Ruin (The Ruin Saga Book 1) (40 page)

It was only moments before a girl gave a cry of delight, holding Sarah’s outstretched hand. The children swarmed the two of them, circling and laughing in a gibbering frenzy, calling for parents and guardians to come quick.

The activity stirred a sudden interest among others, who milled for a while before approaching. Some stretched their necks to see over the sea of children, while others instead rushed forwards. Boxes of supplies lay abandoned on the ground, and the boats were left lifeless.

On the far shore, the workers looked nonplussed. Some scratched their heads, while others called out, waving their arms. They were met by silence.

The excitement grew to staggering proportions in a very short time, until Norman himself was drawn closer. The couple were now invisible beyond the bodies of others. All attention had turned to them.

Norman skirted the edge of the crowd, careful not to snag his cane on flailing limbs or the faces of small children. Before long he could see Sarah and Robert, overrun by ecstatic women and jovial men. “What is it?” he asked.

His voice was barely audible over the squeals and merriment. Moving around to the side a little more, Heather split from his side and attempted to burrow into the sea of bodies, but to no avail.

Sarah stood in her partner’s shadow, her hand held up beside her. A thick golden band of metal adorned her fourth finger. As he watched, the joy of a middle-aged woman beside him spilled into physicality, and she pulled him into an awkward hug. He struggled free and fought his way to the front of the crowd. In the corner of his eye he saw Heather forging her own path, parallel to his.

“Congratulations,” he said as he reached Robert, stepping forwards to grasp his hand.

Sarah was pulled by Heather into a crushing embrace, and both women propelled their voices to a high-pitched, incomprehensible babble.

“How did this happen?” Heather cried.

Robert shrugged, his face frozen in a foolish smile. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Where did you get the ring?”

Robert looked at Sarah and then to the ring upon her finger. “It was my grandmother’s,” he said.

“We just thought that we should do
something
,” Sarah said. “Just in case.”

A stray voice, young and curious, arose from the incoherent rumble of the crowd, and a figure stepped into view. “What’s going on?”

Allison froze when she saw the betrothed, her eyes bulging. The muscles of her forearms began to twitch as her mouth worked. Norman had only a moment to prepare for the forthcoming racket.

She sprinted for Sarah and Heather, and the three of them entered a frenzy of heightened, even louder screeching, hugging and leaping on the spot.

Norman squinted at the pain in his ears, sharing an uncomfortable look with Robert, with whom he was still shaking hands. Those around them threw glances of equal discomfort, some holding their palms over the sides of their heads.

“When are you planning on holding the ceremony?” Heather asked.

Robert and Sarah exchanged glances, their expressions blank.

“The autumn?” Robert suggested.

After a moment of thought, Sarah’s face brightened. “What do you think?” she said.

Robert thought for a while—or, Norman suspected, pretended to—before nodding.

Norman groaned as the three women enjoyed another bout of squealing, embracing each other once more.

The crowd began to break up, and returned to work. The fleet of boats became more active. A number of women remained to hug and harass Sarah for a short while longer.

“I suppose you’re not coming then?” Norman said.

Robert shook his head, holding Sarah around the waist, his bulging arms dwarfing her body. “Alexander wants me to sit this one out and take care of things here.” He shrugged. “You'll be fine without me.”

Norman wasn’t quite as certain after looking over his shoulder. Only a select few were to make the journey to London. It had been decided that a larger convoy would express undue risk.

The city elders were being helped into the farthest boats—Agatha sitting in the prow of the closest, dazed and starry-eyed. Only members of the council, their families, and a security detail were to go—with a particular emphasis on security.

Nevertheless, he forced a smile. “I’m sure we will.”

Robert sagged with relief, finally releasing Norman’s hand. He steered Sarah from the riverside, retreating into the streets, disappearing from sight.

Heather and Allison watched them leave with simultaneous sighs of feminine passion. Their bodies remained motionless, staring after the retreating couple.

Norman stood and waited for a while, looking for something on which to focus his attention. In the aftermath of the excitement, the pain was returning.

“I wish somebody would come and take me like that,” Allison said. Her swoon became masked by a sudden and uncharacteristic depression. Heather uttered a longing sigh of agreement, her hands wedged deep in her pockets.

Norman cleared his throat, leaning on his cane, awaiting their return to reality. They turned to him slowly, their faces downturned and reserved, spawning an unwelcome pity in the pit of his stomach.

“Come on,” he said to Allison, beckoning to the rowboats. “We have to be going.”

Her eyes were glazed as she nodded, bidding Heather farewell and then joining his side.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Heather said.

Norman patted his cane. “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He almost smiled, but didn’t quite manage. Instead, he pulled her into a weak one-armed hug. “Take care,” he said.

She returned the sentiment before stepping away to join the rest of those who were to stay behind. The crowd now waved and called to the occupants of the retreating boats.

Allison fell into step beside him as they wheeled towards the last of the boats still docked. They were beckoned forwards by John, whose face was adamant as he pointed to the sun, which was already nearing its zenith.

“This should be interesting,” Allison said.

Norman glanced at her. “You’ve been to London plenty of times.”

She grunted hollowly. “Maybe,” she said. “But I’ve never had to be escorted by a small army.” Her voice wavered. “Maybe I should stay behind.”

She looked over her shoulder. Her eyes had softened, and the corners of her mouth were twitching.

“No,” he said. He hesitated, but pressed on. “I want you to come.”

He had at first been thinking of whatever disaster could be averted by leaving the city with Allison in tow, removing the city’s primary source of gossip. But after mere moments he realised that he genuinely wanted her company.

An odd fluttering sensation was once again prowling his bowels.

“I could use a hand with getting about,” he added hastily.

She stood motionless for a moment, her eyes darting between the boats and Main Street. “You're sure it’ll be safe?” she muttered.

Norman offered a hand, attempting a smile. “Trust me,” he said.

Heather smiled as Robert and Sarah drifted into the kitchen. They walked hand in hand, still plastered with numb expressions of giddy joy. Sarah had changed into a long, billowing dress, adorned by sunflowers and abstract swirls that complemented her fiery locks.

She observed the couple at length, her head falling sideways as she cupped her chin in her palms. A pang of jealousy rose in her gut, an ugly mixture of longing and deep-seated, instinctual hatred for a woman who had found happiness, one whom she considered her closest friend.

She scorned her thoughts. Her own love life had been lacking of late, but there was still time for her. So long as the stray grey hairs on her crown kept at bay. In the meantime, what better sight was there amidst so much loss than untainted devotion?

She watched them walk towards the counter, which had been abandoned when people had volunteered to aid the travelling party with supplies. They disappeared for a short while, and the sound of clinking and interested grunts filled the air.

She busied herself with a sudden interest in the tabletop, using a fork to deepen an excavated crevice. Exhaustion reared its head. She’d eaten little, like everyone else. They’d ploughed the fields and reseeded for the summer months, but it would still be weeks before they saw anything worth harvesting. Rations were now meagre handfuls, mainly roots and berries, maybe with a slice of hard bread.

She wanted nothing more than to stay at the bench for the remainder of the day, but the hypochondriacs that infested the city needed her.

The couple reappeared with a single plate of leftovers, no less a maddening picture of happiness. They looked around and spotted her. Sarah’s face brightened and she dragged her new fiancé in Heather’s direction.

“I can’t believe it,” she said as she sat down. Her mouth worked as she stared dumbly at the far wall, her eyes glazed and her free hand caressing the worn golden band upon her finger.

Heather looked to Robert, who seemed amused by Sarah’s absence. He jerked his shoulder, nudging her from her reverie.

She stirred. Her glasses briefly magnified her eyes to enormous proportions as she turned to face them, her usual analytical, intense mannerisms gone. What Heather saw before her was a child whose greatest fantasy had come true.

“What?” Sarah mumbled, blinking.

“Are you alright?” asked Robert.

Her eyes remained cloudy for a moment before she nodded. “Yes,” she said, “of course.” She looked at the ring, holding it up to the light before speaking again, “I just can’t
believe
it.”

“Believe what?” Heather put down her fork as jealousy sparked red-hot behind her eyes. She cleared her throat, bowing her head.

What was wrong with her? She made a mental note to rest up properly.

Sarah didn’t seem to have noticed her tone. Her voice was hollow and slow, far removed from her usual clipped and excited tongue. “I just can’t come to terms with the fact that I’m actually going to get married.” She looked to Robert. “I never thought that I’d get to experience it for real.”

Robert took a cube of diced turnip and fed it to her, his face aglow. “Lucky you,” he said.

Heather leaned forwards, overcome by the intoxicating miasma surrounding them. “I’m really happy for you both,” she said. She managed a smile. “What did you have in mind?”

Sarah thought for a while, a critical frown momentarily punching through her mask of glee. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “As we said: this just came out of the blue. But a white wedding, I think—”

An extraordinary rumble ran through the ground. Plates jangled, glasses overturned, and tables leapt a foot into the air. An almighty roar—akin to the bellow of an enraged dragon—blasted through the open door and tore at their ears. The table jumped beneath them again as another shockwave reached the hall, sending any remaining cutlery clattering to the floor.

The three of them surged to their feet. Heather’s heart was in her throat. Looking around wildly, she stumbled, trying to make sense of the blur of rushing diners as they clambered for the door.

Robert’s immense shadow passed by as he bolted into the street, with Sarah following close behind. Passing through the crowded doorway, Heather squinted, blinded by sunlight. Dozens of gabbling people surrounded her, and the rumble of rushing footsteps sounded from all directions.

“What happened?” Robert bellowed above the racket.

Through half-closed eyes, Heather could see that some were still returning from the riverside, rushing forwards with astonishment written over their faces.

Skywards was an orange glow, distant and obscured by the houses opposite; the horizon was ablaze. Smaller shockwaves still thrummed up from the cobbles, rattling her bones.

Sarah was standing before her, jumping up and down on the spot, screeching in a blind panic, calling for Robert as he parted the crowd with his bulk, still calling, “What happened?”

Those in the crowd shrugged unanimously. Some women had taken their children in their arms, eyes wild as they struggled to keep pace.

Heather grabbed Sarah, shaking her by the shoulders. “What is going on?” she yelled.

Scared and tearing eyes met her gaze. “I don’t know,” Sarah squeaked. She threw herself into Robert’s arms.

He pulled her close, looking up to Heather. “I think it’s another attack,” he said.

Heather glanced down the street, almost expecting to spy an angry mob advancing towards them. “What do we do?” she said.

“I don’t know. I have to go.” He turned to Sarah, leaning at almost forty-five degrees to stare into her eyes. “I need you to stay with Heather,” he said. His mouth was set, his tone firm, yet his eyes were wide with desperation.

Sarah protested, but, under his gaze, relented, and kissed him fiercely.

He remained for a moment afterwards, his hardened gaze broken. Then he released her, and Sarah shrank away, her cheeks streaked with fresh tears.

Heather guided her back towards Main Street as the people arriving from the riverside began to race past. “We’ll be in the clinic,” she called.

Robert nodded, and ran for the armoury.