Winter Damage

by Natasha Carthew

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘You sure?’ She pushed a hand through the metal bars and touched Ennor briefly on her face and a small ticklish laugh escaped her lips that was both heaven and hell.

  ‘I gotta go.’ Ennor turned and mounted the horse with Trip behind and the woman said her name and told her to take care of herself and when she looked down at the gate she had gone.

  She rode the horse ahead of Sonny and Butch and they were quiet with the sting of sudden smacks still fresh on their faces.

  Nobody spoke because there was nothing left to say and there was nothing worth listening to except the blunt hum of chatterbox minds.

  They went single file through the littered streets and the dog jigged and barked at the rubbish like he had reached heaven and looked prepared to stay there.

  Ennor rode to the harbour and she stood the horse in the surf to close her eyes to everything and the sea spray and it was Sonny as always who had the courage to confront the uncomfortable silence and she asked what next.

  Ennor shrugged.

  ‘She your mother or no?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘You want her to be your mother even if she is? Not sure I would.’

  ‘Well you’ve got your parents alive and sane so don’t start wonderin.’

  ‘Not sure bout the sane part but, anyway, just tryin to make it so it don’t hurt so much.’

  ‘I know.’

  Ennor stared into the flat smack sea and everything in her wanted to kick the horse into running. Towards the waves and out into the for ever horizon, keep going, sink or swim.

  ‘Where we goin, sister?’ asked Trip.

  Ennor didn’t answer; she didn’t know.

  ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘I know, buddy.’ She reached around to pat him on the leg. ‘Sister’s scared too.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  There was nothing that could be said and nothing that could be done but roam the streets for signs of life and they went back through the town and called out for a doctor.

  ‘I gotta get down,’ coughed Butch. ‘Just set me down a while, please.’

  ‘We’re gettin you a doctor,’ said Sonny. ‘Got to be one hidin somewhere.’

  ‘Let me lie down, just for a minute.’

  The two girls looked at each other and Ennor said they could sit him on a bench while they continued looking.

  ‘Won’t be long,’ she told him. ‘We’ll go once more round town, then back.’

  Butch tried to smile and it broke her heart all over again to see him huddled over the dog like a deadbeat.

  They rode through the streets and looped back along the beach front and one or other of them called out until their throats itched with hopeless words.

  ‘Let’s stop a minute,’ said Sonny. ‘Where’s that tramp gone? He might know more than he’s lettin on. I got more to sell.’

  ‘I’d say he’s settled into that bottle of cider you gave him,’ said Ennor and she turned to look at Sonny. ‘What’s that?’ She pointed towards a placard poking out from the sand behind her.

  Sonny turned and they both read it out loud.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Trip. ‘What’s it mean?’

  ‘Says bout a boat goin tomorrow, goin to the Scillies.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘The promised land,’ laughed Sonny. ‘Fancy that.’

  They rode their horses on to the sand to read the sign up close and a fisherman stepped out from behind the rocks.

  ‘You kids interested?’ he asked.

  ‘What’s great about the Scillies?’ asked Sonny. ‘What’s different?’

  ‘They got a self-sufficient community goin out there. Food and business near to normal.’

  The girls looked at each other.

  ‘How’d we know?’

  The man smiled. ‘You don’t. That’s where the world’s gone wrong. No trust left.’

  ‘How much?’ asked Ennor.

  The man came close and he felt the horse’s legs down to the sand. ‘These horses yours?’

  Sonny looked at Ennor and then told him they were.

  ‘Well I’d say that might swing it.’

  ‘Got room for four?’

  ‘Might well, be here by ten tomorrow. See what we can do.’

  Ennor nodded and asked if he knew of any doctors in the town but he just shook his head. ‘Scillies got doctors, got teachers, the lot. Don’t forget, ten in the morning. Don’t be late.’

  They rode back to town and Ennor counted two magpies, one two, for luck as they circled the main square up ahead of them. One more night in the rough and they would be on their way: a doctor for Butch, teachers for Trip and a new life for them all.

  At first she didn’t notice the commotion. A little fantasy had wormed its way into her thinking and happiness was close by.

  ‘What’s goin on?’ she asked. ‘What’s all the yappin bout?’

  The pack of feral dogs stood barking mad in the road, clambering over each other in a fight to get to the prize. Family pets turned to wolves in just a few weeks of neglect. Sonny held out the rifle and fired a bullet into the air and when they didn’t move she fired another at their feet and had them scattered, regretful to have to leave blood behind.

  ‘You killed buddy dog!’ shouted Trip as one of the dogs howled out in pain. ‘You killed buddy dog!’

  Sonny jumped from her horse and ran towards the lifeless body in the road.

  ‘Is he hurt?’ shouted Ennor. ‘Please, God, tell me he int hurt.’ She slid from her own horse and ran to Butch, a high-pitched ping resonating in her ears from Trip’s screaming.

  ‘He’s breathin,’ said Sonny.

  ‘Is he bit?’

  ‘Just torn clothes, let me look.’ Sonny pulled up his jacket sleeves and peered into the chewed holes of his jeans. ‘Grazes mostly. It’s his breathin that’s the worry.’

  Ennor cradled his head and asked him if he could hear her and he blinked and tried to smile, his pale skin as white as the snow that skidded crossways on the road beneath him.

  ‘He needs a doctor.’

  ‘There int none,’ said Sonny.

  Ennor looked around for assistance and she called out for help just as if they lived in a regular world. A gang of youths stood watching from the bend in the road and she called for them to get a doctor.

  ‘They don’t look right, leave um,’ said Sonny. ‘Looks like they’re settlin to rob us.’

  ‘Stuff um,’ shouted Ennor. ‘What we got to rob?’

  Sonny shook her head. ‘We need to get Butch on the back of the horse quick and shut your brother up, would you?’

  Trip was still screaming at the sight of blood on the snow and he punched the saddle in anger.

  ‘Trip, you need to be a good lad. This is very important, Butch is poorly,’ shouted Ennor.

  ‘Buddy dog is dead!’ he yelled. ‘Sonny killed buddy dog!’

  ‘Trip, please.’ Ennor helped Sonny lift Butch towards the jittery horse. ‘For fuck’s sake Trip, shut up.’

  The gang were getting closer, calling Ennor to come over, jesting that they wouldn’t bite.

  When Butch was hanging securely over the rump of the horse Sonny swung the rifle into full view of the boys and turned to face them.

  ‘Dare me,’ she shouted. ‘Just go ahead and dare me.’

  ‘Just being friendly,’ one of them smirked.

  Sonny ignored him and held the gun firmly in both hands. ‘Who’s first?’ she asked, guiding the double barrel from one face to the next.

  ‘You wouldn’t do it.’

  ‘Wouldn’t I?’

  ‘You int got the guts. Besides, there int more than two bullets a go in that gun and you’ve had your share of firin.’

  ‘Int there now?’

  The mouthy boy edged forward so he was face to face with the barrel. ‘Nope.’

  ‘Wanna take the chance?’

  ‘You’re bluffin.’ He grinned.

  Sonny wink
ed. ‘Your funeral.’

  She unlooped the strap and flicked the rifle into the air, catching it by the barrel in time to smash the butt into the side of his face.

  ‘Anyone else?’ she yelled.

  Ennor looked down at the boy, blood from his head seeped into the snow and mingled with that of the injured dog and it was all red just the same. ‘Let’s go,’ she shouted.

  The remaining three boys stepped back and so did Sonny and she jumped up in front of Butch. ‘Don’t even think bout followin us!’ she shouted. ‘We got bullets and it takes a second to reload.’

  Sonny reached behind her and felt for Butch’s neck, he was breathing but only just and his skin was ice cold.

  ‘We need to get him warmed up,’ she shouted across to Ennor on the other horse. ‘Gotta get out of town and get a fire goin.’

  Ennor looked at Sonny through a blur of silent tears. She wanted to ask if everything would be all right like she always did but the look on Sonny’s face told her it was anything but.

  Something she knew in any case: something she’d known all along.

  They rode in silence and with purpose to put a little distance between them and the town, with Sonny sitting stiff from the cold and Butch stretched out behind her like a deer corpse after a hunt.

  Ennor felt Trip’s small warm body snuggle tight against her back, his crying nothing more than random gasps for air.

  ‘You OK, buddy?’ she asked and felt him shake his head.

  ‘You gotta be strong. I’m countin on you.’

  ‘Sonny,’ he gargled. ‘Sonny killed buddy dog.’

  Ennor reached around and patted one dangling leg. ‘The dogs had got into a pack like a gang. They were attackin Butch.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Cus they’re animals and were hungry.’

  ‘Why what Sonny done?’

  ‘She had to stop them.’

  ‘I hate her.’

  ‘No you don’t.’

  ‘Do,’ he shouted. ‘I hate you!’

  Sonny looked over her shoulder at them and her silence unnerved Ennor.

  ‘Shut up, Trip,’ said Ennor. ‘Please, just shut up.’

  They rode on towards higher ground and Sonny led her horse into a small crop field overlooking the bay and dismounted.

  ‘Lay out your tarp and I’ll pull him down.’

  Ennor did what she was told and when they settled Butch on to it she covered him with all their blankets.

  ‘Kid,’ shouted Sonny. ‘Stop your dribblin, you’re comin to fetch wood with me.’ She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the hedgerow.

  Ennor took off her coat and bundled it into a pillow for Butch. ‘We’ll soon get you warmed up.’ She looked into his eyes and ran her fingertips across his cheek.

  His breathing was thin and worn like it had journeyed a million miles to get from his lungs to his mouth and she pulled his collar tight and told him everything would be OK. This was the only time she would ever lie to him. He was not OK and things weren’t OK. Butch was dying, the first of them to be heading the way all of them would be heading soon enough.

  ‘Sonny’s gone for some wood. Only thing she’s good for, right?’

  Butch smiled and he tried to speak.

  ‘What is it?’ She leant forward until her ear was close to the sucking that was his breathing.

  ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

  Ennor’s eyes filled with tears and they dropped heavy on to his cheeks.

  ‘What you got to thank me for? Should be me thankin you,’ she sobbed. ‘Stupid boy.’

  Butch shook his head. ‘Thank you,’ he said again. ‘For bein you.’ He started to cough and his hands went to his chest, every word, every breath an excruciating punch of pain, too much.

  Ennor must have screamed out loud because Sonny and Trip came running towards her and she shouted a jumble of words that were both comforting and startling but it was too late. Butch was dead.

  Hours, days and weeks could have passed her by and Ennor wouldn’t have noticed them or counted them. There was no luck in counting, no lucky seven and no good fortune in the colour red. She lay on her back and saw crows circling the dead hour before bed and she knew they were the lucky ones, the free. Sonny gave her the blankets that they had piled on to Butch but had left him one. He lay beside her as still and as cold as a pebble washed up from the shore.

  ‘He’d bin ill a long time,’ said Sonny from out of the darkness. ‘Trip said.’

  ‘What he know?’

  ‘A lot, sister. I know everythin.’

  Ennor sat up and saw that they had made a fire and were sitting awkwardly beside it. She must have passed out. Two children with faces like cold-bitten tramps, resigned and dirty and worn. Children used to the rhythm of winter’s homeless bash and bang and all of them broken souls with one dead awaiting the ground.

  ‘This is my fault,’ she said. ‘All this and everythin up to this. I should have known. He’d bin badly beat cus of me.’

  Sonny shook her head. ‘I int listnin. Trip, block your ears.’

  ‘Not talkin to you,’ he said.

  ‘Dint ask you to. Block your ears cus your sister’s talkin bull.’

  Ennor moved closer to the fire and gave them back their blankets. ‘Don’t swear.’

  ‘You did,’ said Trip.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Said “for fuck’s sake, Trip, shut up.’’’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘Why?’

  Ennor took a deep breath. She knew there were things Trip didn’t understand, couldn’t. Butch was lying dead on the tarp between them and here he was with the usual hair-splitting questions.

  ‘Just leave her be,’ said Sonny and she put a finger up to his mouth. ‘Leave it.’

  ‘We’ll have to bury him,’ said Ennor.

  Sonny nodded.

  ‘Put him in the ground one way or the other.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘You got ideas?’

  Sonny shrugged. ‘I guess diggin would do it.’

  ‘The ground’s hard as rock.’

  ‘I got me axe.’

  ‘It’ll take for ever.’

  ‘Then for ever is how long it’ll take.’

  Ennor gripped hold of Sonny’s arm, she wanted to thank her but despair caught in her throat.

  ‘I know,’ said Sonny as she stood up and she wrapped her blanket around Ennor and Trip’s shoulders.

  ‘Might start diggin down there by that tree.’ She pointed towards the bottom edge of the field and nodded. ‘Next to the hedge. Farmers don’t plough that far out.’

  Ennor watched her lead the horses down the field with the axe handle sticking from her jeans pocket and a little lump rose up in her throat.

  ‘What’s Sonny doin?’ asked Trip.

  ‘She’s diggin Butch a grave.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Cus he’s dead, buddy.’

  ‘What she doin with the horses?’

  Sonny was hammering at the frozen snow and scraping it clear with her boot. ‘She’s feedin the horses,’ she nodded. ‘Findin them grass.’

  ‘What we got to eat, sister? We int eaten all day.’

  Ennor thought for a minute and wondered if Sonny had anything left over from the bartering.

  ‘Pass me that bag,’ she said to Trip.

  ‘It’s Sonny’s.’

  ‘Just pass it, would you?’

  Trip pulled the rucksack from off the snow and on to the tarpaulin sheet. ‘What’s in it?’

  ‘Food, I hope.’

  ‘Please, God.’

  ‘Please, God, is right,’ and for once their prayers were answered. They had two tins of beans left, plus two tins of stolen spam and a packet of custard creams.

  ‘Savin the best for last.’ She smiled.

  ‘Thank God.’ Trip smiled.

  ‘Thank God. We’ll have a feast now, won’t we, buddy?’

  ‘For Butch,’ said Trip. ‘Before he goes to heaven.’
>
  Ennor wiped her eyes and told Trip to go and help Sonny and to tell her she was cooking everything they had. The tears were starting to fall in heavy splashes down her face and she didn’t want Trip to see, not again. They would have a feast and toast Butch and everything that was good about him. Toast him into heaven.

  She set about opening the tins with her knife and adding the last of the wood to the fire, enough to heat things through. She thought about their adventure because that was what it was and wondered if Butch’s destiny was written to end like this all along. They would never know, but known things were ending in any case.

  When the beans were spitting from the tins and the two slabs of spam heated in the pan she called Sonny and Trip.

  It felt strange to be eating when Butch was stretched out beside them.

  ‘This tastes every bit as nice as anythin,’ said Sonny.

  ‘I love sister’s cookin,’ smiled Trip. ‘Love everythin she cooks me.’

  Ennor laughed. ‘You always say that, buddy.’

  ‘That’s cus it’s true.’ He nodded. ‘Shame Butch can’t eat none.’

  Sonny raised her plate into the air. ‘To Butch.’ She smiled.

  ‘To Butch,’ said Ennor and Trip in unison.

  They took their time to enjoy the food and Ennor told herself that it would be their last meal together. Tomorrow Butch would be in heaven and the ground and they’d all be on their way someplace other.

  ‘How’s the diggin?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s like liftin tarmac.’

  ‘How long you think?’

  Sonny shrugged. ‘All night I guess.’

  ‘We can’t leave him, can we?’

  ‘Birds will get him or them wild dogs.’

  Ennor looked over at Trip to see if his ears pricked to the word dog, but he was listening to something that carried on the evening breeze.

  ‘Buddy dog,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ she said and she put an arm around his too-thin back. ‘Buddy dog’s gone.’

  ‘No, he int. Buddy dog.’ He got to his feet and stood with his nose and ears pricked. ‘Buddy dog,’ he shouted.

  The two girls looked at Trip and then at each other and Sonny put a hand on the reloaded rifle.