A Tailor's Son (Valadfar) (19 page)

Harold and Muriel ran most of the way from the guard station
back to Muriel’s and by the time they got there they were both
exhausted. They stopped only to have a hushed conversation on the
corner of Trade Road amidst the potent smell of candle wax.

“
Muriel.”
He gasped. “
You get back to yours. Wait for me until the
sun sets. Give me the files and I’ll take them somewhere safe.”
“Where is safer than mine? No one would connect the two of us, Harry.
No one even knows we’ve spoken.”
Muriel said, afraid to be alone on the way
home.
“
The guards might have followed us. If they have they’ll be after me. I don’t
want to lead them back to yours. Please trust me.”
Harold said and reluctantly
Muriel handed over the bundled file. Muriel would go home and
Harold would return after dark. Muriel grabbed Harold and pulled him
in close, closing her arms around him. The embrace only lasted a
second, and then she was gone, heading off into the distance leaving
Harold to watch her walk away.
He had to store the documents somewhere safe and have
time to read them. Harold didn’t want to take them to Muriel’s. Giving
him only a minute or two to gather his breath Harold began running
again towards the shop. It would be a perfect hideaway and Harold was
confident that it would take some time before the guard even realised
what was taken and connected it with him. The run there did not take
that long, but the temperature had plummeted and snow had begun to
fall, only a flutter for now but it threatened to get heavier before the day
was through. By the time Harold made it to East Street, his lungs
burned with an icy chill and his legs felt as if someone had coated them
in molten bronze that was rapidly solidifying.
To his surprise the shop was open, and it was only then
Harold remembered that Janet’s boy was watching the store. Charles
had dusted down the shop and evicted the spider. The distinctive smell
of bleach filled the air and mixed with that of fresh cotton. Charles had
made a start on the late order of uniforms and from the potent smells;
Harold knew he was in the process of bleaching them. Harold went
towards the back of the shop and through a small-bricked arch into the
private working area and found Charles in the back workshop. It was
not large being only big enough to house one loom, the bleaching
bucket and the racks of different cloths and spools.
“
Good evening, Charles.”
Harold said trying to sound as normal
as he could. Charles jumped slightly, dropping the needle he was
holding into his lap. He was obviously not aware Harold had walked in.
That was one aspect of his trade Harold enjoyed. The time you had to
spend working alone and uninterrupted in dull light always gave him
plenty of time to daydream.
“
All right boss, I’m about mid way through this order for you. Won‘t be
done on time, but it‘ll be done.”
Charles said. Harold knew the young lad was
hoping to earn a few extra coins and maybe even an apprenticeship
with them. His work was of good quality and he was fast too. Had
things been different Harold might well have offered him the work, but
things were far too confused now to involve the poor boy.
“
Actually Charles I’ll be taking over now so you can go home. That is
some great work though. If you ever fancy yourself some extra coin feel free to pop in,
but not for a few weeks. I have a lot to sort out.”
Harold hoped he could get him
away from the shop without the need to explain what was going on.
Charles was a poorly educated boy and Harold doubted he had read the
paper any time this week. If he had, then he might have run off to the
guard and told them where to find him.
“Are you sure? I was told I would be working at least a week and to be
honest Harry, I could use the money.”
Charles replied putting down the
garment he had been working on. Feeling sorry for him, Harold
rummaged in his pocket and found two small pound coins. That
should cover his week’s wages and maybe a little on top.
“Here, take this. Do us a favour, though, on your way home. Go see if my
mother needs any help around the house. My father’s not well as you know.”
Harold
said with a smile. Some people did not like Charles as he had the kind
of eyes that never seemed to blink and his slurred and slow speech
made him seem very simple, but he was a good lad really, it was just that
his mother and father knew each other a little too well.
“Yeah, right you are boss. Should I finish this lot I’ve started first?”
He
asked with genuine concern.
“No need, go on now, get.”
Harold flicked his thumb towards the
door and Charles seemed to take note nodding his head.
Harold followed him to the front door and slid the bolt,
sealing himself from the outside world. With one final glance up the
street Harold made sure he was alone. No one appeared to have
followed him and with the snow now falling in a blizzard, the guard
would, Harold hoped, be heading either to the warmth of the station or
the local taverns. Harold had snuffed the candles in the front of the
shop and in the quickly darkening day, it looked deserted, achieving his
aim. Harold pulled the guard reports open on his lap and started to
read:

On the night of 16
^th
Thresh, an arson attack upon the Queens tavern
razed it to the ground, in which a currently untold number of people lost their lives.
Officer Bradley was first on the scene and confirmed it to be an arson attack and
possibly a counter attack to a gang war between the lower classes. Witnesses confirm
that a male they now know to be Harold Spinks had been loading something into the
cellar moments before the fire started
Harold flicked on through the section with the interviews at

the hospital as it would not tell him anything he didn’t already know.
That is something you have to love about the guard force, some
drunkard pointed his finger at him lying in the road unconscious, and
instantly Harold was the criminal.

On the evening of 19th during transit to Paddington guard station, suspect
Spinks along with, as witnesses confirmed, an accomplice as yet unknown, escaped
from custody. The attack upon the guard transit was both brutal and fatal. Early
reports from the mortuary confirm that the three officers were killed in a bestial way
with bite marks being a primary cause of death

The report went on to describe the bloody way in which the
officers died mentioning how the attacker had somehow drained a
large amount of their blood. It gave him no clues as to where William
might be, but at least Harold knew they were looking for him too.
Taking a deep breath to settle his rapidly twisting stomach, Harold
continued reading:

On Dumon 22nd, Harold Spinks remains at large
Harold was beginning to think the files would not give him
any clues and reading the last extract from Dumon morning confirmed
his suspicions. It told little more than the papers did about the killings
of the prostitutes, containing little detail on how they died. It only
served to confirm the images his mind had already conjured. There was
no mention of anything happening since Dumon but Harold was sure
there would have been more victims. At that moment, his only choice
was to wait for William to strike again and hope he could track him
down from there. Harold was still not sure if he could kill William.
Harold had already decided at that point that he must be some kind of
vampire, but he was real, not just a story written to scare people.
Harold wondered if he should take heed from the stories and have to
use a stake on William, carry garlic or wear a Brilanka cross. Harold
hoped that he was human enough to die by some means, at least. He
was a normal father and husband not so long ago, after all. Harold
shook the confusion from his head, snuffed the last candle and made
for the door.
It was dark outside and the snow had already settled to
around an inch thick. The walk back to Muriel’s would not be a
pleasant one but at least it should be an uninterrupted one.

Leaving the documents stolen from the guard, along with the
articles Harold had gathered from several newspapers, at his father’s
store he arrived back at Muriel’s house late Mindmon night. Harold
had already decided they would just have to wait for William to make
the first move and had not enjoyed telling Muriel of his lack of success
at finding anything new in the guard reports. She seemed to relax a little
as if she had been hoping they wouldn’t find anything. She hugged
Harold again overjoyed that he had not been caught, and any doubt
Harold had that Muriel was starting to feel for him too, faded. Harold
still did not know if it was love or friendship though, so he had to wait.
Even the solid stone floor with just a blanket to warm him could not
stop him reminiscing of the closeness they shared. The night provided
a well-needed break after the fatigue of the previous day and Harold fell
into the limbo of sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. However, he
did not sleep well. Visions of William and his victims rolled over his
slumbering mind and dragged him back to the waking world several
times during the night. When morning finally came, the sight of settled
snow filled him with some joy, as Harold knew the guard would calm
their search while the weather was this bad. They would not want to
leave the warmth of the taverns and that meant Harold could actually
relax a little.

He was disturbed from his window-gazing by Muriel as she
walked down the stairs behind him. She still wore that same summer
dress and Harold then realised it must be the only clothing she
possessed. Harold made a promise to himself that he would sort her
out with some new garments once this was all over. It was not
uncommon for the poorest to make do with rags and hand-me-downs
but the weather in Neeska was far too bitter to get by with just one
summer dress.

“Good morning. What you looking at?”
She asked, rubbing the
sleep from her eyes with a yawn. Her hair all entangled made her look
like she’d been pulled through a hedge backwards but Harold couldn’t
help but find it cute.

“
The snow’s settled.”
Harold said. “
I was thinking of going for a
walk.”
He added and Muriel’s eyes lit up and a childish glow ran across
her young face that Harold had not seen before.

“I love the snow, can I come with you?”
She asked playfully. Harold
liked the thought that it was because he was with her that she was able
to enjoy the turn in the weather rather than having to work the streets
in its blistering cold. She had only had to service one man since he had
met her. Even before his feelings for her had flourished Harold had
wanted to keep her from prostitution and he’d done it. So why not
enjoy a little time with her and have some playful fun in the gift of
winter.

“Of course you can. We should be safe while the weather is like this, and
we have to wait for William to make the news again, anyway. Do you have something
a bit warmer to wear?”
Harold asked not wanting her to freeze the
moment they opened the door. The question seemed to pull hard on an
emotion strong within Muriel and her happy expression flickered, just
for a second, but Harold was beginning to notice the little cracks in her
reserve.

“
I’ll be fine in this.”
She answered refusing to admit that it was
her only frock. It was another thing that had seemed out of place for a
working girl. Most would not have cared in the slightest about
admitting something like that and again it made him wonder what her
story was. Harold was sure she was no ordinary streetwalker. There was
definitely more to Muriel than even his longing eyes could see.

“
You want to borrow my coat? I have a spare in my case.”
Harold did
not give her time to answer before he was reaching into his case pulling
it free. Harold passed it to her and she put it on. He chuckled. She
looked funny, her long red hair floating down over the collar of his
jacket and the jacket itself almost reaching to her knees. Its width was
almost twice that of her own and she pulled the belt tight, causing the
tanned material to bulge.

“
Thanks.”
She said struggling to get the wooden button
through an eyehole with the sleeves trailing down over her hands.
“
You look good
.” Harold jested pulling his own coat from the
stand and fastening it up to the neck. Together they made their way out
into the perfect winter wonderland.
The streets outside amazed him. They actually looked clean.
A pure white blanket hid the filth and kept the beggars within the shop
doorways. It made a pleasant change not to have them pestering them
for spare change. Children playing in the snow replaced the normal
streets that always seemed to be filled with sin of some kind. A
snowman smiled at them from the centre of the road. It had stones for
its eyes and one of the children’s scarves around its neck. Muriel walked
close to him and they wandered aimlessly around. They passed the
giggles of happiness and for a moment Harold felt human again – not
quite so washed out. The pigeons roosted up on the windows of the
buildings and every now and again they would send down another
flurry of loose snow. As they turned a corner, some children had
upturned a cart onto its side and were using it as a fort for their
snowball fight. A stray ball skimmed his shoulder and Muriel began
giggling next to Harold. He bent down grabbing a clump of the white
powder and tossed it back lightly at the kids, who scurried for cover
behind their fortress. Meanwhile, Muriel had wandered away from him
and scooped up a ball herself. She threw it and hit him in the chest.
They joined in the game. Harold cannot remember how long they
played but, by the end, his hands were frozen and he found himself
coated in snow, Muriel was a good shot. The pale sun had grown high
in the sky and Harold guessed it to be just after midday. It saddened
him to know that within a few hours the streets would be bare again,
but Harold had enjoyed himself enough. His time playing with Muriel
will be something he would never forget. They laughed and joked all
the way back to her home. She slipped her hand into his and ran her
thumb against the inside of his palm. It was magic.
“
Harold, isn’t it?”
A voice enquired, breaking the spell. Taking
his hand from Muriel’s, Harold turned, relieved to find it was just Janet,
his mother’s friend.
“
Yes, Janet what can I do for you?”
Harold thought she would be
mad about him sending her son home, and readied himself for a sharp
rebuke. Many a time as a child Janet had dragged him home by his ears
to get a good hiding off his mother. Instead, she seemed to want the
latest of the gossip and started to interrogate him.
“I saw the guard at your parents earlier today, what’s happening?”
She
asked bluntly as her eyes took in Muriel. It would be more gossip for
her to spread around the church group next Dumon.
“I don’t know.”
Harold answered truthfully, knowing that he
would have to sneak back and check on his parents. It was a shame to
cut short a perfect day, but Harold had to make sure they were alright.
He had managed to fool himself for a few hours that things could be
better than they were but the dream had to end and he had to go to
them.