AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I levelled her with a look. She was in her late seventies. She shouldn’t be up any step ladders at her age. ‘I’ll change to lamp for you. No step stool needed.’
She smiled at me and placed a cool hand on top of mine. ‘You’re such a helpful boy. Thank you.’
How her hand could be cold in the positively tropical heat of the kitchen perplexed me. But I savoured the brief touch, my heart aching at the moment of tenderness. Another glimpse into a life I didn’t have.
‘It’s not a problem. You know I’m happy to help.’ I had nothing else to be doing outside of work, anyway. Sure, I could go into the city and trail a bar for a hot body to warm me for a night, but come morning it always left me feeling more empty than I had before. When the women left, it highlighted how devoid of life my home was.
‘How is work?’ Gladys asked as I poured the tea and sat back, helping myself to the outrageous amount of biscuits she’d piled onto a plate. The buttery crumbly biscuit melted in my mouth. Damn, she made a mean shortbread.
‘It’s the same as always, really. Nothing ever changes.’ Gladys didn’t know what I did, thinking I worked in some mundane office job. Would she let me in her home and feed me biscuits if she knew I tracked, mutilated and often killed people for a living? Probably not.
‘What about your co-workers? No weddings or babies to fill an old lady’s heart with some joy?’ She loved to hear about life. Other than going to the local shop for food, she spent most of her time sequestered in the four walls of her home. I couldn’t imagine my life reduced to seeing no one, my only proper company being the telly.
‘There was an engagement, actually.’
‘Oh, lovely!’ Gladys looked positively thrilled, and I hadn’t the heart to tell her that the bride was terrified of her future husband, for good reason.
‘Do you think you need to be in love to have a good marriage?’ Political and economic marriages were nothing new. Maybe Esther could find some happiness with Harold. Somehow.
‘You need love to have a happy marriage. Life will limp along whether you are happy or sad, but love makes everything better. Fills all the cracks that will swallow you up if you are miserable.’
I helped myself to another little golden square of deliciousness as I mulled over her words. The dark cracks in Esther’s marriage would be great soul swallowing chasms. A pain gripped at me as I thought of her with Harold, in his home, surrounded by fear instead of happiness. For the years I’d been involved with her brothers, I’d watched her from afar. Petite, curvy and with a glint in her eye that flared whenever she got an idea into her head. A spoiled mafia princess, for sure. I’d often dreamed of taking her in hand when she let her mouth run away with her, imagined her looking up at me from her knees, imagined...
I cleared my throat. Sitting in Gladys’ kitchen wasn’t the place for that train of thought. Esther had always been way, way above my station. Not the sort of woman that would even dream of being with someone like me. No, she had her pick of men at her level of society, the rich, undamaged children of even richer men and women. The others who had never known struggle, never felt gnawing hunger or the despair of being unwanted. Or if they were unwanted had the money to drown their sorrows in champagne while sunning themselves on a beach somewhere. A million miles from my life.
Gladys filled me in with everything going on in her soap operas as I supped down my tea, my head filled with a picture of Esther’s pale face, eyes red-rimmed and despondent. So far from her usual vivacious demeanour. It wasn’t my place to get involved. It was never my place.
An hour or so later, after fixing lights and a few other bits and bobs in Gladys’ home, I let myself into my house. The door clicked shut behind me as I leaned back against it.
Another night alone.
I wasn’t ready to face the cold bed that awaited me. With a sigh, I grabbed my gym bag. Exhaustion usually made sleep swallow me up faster.
THREE
ESTHER
Maeve stayed in sight of my dad’s men, ensuring they remained near the clothing shop that they believed we were both in. A quick change of clothes and one blonde wig pulled snugly over my dark hair later, I’d slipped out of the shop, walking right past them with my stomach in my mouth.
I needed it to work.
My nerves only settled as I made my way down through the streets, slipping into the alleyway, where Wee Dave operated, a few minutes later. The stink of piss hit my nostrils as I made my way down the lane, picking my steps carefully to avoid litter, cigarette ends and lord knew what else. My knuckles burned as I rapped loudly on the door, feeling very much like I didn’t belong.
After a few moments, the door pulled open a crack, a dishevelled bearded face appearing.
‘Well, well. If it isn’t Esther McGowan. I’d have thought you were well out of needing my services. Old enough not to have to sneak into bars with a fake ID.’
‘Can I come in?’ Not that I really wanted to. If his house was anything like the alleyway.
An eyebrow raised sceptically as he looked me up and down, the wig already stuffed in my bag as soon as I’d gotten out of the henchmen’s sight. ‘I suppose you should.’
The door swung open, and I took one last look at the bustling street at the far end of the alleyway. My whole life I’d gone without being in a dangerous situation, and there was always someone nearby armed and ready to jump to my defence at my father’s bidding. I twisted my fingers in my necklace as I walked in through the door, hoping he wasn’t a scumbag. My mother’s wedding band slid around the chain as I fingered it, eyes widening as I looked about Wee Dave’s place. It was in stark contrast to the urine soaked alley outside. Cool blue lights emanated behind the many screens he had along the back wall, which he flicked to a screensaver with a touch of one keyboard, hiding whatever nefarious thing he was working on.
I licked my lips as my mouth took on a similar water level to the Sahara, taking in the neat office with the dark leather couches along one side. He even had a water cooler.
‘You look like you expected to walk into a crack den,’ Dave said, his eyes crinkling in the corners in amusement. ‘I’m not selling hokey little fake ID’s anymore.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, heat flushing my cheeks. ‘I’ve just never...’
