The Duty and the Gone (The Fertility Plague Book 1)

by Claire Vale

  I pulled Jessie aside, stamping my feet to keep my legs from going numb. “Do you mind going on ahead with Carolyn? I want a word alone with Brenda.”

  “Is everything alright?”

  “It will be, as soon as I convince Brenda to shut up for a second so the rest of us can think.” And so my head can stop screeching. “And so we can actually focus on Carolyn.”

  Jessie’s nose wrinkled. “She is being more annoying than usual.”

  “You think?”

  “Okay, but don’t be too harsh with Brenda. I think she’s just threatened and this is her way of lashing out.”

  “Who would threaten Brenda Edgar?”

  “Not her person, our friendship.” Jessie tucked her arms under her pits with a visible shiver. “You and I meet up most days, but we don’t see much of her anymore.”

  “Who’s fault is that? You missed the part about how jam-packed her life is with rich and wonderful—” I cut myself off with a noisy sigh. Jessie’s teeth were practically chattering from the cold and Brenda had finished with Jackal.

  Besides, I was partly to blame for drawing away from Brenda and it wasn’t the Daniel thing—I’d moved on from that. Maybe some friendships just weren’t meant to last into adulthood.

  “I’ll be good, go. We’ll meet you at the Crooked Teapot.” I gave Jessie a light push to send her off, then I grabbed Brenda’s arm to hold her back. “Can we talk a sec?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Brenda stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. “But make it quick, it’s freezing.”

  “It’s about Carolyn,” I said, zeroing in on the most diplomatic route. “She’s definitely not herself. I think Jessie’s right to be concerned.”

  Brenda gave me a duh look. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “It is, and listen, we all appreciate how much you’ve got going on and how exciting everything is in your life. It’s just, I’m not sure that’s what Carolyn needs to hear right now.”

  “I’m not trying to throw it in her face.”

  “Of course not.” My sincere tone deserved a medal. “But it may be easier to get her to open up if you tone it down a bit. If we all just concentrate on her and find out if there’s a problem.”

  “Do you really think there is?” asked Brenda, some of her old self creeping in to crinkle her eyes with concern. “A problem? I mean, she seems to have a decent lifestyle and Daniel knows Simon, he reckons he’s an okay guy. It can’t be that bad, can it?”

  I shrugged and grimaced. “Let’s go find out.”

  We crossed to the paved groundwork of Roulin Square. There wasn’t much activity, no street performers or window-browsing stragglers or over-excited children chasing circles around each other. The few people about scurried in or out of shops in a hurry to avoid the wintry wind. The blanket of storm clouds had turned the sky prematurely dark and pale yellow lights glazed most of the window fronts. Restaurants and pubs all had their canopies rolled in and their outside chairs and tables stacked.

  A couple walking up from one of the alleys that spiked off the square drew my attention. The man was middle-aged, short and broad with unwieldly black hair that swamped his face and puffed his beard. The woman was petite, cropped red curls framing a pixie face, about a head shorter than him and not much older than me.

  It took another hard look before I realized what was so wrong, why my feet had subconsciously drawn me to a halt.

  The woman was dressed in jeans and running shoes, but on top all she wore was a thin, single-ply pullover. I shivered just looking at her.

  And they weren’t walking hand-in-hand. The man clamped her by the wrist, practically yanking her forward with every step. Her face pulled, as if in pain, and my spine went board-stiff.

  “What is it?” Brenda said, pausing at my side.

  I shook my head, not moving, my feet glued to the pavement. “I’m not sure. That couple…something’s not right.”

  “Mike, please,” the woman whimpered as the man tugged her forward again. “Please, let’s just go home.”

  “You wanted to go out,” he ground out in a thin voice. “You’ll damn well put a smile on your face if you know what’s good for you. Maybe you’ll think twice about moaning to my sister.”

  “That’s not what happened, I swear,” she pleaded. “Alisha asked if I’d seen the new play at Grodgens and all I said was that we didn’t really get out much.”

  “Do you think I need Alisha telling me how to treat my wife?” Another harsh yank that drew a yelp from the tiny woman. “Do you think I need to be judged by that bitch?”

  “Jerk,” I hissed.

  “Asshole,” Brenda muttered at the same time.

  I stepped into their path, forcing them to stop in the narrow alley. “Is everything alright here?” I asked the woman.

  Her eyes rounded on me. Not exactly fear or horror. It looked a lot like panic.

  “None of your business, lady,” the man answered gruffly.

  I turned my glare on him. “Mike, is it?”

  Brenda joined my blockade.

  The man’s nostrils flared, his squirrelly eyes darting between us. “Move or I’ll knock you both out of my way.”

  Brenda drew herself up an extra inch taller. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Some snotty brat that’s not been properly trained,” he sneered. “I’d be happy to oblige if your husband’s not up to the task.”

  “That’s Mrs. Edgar to you,” she said coolly. “I don’t know if you’ve been living under a rock, but that husband you’re deriding is a councilman.”

  Future councilman, but I wasn’t of a mind to quibble. I glanced down at the beefy hand clasped to the woman’s hand. “Why don’t you release your wife so we can have a proper chat?”

  To my surprise, his fingers loosened and his hand fell away.

  The woman rubbed her wrist, but a frown hardened her eyes and her words spat out at me in fury, “Who do you think you are, harassing innocent folk in the streets? Leave us alone.”

  My jaw went slack, and I watched dumbly as the couple pushed past us.

  Well!” exclaimed Brenda. “Maybe they deserve each other.”

  I didn’t think anyone deserved that brute.

  18

  I pushed the incident in the alley from my mind and didn’t think about that woman until about an hour later. An hour filled with endless cups of tea and angel cake and scones and gently nudging Carolyn to spill whatever weight was crushing her usual bubbly spark and when she finally did, it was more like an explosion.

  “You want to know what the problem is?” she snapped in a shrilly high tone. “Nothing’s wrong. That’s the problem.”

  A hush of silence descended, and not just on our table. The place was half empty, but suddenly we had the full attention of the half that wasn’t.

  “Sorry,” Carolyn muttered.

  “It’s okay,” Jessie assured her.

  Brenda’s lips furled in disapproval. “Honestly, Carolyn, there’s no reason to make a scene.”

  I patted Carolyn’s hand, smiled around the cozy tearoom. Nothing to see here. Clearly the little boy with tousled hair and a cream-ringed mouth thought differently.

  He gawked at us, wide-eyed, like we were today’s street performance. “Johnny,” his mother berated half-heartedly, her stern scowl reserved mostly for Carolyn, “it’s rude to stare.”

  After a few moments, the chatter around us resumed.

  Carolyn leant forward with her elbows on the table, her voice considerable lower, “Simon is so nice. He doesn’t mind anything. He doesn’t mind what we do, what I serve him for dinner, if I serve him dinner. He’s kind and considerate and sometimes I just want to slap that silly smile off his face. What is wrong with me? I can barely handle it when he touches me, you know?”

  Her cheeks tinted but she continued, “I lie there and my skin crawls and my brain itches and I just want to scream and every morning I wake up and it all starts again and I feel like I can’t breathe. I think how t
his is going to be every day for the rest of my life and it feels like I’m running underwater.”

  She looked from me to Brenda to Jessie, and fell back in her chair. “And I can’t even complain, because I don’t have anything to complain about. I’m a terrible person.”

  On the surface, her story wasn’t particularly horrific, but she was clearly distressed and my heart ached for her. She was trapped in a life that wasn’t her choice, with a man who was driving her to the edge of depression.

  And the worst part? She felt like it was all her fault. She felt like she had no right to be unhappy and no voice that should be heard.

  “You’re not a terrible person,” I told her. “It doesn’t matter how nice Simon is, you’re stuck in a marriage that is miserable with no way out.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake.” Brenda rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t encourage her.”

  To Carolyn, she added, “Grow up and stop making such a fuss. Your husband sounds like a decent guy who is trying his best and you can barely tolerate him? How unfair is that to him, huh? He’s also stuck in this marriage and don’t forget, you chose him.”

  I saw red.

  Brenda’s self-righteous, self-indulgent, self-self-everything had finally whittled away at my last nerve.

  “That’s a lie!” The heels of my palms slammed the table edge with a dull thud. “If you’re forced to make a choice, then it isn’t any choice at all. Graduation is the single most, best sold betrayal of our society!” My voice was a low hiss, seething venom and frustration and years of skepticism. “We’re supposed to believe we have control over the biggest decision of our lives but it’s a trap, a choice used to keep us compliant and shut us up. Don’t complain. Don’t resist. Don’t blame anyone but yourself for your crappy marriage or your crappy future because you chose this.”

  Carolyn’s blush slid down her cheeks, leaving her face a shade paler than her usual wintery bloom.

  “Georga!” Jessie gasped. “What the…?”

  Awareness showered over me like a bucket of icy water. I clapped a hand over my mouth, far too late to push the traitorous thoughts back inside. God, when had I become so careless?

  Brenda’s eyes flashed at me, sharp and brittle. “You’re just jealous. The system was absolutely fine, wasn’t it, until you didn’t get your first choice? You can’t stand that Daniel offered for me and not you. You can’t admit that he saw something flawed in you, so obviously it must be the system that’s broken.”

  My mouth opened. Closed on a strangled protest I didn’t trust myself to speak. I was too angry, too upset, to filter my words.

  “I need some air,” I muttered, shoving to my feet.

  Eyes pricked me from all directions as I wound my way around the tables, but I didn’t look so see the damage.

  I really did need fresh air. I couldn’t breathe with Brenda’s speech lodged at the back of my throat. I was spitting mad at her, but it wasn’t just that. They say the truth packs a punch, and I’d just had some hard, cold facts sucker-punched out of hiding.

  I stepped outside to find fat rain drops sputtering down from the dark, gloomy sky. They were still few and far between, although with the way this day was going, I expected a torrential downpour any second.

  A bump of warm air from behind turned me.

  Jessie let the door swoosh closed behind her, and handed over my coat while she was still in the middle of pulling into her own. “You’ll catch your death.”

  “Thanks.” I shrugged the coat around my shoulders, grateful for the cuddling warmth as I snuck my arms into the sleeves. “I didn’t mean to stay out here long.”

  Jessie gave me a knowing look. “You shouldn’t let Brenda get to you like that. Everything she said was a load of bull crap.”

  I smiled weakly. “Not everything.”

  She took maybe a moment too long to process that, but finally came back with, “You are not jealous of Brenda and Daniel.” A statement, as if any alternative was simply unacceptable.

  “Of course not, it’s just…” I hesitated.

  Hadn’t I already said enough to get me fast tracked to rehab? But this was Jessie. My secrets were safer with her than inside my head—she’d never leak a traitorous thought.

  “It’s just, I’ve always been dubious—no, resentful actually—about graduation and how the whole choice thing is just a smokescreen to dull the blaring reality of arranged marriages. Then I met Daniel and I really liked him and he’s charming and sweet and handsome and I got swept up into the romantic tale of marrying the prince and I forgot all about my doubts. The system wasn’t perfect, but I was happy enough to forgive and forget that maybe not everyone got their prince.”

  Like Jenna.

  And now, Carolyn.

  Jessie scooped her curls to the one side and held them there, watching me through worried eyes. “That’s normal, Georga. Human nature.”

  I took a deep breath and continued. “When Daniel’s offer wasn’t in my envelope, I felt like my world was shattering. Suddenly I was angry again, at our society and the men who had all the choices and us women who just meekly accepted we had none. That’s why I chose Roman, I think. He was bad and dangerous and the worst possible choice. In that moment, it was bits and pieces of everything—revenge, blame, punishment. I wanted to take his choice away. I wanted to suffer myself and blame the broken system.”

  Jessie’s brow wrinkled. “I thought you were happy with Roman.”

  Happy? That might be taking it too far.

  I went with, “I’ve settled into our marriage and everything’s fine.”

  I hadn’t had the urge to strangle him in days. And there was a (strong) chance I was seriously attracted to the hot-as-sin, infuriating man.

  “That’s good,” Jessie said, confusion still sitting on her brow. “I mean, it’s not like we can change anything, so it’s okay to be content with what we’ve got.”

  “But it’s not really okay, is it?” My fingers curled into fists. “It’s not okay for Carolyn. It’s not okay for Jenna, wherever she may be. It’s probably not okay for a lot of girls we just don’t know about.”

  And change wasn’t an unreachable dream—I’d shoved it under my panties in the underwear drawer.

  According to Rose, Julian Edgar’s handprint was the key to shifting the balance of power. I hadn’t convinced myself (yet) to drop the mission, but I’d definitely being edging in that direction. It was too risky for everyone involved. Life in Capra wasn’t all that bad.

  I’d never be ready to toss Roman or my mother into the fire, but I couldn’t keep pretending either.

  “Listen, Georga…” Jessie wiped a raindrop from her cheek, glanced up at the offending clouds. “I understand how you feel, I really do, and you can talk to me anytime, about anything.” Her eyes dropped to me, her expression almost as dark and tragic as the sky. “But you have to be careful about what you say in public, especially in front of Brenda. I don’t think she’d report you, the old Brenda never would, but—”

  “—Brenda Edgar is a whole other animal,” I cut in with a dry laugh. “I know, I snapped and lost control. She just grinds on my…” I trailed off as my gaze landed on the pixie woman from the alley. I’d paced a step out from the tearoom window and there she was, huddled up against the wall of the Blue Fish, chin tucked in, arms wrapped around her chest.

  Jessie joined me. “What is it?”

  I pointed out the woman and explained about our earlier encounter with the couple. “How long do you think she’s been standing out there?”

  “Not long, surely,” Jessie said. “Her husband probably just popped into the bar for a quick drink.”

  I looked at Jessie.

  She pulled a face. “And I just heard myself. If Harry even suggested I wait outside in this freezing cold while he popped in for a beer, he’d be sleeping in the garden shed for a month.”

  Our eyes went back to the woman.

  “She isn’t even wearing a coat,” said Jessie. “Should we ch
eck on her?”

  “Already tried that,” I reminded her. “She’s almost as aggressive as her husband. Although, maybe she’ll be more receptive with him not around. Come on, I have an idea.”

  The woman looked up as we approached, her eyes frosting over as she recognized me.

  “Hey,” I said brightly, taking in the bluish tint around her mouth. However long she’d been standing out here, it was too long. “Remember me?”

  “And you brought a new friend,” she snarled, or at least tried. Her lips curled up, but the words came out more like a chattering stutter. “What’s your problem? Leave me alone.”

  “My friend and I—” I included Jessie with a small wave “—we were wondering if you’d like to join us for tea. As an apology for earlier. I’m really sorry about that.”

  “I’m waiting for my husband.”

  “Is he inside the bar?” Jessie asked.

  The woman glared at her. “What’s that to you?”

  The bar doors and windows were sealed tight against the weather, muting the sounds, but from what I could see through the opaque window, the place was heaving with its usual boisterous crowd.

  “It looks like he’ll be a while,” I said, drawing the woman’s glare. “We’re just over at the Crooked Teapot and it’s not busy. We’ll move to a window table so you can watch for him.”

  “I don’t want tea. I don’t want to sit at a window table.” She unwrapped her arms to put her hands up, as if to ward off an attack (from me, presumably). “Mike doesn’t like me talking to strangers. Leave. Me. Alone.”

  The bar’s set of double doors swung open and she shrank away from me, as if she could disappear into the brick and plasterwork behind her. Two young guys exited, not exactly stumbling but not entirely steady on their feet either. They glanced over us, the blond one attempting a crooked smile as they passed.

  Seeing it wasn’t her husband, the woman straightened and turned on me, lashing out with a fisted hand. “Just go!”

  “Hey!” Jessie reacted instinctively and grabbed for the woman’s other’s arm, missed as the woman jerked that hand up defensively—and collapsed in on herself with a gargled whimper. Cradling her hand to her chest, she sank against the wall, panting small, uneven breaths.