No Mercy

by J. T. Brindle

  ‘That’s right.’ She had been surprised by his comment. Now, she was sad. ‘I expect Rosie’s been chatting with you?’ She felt oddly betrayed, irritated that Rosie had discussed her private business with him. She wondered how much more Rosie might have revealed.

  ‘It wasn’t Rosie.’

  ‘Oh?’ A sense of relief washed over her. ‘Who then?’

  He smiled. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Her eyes still questioned him. He relented. ‘It was the boy.’ The moment he had said it, he was filled with regret. He hadn’t wanted to mention the boy, that spiteful child who treated Ellie with such contempt… sneering at her behind her back, telling him things only because he believed it would stir up trouble.

  ‘Johnny?’ Ellie could not hide her amazement. ‘I didn’t know he had taken to speaking with you. He doesn’t even like you!’

  ‘Children never do what we expect. I dare say he had his own reasons for telling me.’

  ‘I see.’ Ellie began to realise the boy’s motive. He could be so cruel.

  ‘Did you mean what you said just now, Ellie?’ His dark gaze drew her to him.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she lied.

  ‘Yes, you do.’ He saw the rush of shyness to her face; it endeared her to him all the more. ‘Don’t let yourself love me,’ he warned in a quiet, lonely voice. ‘I can only bring you heartache.’ He raised his long, gentle fingers, touching her face, tracing the full, lovely line of her mouth. ‘Save your love for the young man who obviously adores you. You loved him once. You must still love him.’ He bent his head and placed his mouth over hers. His kiss was tender, tantalising. Yet, somehow final.

  Ellie’s instinct was to hit out; to tell him he knew nothing of what she felt. Instead, she stabbed at him with a spiteful tongue, wanting to hurt. ‘And what about her! Do you love her? Do you bring her “heartache”?’ She delighted in the shock etching his face.

  ‘Who? What are you talking about?’

  Her smile was shockingly wicked. He had the power to create spite in her, and she loathed him for it. ‘I expect you thought your secret was safe! But I saw you… and no doubt others must have seen you. By the lake… you, and the girl!’

  He reeled back, his face chalk-white and his eyes wide with shock. Ellie detested herself. ‘You’re wrong!’ he protested, ‘there is no “girl by the lake”.’

  Undeterred, Ellie rounded on him with renewed vigour. ‘You are lying!’ she told him. He had used Barny against her. Now she had an appetite to play him at his own game. ‘I don’t like the way you do things, Alec Harman. We may not be right for each other. You may not feel the same way towards me, but at least I’m honest. I don’t pretend that Barny doesn’t exist, nor do I hide my feelings behind some obscure reasoning like you do… when all the time you’re playing a dangerous game. What is it?… Can’t you make your mind up about which one of us to have?’ There was no stemming the pent-up fury now. ‘Well, let me decide for you! I love you, yes… I won’t deny that. But I’m not so blind that I can’t see what a hypocrite you are. My father was right… you are “trouble”. And you were right just now, when you warned that you could only “bring me heartache”. You’re clever, I’ll give you that, and you’re devious. But from now on I’ll know enough to stay away from you. And yes, I am “looking forward to seeing Barny”. More than I realised!’ Deeply stirred by the curious pain in his black eyes, she snatched the bag from his hand and took to her heels, ashamed and afraid that he might see the blinding tears that ran down her face. Throughout her astonishing tirade, he had not uttered a single word in his own defence. Nor did he come after her now, as she sped her way homeward.

  He remained in the place where she had left him. A solitary figure, with bowed head and scarred eyes that followed her out of sight. After a while he went on his way, his heavy heart a tumult of emotions. How could he tell her? She would be shocked if she knew the way of things. Things that must remain secret. Things that would only frighten her. Awful things that she would not understand. It was enough that these things ruled his life. The only thing that mattered, for the moment, was the purpose that drove him. She had no part in it. She would be better off not knowing!

  ‘I must have those keys!’ The whisper grew agitated, menacing.

  ‘I don’t know where else to look.’ The boy was close to tears. His ‘friend’ was dissatisfied with him. He did not want that.

  ‘Think, then. Where would anyone keep a set of keys that they never use?’

  ‘I… don’t… know. I think Ellie put them somewhere safe.’ He was trembling now. ‘In her dressing-table drawer?’

  ‘No!… I’ve already searched there, damn you!’

  ‘You!… Were you inside the house?’ The boy was incredulous. ‘You came… into the house… and no one saw you?’

  ‘Don’t question me. I’ve warned you… never to question me.’

  ‘I forgot.’

  ‘The keys were sent by mistake. The people who sent them want them back. Get them, Johnny. Find them!’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘You must. Do you understand that, Johnny? You must bring me those keys!’

  ‘Will you punish me if I can’t find them?’ He smiled. He was confident that his ‘friend’ would never hurt him.

  ‘Don’t come back without them, will you, Johnny?’ The voice trembled.

  ‘No.’ The smile slid from his face.

  ‘Good boy. I would not like it if you failed me.’

  ‘I won’t.’ A sense of excitement took hold of him. ‘Can I just ask you something?… not about you!’

  ‘Ask.’

  ‘Have you been to see the bonfire?’

  ‘Oh, it’s wonderful, Johnny.’

  ‘I haven’t “failed” you there, have I?’

  ‘You have done well.’

  ‘Did you go inside? Under the ground… to our special place?’

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence. When the whisperer replied, it was with soft, pleasing tones, but there was underlying savagery. ‘I can’t do that, Johnny.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Enough!’

  The hiss of fury momentarily unnerved the boy. ‘I don’t mean to ask so many questions,’ he murmured. The soft, issuing sigh comforted him. The urge to turn and look was strong.

  ‘No matter. I have something for you. No! Don’t look round! You can’t take it with you now, Johnny. It isn’t quite ready. Later, though. Before dark.’

  ‘Is it a present?’

  ‘If you like. It isn’t really for you, though.’

  ‘Oh.’ Disappointment. Then curiosity. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s a face.’

  ‘A… face?’

  ‘For your Guy Fawkes effigy.’

  ‘But he’s already got a face!’ Resentment betrayed itself. He had made a splendid rag face for his Guy, and he was proud of it.

  ‘It won’t do, Johnny! When he burns… he must be wearing this special face. I want to see it suffer.’ A low, insane chuckle, then sweetness. ‘You do understand, don’t you, Johnny?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘You haven’t told anyone about our secret place, have you? Oh, I do hope not!’

  ‘You mean the underground one? No. I would never tell our secret… I would never tell any of our secrets.’

  ‘That’s very wise. We must not share anything with… them. We know, don’t we, Johnny? We know every inch of that magnificent bonfire… the tunnels… our special hidey-hole.’ A deep, soft sigh, then, ‘We’ve been clever, Johnny… you and I. You haven’t forgotten the sandcastle, have you?’

  ‘I can’t ever forget that.’

  ‘Of course not. She built it with you, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sadness. And anger.

  ‘It’s our secret.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Go now, Johnny. But, remember, I must have those keys!’ The whisper hardened.

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘That isn’t good enough. D
id you not hear what I said! I MUST HAVE THEM!’

  ‘I won’t fail you.’ Now, as he crept away, there was real fear in the boy’s heart. But it was only a small fear. Not as overwhelming as the delight that coursed through him. He would search for those old keys, but he wasn’t sure whether he could find them. After all, hadn’t he heard his father only the other day, asking Ellie where she had put them. He was really angry when she couldn’t remember. Still, he would do his best to find them. If he failed, it would not matter. This was just another game. And he suspected his ‘friend’ was only teasing.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Johnny! What are you up to?’ Ellie stormed into the big room where the table was set for a special lunch. She had taken a great deal of time and trouble to make it look extra nice. Spread with the deep green cloth and dressed with the best cutlery and white china, it made a splendid sight. She had purposely bought a new set of four slim wine glasses, and pretty patterned napkins, which were neatly rolled into attractive wooden rings. There were logs in the open fireplace, all arranged and ready for lighting, and the cumbersome oak furniture gleamed from Ellie’s tireless polishing. With the upper walls now emulsioned in elegant tones of soft creams with the brown panelling below, and the heavy floral curtains drawn at just the right angle, the room was pleasant and inviting.

  ‘Why don’t you light the fire now?’ the boy demanded. When Ellie came into the room, he had been on his knees beside the big dresser; the contents of the bottom drawer spilled out over the mat. On seeing Ellie, he sprang to his feet and immediately rounded on her, his back arched and his neck stretched towards her in a gesture of defiance. ‘It’s freezing in here… I was looking for some matches to light the fire!’ His face was cunning. His manner brazen.

  ‘It isn’t your place to light the fire, and well you know it, young man!’ Ellie reprimanded. ‘If you’re cold, go into the kitchen… the stove is lit there. Or go upstairs and give your father a helping hand. Goodness knows there’s enough work still to be done.’ She looked at the mess on the floor, at the drawers, all opened and showing signs of having been rifled. ‘You weren’t “looking for matches” were you?’ she demanded. ‘You know perfectly well where I keep them… in the spice cupboard by the kitchen door.’ She stared at him with quizzical eyes. He seemed uncomfortable beneath her deliberate gaze, and the colour flamed his cheeks. ‘What are you up to, eh? What are you really looking for?’ To her mind, the boy had been behaving in an even more irritating manner than usual. Earlier on, he had followed her every move, showing an unusual interest in where she kept things that were seldom used, mumbling something about ‘rusty old keys and things’. She had been too busy to pay him any heed, but now she was made to recall his odd behaviour, because here he was, obviously desperate to find something.

  ‘I want to know, Johnny,’ she told him firmly. ‘What exactly were you searching for?’

  ‘I told you! Matches. I was looking for the matches, so I could light the fire!’ He knew now why his ‘friend’ didn’t like being questioned. It was like somebody was peeping into your mind. ‘You go away!’ he yelled, running at her with his arms held stiffly in front. He wanted to hurt her. He hated her!

  Startled by the vehemence in his voice and the look of loathing on his face as he stormed towards her, Ellie was momentarily taken aback. When he thudded hard into her, she winced, breathless, struggling to keep her balance. Having the advantage of weight and height, it was no difficult thing to fend him off. ‘What in God’s name is the matter with you!’ she yelled. Though he kicked and struggled like a caged stallion, she held him determinedly, her strong fingers coiled tight round his thin wrists.

  ‘Let me go! You let me go!’ The words spat viciously into her face.

  ‘What is it, Johnny? What’s wrong with you?’ Ellie asked in a kinder voice. She saw how the boy was boiling with anger. She felt his loathing of her. But she sensed that, underlying all of these obvious sensations, there was another. Fear. Real, awful terror. It made her blood run cold. ‘Tell me what you’re afraid of, Johnny… I won’t mind about you searching the drawers and making a mess. And I’ll forget about the way you behaved just now. But, you must tell me what’s frightening you, Johnny. I only want to help you.’ Was it possible that, even now, after these many months, and even here in these new surroundings, the boy was still haunted by… by…?

  ‘I’m not frightened of anything!’ His aqua-blue eyes blazed from his white face like luminous beacons; the colour was cold, but the emotion was vividly intense. Ellie could feel him trembling with rage. ‘You don’t frighten me! And I don’t care if you punish me… you can tell him what I’ve done, if you want to!’ His eyes flicked upwards.

  ‘Don’t be so sure I won’t tell! And don’t speak of your father in that tone of voice.’ Ellie resisted the urge to turn him over her knee and whip his bare legs. For the first time since he was born, she wanted to make him cry. Really cry! Not pretend, or shed crocodile tears, but really cry. Through the outrage that stormed her mind in the face of his despicable behaviour, there spiralled a warning – ‘No, Ellie,’ it shouted, ‘he’s only a boy. Don’t expect him to behave like a man, or to cry like one. He’s still afraid. Alone. Unhappy. How can a small boy cope with all of that?’ Her heart flooded with love and compassion. Ellie slid her arms round his small shoulders, holding him tight to her in a warm embrace.

  Suddenly, he was calm, looking up at her with softer eyes, his voice low and asking, ‘You won’t lock me in my room, will you, Ellie?… Not tonight. Not Bonfire Night.’

  Startled by his abrupt change of mood, Ellie murmured in a smile, ‘Why do you say that?… No one has ever “locked” you in your room!’ He made no reply, but when Ellie’s concerned gaze mingled with the ice-blue, challenging stare, a thought struck her. A hard, cruel and astonishing thought that seemed to rivet her to the spot. She did not know him! The small, unpredictable creature who was her brother. She did not know him! Shaken, but chiding herself for entertaining such thoughts, she released her hold on him. ‘Clean up the mess,’ she said, ‘afterwards, you know where to find me. It might be a good idea if you and I had a long, quiet talk.’ Her manner was serious. She would not let this matter be so easily forgotten.

  Silently, he went across the room and sank to his knees. In a moment, he was rocking back and forth, softly singing, oblivious to Ellie’s continued presence.

  ‘Remember now,’ Ellie reminded him. ‘When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be in the kitchen.’ The incident had unnerved her. She could not remember a time when the boy had been so vicious. Later, when he had calmed down enough to reflect on it all, she would make every effort to get to the bottom of it. For now, though, she had other exacting things to occupy her. A glance at the grandfather clock in the corner told her it was almost noon. According to his latest communication, Barny was due here in less than an hour. Although the pork leg was done to a crisp and the vegetables almost prepared, there were still a great many things to be done. Besides the special lunch she was preparing for Barny, the food for the bonfire celebrations was also her responsibility, although Rosie had graciously offered to help. On top of all that, she so much wanted to look her best for Barny; after all, they had not seen each other for almost eight months. She wanted to make a good impression. She felt she owed him that much at least. Maybe there would be time for a drink and a quiet chat before the family sat down to their meal; although Ellie suspected that Johnny and her father would be impatient to eat, after being made to await Barny’s arrival. No doubt Barny also would be hungry after his journey. No matter. There would be time enough later for a ‘quiet chat’.

  At twenty minutes past one, Ellie was beside herself with anxiety. There was still no sign of Barny. The meal was ready. The boy was scrubbed and moaning about the stiffness of his new shirt and Jack Armstrong, having been cajoled from his work upstairs, could be heard merrily whistling in the bathroom. Much to the boy’s consternation, Ellie had taken up pacing the floor, constantly going to
the window that overlooked the front of the house from where she peered expectantly out. When there was still no sign of Barny, she would come to the fireplace and stand a while, before enacting the whole procedure over again.

  ‘He’s not coming. He doesn’t want you any more.’ The boy muttered under his breath, grinned at Ellie, revelling in her distress, and kicking his foot against the chair front. Inside, he was fuming. She had no right to make him wait for his lunch! She shouldn’t keep him here against his will. Not when he should be looking for those keys. A sense of panic squeezed at his heart. He had searched and searched; in her dressing-table drawers and through the drawers in the big room; even in his father’s big old tool-box! The keys were nowhere to be found. Not even in the kitchen cupboards, or amongst the paraphernalia in the outhouse. He had even rifled the pockets of his father’s discarded overalls, but the rusty old keys weren’t there, either. In fact, he had begun to despair of ever finding them. There was only one other place he could think to look, and that was in the small wooden box that Ellie kept on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. He knew she kept little things in there – like the bills and a small amount of money for emergencies. Soon as ever he got a chance he would ransack it, but it wouldn’t be easy, he knew. Firstly, there seemed always to be someone in the room, either his father, or Ellie, or Rosie doing the duties for which his father paid her. And besides, the mantelpiece was so high from the ground, he would need to stand on something to reach it. There were plenty of chairs in the room, but they were so heavy it would be difficult for him to drag one all the way across the room to the fireplace. Of course, there was one thing he could do. And that was to tell his friend where the keys might be. It would be easier for him to come into the house at night, when everyone was asleep. He was so clever, so very quiet, that no one would hear him. Frustrated by his own futile efforts, the boy was increasingly convinced that here was the best solution. He glared at Ellie now. If it wasn’t for her, he could sneak out right now to see if his ‘friend’ was still in the barn. ‘I’m not staying in much longer!’ he told her now, in a louder, bolder voice. ‘Your “boyfriend” isn’t coming. It’s true… he doesn’t want you any more.’