by S. Bryce
Saul tilts his head back and turns to look at me.
‘Mannis doesn’t know,’ he says.
I nod and rub my hands on my jeans.
Mannis knows. Why else would he let Dock stay here? ‘Drunks can stay a week,’ Mannis said, ‘or until the booze runs out.’
‘His name’s Paul, Paul Dockland,’ Saul continues. His gaze shifts to the ceiling. ‘I found an address for him amongst some of my mum’s old papers. Someone else lives in his old house. He used to run a fruit and veg stall in the village.’
I nod again and wring my hands together. I stare at my feet and think about all the horrid things I had said and thought about Dock.
‘He doesn’t know I’m his son,’ he sighs, his chin quivering. ‘I tried to tell him, but I don’t think he understands. He was sleeping rough in the village when I found him. It was hard for me to bring him here. It was even harder for me to convince Mannis to let him stay.
His eyes flash bottle-fly green. ‘I don’t want you to feel sorry for me or anything,’ he says, fiercely.
I’m quick to reply. ‘I don’t’. I flop down beside him. He shifts over to make room for me.
‘That’s all right then.’
We sit, heads tilted, gazing up at the ceiling as if we are gazing at a night sky filled with stars.
That night Saul talked.
He talked about the life he had before he ran away. He talked about his old house in London where he used to live with his mother Janice Hutton and his two older brothers Jake and Robin. His mum worked in a bank. He didn’t know his real dad. He left not long after he was born.
He talked about how everything changed when his mum remarried. He was nine years old when that happened. His brothers Jake and Robin, both in their late teens, argued with their new step-dad all the time, then they started arguing with mum. Eventually, his brothers went to live in Canada.
‘They said they would come back for me,’ he told me. ‘They never did.’
He said his mum died of cancer when he was twelve. He was thirteen when he ran away. ‘I’ve never looked back,’ he said.
And he told me about his dreams. He wanted to be a footballer. He wanted to travel the world, but never got further than France.
For the whole time he talked, I never said a word.
Eventually, he stopped talking.
And we sat together for a long time in silence.
I gave him a kiss when I left and told him I loved him. He didn’t hear me. He’d fallen asleep.
Saul’s been through a lot worse than I have. How can two people from different backgrounds wind up in the same place? I think back to the homeless man I saw lying on the street. Was it done to him or was it something he had done to himself? I don’t want Saul to end up like that, or me or Tosh. I’m going to find the Red Hoop for all of us. We’re going to find it together.
* * *
Chapter 48
Accusations
I lie awake in Our Room, thinking about my own dad. My real one. I’ve never given him a lot of thought until now. If I knew where he was, if I knew his name, would I go looking for him? Or was I better off not knowing?
I can’t get back to sleep. I return to the diary. Reading by torchlight, I try to piece together the disjointed sentences. Then I remember that Alden’s great-great grandfather was called Thomas. A Thomas had died under the factory wheel in November 1885. I find a picture wedged between the pages. It’s a photo of factory workers. It’s almost identical to the one hanging on Alden’s cabin wall. I tuck the photo into my jeans pocket for safe keeping. Keen to learn all I can about our former resident, I make up my mind to go to see Alden first thing.
At some point I doze off, only to be awoken by a loud bang on the door.
I wake with the torch digging in my ribs and the diary caught under my head. I reach for the dairy, thrusting it under my pillow and switch off the torch.
The bang comes again.
‘Kate, Tosh get out here!’
It’s Mannis and he doesn’t sound too happy. Tosh begins to stir, but it doesn’t look as if he’s going to get up any time soon, not without my help.
‘Tosh wake up.’ I frantically shake his shoulder.
‘What?’ he says, groggily.
I pull on my trainers and draw back Tosh’s covers. ‘Get your trainers.’
I scramble around for his trainers. I find one next to his pillow, the other wrapped up in his orange jumper. I force his feet into the trainers. Tosh, meanwhile, rubs his eyes and sits up, oblivious to what’s going on. I tie his laces with shaky hands.
‘Come on. Get out here!’ Mannis bellows.
The moment I open the door Mannis turns on his heel and heads to the kitchen.
I trail after him, dragging Tosh, who’s yet to find his feet, behind me.
The Wolf’s silhouette dances in the passage as we pass by. He strikes a match to light the cigarette dangling from his mouth, the flickering light briefly illuminating half his face. His lips crack into a malevolent smile.
I don’t need to ask what this is about. I’m sure I know.
Saul’s sitting on the floor of the kitchen nursing a fat lip. There are bloodstains on his scarf and the sleeve of his leather jacket.
‘It was me,’ I say without hesitation. ‘I broke the door. It was an accident. I kind of fell against it.’
‘Fell into it more like. ‘This love sick fool’s trying to tell me he took it,’ Mannis says, jabbing his thumb at Saul. ‘Very noble I’m sure. If Rick gets hold of him, he’ll wind up with more than just a fat lip.’
I hear a resounding crash coming from way out in the hall. My eyes dart to the closed door. Rick-man-wolf is out there on the prowl. I’ve got a horrible feeling he’s in Our Room.
‘What’s he doing?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
‘You’d better hope he don’t find it first,’ Mannis warns me. ‘If you’ve got it on you, give it to me.’ He holds his hand out.
I stare horror-struck at his empty palm. ‘What? I didn’t take anything!’
‘Don’t play dumb with me Kate. You saying you ain’t been going through Rick’s stuff?’
‘I’m saying, I didn’t take anything.’
‘Rick saw you eyeing the compass the other week?’
Compass? It takes a minute or two to dawn on me. I think back to the round metal object I saw Rick fiddling with in the kitchen and grimace.
‘I didn’t take it,’ I say stiffly. Though for some insane reason I feel as if I have.
‘And the money?’ He asks, his voice reducing to a whisper. His bloated fingers tremble.
‘Money?’ A trickle of sweat makes its way down one side of my face. ‘The sack’s full of tools.’
‘She didn’t take anything!’ Tosh shouts. Now fully awake, he balls his hands into fists. His eyes blaze in anger. ‘And I didn’t take anything. We don’t want Rick’s stinking money or his compisses. Why don’t you leave us alone?’
‘Listen Kate,’ Mannis says, casting an apprehensive glance at Tosh. ‘Rick’s out there waiting for answers. I told him to let me talk to you about this first. Don’t give him reason to come in here.’
‘I’m telling you the truth. Why don’t you believe me? There’s nothing in that sack but tools.’
‘I’m not on about the bleeding sack,’ Mannis snaps. ‘I’m talking about the chest.’
‘The chest’s got a padlock on it,’ I reply.
Tosh nods his head, defiant.
‘Not any more it hasn’t,’ Mannis says, his tone flat.
* * *
Chapter 49
Fire
I cast my mind back to yesterday afternoon, to how my heart hammered at the prospect of seeing what was inside the chest. An unfathomable panic sweeps over me. Clearly, Mannis thinks I’m only one capable of stealing from the Wolf. We all have our territories and Mannis is unsure of mine.
Saul’s territory is the kitchen, Dock’s; the hall, kitchen and washroom. Tosh sticks mo
stly to Our Room, I on the other hand, roam. I think of my morning ritual and cringe. How many times have I stood outside the Forbidden Room? How many times have I listened outside every door in this bungalow? How many times have I peeked? Countless times. It comes down to me, doesn’t it? I’m the only one Mannis doesn’t trust.
‘Someone else must have come in from-from outside,’ I say, wincing at the sound of my unconvincing voice.
Mannis’s fingers scramble for the packet of cigarettes lying on the table. ‘Like who? The Bogie Man?’
The Bogie Man. Had I really wanted to see what was inside the Pirates Chest, I would have bashed it open with the monkey wrench, a hammer or with the heel of my boot, and I would have done it sooner rather than later. Sooner, and I wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation.
‘Alden,’ Tosh says, suddenly.
‘Shut up,’ I hiss, nudging him in the back.
‘What you say?’ Mannis asks squinting. The pack of cigarettes slips through his fingers and onto the floor. He doesn’t bother to pick them up.
‘He said all done,’ I tell Mannis. ‘And I agree with him. I’ve got no money on me. See?’
I pull my jumper up to my middle to show off my belly button, turn my jean pockets inside out and give a quick twirl. ‘You said yourself the stuff was hot,’ I say throwing my hands up. ‘Why would I take it? What would I do with it?’
Mannis eyes find my feet. I look down at my trainers, and discover to my horror that the photograph I took from the diary has fallen, like an autumn leaf, onto my left foot. I snatch it up and hastily return it to my jeans pocket before Mannis demands I hand it over. I’ve turned out my jeans pocket once. I’m not about to do it again.
I give him a sullen glare and he glares back at me, his face shining with sweat and feverish uncertainty. I can’t say or do anything more to convince him.
‘I smell burning,’ Tosh says. He runs to the door and yanks it open. Smoke billows in from the hallway. ‘Fire!’ He races from the room.
I run after him, my throat burning as the smoke invades my lungs like a swarm of bees in a can. Barbecue Smoke I would have called it, if we had such a thing as a barbecue. I can’t smell burning sausages or pork ribs, but I know the smell of damp burning wood and paper when it invades my nostrils.
I clap Tosh on the shoulder as he reaches the front door.
The Wolf’s outside. He stands over a fire with a pile of books in his hand, his eyes burning as fiercely as the blaze itself.
‘Look Kate,’ Tosh shouts. He points wildly at the flames. ‘Ellie’s blanket!’
I cough feebly into my hand. My eyes are stinging, watering. My chest feels as if it’s been squeezed by a giant elastic band. It’s the diary I glimpse first, the mouldy diary, amongst the stack of books in his hands.
Saul appears, breathless from having sprinted from the back of the house. He arrives just in time to stop Tosh lunging for the crate. A scuffle breaks out between them. Saul grabs Tosh by his wrists. Tosh kicks his feet in the air madly and bursts into tears. Saul lets go of his wrists, and hugs him close. Tosh squirms in his embrace for a few moments and then goes still.
‘That’ll teach you not to touch my stuff,’ sneers the Wolf, tossing Willows End into the flames.
‘We didn’t take anything,’ I say hoarsely.
I watch orange-rimmed holes appear in Ellie’s blanket as the fire engulfs it. I watch it turn from mouldy pink to flaky black. I struggle to draw breath. There were times when I couldn’t bear to look at the pink blanket because it reminded me of her, and then there were those many other times when I brutally chose to ignore the fact that the blanket belonged to Ellie and treated it like any other piece of ‘bungalow junk’. Now I’m being punished for those many other times.
You wrapped his gun in it, Kate.
Mannis brushes past me armed with a plastic bucket. He lifts the bucket high and douses the flames with water. The fire fizzles and dies, sending black ash scurrying into the night. Hurling the bucket aside, he glares at The Wolf. ‘You wanna bring out the whole bloody fire brigade?’ he roars.
The Wolf’s lips twitch in response. His eyes become sinister slits.
‘Someone’s going clean out of their way to piss me off,’ he replies. He throws the rest of the books in the crate, including my diary and Mannis’s book: Aged Twelve.
Mannis doesn’t seem to notice his book or any other books going up in smoke. His red face glistens like a joint of uncooked meat. He’s so jumpy; his eyes are practically leaping in their sockets. ‘The kids said they didn’t take- ’
‘I know,’ the Wolf snaps impatiently.
‘So what’s all this about?’ Mannis asks, gesturing to the crate.
I look from Mannis to the Wolf, and then from the Wolf to Mannis and I ask myself the very same thing.
‘It’s called a lesson,’ the Wolf says. He throws his jacket open to reveal the silky inner lining. ‘See. No gun.’
His shining eyes meet mine. He pulls his lips back and bares his razor sharp teeth.
My face hardens. He’s getting his kicks from seeing us squirm like eels caught in a fishing net. I might be squirming inside, but my expression says differently.
Tosh presses his face against Saul’s stomach. A muffled scream rises from his throat. Saul strokes the back of Tosh’s hair and whispers softly to him, stealing a quick glance at me I know better than to return.
‘What the hell are you playing at?’ Mannis asks, gaping at the Wolf.
The Wolf smiles darkly. ‘Well you see, Kate,’ he says, addressing me as if I were the one who had spoken. ‘Once upon a time, I had two guns, now I only have one.’
He nods his head in Tosh’s direction, his eyes still on me.
‘I know your brother took the gun. I know that you put it back Kate. It was my little test you see,’ he says, turning to Mannis.
‘A test?’ Mannis hisses under his breath.
He blinks at the Wolf, several times, as if he’s caught in the glare of heavy lighting.
The Wolf coughs amidst the plume of ash and steps away from the crate.
‘Why would a kid take a gun out of pocket and put it back? Only one reason I can think of. He thought it was a toy. He wanted to play with it, didn’t he? Cowboys and Indians, and all that crap. There were no bullets in the gun when he took it out of my pocket. I made sure of it. When she put the gun back -’ He jabs his thumb at me. ‘I put the bullets in. If her little brother had taken the gun second time around, he would have fired it, and if I’d have fired it, we all would have known. You know how cowboys like to fire their guns Bill, right out of the holster. The gun, the money and the compass?’ He reasons, shaking his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
So it turns out, the Wolf’s not as smart as I thought.
I’ve a mind to shout, ‘Tosh took the gun to get rid of you!’ But I’ve a mind to say a lot of things and don’t, not in front of the Wolf.
‘What? You think - you think I took it? You accusing me?’ asks Mannis. Specks of saliva fly from his open mouth. ‘I’ve hardly left your blinkin’ side in the last couple of days.’
The Wolf produces a gun from his back trouser pocket and brandishes it high in the air. There’s no mistaking this one for a toy. For a start, it’s bigger than the one Tosh stole from the Wolf’s pocket, and secondly the handle’s brown.
‘Lucky me,’ he says. ‘I’ve got a spare.’ He flashes his teeth at Mannis.
The gun comes alive when he brandishes it. It’s begging its owner to find his mark. It wants to rid itself of the many bullets stored in its barrel. One by one. It doesn’t give a damn about the target, so long as it has one. It doesn’t care if the target has a brain, a heart, a head. It doesn’t care much for love. The only one who cares for such things is the man holding the gun. It’s his decision to hit the target and once he makes it, there’s no going back.
‘I’ll be generous Bill,’ he continues, ‘and give you some time to come up trumps. Tell you what though,
if my stuff isn’t on the kitchen table in an hour, I’m going start popping some heads, starting with yours.’
Mannis slowly raises his hands. ‘You bast-’
‘Shhh,’ The Wolf whispers, pressing the tip of the gun to his lips. ‘I’ve got the gun remember.’ He jerks the weapon towards the door. You kids go to your room. Not you Solly. You can follow Mannis’s fat arse into the kitchen.’
I walk shakily across the grass and prise Tosh out of Saul’s embrace. He chokes back sobs, his arms encircling my waist. I remove his arms from around me and lead him inside by the hand.
‘I have to check on Dock,’ Saul says frantically. ‘I left him in the washroom.’
‘Fuck him,’ the Wolf snarls. ‘Now get moving.’
* * *
Chapter 50
Ransacked
We return to a ransacked room.
Tosh runs in, throws himself on top of a pile of sheets sitting beneath the window, and starts to cry.
The Wolf’s torn through our black bags with his great claws. He’s ripped our boxes to shreds with his teeth. He’s smeared the walls with candle wax and peed over an upturned chest of drawers.
I feel rage writhing like some caged monster inside of me as I stare around the room. I wring my hands together. ‘I have to do something.’
Like what? The Wolf has the gun.
I seek out Tosh amongst the mangled pile of sheets. He’s lying face down, manically opening and closing his fists and thrashing his legs about. I seize his ankle. His legs give three short spasmodic jerks, and then go still.
I lay one arm across his back and whisper in his ear. ‘Tosh, promise me you didn’t take the gun?’
He lifts his head, screaming, ‘He burnt Ellie’s blanket!’
‘I know, and I’m sorry. Did you take the gun?’
Tosh flips himself over, pushes the sheets away from him with furious effort, and pulls himself upright. ‘I didn’t take the stupid gun again. Alden must have taken it. He must have!’