straight past us, as though he’d been forbidden to
look at us.
“Victoria…,”
the one with the baseball bat said. His tone was questioning.
Victoria
gave him a sharp look. “I don’t think they’re about to ambush me, Steve. You
can wait outside.”
Victoria
walked behind a desk and sat in a green Winchester chair, the back of it
enveloping her slim frame. She opened a drawer, took out a pouch of rolling
tobacco and started to roll a cigarette.
The office
was full of dark mahogany and oak furniture covered in varnish that had started
to fade. The borders of the ceiling were decorated with spiralling patterns
that spoke of excess. It amazed me that somebody took such care into the tiny
details of a place where people rarely looked. On the right wall there was a
hideous painting. It was a metre wide, big enough to hang in a gallery. On it,
a cavalry soldier rode atop a horse. The horse was white once, but now it was
covered in trails of blood that started at its hooves and spread up its legs
and across its muscled body. The horse’s face was demented with anger, and it
twisted its head toward the centre of the frame as if it was looking out at the
viewer. The fury in its eyes seemed to come out of the painting and fill the
room, and I could only stare at it for a couple of seconds before I had to look
away.
“Park your
arses,” Victoria said.
Justin,
Melissa and Lou took the three seats in front of the desk. Alice and I stood. Alice
folded her arms, pressed them tight into her chest. Her face was set in a
grimace. I could tell her leg was hurting her from whatever had happened when
the stalkers separated us, but she refused to sit down.
“I want to
see my son,” she said.
Victoria
held the strip of paper to her lips, licked the adhesive and sealed the
cigarette.
“Mind if I
smoke?” she said.
“Rather you
didn’t,” said Melissa.
“Well you’re
in my office, so I guess I’ll do what I feckin’ please.”
She put the
cigarette in her mouth, flicked a lighter, and ignited the end. The paper
crackled, and she blew smoke into the air. I sucked in the smell, felt it
reactivate the old cells in my brain that still clung onto addiction. I guess
you never got over it. I took a step forward, put my hands on the desk and
leant over it.
“First
things first, she needs to see her son,” I said.
Victoria
shuffled the chair away from the desk a little and crossed her legs. “The boy
is fine. A damn sight better than the condition we found him in, anyway. He
looked like the pictures you see of kids in the blitz.”
Alice took a
step forward. Her face was turning red as though she were about to explode.
Alice was capable of the most intense anger you ever saw when her son was in
danger. The first time we met, she had knocked me out cold. If Alice was angry
it was best to either let her simmer down or just step away.
“Better
watch what you say about the boy. We’re feeling a little sensitive,” I said.
Victoria
blew out a plume of smoke. It rose to the ceiling and dispersed. “Kid looked
like he’d been through hell. Take it your his ma?” she said, looking at Alice,
a hint of scorn in her expression.
I could feel
the anger bubbling in Alice from where I stood, almost like the tremor of an
earthquake. It seemed to me that levelling criticism at a mother over the
treatment of her son was a pretty stupid idea. It wouldn’t do us any good to
get mad though. The guards waited outside, ready to storm in at the slightest
sign of trouble. And beyond these doors, there was a whole town full of people
who didn’t have much time for strangers.
I gave Alice
a glare that I hoped she took to mean ‘calm down.’ I stood back and crossed my
arms.
“Listen,” I
said, “We didn’t come here to take your shit. Tell us what the hell is going
on. Why did you keep us fenced in?”
Victoria
stretched her hand across the
look at us.
“Victoria…,”
the one with the baseball bat said. His tone was questioning.
Victoria
gave him a sharp look. “I don’t think they’re about to ambush me, Steve. You
can wait outside.”
Victoria
walked behind a desk and sat in a green Winchester chair, the back of it
enveloping her slim frame. She opened a drawer, took out a pouch of rolling
tobacco and started to roll a cigarette.
The office
was full of dark mahogany and oak furniture covered in varnish that had started
to fade. The borders of the ceiling were decorated with spiralling patterns
that spoke of excess. It amazed me that somebody took such care into the tiny
details of a place where people rarely looked. On the right wall there was a
hideous painting. It was a metre wide, big enough to hang in a gallery. On it,
a cavalry soldier rode atop a horse. The horse was white once, but now it was
covered in trails of blood that started at its hooves and spread up its legs
and across its muscled body. The horse’s face was demented with anger, and it
twisted its head toward the centre of the frame as if it was looking out at the
viewer. The fury in its eyes seemed to come out of the painting and fill the
room, and I could only stare at it for a couple of seconds before I had to look
away.
“Park your
arses,” Victoria said.
Justin,
Melissa and Lou took the three seats in front of the desk. Alice and I stood. Alice
folded her arms, pressed them tight into her chest. Her face was set in a
grimace. I could tell her leg was hurting her from whatever had happened when
the stalkers separated us, but she refused to sit down.
“I want to
see my son,” she said.
Victoria
held the strip of paper to her lips, licked the adhesive and sealed the
cigarette.
“Mind if I
smoke?” she said.
“Rather you
didn’t,” said Melissa.
“Well you’re
in my office, so I guess I’ll do what I feckin’ please.”
She put the
cigarette in her mouth, flicked a lighter, and ignited the end. The paper
crackled, and she blew smoke into the air. I sucked in the smell, felt it
reactivate the old cells in my brain that still clung onto addiction. I guess
you never got over it. I took a step forward, put my hands on the desk and
leant over it.
“First
things first, she needs to see her son,” I said.
Victoria
shuffled the chair away from the desk a little and crossed her legs. “The boy
is fine. A damn sight better than the condition we found him in, anyway. He
looked like the pictures you see of kids in the blitz.”
Alice took a
step forward. Her face was turning red as though she were about to explode.
Alice was capable of the most intense anger you ever saw when her son was in
danger. The first time we met, she had knocked me out cold. If Alice was angry
it was best to either let her simmer down or just step away.
“Better
watch what you say about the boy. We’re feeling a little sensitive,” I said.
Victoria
blew out a plume of smoke. It rose to the ceiling and dispersed. “Kid looked
like he’d been through hell. Take it your his ma?” she said, looking at Alice,
a hint of scorn in her expression.
I could feel
the anger bubbling in Alice from where I stood, almost like the tremor of an
earthquake. It seemed to me that levelling criticism at a mother over the
treatment of her son was a pretty stupid idea. It wouldn’t do us any good to
get mad though. The guards waited outside, ready to storm in at the slightest
sign of trouble. And beyond these doors, there was a whole town full of people
who didn’t have much time for strangers.
I gave Alice
a glare that I hoped she took to mean ‘calm down.’ I stood back and crossed my
arms.
“Listen,” I
said, “We didn’t come here to take your shit. Tell us what the hell is going
on. Why did you keep us fenced in?”
Victoria
stretched her hand across the
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