Shona Jackson- The Complete Trilogy

by Vicky Jones

  "We made good progress. What's going on? Why's Cuban on his knees? Is he OK?"

  "Honey, it's nothing. Just guys being guys."

  Chloe headed towards Cuban who was being picked up off the floor by the blonde girl she'd seen rush away after her introduction to the workforce. Catching sight of her approaching, Shona quickly brushed Cuban down and dragged him out of the horror towards the relative safety of the tool room before Chloe could make it over to them through the dense crowd.

  Chapter 18

  "We all set?"

  Kyle appeared on the balcony that Tuesday afternoon flanked by three smartly dressed men. He'd arranged a meeting with local investors to discuss his future vision for the company. The group sidled into the meeting room, taking their seats around the boardroom table. Kyle remained standing, puffing out his chest, ready to give his performance.

  "Gentlemen, thank you for joining us," he began. "Jeffrey couldn't make it today, probably in the Copperpot–" Kyle's sly questioning of Ellis's integrity drew a sharp intake of breath from around the table. "But I'm sure we'll manage." He paused, drinking in the attention he was getting from these wealthy men.

  "Now, I haven't been here long but Larry's allowed me to hit the ground running with ideas and to let me focus my attention on driving the company forward."

  The investors nodded at each other in agreement. Kyle ran a hand through his jet black hair, smoothing it down at the back as he continued his pitch. "We have a good name – a great name – but that's because we're forward thinkers. The market's changing and companies are investing. We need to invest!" He leaned over and tapped his index finger on the table to emphasize his point. "Larry’s spoken to Jeffrey, who's signed off the capital to buy more trucks and equipment which I believe will put us ahead of a market that's becoming crowded. We need to remain the best so this is the time to keep investing into Ellis and Bruce, not hold back!" His speech ended with the investors clapping their approval.

  Bruce smiled. His protégé was doing very nicely indeed.

  "I wonder what crap they talking 'bout up there." Elbie looked upwards to the balcony.

  "They need somebody around here to speak the truth to those investors," Shona huffed, scrubbing down one of the walls in the canteen.

  Cuban remained in the melancholic state he’d been in all morning.

  "Hey Cuban, are you any good at building benches? Think I'm gon' make some and maybe sell 'em in town for some extra dough, what d'you think?" Shona said, trying to lighten the mood.

  He nodded impassively.

  "Shona, you got wood for 'em? Sometimes on weekends I get a little cash for picking up bits from farms. I either use it or sell it cheap, depends on what it is. Got some good pieces at home that would suit a bench, if y'want?" Elbie offered.

  "That'd be great, Elbie, thank you. I'll cut you in on the money too. Then we can all get outta here!"

  Cuban, for the first time that day, showed the faintest glimmer of a smile.

  Chapter 19

  An eerie silence enveloped Daynes that Tuesday at nightfall, a bird flapping its wings frantically the only sound. Around 10:30, a weary-looking black man emerged from the front door of the elementary school after finally finishing his cleaning shift there. An equally exhausted-looking black woman followed him out. Pulling shut the thick wooden front door, he fiddled with the lock to secure it up for the night. Wiping his brow as he struggled, he cursed the uncooperative key.

  "You want me to help with that?" the woman asked lightly.

  "No, I can do it, damn thing!" he cursed again as he fought in vain to pull the door and turn the key simultaneously. He sighed. "Alright!" The man stepped aside.

  "Let me work my magic." Blowing on her fingertips, she gave the man a knowing smile as she got to work. Seconds later, the key turned effortlessly and the lock slid home with an unhindered clunk.

  "You done it?" he leaned over her and pushed on the tightly-closed door. "Well–" He blew his cheeks out in admiration. "That's the Lord's truth why I married you."

  "Of course it is," she joked back. "You knew you were on to a good thing, Mister! Now let's go home, I'm beat." The wife kissed her husband on the nose. They both turned around to head for their car when headlights blasted onto them.

  A dark green Ford pickup truck was parked in front of them, blocking their path. Slowly, the driver's side door creaked open and a shadowy figure emerged. He placed his heavy boots onto the tarmac below with a clump, then crunched a cigarette into the ground beneath them. He looked older than the second man who moments later stepped out of the passenger side. They both stood in silence, staring at the black couple. The man and his wife squinted into the blinding light and held their hands to their faces trying to see who the men were, but they were impossible to identify with the glow of the headlights forming a haze around their imposing figures. As one man passed the front of the truck to whisper something to the second man, his body crossed and bent the front left beam, redirecting it onto a third man who was now visible in the back seat. He looked noticeably smaller than the other two and not particularly keen to step out of the vehicle. The fourth silhouette that the black man saw through the refracted light was the one that struck terror in his heart – two pointed ears and clouds of hot breath rising from its muzzle in excitement.

  "Baby, what's happening?" The woman gripped her husband's hand as he squeezed it back.

  "Just stay behind me," he said under his breath. "We don't want any trouble," he called out to the shadows by the truck.

  Gripping her husband with both hands, the woman froze with fear as the muffled noise of barking rang out.

  "Please don't hurt us–" The black man started to tremble. "OK, baby, listen," he whispered sideways to his wife. "I want you to run to Mr. Robinson's place. He always leaves the yard gate unlocked. Wait for me there. I'll be right behind you, OK? Baby, you ready?"

  "I don't wanna leave you, I can't–" his wife sobbed.

  Their voices stirred the men on either side of the truck, who then muttered their own instructions to each other.

  "You can. I'm right behind you. I'll stall 'em. Ready? One, two, three. GO!" He threw her hand out of his own and shoved her away from him.

  She ran down the steps but one of the men gave chase and caught her easily. Her husband leaped down the steps, grabbed his wife's aggressor and unlocked the young man's arms from around her. In a fit of blind rage, the black man punched him in the head, knocking him to the brink of unconsciousness. His wife sprinted into the night wailing. The truck driver raced over the instant he saw his partner in crime crash to the floor. Turning his head back to the truck, he shouted his instruction to the person in the back holding the leash.

  "Let him go, boy!"

  Excited paws scrabbled out of the truck as the beast ran off down the street in pursuit of the fleeing woman.

  The driver strode over to the shell-shocked target of their night's sport and pummelled him to the ground.

  The sound of screaming and barking echoed along the street and far off into the darkness beyond. The gate to Mr. Robinson's yard clattered open under the weight of the woman falling through it. She slammed it shut as the Alsatian's bared teeth snapped at her. Sinking to the ground, she sobbed through strangled breaths in the relative safety of Robinson's yard.

  Chapter 20

  "Jeffrey, there you are."

  Kyle, drink in hand, made his way over that Tuesday evening to Ellis's table at the Copperpot Inn. Ellis loved the finer things in life—he'd certainly worked hard enough to achieve them—but mostly he came here for the privacy that his VIP booth gave him. Tonight, however, it was strictly business.

  "Yes, here I am," Ellis said with an unusual hint of sarcasm. Kyle hadn't been with the company long enough to know that this was the table Ellis had reserved for nearly ten years. He sat with three others, including two of the investors who were present in Kyle's presentation.

  "Thank you for inviting me, sir. Is Larry not here?" Kyle se
emed a little disarmed without his mentor.

  "No. I thought it would be good to meet you on your own." Ellis smiled as he sipped his single malt.

  "I see." Kyle ran his fingers over his tie-knot.

  "I was wondering, young Kyle, when exactly did you tell me about the meeting you were having today with my friends here?" He motioned his arm to the men at his table. "I've been reliably informed by these fine gentlemen it was implied that I was drinking in here instead. That the case?" Ellis asked rhetorically, his eyes drilling holes through Kyle's face.

  "You know something? I must have forgotten to let you know about the meeting," Kyle floundered. "What with being new and all it must have slipped my mind. I'd assumed Larry would anyway." He loosened his tie away from his sweating neck.

  "So, it was Larry's fault?" Ellis pressed.

  "Well, he is the boss … as well as you of course, sir."

  One of the investors coughed as Kyle's confidence waned palpably.

  "You know, the next smart thing to do would be to apologize for embarrassing me in front of my friends. I've always attended every meeting unless otherwise stated and on this occasion my wife was unwell," Ellis chided.

  Kyle sipped his drink. "Of course, sir. It won't happen again."

  Ellis smiled his reply.

  "So how is everything going?"

  Kyle took another sip.

  "Everything's fine. At the meeting I said–"

  "I know what was said, Kyle," Ellis interrupted, gesturing to his investors next to him. "What about the staff? Are they happy?"

  "Of course, sir–"

  "How are my two new recruits?"

  "They’re doing just fine, sir." Sweat beads began to form on Kyle's upper lip.

  "Shona workin' on the trucks like I ordered?"

  "I believe so," Kyle lied again.

  "Good," Ellis nodded slowly, eyeballing him.

  It seemed a natural moment for the conversation to pause and for people to sip their drinks. One of the investors got up to use the bathroom, and the other two walked over to the bar hollering as they recognized somebody.

  "Sir, do you think it's good for morale to have a colored man and a woman working at the site? Daynes is booming at the moment and there are more deserving people who wanna work here. Some have even moved house to get a job in this town. You know what I'm talking about?" Kyle leaned forward.

  "No," Ellis responded flatly.

  "They’re making the workers go crazy. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, sir!"

  Ellis sipped his single malt. He paused, then looked Kyle dead in the eye.

  "Tell me, have they ever stolen anything?"

  "No," Kyle replied, leaning back in his seat.

  "Have they ever shown up late?"

  "Not yet! But I reckon–"

  "Have they ever refused work?" Ellis interjected, still yet to blink.

  "Not that I'm aware of."

  "Then we're done on this subject." Ellis sat back.

  Kyle sighed and finished his drink.

  "Good evening, Mr. Ellis," he smiled and shook Ellis's hand, seething as he got up and left.

  Chapter 21

  Shona found Cuban sitting on the floor by the small fire he'd made just outside the back door of the tool room. She'd been finishing up for the evening that Wednesday, putting the tools away and wiping down the benches when she saw the door ajar. Cuban seemed distant, tapping a melody on the side of an old tire a few yards away from his makeshift bed.

  "Hey," Shona said. He stopped humming. "No, don't stop on my account. That was beautiful."

  "Thanks."

  "You OK? Didn't get a chance to see you much today."

  "They just playin' their games again tryin' to get me to take the bait but I ain't gonna bite. I need the money too much."

  Shona shifted an old crate out of the way and sat on the floor next to him.

  "There are some real jerks here. But it won't be long and we'll be out of it, right?" she said, trying to reassure him.

  "Maybe." Cuban drummed his fingers on the tire again, slower this time.

  "What's up?" Shona asked softly.

  "Even if I do manage to set foot outside o'here, they’re waiting. The Klan." He spat out the last word as if it were snake venom. "The safest place for me is here, in this goddamn place!"

  "I'm sorry. Wish there was more I could do."

  Shona pondered that thought. Maybe there was something she could do for him. He was nothing like what she'd been brought up to believe. Not a thieving, raping, murdering bastard like her father had ingrained in her mind. She had to try to help him. He couldn't stay here like this. He had nothing: a wooden bed, dirty satchel pillow and a tiny fire. It had to be small though, to avoid attracting attention to the fact he’d been staying there the last few nights.

  "Hey, I got an idea. Why don't you come back to where I'm staying at the moment," she began, her words tumbling out before she had given herself the chance to register the magnitude of what she'd be asking of Tom and Ruby.

  "You kiddin'? Ain't nobody gon' want a colored staying under their roof!" Cuban said.

  "Well, technically, I'm not under their roof – I sleep in the barn outside. I'm sure we could make space? Come home with me tonight and we can at least ask. If they say no then you lost nothin', right?" Shona made a watertight case.

  "OK, but we gotta wait until dark. I don't wan' be seen out there." Cuban pointed towards the field which backed onto the tool room.

  "Deal. We'll stay here another hour or so. By my reckonin' it'll be just fine by then." Shona held her hands in front of Cuban's fire. They smiled at each other as they shared the peace and quiet of the evening.

  As night fell, Cuban stared into the flames, transfixed.

  "You alright?" Shona asked.

  "I heard today that three coloreds gon' missin' from town. The guys in the canteen were talking about it, calling it population control. One of them's my friend." Cuban choked back his emotions.

  "My God!" Shona exhaled.

  "He's a good man too. He does cleanin' at a school in town. Did a few shifts for him when he had to take one of his kids to some hospital appointments. One night, I 'member tellin’ him I felt like I was being watched when I locked up, but he said nothin' would happen ‘cause too many people were around. Think his wife took over my job when I left."

  "She missin' too?"

  "No, they only mentioned a guy who works at the school, so that'd be my friend. That’s all I know. Somehow I don't think the sheriff will be looking for three coloreds on his watch, do you? I can promise ya, it won't end with good news."

  "Jesus," Shona whispered.

  "Yep, I really need his help right now."

  They both sat quietly in front of the pathetic fire. It wasn't big enough to keep a dormouse warm at night, but it was arguably better than Cuban being caught sleeping there.

  Chapter 22

  "Mornin', young Shona."

  Elbie, on his hands and knees, looked up to greet her as she walked into his little workshop at the back of the tool room, early for work as usual that bright Thursday morning. It was Elbie's little haven – a place he could be alone with his thoughts and keep his private things. His best tools were lovingly stored on purpose-built shelves. He seemed to have everything in this cupboard, from tacks to billhooks, all neatly labeled – his meticulous organization a testament to how long he had worked there.

  "Good morning, Elbie. What you up to?" Shona asked.

  "Sssshh … this is where I keep my secret stash," he replied.

  Shona smiled and got down on her hands and knees too. "Where you keep what?"

  "My stash! Liquor, some cash … and my diary. Those up in the offices would turn this place upside down if they had any idea!"

  Elbie traced his fingers along one of the floorboards near the wall, finding the one that was loose. He wiggled it upwards with his penknife until its lip was exposed enough to lift. Underneath was a box and sure enough there was his brown,
leather-bound diary, a hip flask and a few crumpled dollar bills.

  "This is my escape box. That's what I call it in my head."

  Elbie pulled out his diary and began flicking through it. Shona watched him with sadness in her eyes. He was an outsider here too. The fact that the only place he felt he could keep his things completely secret was in a little box underneath some floorboards spoke volumes.

  "How often d'you write in it?"

  "Most days. Just a line or two. Trust me, there's always something to write about with what goes on around here. Writing in this thing makes me feel close to my wife, like she can hear my thoughts. And if I listen close enough, I can hear her talking back to me," Elbie drifted off, gazing into space as he spoke.

  "Yeah? What does she say?"

  "To get the goddamn hell out of here as soon as I can." He pointed at Shona.

  They both chuckled.

  "I would say that's great advice!" said Shona.

  "Here, this is a picture of her." Elbie took out a small black and white photograph from the inside cover of his diary and placed it in her hand.

  "She's gorgeous, Elbie."

  "She was a stunner. Too good for me."

  "Elbie, don't you think it would be safer to keep this diary at home? People here'd go crazy if they found it!"

  "It’s my damn memory. I have to write things down straight away!" He spoke with the first tinge of bitterness Shona had witnessed since meeting the old man. "I can't remember a damn thing by the time I get home. It'd just be a blank page." Elbie choked back tears.

  Shona put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, which he patted as he cleared his throat.

  "Hey, if you ever need a drink, you know where it is now," Elbie said as he shook the hip flask, the liquor inside sloshing.

  "Here you are," Cuban said, finding Elbie and Shona in the tool room just before their 10 o'clock break. He'd seemed brighter in the last few days since he’d been staying at Tom and Ruby's, bedding down in the opposite corner of the barn to where Shona slept. They were reluctant at first but Shona had convinced them that it was only short term. They agreed on the condition that nobody in town knew he was staying there, as the Birds didn't want any trouble brought to their door. He had to take a different route home from work every night to ensure he wasn't followed.