"Now ye need to keep them wrapped or it'll take even longer to heal, ye crabbit wean." Rowena finished tying off the wrapping and helped him shoulder into his shirt.
"Mmph."
"Ye could say 'thank ye', ye ken."
"Mmph!" Alfie grunted at her pointedly, but he smiled and she smiled back. He was getting damned sick of his ribs aching, but he figured he still had a few more weeks of this before he'd feel back to normal.
"Shall I keep supper tonight?"
"No, I'll be late. Leave something in the kitchen, I'll eat whenever I get in."
Rowena bent to tie his boots for him, which was humiliating and very, very welcome because it hurt like the devil to bend over for them. "Sir?" she asked, her hands busy.
"Mmph?"
"Is there a particular reason yer tryin' to kill yerself?"
Alfie felt his jaw tighten. He didn't say anything but when she stood up, she fixed him with a glare.
"Because ye been mopin' around here like more than jus' yer ribs is broken and I'm scunnered of havin' to tiptoe around ye."
Alfie glared right back and held up his right hand. "I've got fingers broken also."
"Och, aye. And yer aff yer heid too, but I don't count either."
"You're fussing, woman."
"Well, someone should, ye ken? I'm gettin' auld, ye need a bairn or two and a nice wife in the scullery."
"But where would I keep you?" Alfie leaned in and gave her cheek a loud smacking kiss. He rose to shrug into his greatcoat, pausing to accept her help.
"What aboot the one ye brought here?" Rowena asked, serious and inescapable.
Alfie stilled. He kept trying not to think about her. About a hundred times a day he had to not think about her. "She left. She's gone." Because it was true. She wasn't coming back, and it was his own damn fault for being right and working his business the right way, the way he'd been running it for years-
"Och, that's easy. Ye just get her to come back."
"Right, easy," he scoffed.
"Talk to her. Tell her ye want her to come back. Ye do want her to come back, don't ye?"
Alfie cleared his throat and picked up his hat. He didn't say anything, just settled his hat carefully on his head, checking it in the mirror.
"'S what I thought. So ye just tell her why ye want her to come back, and then back she'll come," Rowena said offhandedly, handing him his walking stick.
"Mmph. Bank the fire before you go," then he tipped his hat and was out the door.
His car got him to work, he assumed, because he was there and he didn't remember the trip. His mind was occupied with thoughts of 'MabelMabelMabel'. The damned woman had gotten into his head, around his defenses, and he couldn't figure out how to get her out. Maybe it was time for him to decide if that's what he really wanted.
"Abe!" he bellowed as he entered the bakery. He shuffled towards his office, Abe at his elbow rattling off what he needed to do first. "Did you get the Harrington order shipped?"
Abe looked confused. "You didn't say anything about a Harrington order, sir."
Alfie threw his hat and coat towards the chair in his office. "Well, I guess that's a fuckin 'no'." He scratched his beard and sighed. "It's those charcoal barrels in the..."
"...in the back corner, oh fuck! Mabel said she..." Abe trailed off as he checked Alfie's face. Alfie busied himself with papers on his desk and kept his face neutral.
His voice, though, was quiet. "I know you said she sent the telegram from the hotel before she left, but do you know where she is, Abe? Because I feel like you do, and you're not telling me."
Abe knew the danger of quiet. He should, he'd seen it turned on people a time or two. So Alfie knew that the threat was obvious and if Abe lied to him right now, Alfie would have to go down a path he really didn't want to.
Luckily, Abe was just as quiet but he answered, "Yes, I know. You've never asked me before, and I wasn't sure..."
Irritation flared in him. "'S fine, Abe. Where."
But Abe wasn't finished. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you."
Alfie turned slowly to face him. Abe's eyes were wary, but he held firm.
"Mable is...well she's the best boss I've ever had and she's nice." Here, he got flustered, as if he couldn't quite find the right words. "I mean, she's a really lovely person, and…"
Alfie rounded on him savagely, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him up until his toes scraped the floor. He vibrated with fury, every inch of him the lethal powerhouse he usually hid under his careful facade. "You stay the hell away from her. I will kill you, do you understand?" he snarled.
Abe looked at him, and where Alfie had expected to see fear and panic, there was only sadness and bemusement on his face. "You don't have to worry about that with me, sir. I'm not...interested," he said.
Alfie's face didn't change expression, every line edged with ire. But his eyes searched Abe's, and slowly his breaths stopped huffing angrily out his nose. He slowly lowered him to the ground, his face calming but his hands still clenched tightly in Abe's shirt.
"Mmph."
Abe waited, but when there was no other reaction, he plowed ahead to finish what he'd started. "Sir, about Mabel. I didn't tell you because...she knows where you are, yeah? She can come back at any time. But...she's out. She's safe. If she didn't want to be a part of...all this...now she doesn't have to be." Abe's voice was calm, but his eyes pleaded with him to understand.
And Alfie did. God help him, he did. He released Abe's shirt and backed away until he reached his desk. He felt a bit ill. He plowed his hand through his hair.
He glanced over Abe once, from head to toe, and nodded a quick jerk of his head. "Mmph."
Abe turned to go, and Alfie felt a moment of panic. He turned back to his desk to cover it and started, "Abe." Then he didn't know what to say. Abe stood, waiting, and Alfie's eyes stared a hole in the floor at his feet. The silence stretched uncomfortably until the words were torn out of him, "She's important. To me. I...miss her, yeah?"
Abe considered. Then he cleared his throat. Without a word, he walked over to the desk and took Alfie's pencil stub. He wrote something on a scrap of paper and slid it over to Alfie.
Alfie took the scrap of paper and the short number listed on it, fingering the soft edge before stuffing it in his pocket. Then a gruff, "Thank you," and he stuck out his hand to shake Abe's.
Abe looked surprised but shook Alfie's hand firmly. "You should tell her that, and then let her choose, yeah? Here, or there. I'm still not sure I should have given you the telephone number, but Mabel would throttle me for trying to make that decision for her," he said.
Alfie grinned at that, wide and relieved. "Right. Let's get those barrels for the order, yeah?"
Abe raised an eyebrow. "You know that was Mabel's idea to try those barrels."
"Yeah, yeah, fuck off, mate," but he was smiling and Abe smiled back.
Alfie made it all the way through the day before he called the number on the slip of paper. It had been three weeks since he'd heard her voice, and he felt every day of it in the ache of his ribs. He allowed himself to remember her soft hair, her elegant fingers, and, of course, her angry voice telling him to fuck off. He sat in his office, the quiet of the bakery cocooning him, sighed, and reached for his telephone. 'Tell her. Let her choose. Tell her. Let her choose.'
"Ziemann residence," came an older female voice.
"Yes, calling for Miss Mabel Ziemann," he said, mask firmly in place.
"She's not in, may I ask who's calling?"
He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, tell her it's Mr. Solomons. From London. Calling from London." He cleared his throat again.
"Very well, Mr. Solomons. I will let her know you called. Is there a number...Oh, she's just arrived. One moment." There was a flurry of activity, and then,
"Hello? Alfie?"
He froze for a moment, then said, "Mabel. Hello." He realized he'd been rolling the button between his fingers so hard it was starting to hurt. He didn't even remember picking it up. He quickly dropped it in the drawer and slammed it shut, (tink, tink) but his chest felt lighter at the sound of her voice. He felt...happy. He cleared his throat. "I'm calling to talk to you about...uh...the bakery."
"The...bakery," she said, skepticism strong.
"Right, the bakery." He felt himself smiling. "Specifically Abe. See, he's been moping around for days. 'S bloody awful! Just awful. "
"Uh huh. What's the problem with Abe?"
He could see Mabel, her hip leaning against the counter, lips twitching in spite of herself.
"Oh, I tried to ask him what was wrong, but all he does is sob and say your name. It's fuckin ridiculous."
"Is that right?" she laughed.
"'Course. I think he's been missing you. I mean, it's been a mess 'round here, you should see the old place."
"Well, that all sounds very dire, Mr. Solomons," he could hear her smiling. "Whatever are you going to do?"
"Oh, we've tried everything. 'S, fuckin' frightful. I only wish there was something I could do for him," he sighed morosely. "But I did have an idea. You know, one thing we haven't tried."
"Mmm. I'm sure." She sounded like she was biting back a laugh. "And what might that be, Mr. Solomons?"
"I was thinking...you could come back. You know, for Abe." And then he held his breath.
"For Abe, huh?"
"Mmph. See, he's bloody obnoxious when you're not here. Well, he's pretty obnoxious when you are here, but lately...well lately he's been inconsolable. 'S fuckin' unpleasant. See, he's been yellin' at everyone a lot more, frightening off the little ones."
"He must be pretty bad because he was a giant git when I was around."
"Quite right. The biggest. He's...ah...he's sorry, though. He told me."
Mabel's heart thrilled. She couldn't contain the slow grin spreading over her face and she allowed herself a blinding flash of 'this is perfect, there is nothing in the world but this, right here, right now, I'm ignoring everyone and everything else but what is in this exact moment and I'm going to live here forever.'
Then she looked over and saw her mother, still standing in the doorway, folding her arms and scowling like she disapproved of the very idea of her happiness. Mabel took a deep breath.
"Tell me, did you get that Harrington order out?" she questioned.
"'Course I did, mate, 'course I fucking did. I can put out an order, thank you very-" If the sudden change of topic startled him, the only sign was the brusque tone he switched to.
"Because I was thinking that if you needed my help in getting it out, I could come to London for a bit," she interrupted. There was a pause on the other end. She tried to give her mother a reassuring smile, which, admittedly, felt small and stilted, and Mabel turned around and faced the wall.
"Right. Well then, in that case, Abe's a fuckin idiot and we couldn't even find the barrels. You wouldn't happen to know where those are, would you?"
"Of course I would," Mabel beamed. "I can come down straight away and get it sorted. And because this is a business related trip, you wouldn't mind purchasing the train ticket, correct?"
Alfie laughed, a round, full sound and she found her eyes slipping closed, the better to focus on her ears. 'Ok, wait, maybe this is the moment I want to live in forever.'
"Fine, love, I'll buy your ticket, but it'll be whichever one is earliest in the morning and I'm going to request a smelly drunk sit next to you."
"How do you know I won't be the smelly drunk?" she joked. She listened to his warm chuckle and tried to control the tingles it sent through her. She would be perfectly content hearing that sound every day.
"I'll take it, yeah? See you then."
"Yeah." She hung up the phone and turned to face the music; her mother's scowl spoke volumes. She hesitated, then said, "That was my boss, in London. At the bakery."
Her mother sneered. "Smelly drunk?" her words dripping with disdain.
"Um, yeah, that was a joke," Mabel giggled nervously. "He's kind of...funny, actually." She wasn't sure this was a word people reached for when describing Alfie for the first time, but his dry humor woven into most of his conversations always made her laugh.
Her mother was clearly done talking about it. She brushed past Mabel on her way to the kitchen. "When will you be done in London?"
"Oh, I'm not sure, actually. I guess it all depends on what they need. I might end up staying for a while." She got more excited the more she thought about it. She tried to tamp it down. She and Alfie had a few things they needed to work out.
Her mother poked her head out of the kitchen looking confused and concerned. "But what about Daniel?"
Mabel looked at her blankly for a moment, then said, "Oh, bollocks."
"MABEL!" her mother squawked.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said as she raced up the stairs to pack.
Author's Note: Charcoal barrels, or charred oak barrels, are used in rum production to make 'dark rum' as opposed to light rum. Dark rum is aged longer and is generally more expensive.