Halversham (16 page)

“I’ll take this to the trash,” she said.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later,” he said, jogging toward the stairs.

***

“It’s about time you arrived,” Mr. Milton said as soon as Andy let himself in through the back door. The ghastly old man was sitting on a kitchen stool with his jar filled, startling Andy.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Did you need anything?”

“You promised to work for me, and you have a duty to be on time.”

Technically, he wasn’t late since he’d been asked to come in after eleven, and it was after eleven. They hadn’t agreed on a specific time but Andy didn’t dare argue out the point.

“I’ll get to work right away.”

“You better.” The man rose with his jug. “I wanted to tell you I was impressed with what you’ve done to the kitchen, but now that you’re late...” He shook his head and headed for the hallway. Andy’s eyebrows rose at the unexpected praise. “Mow the lawn after washing the dishes in here; the grass is getting too tall. There’s a lawn mower in the toolshed somewhere. Get it done in two days,” he ordered and left.

“Sure.” Andy placed his backpack on the counter and walked over to the sink while the old man ambled up the stairs. There were a few dirty plates, bowls, half a dozen forks and knives, mugs, and glasses in the sink. And several crusty pots on the stove. He remembered Mr. Milton’s wine glass from last night and headed for the main hall to get it. He brought it to the kitchen, then washed and dried everything before stepping out into the lawn.

Just as Mr. Milton had said, the grass was getting taller every day. Soon, it’d be long enough to block the house from view completely. Andy went around looking for the toolshed and found it in the backyard; a wooden structure resembling a small house. Probably the only part of the original house Mr. Milton did not knock down after the previous owners left. Andy reached for the handle and pulled the door open. The combined smell of hay and grease rushed to fill his nostrils as soon as the door opened. He looked around and breathed in the heady scent for a minute. Apart from the tools and appliances thrown haphazardly around the room, nothing was amiss. It was just another cluttered shed no one had bothered to keep organized.

Andy crossed the threshold and searched for the lawn mower. Rows and rows of wooden racks stood along the walls, filled with tools of various sizes in no discernible order. He walked over to one of them and picked up a bow saw perched precariously on the edge of an axe. Not only were some of the teeth gone, it was rusty. He put it away on a shelf and scanned the space for the mower. He found it at the far corner of the shed, behind a disintegrating couch and bags of old newspaper. He removed the clutter on the floor in front of him and slid between two stacks of heavy boxes. Luckily, nothing was piled on the mower or it’d be impossible to get it out. He leaned forward, wiggled the handle, and pulled it with both hands. The mower came free and Andy heaved it over to the empty space behind him to inspect. It hadn’t been used in a long time, that much was clear. He only hoped it still worked.

An hour later, he’d had lunch, changed the oil in the mower, and started the machine, working Mr. Milton’s yard noisily. He went about mowing in long straight lines, only briefly begrudging the fact that the task took him away from searching for the trapdoor. He wanted to solve the mystery as quickly as possible and find out if Emily was indeed imprisoned in Mr. Milton’s basement. What if she was dead? The mind-numbing task had him imagining all sorts of troubling things but he pushed the thoughts away and concentrated on making perfectly straight lines. Two and a half hours later, he was done for the day, and stored the machine back in the shed before heading out.

Andy stopped by to feed Brutus again and spent some time playing with him. The dog now approached him confidently, jumping and pawing him for food, which pleased Andy immensely. It would have made his mother proud, the way he had taken care of Brutus. Although the dog wandered to other places, Brutus was always there when it was time to eat. A few minutes later, Andy dozed off in the grass with Brutus comfortably snuggled on his side.

Andy woke up with a jolt an hour later when the sky rumbled. Dark clouds floated low. Brutus was gone, probably back behind his rock. Andy rose in a hurry, brushed the dirt off his back, and rushed home before it rained. The sky grew darker, altering the hills and fields into silhouettes, briefly illuminated by flashes of lightning. Andy quickened his pace to a jog when he remembered he had to give Aunt Magda the money from that morning’s sales. Soon he was running as the rumblings grew louder and the lightning more frequent.

By the time he was standing at Aunt Magda’s doorstep, fat blobs of water were coming down like missiles. The scent of the earth rose warmly with every drop as Aunt Magda opened the door and let him in. Just as she closed the door behind them, the rain came down in torrents.

“Did you get wet?”

“Just a little. Don’t worry about it,” he said, wiggling off his backpack. “I’ll dry in no time.”

“Let me get you a towel,” Aunt Magda said, rushing off into her bedroom.

“Thanks,” he said when she returned.

“I made lamb stew today. Can I get you some? It’ll be glorious in this weather.” Andy was toweling his hair and he paused to nod while Aunt Magda picked up a large bowl from the counter. “How was your day at Milton’s?”

“It was okay. I think he praised me for cleaning his kitchen yesterday.” He hung the towel on the back of a dining chair. “And I mowed the lawn today.”

“What do you mean you
think
?” she asked, raising her voice above the drone of rain pelting the roof while scooping stew from a large pot on the stove.

“With him, I can’t be sure.” Andy smiled.

He pulled a chair in front of the steaming stew Aunt Magda set on the table. He began to sit when he remembered the money he needed to give her. Andy straightened and pulled the wallet from his pocket. As soon as he placed the wad of cash in his aunt’s hand, the back door burst open and Uncle Matt stepped in, dripping wet and eyes filled with rage. Along with the windswept rain came a whiff of alcohol in his breath as he kicked the door shut.

“Sonofabitch had to rain now of all time!” he said with a scowl, and Aunt Magda froze, the money resting on her palm. It was too late—he had seen it. Andy was still standing, holding his wallet. “Well, don’t just stand there and gawk. Hand me the towel, will ya?” he said to Aunt Magda, pointing at the towel Andy had used earlier. She did, and he wiped his sopping hair. “What’s that?” he asked casually a few seconds later.

Aunt Magda was visibly trembling and her eyes went to Andy’s face.

“My dad gave her some money,” Andy lied. Aunt Magda’s eyes filmed and her lips quivered as Uncle Matt focused his eyes on her hand. “He wanted her to have it, just in case.”

“Your father came to the rescue just in time, I’d say. See, I have to buy some farming equipment and there’s this man who’s willing to sell it for a bargain. But he’s leaving town tonight so I have to get it right away. Only problem is I spent what money I had on goat feed.” He looked up from the towel and smiled at Aunt Magda’s hand. “Why don’t you hand me that money so I can tend to our farm?”

Andy clenched his teeth in silent rage as Uncle Matt smiled and took a step toward Aunt Magda. She dropped her gaze to the floor, ready to surrender the money. Andy could not in good conscience allow it to happen, but at the same time, he didn’t want to get into trouble with his uncle for a little over a hundred dollars. He’d gladly give her twice the amount as long as he didn’t hurt her. In the end, Uncle Matt snatched the money from Aunt Magda and counted it.

“A hundred and thirty-eight dollars?” he asked incredulously and turned to face Andy. “Your father gave his beloved sister a hundred and thirty-eight dollars? What kind of joke is this?” Uncle Matt’s eyes were bulging. Andy had rushed to save Aunt Magda with the worst possible explanation, and all he could do now was gulp. “You people take me for a fool?” he thundered, whirling back to Aunt Magda. Tears were now streaming down her face as she stifled her sobs. “Where’s the rest of it?”

Aunt Magda shook her head helplessly. “This is all there…”

“Do I look like an idiot to you? Give me the rest of the money!”

“There is no more,” Andy said, gritting his teeth.

“You shut up!” Uncle Matt screamed without taking his eyes off Aunt Magda. “Give me the rest of the money, you bitch!”

“This is all I have,” she said weakly, but before she could finish, Uncle Matt had landed a thick slap on her face. She jerked to the side, lost her balance, and fell to the floor, clutching her cheek. Like a madman, Uncle Matt began to kick Aunt Magda repeatedly with his plated boots.

“Where is it? Where is it, bitch?” He shouted again and again.

Andy couldn’t stand to watch it so he scanned around for something to thwart the attack. He inched to a drawer and pulled it open. A bunch of knives glinted in the light but his eyes zoomed in on a cleaver. He took a step forward while Aunt Magda covered her face with her arms, pleading for Uncle Matt to stop. Andy bunched his fist, mustered his courage and punched the monster kicking his aunt in the face, taking him by surprise. His uncle stopped kicking and staggered briefly. Andy pointed the cleaver at him, ready to swing it to his face. He held the cleaver before him and moved over to block his fallen aunt from the monster.

“You hit her one more time, I’ll kill you,” Andy said, his lips curled.

Uncle Matt glanced at his whimpering wife on the floor and then glared at Andy and the cleaver. Then he turned around, opened the back door, and ran out into the rain.

Andy closed the door and helped Aunt Magda up. Uncle Matt had kicked her so hard that the skin on her hands had come off in some parts when she tried to shield herself. Her lip was ripped, and it was bleeding as she cried.

“I’m so sorry, Aunt Magda. Let me help you to your room.” She could hardly walk, but managed to shuffle to her bed half bent. As Andy turned around to get her some water from the kitchen, she gripped his hand. “Yes?”

Her lips trembled and she struggled to speak through her swollen mouth. “Don’t tell your father. And don’t report this to the police.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Magda. But I have to tell the police.”

“No.” Her voice was strangled. “I know your Uncle Matt. He won’t do it again now that you’ve waved a cleaver at him. Not for a while.” Andy was shaking his head. “If he does it one more time, you can go ahead and report it. For now we must give him one last chance.”

Although he did not agree with her at all, Andy didn’t want to argue with her in her condition. So he nodded reluctantly. “In that case, I’ll stay here from now on. I don’t know when or in what state he’ll be back but I want to be able to protect you when he does.”

“Fine,” she nodded.

“And I am telling my father. I can’t hide this from him.”

“As you wish. Just make sure he doesn’t fly back because of this.” Andy took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Now run to the kitchen and bring me the white bag in the upper right-hand corner of the cabinet. You’ll find everything we need to treat me in it.”

***

“Hi, Piffy. Can you do me a favor and bring my bag over to Aunt Magda’s? I won’t be back for a while,” Andy said into the phone half an hour later.

“Sure. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. I just want to spend some time with my aunt. That’s all. Can you bring it tonight?”

“Of course.”

Next, Andy dialed his father. Aunt Magda was sleeping in her bedroom after administering her own treatment. She had stitched her lip up after taking a few swigs from a bottle of whisky. Andy had struggled to hold the mirror steady as his own tears poured down his face. Just how often had she had to do it?

“Hello?”

“Dad?”

“Son? Is everything all right?”

“Yes and no. It’s Aunt Magda.”

“What happened?”

Andy told his father everything and Paul listened without a word. When Andy finally finished, his father cursed.

“Andy, listen to me. Stay with your aunt from now on, especially when he comes home at night. He might hurt her again, but he’ll be more careful if you’re around. I wish she’d go to the police, but I know how stubborn your aunt can be. We’ll wait for her to get a little better and then I’ll talk her into reporting this. I don’t care what she says anymore. I want that bastard dragged to jail. Right now, I want you to go in there and take photos of her face and everywhere else she’s bruised. I know some of it might be hidden under her clothes, but take as many as you can without her finding out. We’ll need them later. Is this the first time he’s hit her since you arrived there?”

“No. She told me he hit her and took the money you gave her when you came to send me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I wanted to, but she made me promise.”

“Fine. I’ll know what to say when I talk to her. Now, make sure you do as I said and take those pictures. And son, please be careful around him.”

Andy nodded and hung up. Piffy arrived with his bag a few minutes later, and he put it in Corrine’s room. He opened the camera app on his iPhone, went back to Aunt Magda’s bedroom, and took pictures as his father had instructed. She was sleeping and a soft whistle escaped through her nose. Bile rose in his throat as he took close-up shots of the bruises and wounds. Blood had caked up at the corner of her lips and her hands were raw from repeated kicking. When he was finally done, Andy went to the hall, stretched his legs on the couch, and closed his eyes, allowing the droning rain to lull him to sleep.