Chapter 8
He took a cab home, his leg too painful for a long walk and his head aching as he'd had only a couple of sips from the flask—and that was hours earlier.
He ascended the stairs slowly, trying to minimize the weight to his knee. He could hear the tenants in the second story clanging around their kitchen, probably cleaning up their evening meal. A baby's wail, followed by the sound of a singing child. Theirs was a happier flat.
He unlocked the door to his flat and opened it slowly. Vera appeared, walking in to the kitchen from their bedroom, dressed to go out.
She looked….nice. Her dress was worn, but neatly pressed, and her hair was swept under a simple hat. She held a coat over one arm. She looked at him with hard but tired eyes.
"Hello," he said.
She nodded. "Hello John," she said carefully. She watched as he turned to close the door, put down his bag, and lower himself slowly into a chair at the table. She thought he looked nervous. That was odd.
"Where have you been?" she asked.
He hesitated before answering. "I took a trip to Yorkshire," he said slowly.
"To visit your captain?"
"Yes."
"Nice of you to let me know. We still have to pay last month's rent and we have that bill from the butcher's."
He said nothing, but lifted his eyes to meet her face. She didn't look angry, just frustrated and perhaps a bit sad?
"I haven't been able to buy much food and certainly not any meat. My friends have been helping me out, inviting me to share meals with them."
His mouth twitched. "Which friends are you speaking of, Vera?"
She shot an angry look at him. "The ones who feel sorry for me, stuck with a loaded up cripple like you. The ones who care about me."
He looked up at her. "Please, sit down. Let's have some tea."
"I don't want to sit down! And I don't want tea. I want a meal. I haven't eaten anything all day except a potato this morning. I'm starving. And there's a friend waiting for me who'll buy dinner. I was on my way out when you showed up."
He absorbed this for a moment. "Can I come with you?"
"Do you have any money?"
"A little. I asked for an advance before I left."
"It would have been nice if you left some money for me, too."
"I wasn't sure if you'd be back at all."
Vera looked at him. "Where the hell would I go, John?"
He didn't want to answer her. "I have to go away again. I won't be away long but I need to go. I need to talk to you about this."
Vera let out a low chuckle. "Oh, sure. Going away again. Where to? Back to Africa? Or are you leaving to be with your captain?"
"Nice, Vera. Very nice."
"Look, I have to go. I'm really hungry. You can come along if you want but you'd better have enough to pay for both of us. I can't expect my friend to pay for me if you're there."
He stood up and turned to the door. He opened and stepped aside, looking back at her. Somewhat shocked, she walked out to the hallway and waited as he locked it. She hurried down the stairs ahead of him, not sure if she wanted to be seen with him.
He watched her disappear down the stairs and wondered if she would wait for him. He could hear her heels clatter past the second floor. He stopped for a moment to listen for the front door open and the sounds of the street.
Nothing loud wafted up his way, just the muffled sound of horses' hooves and the occasional motor behind a closed door.
She was waiting for him. He nodded to her and pushed ahead to open the door and hold it for her. A little nervous, she stepped outside and turned toward him.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Bear Claw," she answered.
Good. The Bear Claw was a decent pub. It served workingmen and women, but it wasn't a bawdy place by a long stretch. People enjoyed themselves there. It was known for good pies, big barmen, and pretty servers. The publican was a big fellow who didn't hesitate to throw people out at the first sign of trouble.
He was pretty sure that this wasn't the pub he'd been thrown out of a couple of weeks ago after an argument. That pub was closer to the barracks, he reassured himself.
He couldn't help notice that she kept a careful distance from him. They didn't talk, just walked side by side. He glanced at her a few times but she didn't turn to look at him. He could have been escorting a prisoner.
The Bear Claw was only a few blocks away. Rain started to fall and he realized he should have brought an umbrella to shield her. That would have been a nice gesture he was sure she would have appreciated.
It had been so long since he even bothered to try to do something nice for her. Maybe tonight he could. He'd eat very little so that she could have her fill and he'd take care to drink lightly; just one drink to sip for the evening. He'd managed on just a couple of sips a few times today; how hard could it be for another hour or two?
They reached the pub and she stood aside to let him open the door for her. She walked inside, careful to stay ahead of him enough to avoid any contact. He followed her to a booth by the window where a man sat alone, reading a paper.
Vera stopped and cleared her throat. The man looked up, smiled, and put down the paper. "Hello, love," he said, as he stood up and gestured for her to sit opposite him.
Vera unbuttoned her coat and was startled when she felt Bates slide it off her shoulders and pull it away from her arms. She turned to watch him hang it up on a nearby hook, remove his hat and coat and hang those as well. Turning, he limped back to the table and slipped in next to her, his leg bumping into hers. He couldn't help noticing her shudder.
The man smiled at him. "You must be Vera's old man," he said.
"John Bates," Bates said, extending a hand across the table.
"Henry Reed," the man said, shaking Bates' hand. Bates had a feeling that it wasn't his real name.
"You didn't tell me your old man was around, Vera," Reed said, a small smile on his mouth. "Are you thinking of introducing him to our…business?"
Vera glared at him. "Oh, no, that would be impossible. John's very upright and moral, you see. He wouldn't get involved in our line of work, Mr. Reed." Her voice sounded tight. "Anyway, please put in an order for me. Supper special's fine. I haven't had much to eat all day."
"And you, Mr. Bates?" Reed asked. "What can we get for you?"
"Loaf of bread and whiskey, neat," Bates said quietly, almost a whisper.
"My pleasure," Reed said, turning toward the bar.
Vera shook her head. "You don't have enough money for both of us, do you?"
