the morning for some, as the sheets that covered their cubicles began to twitch and flutter while they got dressed. The brief happiness she had enjoyed, at least what she could remember of
it, from the previous evening now seemed like it was an age ago.

  She opened the cash office door and in her brief absence had forgotten just how pungent the odour had been in the confined space; she did her best not to show it, though, as she knelt by Scotty’s side and gently placed the pot down. “Pretty,” he whispered.

  “Thanks very much, you’re not so bad looking yourself,” Jules said with a smile.

  Scotty couldn’t help but smile. “You’re a sweet girl, Jules. These people are lucky to have you.”

  “You’re only saying that cos you haven’t known me long enough. Give it a couple of weeks and you’ll be eating those words.”

  He smiled again and this time let out a long, long breath. Jules went cold as Scotty’s eyes seemed to stare blankly into space for a moment like there was nothing behind them; then he breathed in again. “I’d love to spend that long with you, but I don’t think I’m going to have much choice in the matter.” He looked towards the plant pot again, just the small turn of his head seeming like the biggest effort. “So how do we do this?”

  Jules picked up the packet of seeds and showed him the picture. “These are the ones I planted for my own folks. It’s called a Chinese Evergreen,” she said. “Now, how many kids did you have?”

  “Two,” he rasped, holding out his hand. “But I’d like one for my ex as well.”

  Jules nodded and tapped three seeds into his palm. She pinched a measure of soil from the plant pot and guided Scotty’s hand across to the small hole she had made. He tipped the seeds in then Jules gave him the small clump of compost to place over them. Scotty tapped it down gently and then Jules took the bottle of water sitting next to his pillow and poured a little over where the seeds had been sown. “There, job’s a good ’un. Now, what were their names?” Jules asked, taking a pen from the holder on the desk and picking up the sheet of labels.

  “Suzy and Garth. My ex was called Bernice.” Jules wrote the names on the label, peeled it off the sticker sheet and carefully placed it on the plant pot.

  “There we go, darlin’. Do you want to say anything?”