*
‘You’re not going to serve me that, are you?’ Tinder said as Semilion poured cider from a demijohn.
‘Sorry?’ Semilion said, blinking and looking at what he was doing. Thick gloop was hanging from the rim of the jar, plopping into Tinder’s cup.
‘Look at the state of it. There’s enough grot in there to shame Betty’s earholes.’
‘I heard that, you black-hearted cow-son!’ Betty looked up and scathed, mid-conversation.
Tinder turned and doffed his cap before turning back to Semilion, who had placed the demijohn on the floor and was hauling a second to the bar. ‘Sorry, Tinder. I wasn’t paying attention.'
‘You alright, boy? You’ve been out at sea for weeks.’
‘I know,’ he pinched his brow. ‘I don’t know… Things have just been strained since Kelly died.’
‘Aye, you can say that again. Guliven has it under control though, doesn’t he? He went back and forth with Kelly more times than I can remember, and Sean’s as able as Kelly and Guliven put together.’ He hesitated for a moment as he took a draught. ‘I only ask myself why you chose Guliven as Runner over Sean.’
‘I need Sean for other work.’ Semilion replied flatly, taking a bottle of ale and sliding it to Baron, who opened it and handed it to George.
‘Oh? Other work… Work at sea?’ Tinder asked, retrieving a pouch of tobacco.
‘I need to speak with him about it before I make it public. You understand?
‘Course I do. Better mention it to him quick though, he was upset to have not been chosen as Runner.’
‘He didn’t say anything.’
‘You know Sean. He wouldn’t bother anyone even if his head was hanging by a thread.’
Semilion snorted in agreement.
Priya stepped into the bar and brushed down her short cow-hide jacket. Dark spots of rain dotted the fabric, and Tinder got to his feet.
‘Raining hard?’ He asked anxiously.
‘Just spitting. Looks like it’ll be pouring in a few minutes though. I can’t believe it, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky half an hour ago.’
Tinder abandoned his cider and bade them farewell, muttering about his wife.
‘What did he say?’ Priya asked as she placed her hands on the bar.
‘Something about Kit battering him if he doesn’t get the washing in.’ He took a breath and composed himself. ‘What can I get for you?’
‘I’ll have some of your speciality, please.’
Semilion took a bottle of plum wine and poured a large cup. ‘How’s your day been?’
‘In the crèche? Wondrous!’ The sarcasm was as thick as the dregs of the cider. ‘God knows why you put me to work in there.’
Semilion smirked. He had given her the job in the crèche because he thought she needed her pedestal destabilised, and he felt as though it was doing the job perfectly. When she had first arrived in the community it seemed as though she had never worked a full day in her life, now she bore the air of someone who knew what it meant to sleep for the grace of labour.
‘You know, actually, it’s good you’re here tonight. I wanted to ask you something. Well, tell you something and ask you something.’
‘I’m doubly intrigued.’ Semilion looked at her stonily. ‘Go on.’
She leant forward, her arms crossed on the bar. ‘It’s about the codes you’ve been working on.’
‘I’ve not been working on codes!’ He said, trying his best to look indignant, though instead he simply looked as though he was curious how she knew.
‘Not according to the titles of the books on your desk. It was pretty bloody obvious.’
‘So what is it you wanted to tell me?’ He moved to the far end of the bar, away from Baron. Priya followed.
‘Remember when we first arrived and you asked us about our former lives? When I told you about my parents? Well, I kind of lied.’
‘Kind of?’
‘I said they had nothing to do with any insurgent groups in Bahrain. Well, the thing is, they were. Nothing directly. I mean, they had nothing to do with the bombings, but the authorities still held them accountable as accessories because they were go-betweens. They used to pass messages between the rebel groups, and they were always conversing with this group or that in one secret language or another.’ She raised her cup to her lips and looked at him seductively. ‘I guess that’s why I’m so good at being sneaky.’
‘So what really happened to them?’
‘The rest of what I told you was true. They were caught and locked up. Look, the reason I’m bringing this up is that I hate working in the crèche and whatever it is you’re working on is driving you insane.’ Semilion made to protest but she rolled her eyes. ‘Look at the size of that vein on your temple! It’s pulsing like an obese leech.’
He raised his hand and touched the vein, wondering if anyone else had seen it. Tinder had already noticed he wasn’t concentrating, and had commented that he had been distant for weeks, Sarah had noticed also.
‘I’m good at code-breaking,’ she said, quashing his refusals before he could even voice them. ‘Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?’
He laughed. ‘Now there’s a provocation for God. What’s the worst that could happen? You could translate it wrong and…’
‘Then I’ll show you all my workings!’ She replied, exasperated. ‘I’ll write down my notes and show exactly how I came to my conclusions. God, Semilion. Give me something worthwhile to do.’
‘The crèche is worthwhile. There’s nothing more worthwhile that looking after our next generation.’
Priya sighed. ‘I know. I didn’t mean that. I’m just not the motherly type, you know?’
Selina burst into the bar, soaking wet from the storm. Rain lashed against the window and a cold draught stirred Priya’s clothes, making her shiver. She stepped to the door and closed it.
‘Where the hell did that come from?’ Selina asked. ‘There were blue skies a minute ago!’
‘Get used to it,’ George chuckled, winking at Baron conspiratorially and stepping towards her, ‘plenty more of that in the months coming.’
‘Come on, sit over here,’ Priya said, leading Selina to a seat near a solar lamp. George joined them and placed the lamp closer to her. It didn’t give off much warmth but it was better than nothing.
Semilion threw a bunting towel toward them and Selina disappeared beneath it, thrashing her hair below the thick material. She reappeared, red faced, and puffed exasperatedly.
‘Remind me to not leave home without one of those awful wax jackets.’
Semilion appeared with a large tankard of mulled wine and handed it to Selina. ‘It’s not as warm as you’d like, but…’
‘It’s great, thank you.’ Selina smiled, and raised the mug to her lips. It smelled bitterly and the spices almost burned her throat.
‘I think maybe you should get out of those clothes and dry yourself properly.’ George offered earnestly, though Selina rolled her eyes and shook her head with a sigh.
‘Is that the best you’ve got?’ She snorted.
‘I hear more intelligently suave propositions at the crèche.’ Priya smirked.
‘She could catch cold!’ George protested.
Selina sneezed and George’s eyes widened proudly at the seeming confirmation of his diagnosis.
‘Priya,’ Semilion said. He beckoned her to the bar and she followed.
‘I’d be grateful for any help you might be able to shed on what I’m working on. You’re right… I can’t continue with everything I have to do as well as working on this throughout the night. I have to ask you to keep it quiet, though. I can’t have you telling Selina about it when you’re drunk, or mentioning it in the crèche to fill the silence when it’s quiet.’
‘Jesus.’ She laughed. ‘Quiet? I take it you’ve never been to the crèche before.’ She held up her hands to ward off Semilion’s look of earnestness. ‘I get it, really I do. Don’t worry, I can keep a secre
t, especially an important one.’
‘God, Priya.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I’ve not known anything more important in a long time.’
Chapter Twenty-One.
Stone Hill.