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  Chapter 26

  A Sponge

  I hardly leave Our Room over the next few days with good reason; I can’t leave Saul and I need to keep an eye on Tosh. No, make that two eyes on Tosh.

  The day after I brought Saul to Our Room, Mannis came knocking.

  I opened the door to see him standing there, wringing his hands and doing a good impression of a big, ugly goldfish. He waddled off and returned a little while later carrying a hot bowl of soup on a tray and something round and spongy-looking I took for a chunk of bread.

  ‘Put a bit of water on his lips Kate,’ he says. ‘Try to get some soup down him.’

  Saul never touched any of it. Tosh wolfed the soup down so fast he blistered his tongue. He crammed the spongy thing into his mouth, swallowed it and brought it up again. As it turned out, it wasn’t bread, it was a sponge.

  Mannis waddled off again and came back with a blanket, not just any blanket, his own brown woolly blanket. Its got more holes in it than the roof in Our Room. I realise he feels guilty for not protecting Saul from the Wolf. It seems to me that Mannis doesn’t want anyone else to hit Saul but him. Funny that. When it’s his handiwork, he won’t blink an eye, but when it someone else’s…

  ‘Wrap him up in this,’ he told me, holding out the blanket as if it were a golden crown.

  ‘You do it,’ I hiss through my teeth.

  I wanted to tell him, he’s a coward and a fool. I wanted to spit on him. Instead, I chewed my tongue until I tasted blood in my mouth.

  Mannis took the blanket to where Saul lay crumpled on the floor. Saul’s whole body seized up when he saw Mannis coming at him with the “golden crown”. Saul saw no golden crown or blanket that’s for sure. He most likely saw a fist the size of a cannon or a knife the size of the tree out front.

  Mannis faltered. He gazed warily at Saul. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself or what to say. His “golden crown” had been rejected. He shoved the blanket into my arms and skulked off.

  He hasn’t returned to check on Saul since.

  * * *

  Chapter 27

  Phew!

  ‘I want to go to the junk room,’ whines Tosh.

  This is the fifth time he’s asked. He’s bored. When he talks to Saul, he gets no answer. When he talks to me, I have no answers to give him.

  ‘What’s in the chest Kate? Why did Rick beat Saul Kate? Are we ever going back to the woods? When can we go to our junk room?’

  ‘Can’t you see what’s happened?’ I ask him.

  ‘This is our house,’ says Tosh, folding his arms crossly. ‘Cause of Rick we have to stop clearing. It’s not fair.’

  ‘I’m not saying we’re not going to clear it am I? Saul’s not well yet. When he is, we’ll go.’

  Though, I’m not sure we can clear the room now. The Wolf’s put his loot in a room three doors along from our junk room, which means he’ll be hanging around all hours, protecting his lair.

  There comes a gentle tap on the door, not gentle enough for Mannis.

  ‘Come in Dock,’ I yell.

  Dock hardly ever visits our room, but today he stumbles in grinning from ear to ear, showing off all nine rotten yellow teeth.

  He reeks of whisky, dried vomit, and urine. Someone needs to give him a good wash. With Saul out of action, I guess it’s down to me.

  Wrinkling my nose and holding my breath, I give Dock plenty of room to kneel down next to Saul.

  ‘Howdy pardner,’ Dock slurs. ‘How ya doing?’

  It’s late morning and Dock’s already drunk. I doubt he understands what’s happened to Saul. What would he do if he knew? Make a song out of it I expect.

  The Wolf’s right about Dock. As long as he has a steady supply of booze to wake up to, he’s no good to anyone, not even himself. And he’ll have a steady supply of booze for as long as the Wolf is here.

  Saul’s eyes flicker open. ‘Hi,’ he mouths.

  ‘Phew!’ Tosh says, scrunching up his face like a pug-nosed dog. ‘You stink, Dock.’

  Saul doesn’t hold his nose, or wrinkle up his face. He loves Dock, puke smell or not. He stares at Dock, his expression grim.

  ‘I’ll go clean him up,’ I tell Saul. Though I’ve no idea how.

  ‘Just run the hose on him Kate,’ he says, huskily. ‘You don’t have to take his clothes off or nothing. Rub the bar of soap on his clothes and face.’

  ‘He’ll catch cold,’ I say.

  ‘Put him in front of the stove to dry out.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, giving him a half-hearted nod. My insides churn at the prospect of washing Dock. And I was hoping to avoid the kitchen.

  ‘Can I come?’ Tosh asks. He sticks his finger in his ear.

  ‘No, you stay here with Saul.’

  ‘I want to help clean him up,’ he says, pouting.

  ‘Let him go Kate,’ Saul says. ‘I’m all right. No one will bother me here.’

  I go reluctantly, leading Dock by one hand and Tosh by the other.

  ‘Take him out front,’ I tell Tosh, once we’re in the hall. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’

  * * *

  Chapter 28

  Soap Suds

  I find Mannis in the kitchen, rummaging in one of six cardboard boxes stacked on the table. The Wolf’s out. I’m suspicious, but thankful.

  ‘A-ha!’ says Mannis, pulling out a tin of baked beans and placing it on the table. He plunges his hand into another box beside it and pulls out a brand new tin opener.

  ‘Is this all courtesy of Rick?’ I ask my tone deliberate and spiteful.

  An awkward silence follows. Mannis cranks open the tin of beans with the tin opener. ‘How’s Saul?’ he says eventually.

  ‘Getting better.’

  ‘Good.’

  He scoops up some beans with his bloated fingers and stuffs them in his mouth, nosily smacking his lips together. He steals a quick look at me before plunging his hand into another box.

  Speaking into the box, he says, ‘I was gonna get a fire on. Cook Saul some breakfast. Reckon he might be hungry. He’s not seen much food in the past couple of days.’

  ‘Nor have the rest of us’, I add silently. I pick at my fingernails. Obviously, Mannis still feels guilty about what the Wolf did to Saul. Why else would he want to cook? He hates cooking.

  Outside, squeals and shouts break the unsettling quiet.

  I lunge for the back door, happy to leave Mannis to his boxes and beans. As soon as I step out onto the concrete porch a jet of cold water hits me square in the chest. Tosh has taken the twelve-foot long hose and attached it to the tap in the washroom. He wields the hose as if he’s wielding a water pistol.

  Dock’s drenched from head to foot. His hair’s thick with soap suds and his trousers have fallen to his knees. He wanders around haplessly, kneading soapy water into his eyes.

  Tosh is squealing his head off with delight.

  ‘Tosh! Stop that,’ I yell, running at him.

  A jet of water hits me in the mouth. I gasp, and then swallow, shielding my face with both arms. I can feel the water soaking through my clothes, dragging me down.

  ‘I don’t want to stop,’ says Tosh, grinning majestically.

  ‘It’s not funny. Put it down!’

  ‘No’ he screams, defiant. ‘Ellie thinks it’s funny.’

  My brother’s gone mad!

  I chase him around the patio. I can’t run fast in heavy wet clothes. If you put me in the sea, I would sink to the bottom before I could wave for help.

  Tosh darts away from me and lets another jet of water slap me in the face. I clap my hands to my face feeling an ice cold sting. ‘You stop!’ I roar. ‘You stop or else.’

  Tosh does a little twirl, aims the hose at Dock’s head and almost sends him flying with a thick spray of cold water. The jet catches the Bog Room door, forcing it open with a mighty thump.

  ‘The jet’s too strong,’ I yell, as if he didn’t blinkin’ well know.

  Suddenly, the w
ater from the hose pipe reduces to a fine trickle and then stops altogether.

  ‘Huh?’ says Tosh, putting his nose to the end of the hose pipe. ‘Where’s all the water gone?’

  I peer into the washroom to see the Wolf’s stood with one hand resting on the copper tap.

  He stalks over to us.

  ‘You kids better learn to keep it down,’ he snarls. He takes a cigarette from his pocket, pushes it between his teeth and leaves via the kitchen door.

  ‘Let a bit more water out Tosh and rub the soap out of his eyes,’ I say wheeling Tosh around to face Dock, who’s lying on the grass with both feet up in the air, rubbing his eyes.

  I follow the Wolf inside.

  * * *

  Chapter 29

  Red Hoop

  In the kitchen, Mannis tends the stove. I watch him grunting enthusiastically as he heaps a ladleful of beans, a runny egg and two slices of bread onto a plate.

  I know its bread this time. The newly opened loaf’s right there on the table, close to where the Wolf sits, tinkering with a round metal object and frowning. It must be a watch, though I don’t what kind. It’s way too big to be a wristwatch and it hasn’t got any straps. It could be a stopwatch. I thought all stopwatches were made from gold or silver. The Wolf’s watch is made of brass.

  The Wolf jerks his head up. His frown turns to a scowl when he sees me gawping at him. I look away abruptly. I wish I had the nerve to hold his gaze.

  Mannis puts the plate on a tray. He adds to it a mug of milky tea with a large spoon standing in it.

  ‘Here,’ he says thrusting the tray at me. ‘Take this to Saul. You can come and get something later.’

  I take the tray into Our Room

  I’m pleased to see Saul sitting up. He’s moved into the corner beneath the fractured window and he’s flicking through the pages of a book: Oliver Twist. He’s discarded Mannis’s blanket and covered himself up with Ellie’s blanket. The gash on his forehead is concealed under his mop of hair.

  I place the tray in front of him.

  He puts the book to one side. ‘Where did you get all this?’

  I cock my eyebrow. ‘Where do you think?’

  Saul clenches his jaw. ‘I don’t want it,’ he says firmly. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Mannis cooked it special,’ I add, hoping it would make all the difference.

  Saul can’t afford not to eat. He’s skin stretched over bone as it is. He only had a few mouthfuls of soup yesterday, and the day before he didn’t eat anything. His copper-kissed hair and eyelashes bring a bit of life to his gaunt face, but without them, he would be a ghost.

  Saul studies the plate of food with a vacant expression. Inside he’s far from vacant, I know that much. He’s not thinking about the food. He doesn’t care who cooked it. He’s not hungry. I drop to one knee, studying the plate with him. He doesn’t see a plate of food. He sees a dark pool of nothingness, I’m sure of it because that’s what I’m seeing.

  ‘Why don’t you run?’ I ask him. It’s a reckless thing to say I know. I can’t help it. I’m afraid for him.

  ‘I already did,’ he says, his eyes fixed on the plate. ‘I can’t run any more. It’s always the same wherever I go. It’s as if something bad has been put on me, and-and there’s no way out.’

  He’s never spoken like this before, not to me. I try to make some sense of what he’s trying to tell me, but I don’t understand it any more than I do the senseless beating Rick gave him. ‘But you can’t be happy here?’ I say, uncertain.

  ‘Nor can you.’

  Our eyes meet briefly. Then Saul looks back at the plate. I look over at the door. I’m not meant to be happy; I want to tell him. I’m supposed to make other people happy. That’s my job. I admit I’m not very good at it. If I put in the effort, I can make Tosh happy most of the time. I wish I could work my magic on Saul and make him happy too.

  ‘I can’t leave here Kate,’ he whispers softly.

  I rock back on my heels. ‘Why did you run? You never said.’

  Saul takes up Oliver Twist. He opens it and starts to run his fingers across the randomly selected page.

  I let out a long-winded sigh. This is the wall he’s chosen to hide behind today.

  Saul pretends he can’t read. I know he can. I overheard him one day reading a story in an old newspaper out loud. I’ve never spoken to him about it. He’ll only clam up. I don’t think he’s pretending for my sake. He doesn’t want Mannis to know he’s smarter than him.

  ‘No one likes a smart arse,’ Saul told me the day I named all the planets in the Solar System. They were Mannis’s words not his. And I don’t really know all the planets in the Solar System, I just made them up.

  I push on, determined to knock the wall down. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried. Saul’s’ not a talker. I know that. He won’t even tell me his last name. The amount of times he’s listened to me yapping on about myself and family and he can’t even give me something as simple as that. ‘It was bad wasn’t it? What happened to you?’

  He lifts his head.

  ‘Sometimes I wish hadn’t…you know run. Once you run, you can’t stop running. Pride. Fear. I don’t know what it is. You’ve jumped out of the loop and it’s hard to jump back in again.’

  I nod in understanding. I visualise him trying to jump through a big red hoop. With each attempt, the hoop gets smaller and smaller and then rolls away from him.

  ‘I’ve got a roof over my head. I’ve got food… I’ve got you…’ He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. I squeeze back. ‘You should never run Kate. No matter how bad things get. You should never run.’

  ‘I didn’t run,’ I say tersely.

  He lets go of my hand, and takes the spoon out of the mug of tea. I think he’s going to eat something after all. Instead, he brings the book - still in his other hand - right up to his face. At the same time, he smashes the beans with the spoon, grinding them into the plate, until they become nothing but fine mush, then he moves on to the egg.

  Our talk ends and I’m left feeling angry.

  I’m not runaway! I console myself. I was abandoned. I’m a Throwaway. I had nowhere else to go. I could jump through the red hoop any time I wanted, if I knew where to find it.

  Crossing my legs, I snatch the diary from under my pillow and flick to the first illegible page. I hold the book right up to my face just as Saul’s doing. See, I can pretend too.

  Every so often, I peer over the top of the diary to look at him. He’s retreated into that dark world of his and I know it’ll be a while before I can get him to talk again.

  I give up for now. Furiously pushing the diary back under my pillow, I go out to the washroom.

  Dock’s waltzing up and down the patio wet, happy and waving a bottle of beer in his hand. He smells of tar soap.

  ‘Hey Ho, hey ho, it’s off to work we go!’ he sings in a slurry, out of tune voice.

  ‘Probably doesn’t even know what work is,’ I mutter.

  ‘Dock!’ I shout. ‘How long have you been running?’

  He stumbles back and raises the half-empty bottle as if he believes the answer lies in the bottom of it. ‘Cheers,’ he says to himself. ‘Cheers very much to ya tooo.’

  I search for Tosh. I find him standing over the washbasin. He looks like he’s been crying. His eyes are puffy and bloodshot and his nose is running.

  ‘Tosh? What’s wrong?’ I ask, putting my arm around him. He pushes me away.

  ‘Nothing, I’m ok,’ he says. He sniffs a few times and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. He sprints past me and into the bungalow.

  I chew on my bottom lip, puzzled. I go outside. Dock’s stood there grinning. I glare at him accusingly. ‘What did you say to him?’

  ‘Me? I don’t say nothin’ and you don’t say nothing. Could be that’s the problem.’

  I asked Tosh what was wrong, didn’t I? So why won’t he tell me?

  * * *

  Chapter 30

  Hounds

&n
bsp; By the end of the week, Saul has moved out of Our Room and back to his corner in the kitchen.

  I spend all my time with Tosh, hardly leaving his side. When he wants to use the bog room, I wait outside, checking over my shoulder for the Wolf or the woodcutter. I get the feeling we’re being watched. My blood runs as cold as our copper tap in winter and the hairs on my arms keep standing up like pins in a pincushion.

  ‘You’re like a stalker,’ Tosh says to me one day. ‘Go away. I’m all right on my own.’

  ‘No you’re not,’ I tell him. And neither am I.

  I feel like a prisoner’s who’s gone underground, only leaving Our Room to go to the toilet and the washroom. If I need to go to the kitchen, I go alone. I don’t want Tosh in there. It’s where trouble stirs.

  ‘But the kitchen’s warm,’ he complains.

  ‘The days are getting warmer,’ I reply. ‘You don’t need to go to the kitchen.’

  Its true. The spring sun has started to spill, like glitter, into our bungalow. And you don’t feel the cold much at night, when you’re fast asleep under a layer of blankets. I’m not going to say that to Tosh. I know it’s not what he wants to hear.

  I told him it’s not forever. It’s just for now; until the Wolf’s gone with all his treasure.

  I nip to the kitchen for food and to check on Saul, not that he notices me. I’ve become invisible to him. He won’t look at me, never mind speak to me.

  I stop long enough to crank open the tins of soup. I don’t care if we have to eat it cold.

  Saul and Mannis do the Wolf’s bidding, like a pair of obedient hounds. Saul cooks breakfast for him, does his washing and clears up after him, while Mannis runs his errands. Mannis’s hands are forever trembling and Saul’s constantly rubbing at the wound on his forehead. I can understand Saul, but not Mannis. Mannis who’s always acting the hard man; Mannis who can knock Johnny Conzett out with three blows when he wants to; Mannis the “Man of the Manor”, scared witless by a man half his age, half his size. It all comes down to the gun doesn’t it?