He opened his eyes. The first light of dawn was creeping in the windows. He moaned and worked his jaw, unsticking his tongue. He needed to piss. He got up with a groan and walked over to the bucket, coughing on the way. When he was finished, he returned to his bedding and sat against the wall. Racquel hadn’t moved all night. She seemed to be sleeping now and he didn’t want to wake her. He dropped his head back against the wall, fighting the urge to go to the well.
After about twenty minutes, his thirst got the better of him. He reached over and grabbed Racquel’s shoulder to shake her awake. She jumped up with a scream, slapping his hand away. Her eyes were wide with terror as her head turned from one side to the other. She seemed to take a while to remember where she was before she straightened sharply, pulling her knees in tightly.
“Sorry,” said Liam. She stared straight ahead, at the dead space above the stairs. “Let’s go down to the well.” Racquel didn’t respond. “Racquel!” he repeated and she shook her head slightly and looked in his direction. “Let’s go down to the well.”
“Okay,” she replied in a whisper. Her voice seemed so meek. He picked up his knife from underneath his pillow and put it into his pocket. He noticed Deaglan roll over at the far side of the room and was glad to be leaving before he rose.
They walked down the stairs and out the door into the street beyond. Racquel stopped after a few paces.
“I … I … need to pee,” she said. Liam stopped and looked at her. He half-pointed to the side of the street. “I can’t do it there!”
“Why not?”
“It’s … everyone’s looking,” Liam looked around, feeling fairly certain that no one would be looking and so what if they did?
“I …” he shrugged. “Where do you want to go?” She looked at him and then at the ground. He could see the sheen of unshed tears gather at the bottom of her eyes as she looked about like a trapped animal.
“I … hold on, there’s an alleyway around the corner, there’ll be no one there, you can go there.” She nodded dumbly. He led her around the corner and into the alleyway off the next street. There was a bum at the end of it. He looked up as they walked in. Racquel stopped uncertainly again.
“Just go there,” Liam said irritably, pointing to the side of the alley, “it’s only a bum, I’ll … stand watch over here.” He turned his back to her and walked to the side of the street, fighting the urge to shake his head, confused at her behaviour.
She came back out to where he stood and they continued onwards to the well. There was a small queue. Liam noticed that Racquel still wore leather sandals. She was lucky to have gotten away with them.
They had to queue behind an old woman at the well. She wore a tunic tied at the waist like a man instead of a dress. Her chest was flat, her face leathery and worn, her feet bare like Liam’s. She was probably no more than thirty-five. She had a young girl with her, perhaps six or seven. She was filthy dirty, in a threadbare woollen dress. An old man was before them, his skin a dark brown, lumpy and folded up like the melted candle wax in the flat. He struggled to heave the bucket up with the pulley, his arms shaking as he turned it piece by piece.
Liam eventually tired of waiting and walked up to help him. Putting his hands over the man’s, he turned the pulley quickly until the bucket was over the edge. The man grabbed the bucket, lifting it clear without a word and put his toothless gums to its edge, tipping the contents into his mouth and over his lips, flowing down the front of his tunic, his head shaking as his hands were. Liam returned to Racquel and waited their turn.
He watched Racquel as they made their way up the queue. She seemed as though she was in a trance, so unlike herself. She was normally attentive, taking in her surroundings and sharp to pick up on things. Was this what I was like after Calum? She seemed so vulnerable.
She stopped suddenly as they reached the well and Liam moved to drop the bucket.
“I don’t know!” she cried. “I don’t know if she’s dead! Maybe she isn’t. I … I … abandoned her,” she said, horrified, as she started to cry. She turned her back to the well wall and slid down against it. Liam looked down at her, paused in action, not knowing what to say.
“I …” he said and stopped helplessly. After a moment, she seemed to compose herself somewhat again.
“What will happen?” she asked, as though speaking to herself. “Will he be taken to court? Will he be punished at all? What will happen to the bakery?”
No, Liam wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Who would do anything? Who would care? Certainly not the king, or the gang. Her aunt had no real value to anyone, except Galo, and he had killed her. He let her questions float away emptily on the breeze. There was no good answer, so why answer at all? After a moment, he dropped the bucket and drew it back up again. Racquel stood up beside him.
“I need to go back there,” she said, reaching tentatively for his arm. Liam felt broken at her touch. He looked at her as he lifted the bucket onto the edge of the wall. His mouth ached for the water. He couldn’t resist, he lifted the bucket and tipped it, allowing the water to flow into his mouth as he drank, gulping it down until he could handle no more, loose tendrils crawling down from the sides of his mouth to the rim of the tunic around his torso.
He rested the bucket against the wall of the well, gasping for breath and offered it to Racquel. She had been looking at him, waiting for a response. She hesitated a moment, then took the bucket and drank more sparingly from it. There was no one behind them in the queue; they had some time with it.
“Okay,” he said when she was finished. Her eyes seemed wide despite the furrow of her brow.
“I … I just need to know … what happened. I need to know …” she trailed off and turned from the well. Her bunched fists came to her mouth. “I don’t know if she’s dead!” she said in a rush, her voice muffled between her hands. “Maybe … maybe … she’s okay?” She looked over at Liam. He shrugged helplessly. He was still unsure of what had happened. He only knew that her uncle had beaten up her aunt for some reason and Racquel thought she was dead and that he would kill her too.
“I don’t know, we can … we can go by the … your bakery and have a look, eh, see if anything is different or anything?”
Racquel was quiet for a moment. She nodded. Liam took another swig from the bucket before they left the well, walking towards Baker’s Corner.
It was still early when they turned the corner onto Baker’s Lane. The bakery was just visible at the other end. They both stopped instantly as the scene fed its way into their eyes. Racquel let out a near scream, falling to the ground, her hands reaching past her face to tear at her hair as she crunched into a ball.
Liam looked down at her helplessly. His head popped back up in a panic. Could they hear her, could they see her? He crouched down and slid his hands underneath her armpits. With a great heave, he pulled her up and away. She screamed even louder and struggled against him.
“You want to be back with him?” he whispered frantically in her ear. “If he sees you, he’ll send the men after you!” She stopped her struggles suddenly, almost falling limply against him. He brought her back around the wall and rested against it, holding her in his arms.
She straightened, and he let her go. She stepped aside and sank sorrowfully into the wall. Her sobs didn’t cease. Liam stood next to her silently, waiting for it to end. Eventually she quietened but showed no sign of movement. Noon came and went. He crouched down beside her gently.
“We need to get some food,” he whispered, still uncertain. He coaxed her up and they bought food at a stall with the money he had received from Lana the day before. Racquel ate little, woodenly chewing on the bread.
They slowly made their way back to the flat, two hours before dark would come. Liam idly thought back to the scene outside the bakery. A handcart had been drawn up, with the clear shape of a body underneath, a faded white cloth on top of it. Men and women had been queuing up to shake the baker’s hand and offer him their sympathies as
the destra in his blue cotton robes chanted from the Sevi Natan, the holy book of Levitas. He had pulled back the covering to reveal Racquel’s aunt’s face. He traced the sigil of the ten thousand over her forehead with the scented oil before setting it alight, burning it into the dead skin through blue flame, imprinting the scent upon her body until rot and decay spoiled the meat.
He was struck by a sad and glorious vision as he walked slowly home, Racquel by his side. It was an image of himself and Racquel living above the bakery. Running it. Enough bread to eat every day, freshly baked with dried raisins and apricots. Customers calling at the door. They could work hard, expand, prosper, build a good living for themselves. A simple life. The vision seemed bright in his mind, as though everything were lit up by an exceptionally sunny day. Simple and comfortable. Two rooms all to themselves upstairs, a lavatory. They could sweep the floors, keep them clean, make the bread. He didn’t know how bread was made or where it came from, but it couldn’t be hard, Racquel could teach him and he could keep her safe. He could be her protection and the bakery’s. Why couldn’t it have been so?
He looked across at Racquel, still caught up in the splendour of his vision, realising fully, sickeningly, what she had lost; not just her aunt, but her future. And he hated Galo all the more for taking it from her. He wondered if she had yet realised the same. He doubted that she had seen past her grief.
******
Liam was at a loss for what to do. He felt frustrated and angry. He stopped dead on the stairs as he looked into the flat and saw Carrick standing by the window, looking out with a bored expression on his face.
Cid was curled up in the corner, Bradan sitting beside him as usual. He seemed to be shivering slightly. Deaglan and Ultan lounged against the far wall, opposite the stairs with a clear view of everyone, chatting amiably and flicking their knives casually into the floorboards in front of them. There was no sign of Erinin.
“Liam!” Carrick said, as he turned and saw him enter. “Where the fuck have ye been? Been fuckin’ waitin here for an hour for ye.”
“What are ye doin here?”
“Been waitin’ all fuckin’ day for ye, haven’t I? Think I got nothing better to do?”
“Then why aren’t ye doin’ it?”
“Some way to treat a friend! Where’ve ye been? Expected ye over at the tavern ages ago!”
“Calum was a friend, how well did ye treat him?”
“Wasn’t my fuckin’ fault. Gave that fucker what he had comin’ to ’im though, made him sorry that he killed Calum. If I hada known, woulda killed the fuck. Din’t know Calum was dead. Then you ran off. Din’t know at all. Got the fucker good though, won’t be messin’ with us again.” Liam ground his teeth and walked up the rest of the stairs. He put his hands against the wall, leaning against it. He sensed Racquel behind him.
“What do ye want?”
“What the fuck’s wrong with ye! Just came over to give ye yur share of the cash from the shield. Sold it after.” He put a hand in his pocket and walked over to Liam. Liam lifted his head. Racquel took a step up from the stairs and moved away, giving space for Carrick. Her steps were awkward as she found herself in the centre of the room, unsure what to do.
Liam put out his hand and Carrick dropped seven half klats onto it. A laugh burst unbidden from Liam’s lips.
“Seven fuckin’ half klats,” he said with bitterness. “The price of Calum’s life.” Lana had given him five times as much yesterday for free. He could see from the corner of his eye that Carrick was getting angry. He needed Carrick, didn’t he? How else was he going to get enough money to support him and Racquel both?
“Always pay my way. Never let a friend down. That’s me, ye know that. Came all the way out here to give ye the money, yer share. Did good work, damn shame about Calum, but got that fucker for him. Made ’im pay for it.” Out of the corner of his eye, Liam saw Deaglan approach Racquel. He knew Carrick wanted him for something, why else would he be there? He wanted to wait, make him come out and ask, to drop the pretext.
“I’m Deaglan.”
“Racquel.”
“I heard about your mother.”
“She was my aunt.”
“I’m sorry, my family are all dead too. How’d she die?”
“My … her husband …”
“Bastard.”
Liam stood up straight and leaned against the wall, his eyes looking past Carrick’s shoulder at Deaglan and Racquel. He put his arm around her and walked her to the far wall. Carrick’s foot was tapping. He seemed to be waiting for Liam to say something. Good. He turned his head and followed Liam’s gaze for a moment and smirked and gave a little snort of experience and knowledge. He seemed about to comment.
“Got any work goin’?” Liam burst angrily, frustrated with himself for brokering the subject but wanting to be done with Carrick. Carrick stopped short, smirking.
“Can get another job for ye, alright,” he looked at Liam. Liam met his eyes, and Carrick instantly moved them on. He never made eye contact. “Come on over to Sal’s tomorrow at noon, I’ll tell ye what’s up then. We’ll be doin’ it that evenin’.” Liam gave the barest of nods.
“Alright,” said Carrick as he sauntered past him and walked down the stairs. “Damn shame about Calum.”
Liam looked across at Deaglan and Racquel, bile building up inside of him. He clenched his fist and straightened from the wall. He walked over to them. He heard the door scrape open and closed below him.
“Ye ever wanna talk about it.”
“Alright, Deaglan,” he said aggressively, interrupting their conversation, stopping a yard away from them.
Deaglan looked back at him. “Alright, Liam,” he said, the edge of his mouth twitching upwards in that infuriating way of his. Racquel looked up. She still seemed too frail after what had happened to her. The tears that she had shed throughout the day, that he couldn’t stop, were still fresh in his mind. It felt as though such a delicate face should never see such a flood of tears. “I was just havin’ a chat with Racquel. It’s terrible what happened.”
“Fuck off, Deaglan.”
“Liam …” Racquel said quietly.
Deaglan spread his arms out wide. “Liam, I’m just tryin’ to help.” His gaze matched Liam’s, his voice innocent, and that hint of a smile always on his face.
Liam’s anger boiled within him. Perhaps this would be their showdown. It had been building for a while. Liam knew his knife was in his pocket. But could he use it? Would Deaglan use his? The rest of the boys wouldn’t be happy. It was an unspoken rule, you never use your knife on your family. Dave had, two years back. Everyone had turned on him, and he had been kicked from the flat. Liam used to see him every now and again for a while, in the neighbourhood, then he disappeared.
He was uncomfortably aware of Racquel, like a weakness in his side.
“Get the fuck away from her.” Liam’s voice was slow and gravelly; he could feel the tension in his face, his eyebrows drawn together.
Deaglan’s grin slowly slid from his face and he stood up a little straighter. His eyes narrowed.
“Remember what I told you, Liam? After that prick Calum died?”
Liam stepped in close to Deaglan, their faces inches apart. Deaglan was taller. “You think you’d have a fuckin’ chance against me?” There was a cold rage growing within him. Racquel had slipped from his mind. All of a sudden the hate and anger that had been building and bubbling under the surface for Deaglan since Calum’s death was coalescing and boiling within, threatening to explode outwards like a volcano of old. He knew that once it did, there would be no stopping him, no control. But he didn’t care. He wanted it to happen; he wanted Deaglan to take that final step that would send him over the edge, he was waiting for it. Egging for it. His eyes looked up, filled with fury, staring into Deaglan’s.
“I’ll gut you like a pig!”
“You’ve never gutted anything that wasn’t already dead, you fuckin’ pussy.”
Deaglan lash
ed out with his head but Liam saw it coming, dodging back and to the side before the blow could land. Deaglan followed up with a right-handed punch but that, too, found empty air as Liam dodged back once more. He was on the tip of his toes, about to launch an attack, his muscles bunched and filled with blind rage, when he heard a scream from behind Deaglan.
“Stop! … Stop,” Racquel cried out, crouching down on the floor. She scuttled back towards the broken railing above the stairs, tears flowing freely. She looked awful, panic-stricken. Liam was wrong-footed as he watched her. Deaglan’s left fist caught him on the temple, knocking him to the floor.
He looked up and saw Cid move with sluggish slowness in front of Deaglan, his arm outstretched, his face pale and slick with sweat.
“Come on for fuck’s sake, leave it.” Cid put a restraining hand on Deaglan, but he shoved it off roughly. He turned and walked out of the flat. Liam looked across at Racquel from the floor. He realised that he had seen her from the corner of his eye the whole time, seen her slowly crumble, but he had been too focused on Deaglan to pay attention. Guilt overcame his anger.
He sat down against the wall and watched her as she cried, her head buried underneath her arms. Cid gave a small glance his way before returning to his place, almost collapsing back onto the floor and wrapping his blankets around himself. After a few moments, Liam stood up and walked over to Racquel. He sat down beside her, shoulder to shoulder. He looked at the floor and across at the wall as everyone else watched on and Darren returned to the flat.
******
Liam lay awake beside Racquel, his mind a turbulent storm of conflicting thoughts. He couldn’t sleep. Racquel snored quietly beside him, joined by the soft snoring of the rest of the room’s inhabitants. He tensed as he heard the door scrape open below him. It must be Deaglan, finally returning to the flat. He lowered his eyes to slits and steadied his breathing.
Everyone could sense the danger between them now and seemed subdued as a result. It would have to come to an end, and Liam didn’t see a way out.
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