Mercury Falling

by Robert Edric

  Devlin went back to the fire and the woman turned at the scrape of his chair.

  He identified her immediately as Skelton’s wife. But the woman seemed not to recognize him and she turned her back on him.

  Coming to the table a moment later, she too sat close to the fire. She took the bag and slid it beneath her chair, watching Devlin closely.

  ‘You don’t recognize me,’ he said to her.

  She sipped her drink. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I knew who you were the minute you walked through the door. The only reason I might not have known you is because you look ten times worse than when I last saw you. Getting everything that’s coming to you, I hope.’ She sniffed deeply. ‘Or perhaps I recognized the smell. Besides, what are you doing in this neck of the woods? Long way from home, aren’t you? Where you living these days?’

  ‘Here and there,’ Devlin said.

  ‘I’ll bet. More “there” than “here”, I hope. Barbara Collet was well rid of you.’ Another sip of her drink. ‘Oh, that’s right: I hear George Sewell finally caught up with you. I heard all about that, we all did. Celebrations all round at that particular little bit of good news. You’ll not go bothering either of that pair again, not if you know what’s good for you, that is.’

  ‘He caught me off guard,’ Devlin said. ‘That’s all.’ It was half true.

  The woman laughed at him. ‘What, meaning you were drunk? He said. Either way, drunk or sober, a man like him would always get the better of a runt and a coward like you.’

  Devlin clenched his fists and she saw this.

  ‘What you going to do?’ she said. ‘Hit me? Try it and see how far that gets you. You think Ray Duggan coming looking for you is a problem? Hit me and you won’t know the half of it, or what hit you back.’

  There was Duggan again. Of course her husband knew the man, heard the same whispering voices.

  ‘They gone off to Lowestoft yet, the happy couple?’ Devlin said.

  ‘All three of them have gone. Well out of harm’s way. They worship that kid, the pair of them.’

  Devlin tried to calculate how much money he still had in his pocket. Then a thought occurred to him.

  ‘They’ll never be entirely certain though, will they?’ he said.

  ‘Now what you talking about?’

  He knew from her voice that she understood him perfectly.

  ‘The kid,’ he said. ‘They’ll never rest easy, the pair of them, thinking there’s a chance it might not be his. There’ll always be something niggling away in his head, a funny little taste in his mouth every time he looks at her, especially as she gets older and looks less and less like him.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said. She held her glass between them.

  ‘It’s what you believed the last time we met.’

  ‘Yes, well, things change.’

  ‘Not things like that. Things like that stay as they are for ever.’

  ‘I can change my mind, can’t I? Besides, you want to consider yourself lucky my husband didn’t report you for shooting him.’

  Changing the subject.

  ‘It’s still on the cards, mind. If he ever sets eyes on you he’ll be straight over to the police station at Boston.’

  ‘No he won’t,’ Devlin said, wishing he had a full glass to raise to his own lips. ‘He’d be a laughing stock. Already is, probably.’

  She could think of nothing to say to this and Devlin knew he was right.

  There was a long silence.

  Devlin finally rose and went to the hatch, sorting the change in his palm. He had enough. The McGuires had been gone almost three hours. Then it occurred to him that either he needed to leave or the woman needed to go before they returned and she saw him with them. Or perhaps old man Harrap had already spread the word. All those connections, possibilities, paths closed to him.

  He expected her to leave when she’d finished her drink, but she didn’t. The pub was in the middle of nowhere, barely surviving. Why was she even there? Perhaps she was waiting for Skelton. Perhaps the landlord had recognized him and made a telephone call. Did the place even have a telephone? He struggled to contain this sudden explosion of thought. Or perhaps the woman was staying put simply because she understood all of this as well as he did and she relished the advantage it now gave her. Perhaps this – her sitting in front of him – was her husband’s revenge.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she said eventually.

  Devlin shrugged. ‘Good a place as any.’

  ‘You look to cause trouble wherever you are.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be causing trouble anywhere if I was still at Harrap’s,’ he said.

  ‘What, and my husband’s to blame for that, is he? You want to listen to yourself. Pathetic. You were never going to make a go of that place, not in a million years. Besides, once Harrap had made his mind up to sell, your days there were numbered.’

  It was the first he’d heard of Harrap wanting to sell the place.

  ‘It was only a few quid,’ Devlin said. He’d forgotten the amount.

  ‘Nearer four hundred, more like. I saw the eviction notice, remember? And my husband was in for ten per cent of the total value recovered.’

  ‘Pity,’ Devlin said.

  ‘Don’t get too smug. Harrap gave him what he was owed out of his own pockets. Just glad to see the back of you so he could get on with selling the place.’ She watched his reaction. ‘You didn’t know, did you? That’s the trouble with people like you – you never see beyond the end of your own greedy nose. You never look beyond what it is you want, what it is you can get out of something.’ She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together.

  ‘The place was soured,’ Devlin said. ‘The flood saw to that. Who’d want to buy a place like that?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything? Ancient history, that is. All land can be made to pay. All you need is a bit of money and the know-how. Harrap sold up to a corporation in Lincoln. They might consider themselves to have got everything cheap, but it was still three times what Harrap thought it was worth. At least, what it was worth without the inconvenience of a sitting tenant, that is. They’ve already stripped out most of the hedges and filled in the dykes. Potatoes. They don’t even need a new tenant on the place. Not even one that pays the going rate and on time. The house was bulldozed flat, reduced to rubble and carted away less than a week after you were turfed out. Truth be told, Harrap was probably only too happy for you to give him every reason to kick you out. He’s retired on what he got for the place. Life of Reilly, you ask me. Land, see? There’s been machinery on it ever since you went. By all accounts, it’s going to be a goldmine come the spring. In fact it’s the only reason—’ She stopped abruptly.

  ‘What?’ Devlin said.

  She couldn’t resist. ‘It’s the only reason my husband didn’t bring wounding charges against you. It would have held everything up for Harrap. We got paid a nice little bonus on that score.’ She raised her glass to him. ‘So cheers for that.’

  It was all Devlin could do to stop himself from swiping the drink from her hand.

  Here it was again – all profit and success on one side and all loss and denial and uncertainty on the other.

  ‘He’d still have been a laughing stock,’ Devlin said.

  ‘Who cares, when it turned out better than any of us could have expected?’ She rubbed her finger and thumb together again. ‘Like I said – that’s the difference between people like you and people like us.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about me all of a sudden.’

  ‘I know your sort. It’s enough.’

  ‘Go on, then.’

  ‘Go on, what?’

  ‘The difference between people like me and people like you and your greedy little bastard of a husband profiteering out of other people’s misfortune and hardship.’

  She laughed at the words. ‘Touch a nerve, did I? Hardship and misfortune? You don’t know the meaning of the words. Self, self, self – that’s
all it is with people like you.’

  And without warning, she rose and pulled the bag from beneath her seat. She looked out of the window, took several steps away from Devlin and then turned to look back at him.

  ‘I’m serious,’ she said. ‘Go and make a nuisance of yourself somewhere else. Nobody wants you and your sort round here.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Oh, I do. You got any mirrors wherever it is you’re staying? Because you need to have a long hard look in one and see what you’ve become. A good wash wouldn’t go amiss, either. And rest assured, I’ll be telling my husband that I bumped into you. I might even get word to George Sewell over in Lowestoft – tell him what you’ve been saying about his kid. Perhaps he could come back with one or two of Barbara Collet’s brothers next time. The only place you’re a big man is in your dreams. To the rest of us you’re nothing but what you are. Believe me, nobody’s taken in by the likes of you.’

  She left him then and Devlin sat thinking about all she’d said. At least the McGuires hadn’t shown their faces.

  Then he had an idea.

  He took an old envelope out of his pocket and went to the serving hatch. ‘That woman,’ he said to the landlord. ‘She dropped this. Looks important.’

  ‘Skelton’s wife,’ the man said. ‘She’s two houses down. Out the front, turn left, directly opposite the water.’

  Devlin went outside and walked along the rear of the houses. That was why she’d been in the pub in the first place, because she practically lived there.

  Waiting beside an outhouse, he watched the second house until he saw a light come on. Then he saw the woman cross a window. She drew the curtains against the failing light.

  Devlin watched the house for ten minutes longer, until he was distracted by the noise of the McGuires’ lorry coming along the road. They would want a drink themselves, and if they were flush, they would buy more for Devlin. He’d seen all he needed to see. He went back to the pub and waited for them.

  ‘Good day?’ he said to Colm as he came into the room.

  ‘Good enough.’ He pointed at Devlin’s empty glass.

  Patrick followed his brother into the room. ‘You look pleased with yourself,’ he said to Devlin.

  ‘Not really,’ Devlin said.

  29

  ‘THERE’S SOMETHING HAPPENING,’ Maria said. She shielded her eyes at the window to look out.

  From where he sat at the heater, Devlin heard distant shouting. He went to stand beside her.

  At the far side of the compound he saw Patrick and Colm and a third, smaller man standing close and shouting at each other. The smaller man then ran away from the brothers, but tripped and fell. Patrick and Colm went to him and pulled him to his feet.

  ‘It’s a boy,’ Maria said. She rapped on the window to attract her brothers’ attention.

  A minute later the three of them arrived at the caravan.

  The boy was in his mid teens. His face and hands and clothing were dirty and his hair was cropped close to his head.

  He looked familiar to Devlin.

  ‘He’s been sleeping in the carousel,’ Patrick said. He held the boy by his arm and pushed him into the small space ahead of them.

  The carousel was mostly dismantled and boarded up in readiness for its spring overhaul; its engine, horses and boards lay stacked at the centre of the giant frame, awaiting their own repair.

  The boy looked hungrily at the loaf on the table and Maria cut a slice and gave it to him. He tore at this and ate it quickly, then picked up a mug of cold tea and emptied it in a swallow. The brothers laughed at all this.

  ‘Who is he?’ Maria said.

  Runaways, waifs and strays were a common feature of the fair and circus during the season.

  The boy made a sudden dash for the door, but Patrick blocked his way and pushed him to the floor.

  ‘He won’t say. All he wants is for us to let him get on his way.’

  ‘Where you going?’ Colm asked the boy.

  ‘London,’ he said, causing more laughter. The boy climbed to his feet and sat at the table opposite Devlin. ‘I know you,’ he said.

  Devlin wondered how many more people there were in the world about to turn up, point their fingers and say that same thing to him. Wondered, too, at the trouble that usually followed.

  ‘I doubt it,’ he said. He saw the sudden interest in both the brothers’ eyes.

  ‘You were at the drainage work,’ the boy said. ‘With that bastard Sullivan.’

  ‘I knew it,’ Patrick said. ‘He’s on the lam from the camp. That’s all we need – a row of coppers and their dogs lined up to search the place.’

  Now the boy laughed. ‘Search the place? You think they actually come looking for us? All they do is sit on their fat arses and wait for us to turn ourselves in. Half the absconders just walk back in through the gates with their hands up. Search parties? It’s a joke. The whole place is a joke.’

  ‘When did you go?’ Colm asked him.

  ‘What difference does it make? Nine or ten days back. You think if they’d actually been looking for me they wouldn’t have found me by now?’

  Devlin looked hard at the boy and finally recognized the inmate Sullivan had pointed out to him on the bus. The boy sitting apart from the others, the one who had assaulted his own sister.

  ‘What did you run off for?’ Colm asked him. ‘It sounds a cushy enough number.’

  ‘It is,’ the boy said. ‘Especially after what I’d been used to.’

  ‘So why run?’ Patrick said.

  ‘Because the bastards kept changing my release date, putting it further and further back. Every Juvenile Board I went up for – they just kept on saying I had longer and longer to serve. I just got sick of waiting.’

  ‘What were you in for?’ Colm asked him.

  The boy cast a glance at Devlin. ‘Thieving,’ he said.

  ‘Is that right?’ Patrick asked Devlin.

  Devlin avoided looking at the boy. ‘How should I know? All I ever did was watch them while they pretended to work.’

  ‘You and that bastard Sullivan,’ the boy said.

  ‘Thieving what?’ Patrick said.

  ‘Anything I could get my hands on. I got five brothers and sisters.’

  ‘What about your parents?’

  ‘What about them?’ He looked back at the loaf on the table. ‘Can I have another slice of that? You could let me stay – I can work.’ There was neither hope nor pleading nor conviction in his voice.

  ‘Funnily enough,’ Patrick said, ‘we got all the spongers and hangers-on we need for now. Besides, you’re trouble, anybody can see that. Best thing for you to do is to get as far away from this place as possible.’

  ‘Got a fag?’ the boy said. He took the one Maria gave him, lit it and sucked hard on it. He blew the smoke directly at Devlin and then sat looking at him, smiling.

  Patrick watched all this carefully. ‘You know him,’ he said to Devlin. ‘You can help him on his way.’

  ‘I don’t know him from Adam,’ Devlin said. ‘He hasn’t come here because of me.’

  The boy took pleasure in this. ‘I might have,’ he said. ‘You and Sullivan looked a cosy little number. Everybody knows how he likes to shout his big mouth off. Half the lads in there reckon that when they get out they’ll be going to pay our Mister Sullivan a little visit.’

  ‘Then they’re probably all like you,’ Patrick said. ‘All talk.’

  The boy continued looking at Devlin, the same thin sneer on his face.

  ‘What’s he looking so smug about?’ Colm said. ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘I already told you,’ Devlin said. ‘What, now you’re taking his word over mine?’

  ‘I doubt either would be worth the breath they came out on,’ Patrick said.

  ‘If I get to Peterborough, I can catch a train to London,’ the boy said.

  ‘And use what for a ticket?’

  ‘Norwich station would be a better bet,’ Colm said. ‘They
’d be keeping an eye on the main line. Your picture will be up somewhere.’

  The boy laughed at the suggestion. ‘Wanted Dead or Alive.’ He pulled out two imaginary pistols and started shooting.

  ‘You’re laughing now,’ Patrick said. ‘But that won’t last.’

  The boy blew into the smoking barrels and pushed the guns back into their holsters. ‘I already told you, nobody’s looking. I got friends in London, contacts.’

  Patrick laughed at the word. ‘’Course you have. You’re a big man. They’ll all be waiting for you with open arms.’ He pulled Colm to the far end of the caravan and the two of them held a whispered conversation.

  ‘This your piece of skirt, is it?’ the boy said to Devlin. He tried to put his arm around Maria’s waist and she slapped him hard across his face. The boy only laughed. ‘Didn’t feel a thing,’ he said. He nodded to the brothers. ‘What do you reckon? Reckon they’re planning to do me in and then chuck me into a drain somewhere?’

  ‘It’s a possibility,’ Devlin said.

  The boy shook his head.

  ‘You should have finished your time,’ Devlin said to him. ‘You’re just a kid. You don’t know what it’s like out there. London? You’ve been gone a week, longer, and you’re still only half a dozen miles from the place.’

  ‘I know better than most what it’s like. And you can tell your mate Sullivan that when I’m free and clear, I’ll be putting in a written complaint about everything he gets up to.’

  ‘Right,’ Devlin said. ‘He’ll be sweating it already.’

  ‘You think that’s funny? Well, his days are numbered. Everything’s set to change at that place. Most of the old warders are getting ready to leave. They reckon that compared to what’s coming, the place is run like a doss house now. New staff, new fences, the lot.’

  ‘Whatever they do,’ Patrick said, coming back to them, ‘nasty little runts like you will always be jumping up and down attracting attention. We need you gone.’

  The boy turned to him with the same malicious grin on his face. ‘Why’s that, then? Got something to hide, have you? It’s not me you’re scared of the coppers finding here.’

  Patrick slapped him harder than Maria had slapped him, and again the boy took only a few seconds to recover from the blow.