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Silas lay his head on the bench. “Go on.”
After cleaning the wound and re-stitching it, the doctor handed Silas another bottle of cleaning alcohol and sent him on his way.
Silas returned to the tavern and sat next to the fire.
Jennifer came over. “Ale, love?” Her smile beamed like always.
The throbbing wound made the prospect of getting drunk again very appealing. “Foolish to, foolish not to.”
“D’you want one or not?”
Silas frowned. Very abrupt all of a sudden. “Maybe just the one today, ay?”
Jennifer walked away.
What’s got into her? Had enough of me? Can’t blame her. I’m a waste of her time. Why mess around with me when she could be winning herself a husband?
Jennifer returned with the ale and slid it toward him. “Two coppers.”
Being charged? She really has had enough. Maybe I’ll owe for all the rest. Silas dug into his coin pouch. A lot less in here than I thought I had. He pulled out the coins and held them in a clenched fist over Jennifer’s open palm. “Jennifer, I –”
“Who? I think you got the wrong girl, love.”
Silas’s stomach sank. A hot flush rushed over his face and over the top of his head. “Ha. I’m sorry about those nights. I –”
“Listen here, love. You really have got the wrong girl.”
What? Silas dropped the coppers into her hand, dumbfounded.
“Shout if you want another.” Jennifer walked away.
Silas stared after her. Wrong girl? Why play such a sick game? He stood, the pain in his leg biting. “Jennifer.”
“Who’s Jennifer?” one of the old men at the bar said.
Jennifer turned and took several steps back toward Silas. “You’ve been here a week now, and I ain’t said my name’s Jennifer once.”
“But, I…” A week? It’s four days, maybe five.
“You just woken up or something?”
Silas thumped back onto the bench.
Jennifer came closer. “Listen, love. You’re confused. There ain’t no Jennifer, never has been. Perhaps leave that ale and take yourself off to bed. You’ve had more than enough these last days. Get some rest, and that head’ll clear.”
Silas stared at the ale mug. The brown liquid inside looked like muddy water. Get some rest? “I…” He pushed the ale mug toward her and didn’t look up.
Jennifer picked it up. “Don’t worry, love. A good night’s sleep works wonders. You must have overdone it, that’s all.”
Silas lay on the bed, following the trails of
the woodworm in the rafters. I can’t have imagined it. Is this her way of punishing me? But getting the men at the bar in on it, surely not? Have I been that drunk? Maybe. It’s been years since I’ve drunk so much. But to imagine such detail. Why would I imagine failing in bed? I need to talk with her again. This can’t go on.
The wound was hot to touch. I’d better clean it.
It stung as he wiped at the stitches, but that was no bad thing. Meant the alcohol was doing its job. Infection, is that what’s done it? But what about Mara? Seeing him in the market. I had no infection then. He sat on the bed. What the hell is wrong with me?
Silas visited Vala. He leant against the stable door and scratched her behind the ear, just the way she liked it. The door to the doctor’s house opened, and the doctor limped across the yard, cane in hand.
