Running Read online

  That damned retched gun.

  * * *

  Chapter 31

  Yellow Belly

  A few days later, I walk into the kitchen to find Mannis’s cousin, Charlie seated at the table. He’s brought a crate of vegetable soup, two tins of tobacco and a packet of roll-ups. He’s laid the goods out on the table.

  Charlie stares at the boxes stacked around the kitchen with great moon eyes.

  Saul isn’t in his corner. I wonder about that because the Wolf’s not here either.

  Mannis is leaning against the kitchen sink, his thick hairy arms hugging his chest.

  ‘Where’d this lot come from?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘Father Christmas,’ Mannis says, unsmiling.

  I don’t know exactly how old Mannis is. I do know that Charlie is three years older than him. Charlie often says to Mannis, “I’ve got three years on you, and one more chin than you can ever hope to have, so you best listen to what I’ve got to say.”

  You can tell the two men are related. They have the same steel-grey eyes. Charlie definitely has the larger belly. It’s an extremely round, solid belly, that doesn’t wobble when he walks. Charlie also has grey, thinning hair, and a moustache that’s as stiff as a toilet brush.

  ‘Hello there erm,’ Charlie says, when he catches me in his sight. He can never remember my name.

  ‘Kate,’ I remind him.

  He nods and then instantly forgets me.

  ‘Come on Bill,’ he says. ‘Don’t kid around. Where’s this lot come from?’

  Mannis eyes me warily. He’s scared of what I might say. He’s been as cold towards me lately as Saul has been distant. Anyone would think I was the one who beat up Saul.

  I march over to the stove. I think we’ll have some hot food after all. I want to hear what Mannis has to say for himself. The last time Charlie was here, and that was months ago, he rowed, first with Charlie, and then with Johnny. Johnny nicked his wallet and he called him a whole heap of names as he rifled through his pockets to get it back. He called him a Piss Head, a Junkie, and a Waster. There were so many names, I can’t remember the rest.

  ‘Wanna give us a minute, Kate?’ Mannis asks.

  I pretend not to hear him. I open up a tin of beans and toss them into the saucepan.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Charlie demands. He pulls one of the boxes towards him and peers inside.

  ‘It’s just food,’ Mannis snaps, clearly not fond of Charlie’s line of questioning. Charlie wouldn’t care if the boxes were full of pine nuts. What he really wants to know is where Mannis got them.

  Mannis has a face on him like a red bull. He turns to me, or should I say, he turns on me. ‘Kate will you bloody well get lost!’

  ‘I won’t be long-’ I start to say.

  Then the Wolf swaggers in, smelling of tobacco. The fine stubble growing on his face makes him look older. He’s certainly not looking as fresh as he did when he first arrived here. Give him a couple of months and he’ll be as scruffy as the rest of us.

  Charlie sucks in his breath and scrambles to his feet.

  ‘Charlie,’ Rick says, holding out his hand. ‘It’s been a while.’

  I pause, one hand resting on the saucepan handle. I use my other hand to wipe away the thin sheen of sweat that has broken out on my face.

  ‘What-what’s he doing here?’ Charlie splutters, ignoring the Wolf’s outstretched hand.

  ‘He’s staying here for a bit, that’s all,’ Mannis says, colouring.

  ‘All,’ Charlie exclaims. ‘Have you gone stark raving bonkers? He got you put in the nick.’

  ‘Actually, Bill got himself put in the nick by getting himself caught. It had nothing to do with me. Tell him Bill,’ the Wolf says, digging his hands into his pockets.

  ‘Yeah, yeah he’s right,’ Mannis answers, absently twiddling his thumbs. ‘It had nothing to do with Rick or his gang. I did that one on my own.’

  ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Charlie shoots back. ‘You said it was him and his gang made you take the rap for something you didn’t do. He got something else on you has he? Made you yellow in the belly.’

  Mannis stops twiddling his thumbs. He looks like a red bull again. ‘I ain’t no yellow belly,’ he says, his anxious eyes fixed on the Wolf.

  ‘Prove it then. Tell him to sling his hook,’ Charlie says, jabbing his thumb at the Wolf.

  For half a heartbeat, I think Mannis is going to take Charlie up on his word, but when he lunges, it’s Charlie he goes for not Rick.

  The Wolf, looking faintly amused, steps aside to let them past.

  ‘Clear off Charlie,’ Mannis says, shoving him out the door. ‘We’ve had enough of your stinking soup to last a lifetime. Go on get outta of here!’

  Not a single word comes out of Charlie’s O-shaped mouth.

  And I find myself alone in the kitchen with the Wolf, who slowly makes his way towards me.

  * * *

  Chapter 32

  No Argument

  ‘I’m not scared of you,’ I blurt out in a panic. I pick up the closest thing I have to a weapon - the tin opener. My heart flaps madly in my chest. He’s just trying to frighten me. If I show him I’m not afraid, he’ll leave me alone.

  The Wolf stops about a child-size-foot away from me.

  Outside, I can hear Charlie and Mannis shouting seven-bloody-hells at each other.

  ‘Are you going to splice me open with that?’ The Wolf says, flashing his teeth.

  I glance down at the tin opener in my right hand. Why do I have it in the Wolf’s plain view instead of behind my back?

  ‘You should have picked the saucepan,’ he says. ‘You could have whacked me over the head with it.’

  ‘Nothing to say I still can’t,’ I reply, my voice trembling.

  In a split second, the Wolf’s closed the gap between us. He grabs hold of my face with both hands, snapping my head back so hard I hear my teeth rattle. The tin opener falls from my hand.

  The Wolf presses his face to mine. I catch the faint smell of tobacco buried under strong-scented cologne. I try to toss my head away from his; to cry out for Mannis, but my chin remains locked between his fingers and thumb, my lips puckered.

  ‘And I’ll shove the barrel of my gun down your throat for even trying. I wouldn’t stop there either,’ he growls, pressing the two fingers of his other hand to my temple. ‘I’ll pop Solly, and when I’m done, I’ll pop your little brother too.’

  ‘Leave her alone!’ A voice booms.

  Looking over the Wolf’s shoulder, I can make out the top of Mannis’s balding head.

  The Wolf twists his body to see where the voice is coming from. He loosens his grip on my chin. I spin away from him, gasping.

  ‘Leave us Kate,’ Mannis says. ‘Come back later.’

  This time I leave. No argument.

  * * *

  Chapter 33

  Angry Heat

  As the day wears on, and Tosh and I sit eating our soup straight out of the tin, I feel a heat coiling in my gut. I know the heat well, it’s anger. I’m angry with myself and that’s the worse kind of anger to shake loose. It clings to me like a shadow.

  ‘He’s taking over our home,’ I complain loudly, between mouthfuls of my chicken soup. ‘He’s even managed to take over Mannis.’

  And me, I’m ashamed to admit.

  I’m still trying to shake off the fear I felt when the Wolf put his two fingers to my temple. I can’t let Tosh know what happened in the kitchen. I don’t want to frighten him.

  ‘He’ll be gone soon, you’ll see,’ Tosh says, setting his tin of soup on the floor.

  He grins at me, revealing his tiny dimple. I haven’t seen a smile that broad on him for months.

  ‘Huh, you think so?’ I ask in a sarcastic tone.

  ‘I do.’ He chuckles into his hand.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Look under your pillow.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘This had better be good,’ I tell him. I reach across, lift u
p a corner of the pillow, and then let it drop.

  Ice cubes down my spine! My angry heat dies. I feel numb.

  ‘Where…where did you get that?’ I ask.

  ‘I told you he’d be gone soon, didn’t I?’ Tosh says, rubbing the tip of his nose. ‘Mannis can throw him out now easy.’

  ‘You stupid little-’ Without thinking, I seize Tosh by the shoulders and start to shake him. ‘Where did you get it? Why did you get it? How many times have I told you to stay out of the kitchen, to stay out of his business? You could have gotten hurt. You-’

  …could have gotten killed.

  Tears flow down Tosh’s cheeks. I gather him in my arms and stroke the back of his hair. His body sags in my arms.

  ‘Why did you do this thing? Why?’ I whisper.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ he sobs. He gazes up at me. ‘Ellie and I, we thought you’d be pleased.’

  I let go of him. Ten seconds later, and I find myself staring out of the back window, raking my fingers through my hair in frustration.

  ‘Ellie? Ellie’s dead Tosh,’ I say turning to him. I thought he knew that. I never told him Ellie was dead. I told him she was gone. I thought he understood.

  ‘Not to me she isn’t,’ he says, in a voice racked with sobs. ‘She’s still he-here. Just because you’ve for-forgotten about her, doesn’t mean I have to.’

  He bolts out the door.

  ‘Wait! Where are you going?’

  ‘To the Bog Room,’ he yells back. ‘Where you can’t follow.’

  The door bangs shut.

  I haven’t forgotten her, I want to tell him. I had to lock her away in my heart otherwise I’ll scream, and if scream I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. Tosh wouldn’t understand. How can I make him understand?

  And there’s the other matter…

  I kneel on my blanket, take a deep breath and plunge my hand under the pillow. My fingers close around the cold, hard steel of Rick’s gun.

  The weapon is slightly longer than the length of my hand. It’s black and shiny. It doesn’t look like a real gun. It doesn’t look like a used gun. The Wolf could have stolen it from the Hortsford Museum for all I know.

  The gun’s lead weight stops my hand from trembling. This isn’t a toy. This isn’t a make-believe adventure. This is real life.

  This is our life.

  What if there isn’t a way out?

  * * *

  Chapter 34

  Flowers on the Lawn

  I wipe my sweaty palms on the back of my jeans. I wrap the gun up in Ellie’s blanket. I then take the blanket and push it inside the bag with the old books.

  I lock my hands behind my neck and start pacing. So the gun’s in the crate. Now what?

  ‘It has to go back,’ I mutter. Before Rick realises it’s missing. I could take the bullets out, that’s if there’s any in there…and then I’ll put it back.

  My mind flies to Tosh. I race to the front door. I bump into Saul on the way out, wrestling with the scarf around his neck. He has a rose-flushed neck and a fine sprinkle of wood chips in his hair.

  ‘Have you seen Tosh?’ I ask.

  He guiltily rams his hands into his jacket pockets. ‘He’s in the bog crying,’ he replies, his eyes eagerly searching my face.

  He wants me to explain. He wants to hear me say, “It’s not my fault.”

  I dab at the pearls of sweat on my upper lip. ‘Oh.’ I don’t know what else to say. If he asks me for an explanation, I won’t give one. I’m going to have to sort this mess out on my own.

  ‘I tried to talk him out. He’s not budging.’ He continues to gaze at me steadily.

  ‘Right, thanks!’

  I want to ask Saul where he’s been. I have to sort things out with Tosh first. I leave him at the door, staring after me. I sprint around to the back of the bungalow only to find the bog door swinging on its rusty hinges.

  No Tosh.

  I try the washroom. He’s not in there either. Surely he can’t have gone into the kitchen. I move to the kitchen window and stand on my tiptoes for a better look. The window pane’s smeared with dirt, save one little circular patch, scrubbed clean by Mannis’s elbow. I peer through it to find Mannis’s bulbous head blocking my view. Though I can’t see him, I can hear Dock singing slurry words of joy.

  Why are you wasting time Kate? You know where’s he’s gone.

  I turn to face the green expanse of lawn, casting my eyes to the place where Ellie lays buried. My heart gives a jolt. There’s something there; something yellow lying on the little mound of grass fluttering in the breeze - flowers.

  Glancing back over my shoulder, I step out onto the grass.

  I feel like lead weights have been strapped to my ankles. I struggle to put one foot in front of the other. I know how to tread water and this is what it feels like. Every step I take brings a new ache and a new determination.

  Finally, I reach Ellie’s grave and pluck from it a bunch of sickly yellow daffodils. I inspect the faded yellow petals and the withered stems that look as if they’ve had the life crushed out of them.

  Tosh will have put them here. And why shouldn’t he? It was her grave.

  An unmarked grave, I correct myself. A grave that no one else must know about.

  The woods are half-bathed in sunlight and I can hear the faint sound of wood being chopped.

  Daffodils in hand, I set off across the lawn.

  * * *

  Chapter 35

  Half an Hour

  It doesn’t take me long to find Tosh. I simply follow the sound of the chopping axe until I hear the wood splintering in my ears. As I draw near, I start to slow down, conscious of my intrusion. Tosh sits comfortably on a tree stump with his back to me, holding a shiny red apple in one hand and a broken twig in the other. He looks as if he belongs exactly where he is - nowhere else.

  The scene unnerves me. The mangled daffodils slip from my hand.

  Opposite Tosh, stands the woodcutter in his wide-brimmed hat. He sends his axe crashing through a log, he’s laid across his tree-stump chopping board, splitting it in two.

  ‘Have you always been a woodcutter?’ Tosh asks.

  ‘If you mean was I born with an axe in my hand? The answer is no-’

  I catch Alden’s eye. He lays his axe down, raises his chin and smiles.

  I eye him warily.

  ‘Looks like you’ve got a visitor,’ Alden says, nodding his head in my direction.

  Tosh swivels around to face me. ‘Oh,’ he says sullenly and swivels back to Alden.

  ‘Come on Tosh we’ve got to go,’ I say, tightly. The last thing I want is for Mannis to catch us out here.

  ‘No we haven’t,’ Tosh says, whipping his head around to speak to me. ‘Alden’s going to tell me how he became a woodcutter.’

  ‘Alden’s got work to do,’ I fold my arms trying to appear composed, adult-like and dignified. Truth is, I’m hungry, tired and, dare I say it, frightened. My stomach feels like an under-inflated balloon and I can feel the weight of the bags under my eyes. Inside I’m shaking. I must be shaking on the outside too.

  ‘As a matter of fact I’m just about finished,’ Alden says. ‘You can come in and have a quick brew if you like.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ I reply. ‘But we have to go.’

  ‘I don’t want to go,’ says Tosh stubbornly. ‘Alden and I are talking.’

  I can’t be angry with him even if I wanted to. If I tell him no, he’ll cry all over again. He’ll cry anyway when he sees the flowers are gone from Ellie’s grave.

  ‘It’s only for half an hour,’ Alden says, flexing his axe-wielding hand. ‘You can get yourselves warm by the fire and then head back out.’

  Half an hour’s a long time when there’s a gun in your room that you don’t want anyone else to find.

  ‘I don’t know-’ I really don’t.

  ‘Please Kate,’ Tosh says.

  I stare into his brown eyes, shining with tears.

  ‘Okay,’ I
tell Alden. ‘Just half an hour.’

  Tosh grins and takes a huge bite of his apple.

  Alden swings his axe over his shoulder and gathers up an armful of logs.

  * * *

  Chapter 36

  Fairy Cakes

  We take the short walk to Alden’s cabin. I say short: I struggle to keep up with Alden and Tosh. My legs have gone all wobbly. I have a churning in my stomach, the kind you get before you have to sit a test at school. Questions, that’s what he’s going to ask me. More questions.

  The fire’s burning heartily when we enter. I gaze around the room as if I’m seeing it for the first time, although everything in the cabin is as it was before. The stuffed birds still hang from the ceiling. The clock’s still broken, and the same yellowing photographs hang on the wall.

  Tosh throws his twig into the fireplace and sits down on the stool to gnaw on what’s left of his apple.

  ‘Make yourselves at home,’ Alden says.

  He removes his hat and hangs it on the door with care. He lays down his axe as if he’s laying down a new born baby. All for my benefit. He thinks he knows my fear. I only wish I knew his.

  We can never be comfortable here, I want to say. This isn’t our home, and yet I feel drawn to the fiery red tongues licking the wood in the fireplace.

  Alden’s scrubbed the rug of ash and biscuit crumbs.

  Before I know it, I’m sitting on the rug with my legs tucked beneath me, stretching my hands out to the flames.

  ‘Right let’s get that tea sorted shall we?’ Alden says, rubbing his hands together. He opens the cupboard door and pokes his head in. ‘I’m sure I’ve got some cakes in here somewhere.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper hastily to Tosh. ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry,’