by E. Earle
I paused at Brynn’s upraised eyebrows. “Oh right, so we’re saving a load of pirate antiques for a buccaneer museum and you reckon I’m not going to have a swig of rum?” I opened it then and took a healthy swallow from it, its taste twisting my mouth. “Because you can walk the plank if you think that.”
Brynn snatched the flask from my lips before I could take another swig and downed some himself. I yelped a sound of protest as he wiped his lips, flashed me a crooked grin and passed it me back.
“Can I have some?” Jack asked.
Me and Brynn answered as one. “No!”
We pulled up to a barn conversion and a set of stables. My back prickled seeing the place. I hadn’t been to a barn since I got shot and my side started tingle as if in memory. The place didn’t seem to have anyone about, no cars were parked and the only souls about were a few horses snoozing in the stables.
I stepped out of the truck, swallowing pride and allowing Brynn to take my arm to help me down. Despite the past couple of days being out of hospital, I still hadn’t recovered to my full strength. Brynn had said that he thought it would take a couple of weeks until I was back to normal, but I took that opinion with a pinch of salt. My hands were still painful, and I was worried about scaring- it was a good excuse to get out of changing barrels, but it was something I genuinely was concerned about.
“What do you want me to do, guys?” Jack asked, tapping the steering wheel nervously.
I shut the door behind me, mindful of Ben jumping out and looked to Brynn who just shook his head. “You stay here,” I told him. “You’re the getaway car.”
“So I’m like Samuel L. Jackson in Die Hard?” Jack said.
I frowned at him. “Whatever you want.”
After mumbling between us whether Jack had been smoking something, I followed Brynn to a barn conversion. I was glad to see that it looked far more modern and renovated than the place I had nearly died. The comparison of the two places was now dead, and my heartbeat could finally calm down. Next to the building were a set of steel containers that you usually saw on building sites for deliveries. He informed me that they now hosted individual boutique shops for people who specialised in reselling antiques, after they had been repainted and remodelled. The main barn was a tea house and an auction room, which they sometimes used for private events like birthdays and wedding receptions.
I wrinkled my nose wondering why anyone would want to get married here, but then thought that maybe the place looked different in the daylight.
“Ok, that’s all very nice,” I hissed. “But where is Marley’s stuff?”
Brynn waved me off, ignoring me. “Patrick uses this place to keep his daughter’s horses.” He was walking carefully close to the containers, his feet making no noise on the ground. “He only comes here to make deals with his business buddies.”
“How do you know?” I demanded, careful not to step in a nice squishy pile of horse muck.
“My dad did a deal with him,” he said, his voice perfectly level. “He auctioned off my dad’s maritime coin collection.” He glanced back at my astonished expression. “He had found it on a diving session. He didn’t report it and took it home. Pretty impressive. He used to let me play with it and pretend I was a famous pirate who had just found an incredible booty.” He paused, as if hearing something and then continued on. “Old Marley recognised it and bought it so his brother’s mates couldn’t.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t worry- he tried to give it back to my dad but he wouldn’t take it.”
“Why?”
“Pride, I suppose.” I made out the shape of his shoulders in the dark as he shrugged. “My dad wouldn’t take it. At the time he was going through some money problems. It all worked itself out, but Marley turned them into a presentation at his museum so me and my dad could carry on playing pirate.”
He paused again and I walked right into him. “I can’t see,” I muttered, knowing Ben was finding the situation very amusing that two silly humans couldn’t see in the dark. “We should have brought a torch.”
Brynn reached behind him and grabbed my hand. Allowing him to pull me to his side, I glanced up at him and saw his eyes were focused ahead. He had been here before; I knew it from his determined footsteps.
“My dad used to bring me here to horse ride,” he said as if hearing my thoughts. “Patrick’s daughter and I were friends.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
He looked down at me, his mouth twisted in humour. “Yeah,” he said, mimicking my accent. “Good friends.”
I shrugged. “I bet you were.”
We continued to walk until we came to an out of place looking garage. Two water buckets lay empty outside and a trough of water for the horses was stood next to it. Yard equipment was leant against the wall with a halter hanging on a nail.
“Why are we here?” I asked when Brynn stopped in front of it. But Brynn was dialling his phone and telling Jack where to meet us.
“This is where Patrick keeps his stuff.”
I was getting exasperated. “But how do you know?” I snapped. “How do you know about this garage?”
“Because this is where his daughter and I used to go to cop a feel,” he said tiredly turning to me. “And it was always filled with his stash of antiques.”
“And when was that?”
He shrugged. “A while ago.”
“How long is a while?”
“I don’t know,” he snapped, annoyed. “Does it matter? Let’s just have a look inside before you jump down my throat, ok?”
Growling in annoyance, I pulled out my flask of rum again. Headlights lit up the place suddenly, and in my shock, I almost dropped the flask on Ben. Seeing it was Jack, I swore and picked up the flask from the dirt.
Tyre marks.
It had rained this morning. Distinctive tyre marks scarred the mud beneath my feet. I looked up at Brynn but he hadn’t clocked on yet. I glanced at Ben, finally able to see him illuminated by the truck lights. I cocked my head to one side and gestured to the garage.
Ben flicked his tail and trotted to the garage door and began to sniff. He was back within a second and meowed. I grinned and looked to Brynn.
“Let’s do this.”
I have never broken into anywhere in my life, but I wasn’t so sure I could say the same thing to Brynn. The padlock on the garage was nothing for the bolt cutters and soon we were lifting the rusty garage door up to have a wave of dust roll out on us.
“Oh shit,” I swore in dismay, staring into the darkness.
“What’s wrong?” demanded Jack from the car, poking his head out from the window. “His stuff isn’t there? Are you kidding me?”
Brynn swore behind me, not even bothering to look for himself and kicking a rock into the distance. “For fuck’s sake!” he growled, grabbing his hair. “I was sure it was there!”
“What’re we going to do?” Jack asked, opening the door to his truck and jumping out. “Where else could it be?”
“The bastard has probably already sold it,” snarled Brynn, turning his back to his both and clenching his fists. “I can’t believe we’ve let him down.”
I cleared my throat. “Um, boys?”
“What are you going to say to him?” Jack shoved his hands awkwardly in his pockets. “That’s his entire life that place.”
“Boys?”
“I don’t know!” Brynn snapped. His head fell then in defeat. “It’s not as if we can buy a load of stuff to shove in there. He’s collected that over countless years.”
“Boys!”
“What?” they shouted as one, turning around.
I raised an eyebrow and lifted the garage door higher. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, girls,” I grumbled, rolling up my sleeves. “It’s all here.”
They stared into the darkness for a few seconds before Jack suddenly gave a whoop, making Ben and I jump. He slapped Brynn on the back and then put his hand over his forehead in relief. “Then why do
you seem so pissed off?”
I straightened up and put my hands on my hips. “Because it’s going to take an age to shift it all!”
Brynn looked as though he could shake and hug me at the same time when he dived into the garage, glorifying in the sight of it all.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, waving him off. “Let’s just get it in the truck and get out of here.”
I tried to help as best as I could, but my hands held me back and I was constantly jumping at the smallest of noise. “Oh god,” I breathed, shoving in a collection of maritime letters in the back of the vehicle. “We’re going to get into so much trouble…”
“Why?” Brynn asked; lifting a trunk full of God knows what. “You can’t steal from a thief.”
I didn’t bother arguing with that logic. We had a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in. Pulling out my flask of rum, I swallowed the last of it. I looked down at it sadly and then to Ben.
“There will never be enough rum for this.”
Ben meowed in agreement.
Brynn and Jack moved most of the stuff. I carried what I could and started to get frustrated when it became less and less. I was exhausted and kept snapping at Brynn when he told me to sit in the back of the truck.
“That’s it now,” he said, his forehead flushed and glistening with sweat. “There’s only a little desk thing left, but I don’t recognise it. You and Ben may as well get in the-”
“I can help, you know,” I mumbled. He rolled his eyes as I walked in to have a look for myself. “Does it look heavy? Because I can-”
I stopped talking. Brynn stepped next to me and put his hands on his hips. “Nice, isn’t it?” he said.
A small solitaire writer’s desk was perched on top of a table, its protective pink blanket now on the floor in the dust. Ornate mother of pearl swirls decorated the top in an intricate pattern, its dark mahogany wood shimmering underneath.
“We’re taking it,” I said.
Brynn’s hands dropped from his hips. “Why?”
I turned to him, a smile stretching my face. “Because it’s George Eliot’s desk!”
Chapter Ten
I had a plan and I wasn’t telling. We locked Marley’s antiques in Brynn’s Uncle John’s garage for the night (I don’t think he was best pleased when we woke him with the noise.) He had stuck his head out of the window, took one look at us hauling pirate memorabilia into his garage, waved us irritably off and went back to bed.
“What about this?” Jack picked up the small desk, twirling it in his hands so he could see every speck of it. I prayed for him not to drop it.
My bandaged hands slightly raised as if expecting it to fall, I stared at it with hungry eyes. “That’s going back with us,” I said, my smile hurting my face. “Oh God, Jack – will you be careful with that?!”
We returned to Craggys late. Seeing as no one was around, we opened a fresh bottle of rum from the cellar and decided to share. It seemed fitting seeing as we had just saved a booty full of… well... booty for Old Marley and I was looking forward to telling him in the morning.
I found myself watching Brynn as he laughed and joked with Jack, thinking how ridiculous this had all been. I looked down at Ben as he butted his head against me and I pulled out his catnip toy.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I know the deal.”
I was intending on talking to Marley more about the mysterious woman in the morning. I wondered if Brynn had heard about a woman who was poking her nose in Marley’s business.
My eyes fell back on him as he laughed at Jack and I found myself smiling. His eyes caught mine and I looked away, trying to appear nonplussed. Reaching for the rum, my hair fell out of its temporary bun and I realised then how long it had gotten. I had stopped highlighting it and my natural colour was coming through. I had to admit, I quite liked looking into a reflection I recognised in the morning.
“I gotta take a leak, guys…”
Jack stood from his seat and staggered to the toilet. Jessica’s room wasn’t far and I wondered whether he would pay her a romantic visit. I raised an eyebrow at the thought and then shook it away.
“You ok?” Brynn asked.
I almost jumped in surprise seeing his dark eyes on me. “Yeah,” I said, my hand instinctively reaching out for the desk. “I’m fine.”
He nodded as if in understanding. “A lot’s happened, hasn’t it?”
I nodded and took a healthy swig of my drink-
“You should stay.”
-and choked on it. “What?” I spluttered, wiping rum from my chin.
Brynn narrowed his eyes in amusement. “You should stay here,” he said. “We could really make a go of the museum you know, make it a success.”
I heaved a huge sigh, feeling stressed. “Let’s not do this, Brynn-”
“Why not?” he demanded, his tone suddenly changing. “Is it because of that detective Halloway?”
I briefly closed my eyes. “It’s Calloway.”
He waved it off as though it didn’t matter. “Whatever his name is- don’t worry about him-”
“I’m not!” I half lied.
He fixed his dark gaze on me and I suddenly found myself unable to breathe. “So what is it then?”
“I’ve got a lot of responsibilities in the Midlands,” I offered weakly, spinning my glass around in my hands.
“Yeah- that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” he said. “The Midlands. Do you realise that you’ve been calling this place home recently?”
I shifted my shoulders and leant back, as if to get more breathing space from him. “Look, I just need to think things through-”
“Think what through?” he demanded.
“Hey!” I snapped, slamming my drink down. “Stop pushing! You think this is easy? Do you think I enjoy yet another dilemma? I need to be selfish for once! I need to think about me.”
“I can look after you here,” he growled, coming closer to me.
My skin prickled feeling the heat radiating from him from how close he was. I forced myself to not look away from his eyes, not wanting to show a sign of weakness. “I don’t need looking after,” I growled.
He stared at me, and then I think it just dawned on him on what he just said to me. He stepped back and then straightened himself up. He picked up his drink, downed it and then walked away.
I stared up at the ceiling as the sound of his footsteps drowned away and then finally released a shuddering breath.
“It’s all go, isn’t it?” Ben meowed.
“You’re telling me.”
Me and Ben stayed up for the rest of the night drinking and rubbing catnip into our faces (hey I was curious to see what it would be like) until I realised that Jack, after two hours probably wasn’t coming back from the toilet.
I put on some Jimmy Buffet and danced around the bar with Ben in my arms. He meowed along as I sang and then sense probably told me that allowing my guests to sleep in peace was probably a good thing.
“Come on, Ben,” I mumbled, switching off the juke box. “We’d better get ready for tomorrow.”
The next morning I got up early, not by my own choice but because Jack came into my room.
“Ellena,” he hissed at me as I stuck my fingers up at him to leave me alone. “You really need to come downstairs.”
“Why?” I groaned.
Jack hesitated and I finally pulled my duvet away from my face to see he looked depressed. “Old Marley’s lawyer is here,” he said and then paused. “Marley died last night.”
I was up within seconds, not caring if I gave Jack a flash of my bright pink pants. I pulled on the first thing I could find and ran down the stairs. Brynn was already there making coffees for us all looking slightly worse for wear.
Christopher was impeccably dressed as always, this time wearing a plain shiny navy suit with a lilac silk tie and matching handkerchief in his pocket. He wore thick stylish black eyeglasses today, but the eyes behind them were serious.
“I’m s
orry to inform you of the passing of Mr Marley,” he said, his voice once again that unexpected high pitched quality.
To my dismay, I suddenly burst into tears. Arms wrapped around me and I was swallowed by warmth and the scent of the sea. “But we got his stuff back!” I sobbed into Brynn’s chest.
He stroked my hair awkwardly and rubbed my back, making soothing noises. “Was it painless?” he asked after a slight pause.
For a few more seconds nothing was said, and then I realised that Christopher was either nodding or shaking his head. I peeked up out of Brynn’s tanned arms and saw Old Marley’s lawyer was nodding.
“In his sleep,” he said looking down at the ground in respect. “They found a dirty magazine under his bed.” His shoulders shook in a half contained chuckle. “Filthy old man.”
For some reason, that made me laugh and cry the more. Despite our earlier argument, I held onto Brynn as if he was my lifeline, drawing on him the strength that I lacked. I wasn’t sure why I was so affected- I hadn’t known Marley long, I hadn’t been a resident here long- hell, I hadn’t even been to the museum when it was up and running, yet alone see Marley when he was in his prime.
Ben’s long mournful yowl shook through my body as I realised then it was simply ok to mourn the loss of a life. Marley was nothing like my Granddad, but it felt as though that maybe I could do some good here- maybe I could bring some relief and happiness to someone’s life to make up for… for what?
It hit into my chest then as painful as that gunshot. What was I trying to make up for?
For not being there when my Granddad died, I realised. For not being there every single moment of the day to help him. To tell him the things that I wanted. I would never have missed those visiting hours when I was ill. I would never have not gone round that one afternoon simply because I needed some time away from it all. I would have gone with my sister at twelve when she offered me that lift instead of staying round my friends. I would have been there.