Two and Twenty Dark Tales (12 page)

Cyrelle winced at the sound of one string. “That didn’t sound quite right.”

“I just saved the world. Must you be so critical?”

– The End –

Wee Willie Winkie

Leigh Fallon

Wee Willie Winkie

Runs through the town,

Upstairs and downstairs

In his nightgown.

Rapping at the windows,

Crying through the lock,

Are the children all in bed?

For it’s now eight o’clock.

– Mother Goose

T
HE
smell of their breath was the worst part of working in The Nook. The hot acidic tang, thick and potent, made me gag, but it was part of the job.

“Suck it up and smile,” is what Seanie had said when I started here last week. “Remember, the key to good tips is big smiles and short skirts.”

Swallowing down the bile that crept up my throat, I slapped on pink, crooked lips masquerading as genuine friendliness.

“Another pint of Guinness and a Harp and lime then, John?”

John, one of The Nook’s regulars, nodded his head and glanced at his wife, who was busy inspecting the dregs of her warm beer. His sad eyes brightened for a moment as he winked back at me and wheezed, “Ah sure, another won’t kill us.”

“I wouldn’t be quite so sure about that,” I mumbled under my breath as I returned to the bar. Feeling John’s eyes following me, I tugged down the back of the short black skirt that Seanie insisted I wear.

I stood on the tarnished brass footrest that snaked its way around the dark wood of the ancient bar, and leaned over the counter. “Seanie, the same again for the auld codgers.”

Seanie clicked his tongue and winked at me. Something he did to impress the “girls.” Well, he called them girls, but really they were forty-somethings, desperate to relive their youth, heaving their saggy boobs onto the bar counter and squeezing their elbows together for maximum impact. “A pint and a half coming up.” He flicked the glass in his hands like he was picturing himself as Tom Cruise in Cocktail and not the thick-waisted, balding owner of a gritty old man’s bar whose patrons were an aging mish-mash of odd balls from a town left behind during the economic boom of the nineties.

I hated working in the rundown old pub, but jobs were practically nonexistent, and most were taken by all the oldies trying to supplement their crappy, failing pensions. The lounge girl slash waitress position was probably the only one left in the town that the locals didn’t mind me taking. Seanie had been gasping to employ the only person in a four mile radius under the age of thirty.

The whole town oozed the stench of age and decay; it didn’t even have a school. I had to bus it into the next town over to attend the sparsely populated St. Frances’s school for girls, and my parents had to lie about my age to get me into that hellhole. Apparently, the school didn’t cater to the under sixteens (whatever that meant). But I was turning sixteen in two weeks, so my parents—desperate to put their financial woes in Dublin behind them—felt justified in a little white lie.

Despite the boredom and funky smells of my evening job, I was happy to have it. It gave me some much needed cash that my parents couldn’t give me, and it meant I could spend more time out of the tomb they called a house. Two weeks, that’s all it took me, to realize they’d moved me to the deadest, most un-happening town imaginable. Killinamartyle—mecca to the old and lonely and, like my parents, victims of an ailing economy. I dropped off the two drinks to John and Bridie, the only couple in the bar that night.

Bridie acknowledged the drinks with a little smile. “Thank you, Maureen.”

Startled by the words from the usually silent Bridie, I corrected her. “Actually, my name’s Marie.”

John gave the confused Bridie a reassuring smile and covered her quivering hand with his. “Bridie, pet, you know that’s not Maureen. This is the new girl, Marie. I told you about her, remember?”

Bridie’s face seemed to crumple in confusion. She started nodding her head and dropped her gaze to the table once more.

The only other patron was Smelly Eugene, and his presence was hardly acknowledged. He was like part of the furniture, hunched over his warm pint of ale. His only movements were his hand wiping his constantly running nose, a nod of his chin when he wanted a refill, and the trembling of his lips as he jabbered under his breath about Irene, whoever she was.

I let out a soft sigh. It was going to be a long evening.

***

I stood at the bar, gazing beyond the sea of spirit bottles to the dusty, mottled, mirrored wall. It reflected back the same depressing scene I’d turned my back on. I closed my eyes to block it out, wishing I was back in Dublin. I missed my gorgeous house in the city, surrounded by excitement, life, and my friends. I could feel myself aging as I listened to the sounds of John’s wheezing and Smelly Eugene’s grunts, constant snorting, and warbling mumbles.

A slight change in the atmosphere made my eyes flick open. The cold, damp evening air flickered by my nose, dulling the smell of stale beer for just long enough to signal the arrival of another customer. Seanie watched as a guy made his way in, shaking off his wet coat before making himself comfortable in the small nook by the window. Seanie’s face paled and he stepped back, tripping over a case of Coke on the floor.

Excited by the prospect of a conversation with someone not drawing a pension, I picked up my tray. “I’ll go get his order.”

“No!” Seanie said, righting himself. “The ladies’ needs seeing to.”

“But I just clea—”

Seanie continued to stare at the guy. “Go!’ he muttered, picking up a towel and twisting it in his hands.

I dropped the tray to the counter with a clatter, biting back the urge to tell Seanie he could stick his job up his arse. I stomped off to the bathrooms as Seanie made his way in the opposite direction, to the nook where the young man had sat down.

“It’s been a while, William. What are you doing in these parts?” Seanie said with a slight crack in his voice.

I’d never heard Seanie nervous before. My curiosity got the better of me. As the door closed on me, I put my foot out, leaving it a fraction open, and strained to hear what the two men were saying. I pressed my eye to the narrow gap in the door, wishing Seanie would get out of the way so I could see this William guy. He sounded young, soft-spoken, nothing like anyone I’d met in this festering town.

William’s soft, melodic voice rippled through the air in my direction. “There’s been no reason for me to be around, Seanie… until now.” He leaned forward. His dark eyes looked around Seanie’s hulking figure and glared in my direction.

I gasped when I caught sight of William. His ashen white skin was set off by the palest of blond hair. But his most striking feature was his youth; he didn’t look much older than me.

“No, William, you’ve got it wrong.”

“I never get it wrong.”

“She’s already sixteen. I swear.”

Oh crap! I ducked back, allowing the door to close. Shit. I’d told Seanie I was sixteen so I could get the job in the bar. Someone must have found out. I stamped my foot. Crap, that was my job gone. My heart thumped in my chest. I couldn’t let Seanie get in trouble with the authorities. It was my fault. I’d have to come clean. Swallowing down my nerves, I pulled the door open to find Seanie gazing at William’s recently vacated seat.

Red heat climbed my face as I approached him slowly. “Seanie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, it’s just that… well, I’m sixteen in a couple of weeks, so it didn’t seem to matter so much, you know?”

Seanie stayed staring at the seat with his fingers clasping and unclasping his thinning hair. “You
stupid
child. You shouldn’t have lied.” His glare swept to the door.

“I’m sorry. Are you going to get in much trouble?”

He spun around and grabbed my wrists. I tried to pull away, not sure what his intentions were. He pulled my hand to his face and glanced at my watch, then dropped my arm. “It’s only seven thirty. You still have time. You have to go.” He spun me around and started pushing me toward the door.

I struggled for words. “What? Go! You mean I’m fired? I’ll be sixteen in two weeks. Can I come back then?”

Smelly Eugene shuffled up behind me. He wiped his nose with the back of his coat, then held out his hand to me. “I’ll take her.”

“Take me where? I’m not going anywhere with you!”

Seanie ignored me. “Yes, Eugene. Take her, quick. I’ll lock up here.”

“Look, if I’m fired, I’ll go myself. I don’t need to be escorted. I live just five minutes down the road.”

John and a suddenly alert-looking Bridie abandoned their drinks and stood on either side of me.

Bridie leaned in toward my ear. “You should never lie about yer age round these parts, lovie. We best get ye home, and fast.” She looked up at Smelly Eugene. “We’ll take her to her house and see she gets in safely. Eugene, you stay close behind, ye hear?”

Eugene grumbled. “I hear ya woman, I don’t need telling.”

Seanie pulled the curtains. “Enough of the talking and more of the doing. Get her home
now
.” He grabbed my coat and shoved it at me as he manhandled me to the door. “I haven’t been touched. I want no part of this. Do yourself a favor, Marie. Make sure you’re home in bed by eight o’clock round these parts, for the next two weeks, anyhow. Do you hear me? Get yourself to bed by eight.”

I struggled to turn around, wiggling my way out of his grip to stare at the four sets of eyes looking back at me. “You’re scaring me!”

Bridie hooked her arm through mine as we stepped out into the mild, damp evening. “And so ye should be, young ‘un. And so ye should be.” She looked up and down the road. “John, get her other side.” John, suddenly spritely for someone in his seventies, grabbed my other arm. I was half-walked, half-dragged toward my house. I glanced back. There, a few paces behind me, was Smelly Eugene, frantically wiping his nose as The Nook fell into darkness.

The unseasonably warm wind whirled around us, mixing uneasily with the light rain, gently lifting my hair and caressing my skin; it curled by my ears, whistling a melodic tune, resembling words.

I spun around, following the sound of the haunting voice that sang among the sounds of fallen leaves and scattered litter swirling on the ground. “What was that?”

Bridie turned me toward her and clasped both hands over my ears. “Don’t ye listen to him. Don’t ye dare.”

I tugged her hands from my head. “Him! Who is ‘him’?”

The voice rose above the breeze, much clearer this time. It tickled my ears and induced a dizzying nausea.

“
Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town…”

As we approached my terraced house on the main street, Bridie moved her lips to my ear.
“
Get yer keys out, have ‘em ready. When we get to the door, go in as fast as ye can. Lock the door and get into bed. Cover yer head. Whatever ye do, don’t listen to him.”

My breath came in short, sharp gasps. Questions lingered, uncomfortable on my tongue. “Why? What did I do wrong?” Bridie didn’t answer; she just kept on moving then pulled up when we were nose-to-nose with my front door. “Please, I don’t understand, you’re scaring me.”

Laughter echoed up the deserted street and mingled with the singing wind.

“
Upstairs, downstairs, in his nightgown…”

My eyes darted around, seeking out the owner of the melancholy whispers.

Bridie grabbed my jaw in a shaking, vice grip. “Are your parents in?”

“No.” I glanced at my watch. “They won’t be in until after eight.”

Bridie clutched my wrist. “Look, lovie, ye did noth’en wrong, but young ‘uns don’t last long around these parts. Yer parents had no business bringing a child into a cursed town. Once it’s touched you, ders no leavin’. Just be in yer bed before eight every night until yer sixteen. He’ll be watching you. If we’d have known ye was only fifteen we’d never have—”

“Stop yer yacking, woman,” Smelly Eugene growled from the shadows. “Let the girl get herself to safety. He’s watching.”

My head whipped around to them and I stopped dead in my tracks. “Cursed? What curse?”

Bridie’s hand clenched my wrist tighter and she whispered frantically. “The fae send the familiar to collect the souls of the children. It was the deal, ye see—the souls of the young in return for the end of famine. The town survived, but the familiar still takes the souls.”

A laugh caught in my throat and I tried to shake Bridie’s hand from my wrist. “Wait… this is about faeries? Seriously, you’re saying that William guy is—”

“When the familiar comes to collect, he wears the skin of the first soul he took—wee William Winkie.”

John moved onto the step beside us and pried Bridie’s hands from my wrists. “We’ve done all we can, Bridie. Let it be now.”

Bridie’s blue eyes glistened under the flickering light of the streetlamp. They looked almost translucent. “He’s taken them all, ye see. All of them. But there’s still hope for ye. Promise me you’ll go straight to bed, young ‘un. Promise me.” She leaned in and put her lips to my ear. “If you see my Maureen, tell her Mammy misses her so.”

My eyes flickered to her husband, who was now holding her tenderly in his arms. He nodded at me, then glanced back at his wife.

I pushed the door open and fell into the safety of my home.

“And tell Irene she’s always in my heart,” Smelly Eugene mumbled, turning his back to me. The three bodies melted into the darkness. The damp, laughing breeze twisted its way around me, pushing against the door as I strained to close it.

My skin was blanketed in tingling goose bumps. Wait until I told Mom and Dad, they’d be sure to move us back to Dublin. So what if we were broke? Anything had to be better than this freak-fest. I raced up three of the steps on the way to my bedroom and then stopped myself. What was I doing? Yes, they’d creeped me out, but it was them, not their stupid stories about having to be in bed by eight o’clock. Ha! What did they think I was, six? Reversing down the stairs, I made for the TV room. I fell back onto the sofa and picked up the remote.