Until It Sleeps: Chapter 16
In the all night Café
At a quarter past eleven
Same old man
Sitting there on his own
Looking at the world
Over the rim of his teacup
Each tea lasts an hour
Then he walks on alone
So how can you tell me You're lonely
And say for you the sun won't shine
Let me take you by the hand
And lead you through the Streets of London
I'll show you something
That will make you change your mind.
- Streets of London
"You're quiet today, Princess." Cheerio said, puffing on his cigarette. "What's got you down?"
She lowered her head. Strange, she had been thinking the same thing of him.
"It was my birthday the day before yesterday." She said.
"Ah!" He turned to her fully, and patted her on the shoulder. "Happy Birthday. is that why I didn't see you?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah that's why... I had a... party."
For show and tell in school last week a girl had told the class about how she'd had a party. She had thought it was a pretty stupid idea for show and tell because everyone from the class had gone to the party, so they all knew what happened. Everyone except her of course. But she hadn't been expecting any different.
Cheerio grinned wider and opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly she frowned deeply, and shook her head.
"I didn't have a party." She said. "I only said I did cos it seemed like the right thing to be doin' when it's your birthday." She sighed. "Sorry for lyin'."
Cheerio shrugged, as if he'd known she had been from the beginning. "No sorries needed Princess."
"I mean-" She continued, barely even registering the response. "Why'd I have had a party without tellin' you.." She glanced up. "When you'd be the only person I'd wanna invite?"
If he had been able to speak at that point, he would have been cut off by the sound of heavy movement against the fence. As it was he had just been blown away by the words that he barely even noticed them himself, until the girl's hand rose and pointed in their direction. Cheerio looked over his shoulder, and sighed.
Four men were approaching them, dark attire blending in with the late afternoon. All looked like they would tower above anyone who stood in their way... and there was surely no chance of that. Not with sticks so black and fierce hanging from their belts. Not with expressions so dark they could almost have been walking shadows.
They made her instantly nervous.
"Who are they?" She whispered.
Cheerio didn't seem surprised by their appearance. "They're men who work for other men." He said, shuffling to the left a fraction, away from them.
"Why are they here?"
He was silent for a moment, as if simply taking stock of the situation. Then he looked her up and down, his eyes coming to rest on her deeply bruised cheek. "Workin'".
She blinked in confusion. "But...what's they got to do with you?"
Cheerio's expression grew distant again - in the way it had been much of the afternoon. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "There are things a princess like you should'a never seen." He said softly, then blinked and nodded, as if confirming that he was happy with the way he had explained it. "Things that Cheerio woulda felt less of a human bein' if he hadn't pointed out to somebody."
"What do you mean?"
And suddenly, some internal resolution seemed to be at once reached and the Cheerio she knew was back. It confused her.
He simply winked. "I know you'll figure it out in time."
The men stopped barely a yard from him, cutting off any path further down the laneway. The girl eyed their faces. "Are they your friends, Cheerio?"
"Hah!" He laughed. "No, they're here on business." He cocked his head to one side. "You are here on business?"
"We are." The one closest to them said. The girl couldn't help the shiver that ran up her spine - his voice sounded like a block of lead being run across a cheese grater. "Dunno why he'd bother with a Bum, but we do what we're paid to do."
Cheerio snickered to himself, puffed the last of his cigarette and blew the smoke up towards them.
"Princess, meet Harry, Charlie, Boris and Moe."
She continued her study. All had their arms hanging by their sides, just above those the cowboys did in those gunfights that she'd seen on TV when Doug watched it.
"With or without the girl." `Boris' muttered. Cheerio waved a hand at him.
"I don't like them." The girl breathed. "They don't smile."
"Neither did you when we first met." Cheerio grinned at her. "Only judge people by whats they do. Not how often they smile. Take Boris here for example -" He gestured upwards and winked. "-bet there's a brilliant smile in there just itchin' to bust out!"
`Boris' didn't seem to keen on sharing. He lifted his arms and crossed them over his chest.
"With, or without the girl, old man." He warned again. "We don't have all day."
Cheerio sighed again, puffing once more on his cigarette before expertly flicking it out so it landed half an inch from on of their shoes.
"Neither do I, so `t seems." He murmured. He nodded, then squinted up at them. "Five minutes?"
The girl's heartrate quickened. Five minutes? Five minutes for what? And what's-
"Princess...Can you do me a favour?"
She stopped her train of thought immediately, turning her eyes to the weathered old face. He gestured behind him with his head.
"Take out the trash?"
She blinked. She didn't even know Cheerio had trash Peering behind him she scanned her eyes over the area, looking for a pile of papers, epty cigarette boxes. chocolate wrappers.
"Where's the trash, Cheerio?"
He laughed. "You got no eyes girl? In the corner!"
She froze.
She didn't even need to look before all her joints locked up, refusing to move, her blood running cold. Her eyes flicked between Cheerio and the four men, as if doing that alone would extract answers out of either of them. explanations of what was going on. Why all the secrecy?
Her sense of foreboding grew.
He was giving her his...
"No." She said finally, shaking her head. "No that's not trash."
Cheerio put on his best chiding tone, but being poorly practiced when it came to her made it seem utterly out of place. "You sure've got no eyes have you?"
The girl drew in an audible gasp. A panic settled in her heart. Why? Why was he giving her-
She noticed his eyes dart very quickly up to the men then back down again before his face softened, and for an instant she caught a flash of. fear? "Come on princess.. help old Cheerio out." He nodded reassuringly. "Take the trash. But I don't want it in the dumpster there - take it down to the one around the corner. You know where I mean."
The panic began to rise.
He was!
No!
"No.." She echoed her internal cries, which turned her tone resolute. "I'll wait for these men to talk to you."
"This is an adult conversation." Cheerio shook his head. "You can't."
"No!" She repeated, this time in fear and frustration. A sting lodged itself at the back of her throat and she felt her nose begin to run and hot, angry tears prick her eyes. She stared at him pleadingly. "Please let me stay. I won't be no trouble. I'm good at not listening."
She saw him glance up again at the men, who had inched closer but had made no move to indicate to her what they wanted.
Cheerio had known what they wanted. He had known from the beginning. he'd been expecting them from yesterday afternoon.
He knew it was over.
So he did the only thing he had left to do.
Tilting his head, he smiled at her. "Come here, my Princess." He whispered.
He reached out - his shaky hand stretching across the gap between them, fingers trembling with old age and too many cigarettes. She stepped towards him with no question - with limitless trust; took his hand and threw herself into his arms so hard any other old man might have fallen he didn't. Not him. Not Cheerio.
"Please don't send me away.." She breathed into his ear, afraid the men would hear her. His arms tightened around her body.
In that brief, broken moment it was the safest she had ever felt in her life.
She pressed her face into his shoulder, oblivious to the smell that kept so many people barely within four yards of him on a normal day, and her tears spilled out onto the fabric, washing through the dirt.
"Please. I'm scared."
The arms around her loosened, ripping her away from her safety and depositing her squarely into reality. He moved his hands to her shoulders, pulling her back from him. She had expected him to be angry with her. She had expected the glares and the curses she was so used to.. at her weakness for crying. for being afraid.
But he was still smiling. That smile that told her everything was going to be okay.
"No need to be scared, my Faith." He told her. "It's all in the trash. You take it with you."
The men had moved even closer - an oppressive shadow just to the left of Cheerio's shoulder.
"But they're your things..." She stuttered out between erratic sniffs and sobs not even she could control. "They're your special things."
He shook his head. "They used to be." He whispered "You're my special thing now." He brushed her hair behind her ears and smiled. "Don't cry my Faith." He said. "Don't cry."
It wasn't a curse. It wasn't a demand. It didn't follow with a fist, or a kick. It was a simple request, that she not hurt. That she not be sad for him.
The girl bit down on her lower lip, drawing into her mouth, sucking in a deep breath to calm her sobs, determination written all over her face. She would stop crying. She would do it because he asked her to. She was grown up. She was old enough.
"...That's my girl."
The words came unbidden to her. She barely even had time to take stock of what she was saying, as if the aching feeling rose up from her chest and simply spilled out of her mouth. They sounded foreign to her own ears, having never been uttered in her household, not once, since she had remembered.
"I love you Cheerio."
His eyes brightened brilliantly, and one last `whoop' left his lips as he punched the air with his right fist.
"I love you too, Princess." He said. Then pointed at the corner. "Take out the trash."
Finally, she nodded, stepping past him, the ache now burning. spreading all the way out, into her arms, her hands which shook almost as violently as his did, her fingers closing around the garbage bag that had been his.
But she wouldn't cry.
She pulled it away, gathering it up and taking a hesitant step backwards. The corner of the alcove now looked cold and empty, like a house that had had all the furniture removed. But the occupant was still sitting on the steps, watching the removalists drive away, nodding, smiling when she moved past his shoulder to stand before him.
She wouldn't cry.
"Remember the dumpster around the corner." He whispered. She nodded. "And don't look back. Promise me you won't."
She wouldn't cry.
"Promise."
He smiled again, but this time there was no enthusiasm, no cheekiness, no spark. It was simply. resigned. Sad. It made him look as if he had aged ten years in the last five minutes.
She wouldn't cry.
"Go now."
She turned around, pulling the bag with her, fingers clenching tightly into the plastic as she forced the tears to stay away. There was very little light left, but she could still make out the path through the fence, out into the open. Out where he had ordered her to go.
"Goodbye, Princess." She heard him say.
And following those words came the first sound of many she would never forget as long as she lived. The sound of metal striking flesh, bone, concrete. Cries for mercy, pitiful sobs, prayers for him... for her... then nothing. Nothing but cold metal on a broken body.
And a child's heart shattered into a million pieces.