silenced every snigger. The shouting sounded like it was beside Gordon’s ear.
“You’ll wash it or I’ll cut the filthy article off. Your cock belongs to me, Dixon, and if you think otherwise I’ll take the matter straight to Skelton. ’E doesn’t like his agents to smell – especially not of women. You’ll be off this patrol and out of the Ward for good. And you know what that means.”
There was silence from the top landing.
“I’ll see to it as soon as we get back, sir.”
Walsh exploded again.
“If I see a barrel o’ piss on the way back to the station you’ll be washin’ it in that. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Right, everyone out. Not you, Richards.”
When the footsteps had receded there was silence again from the top landing but Gordon knew Walsh and Richards were still there. Eventually, Walsh said:
“Dixon’s got to go, lad.”
Richards didn’t answer.
“I can’t report ’im because it’ll bring this patrol into the spotlight. So ’e’s got to go. Are you wi’ me, Richards?”
“Sir.”
“You’ll see to it then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re a good lad, Richards. Get this sorted out nice and quiet and you’ll be movin’ up the chain of command before you know it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
They didn’t move.
“I can still smell bloody fish. Can you?”
Gordon could imagine Richards raising his nose to test the air again.
“No, sir.”
Walsh heaved a huge sigh. Gordon thought he heard the sound of a hand clapping a shoulder and a moment later the last two pairs of footsteps receded. Only when they heard the sound of the horses moving off did Gordon allow himself to move. The girl relit the candle and they smiled at each other in the sudden warm brightness.
“Thank God for Dixon’s fishy cock,” she said.
Gordon grinned.
“Thank God indeed.”
The girl reached for the plastic bag with Gordon’s tin of salmon inside it. She passed it back to him.
“It’s alright,” he said. “You have the rest.”
“Not sure I want it after all that.”
It was a long time since he’d had a reason to smile. It felt good. And seeing the girl smile felt good too.
“You’ll manage,” he said. He nodded to the shape under the blankets. “Share it.”
“Tell you what,” said the girl. “We’ll all share it.”
She nudged the blankets. They shifted as though something were fighting its way out. Then a small face appeared over the rumpled pile. Its hair was tangled and greasy, its skin the colour of an old tusk. But the eyes were bright and intelligent and full of mischief.
“Thank God for Dixon’s fishy cock,” said the little girl and Gordon was shocked by the noise that burst from his mouth in response. Laughter. Genuine, spontaneous laughter.
“You watch your mouth, young lady. That’s not how we behave in front of guests, is it?”
The girl grinned, her smiling eyes fixated with Gordon.
“Soooorrry, mum.”
Gordon was very aware of the mother watching his eye contact with her little girl.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m Flora.”
It was only then that he realised what would come next. Charmed by the little girl, he’d opened himself up for it:
“Who are you?”
“I’m…”
He’d run for so long, used so many names it didn’t seem to matter which one he used any more. At least, when he was out there in the grit grey world it didn’t matter. What mattered was that no one knew his real name. And yet here, suddenly, his real name seemed important. A little girl didn’t deserve to be lied to whether she knew it or not.
She was already reaching over from her nest of blankets to shake his hand and it was then he noticed how thin her arms were and how crooked her fingers. She could have crawled or stood up to greet him but she didn’t and he was very certain it was because she was able to do neither.
He reached out his hand and took hers very gently. The Black Light leapt in his veins at the calling of her sickness but
“You’ll wash it or I’ll cut the filthy article off. Your cock belongs to me, Dixon, and if you think otherwise I’ll take the matter straight to Skelton. ’E doesn’t like his agents to smell – especially not of women. You’ll be off this patrol and out of the Ward for good. And you know what that means.”
There was silence from the top landing.
“I’ll see to it as soon as we get back, sir.”
Walsh exploded again.
“If I see a barrel o’ piss on the way back to the station you’ll be washin’ it in that. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Right, everyone out. Not you, Richards.”
When the footsteps had receded there was silence again from the top landing but Gordon knew Walsh and Richards were still there. Eventually, Walsh said:
“Dixon’s got to go, lad.”
Richards didn’t answer.
“I can’t report ’im because it’ll bring this patrol into the spotlight. So ’e’s got to go. Are you wi’ me, Richards?”
“Sir.”
“You’ll see to it then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re a good lad, Richards. Get this sorted out nice and quiet and you’ll be movin’ up the chain of command before you know it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
They didn’t move.
“I can still smell bloody fish. Can you?”
Gordon could imagine Richards raising his nose to test the air again.
“No, sir.”
Walsh heaved a huge sigh. Gordon thought he heard the sound of a hand clapping a shoulder and a moment later the last two pairs of footsteps receded. Only when they heard the sound of the horses moving off did Gordon allow himself to move. The girl relit the candle and they smiled at each other in the sudden warm brightness.
“Thank God for Dixon’s fishy cock,” she said.
Gordon grinned.
“Thank God indeed.”
The girl reached for the plastic bag with Gordon’s tin of salmon inside it. She passed it back to him.
“It’s alright,” he said. “You have the rest.”
“Not sure I want it after all that.”
It was a long time since he’d had a reason to smile. It felt good. And seeing the girl smile felt good too.
“You’ll manage,” he said. He nodded to the shape under the blankets. “Share it.”
“Tell you what,” said the girl. “We’ll all share it.”
She nudged the blankets. They shifted as though something were fighting its way out. Then a small face appeared over the rumpled pile. Its hair was tangled and greasy, its skin the colour of an old tusk. But the eyes were bright and intelligent and full of mischief.
“Thank God for Dixon’s fishy cock,” said the little girl and Gordon was shocked by the noise that burst from his mouth in response. Laughter. Genuine, spontaneous laughter.
“You watch your mouth, young lady. That’s not how we behave in front of guests, is it?”
The girl grinned, her smiling eyes fixated with Gordon.
“Soooorrry, mum.”
Gordon was very aware of the mother watching his eye contact with her little girl.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m Flora.”
It was only then that he realised what would come next. Charmed by the little girl, he’d opened himself up for it:
“Who are you?”
“I’m…”
He’d run for so long, used so many names it didn’t seem to matter which one he used any more. At least, when he was out there in the grit grey world it didn’t matter. What mattered was that no one knew his real name. And yet here, suddenly, his real name seemed important. A little girl didn’t deserve to be lied to whether she knew it or not.
She was already reaching over from her nest of blankets to shake his hand and it was then he noticed how thin her arms were and how crooked her fingers. She could have crawled or stood up to greet him but she didn’t and he was very certain it was because she was able to do neither.
He reached out his hand and took hers very gently. The Black Light leapt in his veins at the calling of her sickness but
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