A Tailor's Son (Valadfar) (20 page)

Excusing himself from Janet’s company as swiftly as he
could, Harold made his way to his father’s house alone. His mind
fighting hard to try and ignore the foreboding he felt. The beauty of the
streets had melted into a black sludge that washed through the gutters
turning his mood worse. As Harold approached the house he noticed
the door was open and the doctor’s horse-drawn cart sat outside. The
fear for his family over powered his caution and not caring if the guard
were there or not, Harold quickened his step and forced his way past
the crowd. The ground floor was empty and Harold made his way up
the stairs, taking them two at a time. By the time that Harold reached
the top step, he could already hear his mother weeping. His heart sank
and his eyes begun to burn, but Harold fought the tears off. He already
knew what he was about to face.

Harold entered his parent’s room for the first time in his life
without knocking. As soon as he stepped inside, his mother fell into his
arms squeezing him so tightly that Harold found it hard to breathe.
Looking over her shaking shoulder Harold could see the lifeless body
of his father lying on the bed. The doctor turned and gave him a
half-hearted saddened smile while pulling a sheet over his father’s
emotionless face. Harold knew he meant well and was trying to tell him
that he understood the pain, but it brought him no solace. His father
was the last pin that held the family together.

Inside Harold wanted to wail, he wanted to fall to his knees
and sob until it brought him back, until the creator himself heard his
anguish and gave back that which he took but for his mother’s sake,
Harold did not. Instead he held her silently, the two of them unmoving
in a trance as the industrious throng of people swarmed around the
room. Harold had to hold his mother forcefully within his arms as they
took his father’s body away. She wanted to go with him. To hell with it,
Harold wanted to go with him, to whatever lay in the realms outside
this world, but he knew he could not and neither could she, and so,
ignoring her screams as she struggled to free herself from his arms,
Harold held her tightly. Once the front door clicked shut, her struggle
ended and she sagged in his arms softly sobbing once more. Harold
and his mother sat alone in the lounge for most of the evening, both of
them glazed and distant. Harold had always relied on his father’s
strength and now he was alone. He did not know how he would cope.
He remembered all the times with his father, those good and bad, his
mind flickering through memories like pages of a falling book. The
silence was choking but Harold could not think of any words to
comfort his mother. For forty years, this man had been part of her life
and now he was gone. The lump returned to his throat and Harold had
to bite down hard to stop his eyes filling. In the end his steadfastness
abandoned him and Harold too cried.

“Mother what happened?”
Harold called out to the ghost of a
woman sitting close to him. There was no reply, no change to her
porcelain face. Her tears had dried on her cheeks and she stared
lifelessly at the wall. Harold knew she had turned off and was not in
that body any more. “
Janet said that the guard were here earlier. What
happened?
” Harold continued. He had to know who was to blame or if it
was just the flu that took him.

“
Don’t worry about it dear.”
His mother said. She did not look at
him as she spoke but instead her eyes stayed fixated on the wall as if
trying to look through it.

“Mother, what happened?”
Harold repeated. He did not like
forcing her but he could not let it be until he knew.
“Someone tried to rob us, but your father saw them off.”
She said
before letting her head drop to face the floor.
“
Who - What did they look like?”
Harold asked, worried it could
have been William or the O’Brien’s.
“I don’t know it happened so fast.”
She said faintly, as her memory
replayed the horrid events that had happened. “
I was upstairs, they tied me
up but I heard them downstairs. I heard it all.”
“What did they sound like?”
Harold asked, hating himself as he
did. He could tell his mother didn’t want to relive the events but the
anger inside him made Harold want to find the people responsible. His
mother gave him a puzzled look, but she was too tired and too sad to
care why he wanted to know. She removed her stare from the blood
stain on the wall for just a second before she answered.
“They were Drow. Your father took the fire poker to them and they ran
off.”
Harold knew her heart must have broken. His anger peaked as the
image of the two bastards from the hospital came to him, but he knew
he had to keep calm for his mother’s sake.
“
You’re not safe here, Mother, you should leave.”
Harold said. She
nodded and Harold could tell she did not want to be alone and wanted
him to stay with her but Harold could not. He could not give up on
William. If he did, even more people would suffer and it would not be
long before the guard or the O’Brien gang got to them again.
“
Why don’t you go stay with Aunt Elizabeth?”
Harold asked,
knowing his mother had not seen her sister since her wedding day.
They had always been close before that, but both married shortly after
each other and had been busy raising their families.
“Oh no, dear, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to impose on them.”
She said
and Harold saw the frozen mask fall from her as a small flicker of
herself returned. He could still see the redness to her eyes and she
looked exhausted but it was his mother again, at least for the moment.
Harold did not reply, his look said enough and his mother knew that
she had no real choice. It was Aunt Elizabeth or the summerhouse
alone, and at least Aunt Elizabeth lived in Neeskmouth so his mother
would be close for the funeral.

Harold left his mother at around 3 in morning of the 24th.
She had finally fallen asleep in his father’s chair and Harold could not
handle the horror of sitting and watching her any longer. His emotions
were ready to break free and Harold had to go before she saw that. He
walked through the streets alone and in the dark. He knew that it was
William’s most active time, but Harold did not have the determination
to try to find him. He couldn’t face going back to Muriel’s either. No
matter how much Harold wanted to hold her, tell her his woes and
have her make them better, it wasn’t right.

He wandered aimlessly down the familiar cobbles replaying
memories of time spent with his father. Good times like when they
fished at the cottage. He had switched the rods so Harold caught the
fish he had baited and he thought Harold had not noticed. He had
often done little things like that and Harold was never stupid enough
not to notice, but he played along to make him feel better. The image
flicked onto the next. They were climbing the trees outside in the
orchard. Harold must have been young at the time, as his father had a
good head of hair. Harold had been stuck close to the top of a tree after
reaching for a juicy red apple. His father sat at its base telling him how
easy it would be to climb down. When he realised Harold was too
scared to move, he climbed up to carry him down, but before he even
got half way he fell from the tree crashing into the ground. Oh, how
he’d cursed. For a second the sadness subdued and through tear
sodden eyes, Harold smiled at the image of his father sitting on his
backside looking up at him, it was not as easy as he had thought.

Harold had not planned his path but he found himself outside
the shop – his shop now, Harold guessed. He unlocked the door and
made his way inside, swiftly locking the door behind him. Alone in the
darkness, Harold was sure, just for a moment, that he got a whiff of his
father’s tobacco in the air, but the smell faded fast and Harold put it
down to imagination. He had to focus his sorrow. He could not let it
consume him, not yet. There would be time for tears later, but now was
not it. Harold reached for a bolt of thick cotton and made his way out
to the back. Muriel needed a new dress and Harold knew that would
give him the focus that he needed. Harold laboured through the night,
pouring every part of himself into his work and by daybreak Harold
had completed the dress. It was perfect, the best piece of work he had
ever done. Harold had dyed it brown, an almost shiny copper coloured
brown that glinted in the candlelight like sequins. It layered over itself
in three tiers from waist to ankle. Flowers of pure white grew up it,
each connecting to the fold above. There was no slit for cleavage,
instead a thicker layer enclosed up to the neck where lace netting ran
around and then down. The sleeves would hang to her wrist and flare
out like trumpets. This gown was fit for royalty and would have fetched
a fortune for the store but, instead, Harold would give it freely to
Muriel
.
He managed a smile as he folded the dress up and readied
himself to go and collect her.

Harold had decided during the night that they would leave her
house and stay at his parent’s home. Harold hoped she would be
willing, and that way if O’Brien’s boys returned Harold would be
waiting for them. He would not back down this time. The sickness may
have been the thing that finally took his father from him, but the
O’Brien bastards had been the ones to cause it, and they would pay.

It was still early when Harold arrived at Muriel’s, even though
he had arrived as late as he could, even stopping en route at the library
to borrow as many books as they had on the occult. This turned out to
be five and even they looked like they had been pulled back out from
one of the many Benedict book burnings. Harold was not sure, but it
might just help. Surely they would have some reference to whatever it
was that William had become. Harold sat in the lounge flicking through
the pages of one of the thick books filled with tiny scrawl but, before he
could find anything interesting, the sound of a door opening hinted
that Muriel had woken. She had not bothered to dress but instead
stood on the stairs in her under garments. Harold’s heart fluttered a
beat and he forced his eyes to remain on hers.

“
Sorry I woke you.”
Harold said lamely through rapidly drying
lips.
“That’s okay. Is everything all right? You rushed off so fast yesterday.
”
Muriel said with a yawn, she came and sat close to him at the table.
Harold was glad that there was no hint of anger or annoyance in her
voice, but just the normal caring tone she seemed to carry. Harold
wondered how it was that a woman who had lived such a harsh life as
hers could have learned to be so caring. He would ask her about her
past one day, but as always, it was not the right time.
“It’s my father, he was attacked.”
Harold said with his voice failing
to hide the sadness, and he felt that same lump return to his throat that
he had been fighting since seeing the wagon outside his parents’ home.
Harold wondered just how many more bloody times he would have to
swallow it down.

“
Was it William that done it? Is your father okay
?” Muriel’s took his
shoulder in her hand, her palm closed tighter, and Harold felt his
perseverance break. He could not keep up his defence under her caring
embrace. No more could Harold swallow the lump down. His eyes
began to fill with water as he looked into her concerned face and that
sad little smile on her thin lips that told him she knew what Harold felt.
It was the same look the doctor had given him but with her, it felt more
real. She pulled him close, pressing him tightly in the strongest of
embraces he had ever felt. It was as if she was trying to squeeze the
sadness out of him. Harold had not needed to say the words for Muriel
to know his father was no more. Harold sobbed in her arms. He did not
ever want to let her go.

“
I’m sorry.”
Harold said finally, pulling back and wiping his
eyes when his heartbreak subsided enough to feel embarrassment for
his outburst.

“
You don’t need to be.”
She said and went to pull him close again.
Harold gently shrugged away knowing if he felt her warmth again, he
would break down once more and Harold had few tears left inside to
shed.

“My father was a great man and I’m going to miss him, but now isn’t the
time to mourn for him.
” Harold said trying hard to convince himself. If he
stopped his pursuit of William and the truth now, then he would have
died for no reason. Harold just wished he had had the time to say one
last goodbye and explain why all this happened.

“I never met him but he raised you, so he’s got to be a true saint.”
Muriel
smiled, her playful banter helping him more than she could know.
Harold really did love her, and his sadness just added further
confirmation to this. With the loss of his father Harold began to rely on
her even more.

“I’ve got something to ask you, Muriel
.” Harold said before he lost
his nerve.
“Go on.”
She replied expectantly.
“My father’s home is to be empty now as my mother is going to stay with
family. It has more space than here and seems a shame to let it go to waste. I was
wondering if you wished to come and stay there with me, just until all this is over. I’d
feel much safer with you there.”
Harold asked. He had only left the house a
few days before for fear of the guard finding him but the weather
should keep them at bay and Harold just wanted to be close to his
father.
“I don’t know what to say. Sure, I guess. I’ll just get my things and we can
go.”
Muriel said trying, unsuccessfully to hide her disappointment that
Harold had not asked something else. Without doubt now Harold
could tell she wanted to be with him. She paused midway up the stairs
to give him a smile. “
It’ll be okay you know, Harry. We’ll get through this.
” She
said continuing up the stairs and out of view.
When Muriel finally came back down without a bag and in
that same, low cut and soiled dress, Harold smiled, knowing that she
would soon have a new gown. The gift Harold had made himself was
waiting already hidden at home and Harold planned to give it to her
that night.
“
Ready?”
Harold asked, trying his best to seem happier than
when she left him. Inside Harold still ached but he had to be strong. He
was his father’s son, and Harold knew he would not have cried, even at
the end. Harold would do his best to be like him.
“
I’m ready. You sure you want me there?”
Muriel asked wanting
more confirmation on how Harold truly felt.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t now, would I?”
Harold shot her a
smile and continued. “
Anyway it will make me feel safer with you there. Plus, if
you haven’t noticed, I kind of like having you around.”
Harold offered up,
hoping that his feelings were right and that Muriel would not reject
him.
“I had noticed. You are an easy man to read, Mr Spinks, not that I mind
your attention. Did you sleep at all? You look exhausted.”
Muriel moved across
the room close to him. His heart turned into a swarm of butterflies that
rattled around inside him.
“A little, I can sleep when all this is over.”
Harold replied. The surge
of energy from the excitement of the admittance of affection between
them would no doubt lead to another sleepless night.
“You still plan to track down William, even after all this?”
Muriel
asked. Harold knew she still disapproved but he had not picked this
path for himself. Harold felt like a penned in goat at the slaughterhouse
just rattling along until the end, He just hoped their ends were different.
“I don’t have any choice. The guard still think it is me, and the O’Brien’s
boys obviously want to find me, too. If I don’t find William, I’m as good as dead.”
Harold said giving the same excuse. He didn’t know at what point that
had become a lie. He wanted to find William now to kill him. To make
the streets safe for Muriel and to get vengeance for what he had put
him through. It was no longer about proving his innocence. That didn’t
seem to matter anymore as much as making the city a bit safer for
Muriel and taking vengeance for the death of his beloved father.
“
You don’t need to be the hero you know.”
Muriel said running her
soft hands down his cheek. “
There is no shame in running away. It’s not your
job to make the streets safe.
” Muriel said, seemingly reading the truth behind
what Harold said. He could tell Muriel realised the same as Harold did,
the chances of taking down William alive were next to none, but he had
to try.
“I was there when this all started. Somehow I feel like I have to try and
do something.”
Harold said and Muriel looked at him, trying to think of
something to talk him out of it, but she gave in.
“Fine, you bloody fool. Let’s go then.”
She said and with that Harold
grabbed his suitcase from its resting place and made for the door. It
would feel good to be home again, and even better to share it with
Muriel. They left her house and made their way to his home. As they
walked the streets of Neeskmouth, hoping the guard would not notice
them and praying they did not bump into O’Brien’s gang or, worse,
William, Muriel helped to keep things light hearted.
“
So have you always been a Neeskmouthain then? It’s just your accent
don’t fit?”
She asked.
“
I’ve lived up here since I was about five or six. Before that we were down
in Port Lust.”
Harold said, thinking fondly of the summerhouse.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to visit the country. I saw this picture book when
I was younger of a cow. I’d love to see one.”
She said so honestly that Harold
laughed.
“Hey, be nice.”
Muriel said, punching him in the arm for
laughing at her. She knew she knew little of the world beyond the
Neeskmouth ridge. “
So, why did you move down here anyway?”
“
My father came here during the war I think. He moved down to the coast
before William took the throne. That’s where he met my mother. She was the
daughter of the owner of the tailors he worked in. I don’t know how he managed to
woo her, but he did.”
Harold said smiling at the thought of his father being
young and cock sure. “
It was my mother’s father that paid for our house up here.
You see my father wanted to move back to the city. He always missed it and her father
wouldn’t have her moving back in a working class condition, so he sold half the
company to buy our family home.
” Harold explained.
“So, she came from money?”
Muriel asked, seeming shocked.
“
A little but not much, it was more from the spoils of the war. When my
grandfather died they moved up here, they ended up with their house as a holiday
home. My mother was an only child so was the only person in my grandfather’s will.
They used this to open our shop over on East Street. They did not come from money
as such. They just got lucky enough to make ends meet.”
Harold concluded. He
didn’t know for sure if his father had come to the city as an invading
Pole but Harold left that bit out regardless.
“
I thought when I saw you that first day heading to the docks there was
something different about you.”
Muriel said, smiling at him.