by Ely, Jo;
Tomax doesn’t know but somehow intuits that when his back is turned, even for just a moment, then her face becomes a vicious mask, a gargoyle’s grimace. He senses Gaddys still misses the hands-on violence of her younger days. Tomax has heard all the stories, of course. How Gaddys came up through the ranks. Tomax feels a tightening in his stomach, throat, when she looks up. When she smiles then it’s worse. He tells himself to get a grip. Collect his rations, head down, no trouble, it will be over in a minute. This thought calms him. She is just a little old woman after all. He grips the shaking hand with the still one, behind his back. He holds on.
Gaddys is stamping his card, which gives Tomax a chance to examine her briefly, unseen. Gaddys is a conventionally pretty woman, without being in any way appealing. She dresses in the latest Bavarnican fashions: bee stung blue-ish tinged lips stretched thin across her gleaming half formed baby teeth, doll-like, wide, staring eyes. The colour of road kill and other dead things: just turning from deep red into shades of silver. And then rolling back in to her head when she looks away, or when her gaze shifts sideways. A nose so small that it’s close to being an indent in her face when she turns to place your ration card in its box to the left of her pulpit, and shows you her profile at the same time. Not a line or a wrinkle on her to show the years, only smooth, oiled, plumped up skin. Tomax knows that Gaddys is several years older than Mamma Zeina was when she died.
“Seen enough?” Turns her cold beady left eye toward him. The right eye takes a moment longer to catch up.
Tomax winces. “Sorry.”
Now Tomax notices, with a small jolt of relief, Jengi easing in through the back door behind Gaddys’ pulpit, almost imperceptible nod. Tomax dares only turn a little toward Jengi, who’s sloping toward the shelves at the front of the shop now. Collects his mop and antiseptic bucket, slowly washes the aisles all the way toward Gaddys’ pulpit at the back of the shop. It’s a long, strange moment. When Tomax feels Jengi reach his elbow, he can’t help but turn a little toward him, small checking gesture. The boy breathes out.
Gaddys is preoccupied with something under her till.
“Scurvet.” She tells Jengi sharply. “Could you sort out these durned scurvets once and for all, Jengi? Burrowed under my till.” And then gazing at the two young men in front of her, looking from one to the other. “Second thoughts …” She says sharply. “Clean out the shed, Jengi.” She gives this instruction without meeting his eye. Watches him until he reaches the back door again, mop in hand, and then turning her full attention back to Tomax. A smile of such terrifying sweetness at Tomax that it makes Jengi wince. He almost fumbles his mop, trying to pull on the back door handle and hold on to the mop and bucket at the same time. And then in her soft, lisping voice. “Thank you Dear Jengi. That will be all.” Clipped tone.
Jengi looks at the back of her head. And then a long, slow stare at Tomax. Tomax knows it’s a warning. Jengi seems to struggle with the door. Takes some effort to close it, “Sticks on the door jamb, Ma’am. I’ll see to it.” Mops his brow for effect. Huffs and puffs and heaves on his bucket, like it was made of lead, Tomax thinks. Jengi leaves the door open a crack. Gaddys doesn’t seem to notice. Shoulders softly rise and fall.
Tomax is amazed by this performance, Jengi is like a different person in front of Gaddys. Tomax has an instinct to avert his eyes, somehow sensing Jengi’s shame at being seen in this light by a friend. Servile. Submissive. Well, it’s better than dead, Tomax thinks. Maybe.
The shop’s front door crashes open behind Tomax. Trill of the door bell, and then the door crashing shut again, someone staggers in. Leans against the shelves. Gaddys raises one pencilled eyebrow and Tomax risks turning briefly to look, recognises his aunt before she pulls back her hood and tugs off her headscarf. She looks at her nephew briefly, and then opens and closes the shop door again, as though to check that she’s not being followed. Satisfied that the dusty street outside is empty, yanks the shop door hard shut.
The bell on the door tinkles furiously. Its another warning, to Tomax’s mind. The urge to run is quite strong now. Tomax is trying not to meet his aunt’s eye. Her timing in being here now seems a little too much like coincidence to be one. He remembers that Gaddys did not seem surprised to see Aunt. He remembers Jengi’s attempted warning. Feels his throat closing, coughs once, twice. Eyes the window, the door. Examines the vents in the walls. His aunt’s body blocks the only clear exit.
Tomax’s aunt regularly overdoses on her government medicine and when her mind is quite bombed enough to consider that her alibis with her edge farm neighbours is complete, she makes her way steadily and surely toward Gaddys’ shop. Here she sells her information to Gaddys ‘accidentally’. She always claims, if caught out, to be sorry for it after. To have been tricked and abused, all whilst under the influence of the government medicine. Her catch-all excuse for more than a decade of unspeakable behaviour. But she looks quite at home now, to her nephew Tomax. Lolling against Gaddys’ counter, slurring her words.
Her plan is generally to just keep talking until she’s said enough to bring home fresh meat, fresher eggs which she will then conceal and eat soberly, and alone, over the course of the following weeks. Aunt will not share a scrap of her ill gotten meat rations but she’ll go through the whole rite again the next time she feels properly hungry. Meantime she avoids suspicious pointing fingers by accusing various entirely innocent women on the edge farms of doing the very thing that she herself is doing. Collaborator. She’ll hiss. Supplying the details, the dates. She can be very convincing, with the result she inspires more than a little fear amongst the edge farm women. People try to keep her fed as much as they can, strain their meagre resources to do so. Keeping Aunt from hunger is like a second tax on the edge farms.
Most of the edge farmers have figured Aunt out, more or less, or at least they know it in their bones somehow, know that Aunt is not quite what she seems. And so, without even discussing the thing with one another, the edge farms have simply starved Tomax’s aunt of information that she can sell.
Given the droughts and the impossibility of giving up any more of the children’s food to her, Aunt is now pretty hungry. She’s been on a meat-free diet the last six weeks and is only getting the information which is closer to home. This is unfortunate for Tomax. Aunt is the beloved younger sister of Tomax’s mother. “The baby,” Tomax’s mother still insists on calling her, even now that both women have hair striped with silver, bellies sagging from childbirth and missing teeth.
Only Tomax has guessed the true extent of his aunt’s eating project, and only Tomax dares to voice his suspicion that there is a more or less direct link between his aunt’s visits to Gaddys and his step cousins currently residing in Bavarnica’s long gaol. Tomax’s mother won’t countenance any of that sort of talk of course. There is no point raising it with her anymore. Tomax eyes his aunt coldly. He waits.
“Goodness. You look quite grey, Dear.” Aunt says. Touches Tomax’s face with one long cold finger. He feels the cold burn of her hand on his cheek for several moments after. She picks at the brass swirls in Gaddys’ pulpit-counter. Traces the shapes of the feathers, then the bones in the wings. “Chicken wings?” Aunt’s eyes seem to gleam for a moment.
“Angel wings.” Gaddys corrects her with surprising gentleness.
“What’s them now? Don’t suppose you’d be able to fry ‘em?”
“I don’t suppose so, Dear. Angels are imaginary creatures, for the most part.”
Aunt peers at the brass engraving again. “You don’t say.” Sighs. “Thought maybe you was advertising something you had out the back. In your lovely food store.” Smiles. She has two missing front teeth. Runs her tongue across the gap.
“Only Jengi back there, Dear. Jengi and some … Bird meat.” Gaddys emphasises the last two words, to get the conversation back on track again. Aunt’s eyes glitter. She licks her sharpened canine, top left. And then turning toward Tomax, as though she sees her nephew standing there for the first tim
e. Stares.
Tomax smells the medicine on his aunt’s breath, recoils a little. She’s clearly been getting herself slowly bombed on the government medicine all morning, he thinks. And that generally means she is preparing herself to tear someone down. But who’s left? Most of Tomax’s relatives are already dead or in gaol. Everyone except for Tomax’s mother. And Tomax. Surely she wouldn’t go that far? He calculates fast. Tomax’s mother is Aunt’s last truly reliable food source, so Mother’s probably safe for a while.
“Tomax, dear Tomax,” Aunt says. She even tears up a little.
Tomax turns toward Aunt, grimaces. She recoils.
“He’s so hostile toward me,” Aunt says to Gaddys. There’s a whining note in her voice. “No one cares for me,” she says. Leans on the counter and sobs gently. Gaddys puts a large, clawed hand on Aunt’s shoulder. Lets her cat nails retract slowly. Aunt looks up. Gives Gaddys a beaky stare.
“My nephew never checks in on me.” Gaddys gives Aunt a soft, encouraging look. Prods her coils suddenly, with the sharpened end of her index finger. “Ah, the young ones,” she says. And now turning slowly toward Tomax. “The young lack … Empathy.” Gaddys says. Smiles.
This seems to be all the encouragement which Aunt needs.
“Our Tomax has been climbing for crow eggs in his hunger,” Aunt says. Sniffs. “My sister is so worried about him.” Now she won’t look at Tomax, not for one long moment. “And he’s wasted his uniform.” Her voice sounds shrill now and more sober than she intended. Ruining your government uniform is a serious crime in Bavarnica. She seems to realise this, lolls against the counter. Tries to slur her words. “I am alone,” she reminds herself. Eyes glitter. And then, in a different voice entirely, just as though it’s another person speaking … “I do worry about him.” Gesticulates toward her nephew. Gaddys turns toward Tomax.
“Of course you do, Dear.” Gaddys looks reproachfully at Tomax. Unfathomable smile.
“It’s my weakness.” Aunt tears up again.
“Yes, Dear.”
Gaddys goes on patting Aunt’s shoulder, her claws extending and retracting as she purrs saccharine words of encouragement, for which Aunt, almost girlish now, thanks her. Tomax has never seen Gaddys so friendly before, catches a glint of his aunt’s huge jagged tooth. In the bottom row, left side of her jaw and sharpened, steel tipped. In the fashion of Aunt’s youth.
That tooth used to give Tomax nightmares as a child. There is a cold, sliding feeling in the pit of his stomach now. The same feeling Tomax gets when he’s looking for crow eggs, and suddenly gets the distinct sense he’s being eyed from above. Sometimes he’ll have these kind of intuitions in the moment before a drone comes, a smell perhaps, or a small sign that he hasn’t consciously observed. The bombing still feels like yesterday and he was different after it. He’d looked up in the seconds before the explosion and there were crows circling. Now that memory is etched deep in his mind. A few lives have been saved on the edge farms in the last weeks, on account of Tomax letting folks know that the crows have learned to spot the drones and follow them. It’s an early warning system of sorts and Tomax has become a keen bird watcher lately.
Generally Tomax scrabbles down the tree long before the mother crow returns to her eggs. But there is nowhere in the world to run from a danger that comes at you softly, like this one. A danger that seems to climb into your skin. His mother tells Tomax that he is suspicious and evil minded about his poor aunt. Perhaps he is.
“Well.” And now Aunt lolls some more. Becomes expansive. “Twas on a branch he nearly hung himself on. Of course,” and now she leans forward a little toward Gaddys, speaking sotto voce and making quite sure that she slurs, “The fabric tearing let Tomax drop to earth before he was strangled, was how my sister described the thing to me. Of course I was not there myself.”
“Of course.” Gaddys sniffs. “It’s all quite illegal my dear.”
Aunt strokes her own arm serenely. Now Aunt mimes the scene for Gaddys. With a flourish of her hands describes the fabric gathered up and twisted around Tomax’s neck, like a noose. She gets a little excited. Gaddys lets out a snort. “Goodness dear.” Gaddys says. Eyes Tomax. There is a long strange moment in which Aunt cannot meet anyone’s eye, not Gaddys’ and not the boy’s either.
“Ah,” she says. “Ah, he’s such a good boy.” Shudders.
Tomax hears soft clanking sounds from the food store out back. The sound of a fridge door being opened and then closed. Smoke signals from the furnace which holds the roast meats. Slide of metal against metal. Now Tomax smells toasted bird.
Jengi comes back into the shop. Pushes a covered metal tray underneath the shop counter, just by Gaddys’ right hand. He looks up and meets Tomax’s eye. Expressionless.
Now Gaddys slides the hot metal tray onto the counter. It doesn’t burn her and she doesn’t look at Jengi. Tomax notes his aunt’s eyes swivel left slightly toward it. Now she seems transfixed by the tray. She gets louder and more urgent. Teeth flash and her steel capped incisors clank together.
Aunt has a wide mouth and sharp pronged molars, missing teeth at the front from a drunken fall when she was a girl. Gaddys lifts the cover slightly, examines the meat with surprise, “Jengi?”
“It was the only bird cooked today, Ma’am. Must’ve fallen in by mistake.”
Tomax glimpses the blackened crow’s feet poking out from under the cheesecloth. His aunt doesn’t appear to have noticed that her chicken ration is a little … Unusual today.
“Tell me Dear, did our Tomax here have any … success? For myself I can’t imagine eating a crow’s egg.” Gaddys shudders.
“Yuck, me either. Them birds smell of rot. But he gotten three crow eggs from the venture … didn’t you, Tomax?”
Tomax’s mouth is dry. He tries to form a word which is both yes and no at the same time, myennoo and then nothing seems to come out of his mouth but a low groan. He closes his lips tightly. He wonders if this interrogation will be over soon.
Tomax’s aunt turns away from him, “Yep, he ate one egg raw before he slipped down the tree. He shared the two he’d got stacked into his hood.” Now Gaddys pushes the tray toward Aunt. Leans back and eyes Aunt shrewdly. “He shared it you say? Now that’s worse even than stealing extra rations in the first place.”
Tomax blinks. Tries not to shuffle his feet. There seems to be no way he can extricate himself, or none that he can see.
Aunt makes sideways eyes at him, then lolls and slurs. “Yes.” She says. “He shared food. Not with me, mind.” She adds bitterly, grimaces. “Shared them with a young mother on the edge farm. She’d gotten herself into a state on account of her orange grain sack, which you no doubt had your very good reasons to allocate her, Gaddys Dear, but what with her milk for the new baby drying up slowly … Well. Tomax is a sentimental boy.” She turns toward him, “Didn’t you Tomax? Didn’t you share with that young girl?”
Tomax squints at his aunt. He imagines for a moment that he sees a little redness in her cheeks. She’s not quite without shame, he thinks. Almost. Not quite. He goes on gazing directly into her eyes. It’s his only hope.
“I’m sure I’ve said too much.” She blinks, swallows. “I think that I may have … Overdone it.” Lolls and droops against the counter, then makes a clumsy grab for the tray. Gaddys puts one manicured finger out and pins it. Wide smile. And then “Never mind, Dear.” Gaddys pats Aunt’s hand. She takes the cloth off the food, with a light flourish, like a magician performing a trick.
The roasted crow has been plucked roughly, feathers sprout in the pits of its wings and under its chin. Its wings have been arranged angelically across its chest, huge black clawed feet thrust out at strange angles, arranged heel to heel. The bird still has its head, eyes, beak and all. The creature looks dignified and somehow reproachful.
Aunt doesn’t appear to have noticed, or else she is too hungry to object. The smell of roast bird hits Tomax. The meat smells a little rotten to him. Just a hint of sourness, and the bird is v
ery thin which most likely means old or sick or perhaps both. Again Aunt doesn’t appear to notice anything much wrong with her ‘chicken’, plucks the tray from the counter, glancing at Tomax briefly, almost smugly. Slides the bird into her basket, which, although large, can only hold the bird’s stomach, its feet and beak thrust out at each end of the checked cloth, its wings, stubbled with patches of feathers, trail down. “Some people are kind.” Aunt says to Tomax. “Thank you Gaddys.” She sniffs. Bows.
Gaddys raises an eyebrow.
“Sorry about that chicken, Dear. You’ll have a finer one next time. What about an egg for your troubles? A bonus.” Smiles. She places a round egg-like object on the counter. She examines it. Appears to need to take a moment, summon her patience. “Jengi?” Jengi shrugs.
“It was the last egg we had, Ma’am.” His face is opaque. If Jengi has any feelings about the egg, one way or the other, then even Tomax can’t tell what it is.
Gaddys rolls her eyes. “You’re a dunce, Jengi. Order more stock, why don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jengi says sincerely. Humbly, even.
“It looks a bit round,” Aunt says sharply. “Sure it ain’t a snake egg?”
“It’s just fine. It’s a hen’s egg.” Gaddys pats Aunt’s hand. Her fashionable claws retract, and then extend at the tip, just a little. It’s a small warning, meaning ‘Don’t complain’.
Aunt looks down at the hand. She appears to remember herself. Tips sideways slightly. Lets her basket swing. “Only …” She looks at her nephew and then back toward Gaddys. She stops talking. “Ah,” she says. “Ah, well,” and then turning to glance behind her. Tomax has gone. “Something or someone has spooked Tomax,” she says. “He’s done one of his vanishing acts.” Shrugs.
