The Children Of The Mist (5 page)

As she rolled over and pushed up onto her elbows she was crying. Her skate lay in two pieces, the wheels still spinning. She could not see for tears, but she knew that Dog was dead. They'd killed Dog. With arms and legs that felt like they'd been filled with custard, she struggled up onto her knees.

‘Zest,' she sobbed, ‘we've killed Dog.' She bowed her face into her hands and sobbed. Their dear, dear friend was gone. His strong, black body lay below, twisted and broken. Guilt overwhelmed her. She should have taken him back down the stairs. Made him wait. She should never have agreed to this crazy escapade. Dog was dead. Her Dog was dead.

And then she felt Zest's strong arms around her. She collapsed against his shoulder, grateful for his kindness. Poor Zest. Poor Dog. He did not speak, but was still. But then her gratitude faltered as she felt something soft and warm brush her cheek. She froze, shocked but secretly excited. Oh my God! Zest was kissing her. Her excitement tuned out as the soft caress turned into a rough scouring sensation. Not so romantic.

‘Shit, Zest, stop it!' But then the aroma of doggy biscuits filled her nose. And she realised that the kiss was not from Zest after all. She jerked up and away from Zest and found herself eyeball to eyeball with Dog, who had the decency to look vaguely embarrassed. Overwhelmed with relief and happiness she buried her face in the animal's soft pelt. It was a few minutes before she could convince herself that Dog really was alright. It took even longer to find the nerve to let Dog go. Humiliation lapped over her like hot lava as she remembered her horrible blooper. How was she ever going to look Zest in the face again? Suddenly, death seemed an attractive option.

‘Morven, are you alright?'

Not really, she thought. She panicked for a moment. What the hell was she going to do? Maybe she'd just stay here on the roof with Dog for the rest of her life. It seemed like a reasonable plan. But Dog, being Dog, had other ideas. He gave her one last long lick and slipped out of her grip. Damn Dog. Ungrateful beastie.

She stood up, still a little shaky on her pins. Unwilling to look in Zest's direction she turned her eyes back to the building upon which she had so recently stood. The gap between seemed to have the dimensions of the Grand Canyon.

‘Morven, please speak to me. Are you okay?'

The genuine concern in his voice forced Morven to speak. ‘Sure. I'm fine. Just a bit…shaky.'

‘Shaky?'

She peeped up from under her thick, black eyelashes. And her heart sank. There was a suspicious glint in his eyes that spelt trouble. Morven felt the heat rush up her neck. Perhaps she could manage to fall over the edge and make it seem like an accident. She probably wouldn't die, just break a few limbs. It'd be enough to create a diversion, anyhow.

Zest rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his hands deep in his pockets. ‘Would it be remiss of me to interpret ‘shaky' as ‘weak at the knees'? Are you perhaps overwhelmed by Dog's outpouring of undying love and gratitude?'

Morven glared at him, furious over his accurate insights. Any hope that her mistake may have been missed in the moment was effectively erased.

‘Or maybe,' he continued, his voice dropping almost to a whisper, ‘you're actually mesmerised by the magnetic masculinity of yours truly?'

Morven was confused. Despite the familiar mocking tone, she was not absolutely positive that Zest was taking the piss. This was unexpected. She felt about as comfortable as a wet cat. Anything she said may be taken down and used as evidence. To give herself time she turned and picked up the pathetic remains of her board. Then she decided that attack was the best form of defence. ‘My, my, Zest,' she said airily, ‘do I detect an undercurrent of carnal interest? Why, I do believe you are jealous of Dog.'

To her relief Zest actually took a small step back. He stared at her for a second, and then his eyes slid away. He clicked his fingers and Dog galloped over. He made a big act of checking Dog for injury. Now it was Morven's turn to grin. She had him on the run.

Zest grabbed both pieces of the board from her and held them still. ‘Maybe I am,' he said.

Morven was momentarily knocked offside. But before she could think, he looked at his watch. ‘Time's getting on, we'd better go.'

She checked her own timepiece. It was later than she had realised. It was a relief to be on the move. There was only one way off the roof and that was to jump. It was a fair drop, but they utilized a pile of sand on the eastern side, landing with a soft thud and sliding down to the ground. Dog followed after a moment's hesitation.

Zest stopped at the fence and looked back at the two buildings. ‘You know what, Morven, you were Mickey Mouse.'

Morven slipped through the fence without a word but aglow with happiness. For a moment she remembered that strange moment suspended in air and time. But she said nothing. It would keep. She didn't want to break the mood; it was good to have time for a bit of reflection. Suddenly her mind seemed stuffed fuller than a turkey. It had been quite a day, one way and another.

The three of them jogged quietly along the river toward the glittering lights of the city. As they passed the old dairy their pace slackened. Morven's stomach made a deep rumble, followed by a sullen gurgle. She was absolutely starving. Time to eat.

As if he could read her mind, Zest pulled a paper bag out of his back jeans pocket and offered it to her. The strong smell of aniseed wafted into the air. Morven took an aniseed ball. Dog whined and she gave him one too. She was secretly relieved to have an excuse to keep her mouth shut.

They always ate at the same place. A small, grubby van that squatted on the edge of the Botanical gardens, which catered to the poorer end of the market: back packers, students and such like. A dozen people were seated at plastic tables and chairs dotted around the circular cul-de-sac. Morven always ordered the same thing. A rare steak sandwich for Zest, a beef burger with the works for herself, and whatever the owner, Zach, had set aside for Dog. Morven liked Zach even though he was really old, but how old was difficult to say. Somewhere between 70 and 107. He had a face like a pickled walnut and a tongue rougher than Dog's. As Zest said, he was an ugly devil with a heart of gold.

At the sight of them the old man's face creased up like an ancient paper bag and he waved a large knife in their direction. ‘Morven, Zest, Dog! It is good to be seeing you.'

Morven smiled back and wondered, not for the first time, where Zach came from. His accent hinted at Europe somewhere, but more than that she couldn't say. Despite the old vendor's outgoing personality, any questions were deflected with a dry wit that gave no offence but still put the message out. Don't ask. So Morven and Zest didn't.

Dog jumped up at the beige counter, front paws endangering the rows of sauces and condiments laid out for general consumption. Zach was unfazed. ‘Ah, Dog, how would you be tonight?'

Dog barked twice and wagged his tail.

Zach nodded, as if Dog were actually making an order. ‘Well, Dog, you are in luck. I have just the thing.' Several pedestrians turned to stare. Most seemed amused but Morven fervently hoped they weren't health inspectors.

Zest and Morven grinned as Zach disappeared momentarily and returned with a Styrofoam container. Dog took it delicately in his mouth, jumped down and trotted over to Morven. She opened it and put it on the ground. It was full of bacon, egg and (Zach's speciality) meatballs.

‘Thanks, Zach,' said Zest.

But Zach dismissed him with a wave of his hand. ‘The usual?'

Morven nodded. ‘Please.' God she was starving. The aroma of frying meat and onion made her stomach quiver. She found conversation impossible, her eyes, ears and brain totally consumed with the small catering van.

‘Morven.'

Reluctantly she looked at Zest. ‘Mmm?'

He traced his mouth with a finger.

Morven put up a hand to her own mouth. ‘What?' But she found the answer. Good grief, she was actually dribbling. She picked up a serviette off the counter and wiped her chin dry. ‘Sorry.'

Zest waved a hand. ‘Please, don't apologise. Personally, I love a woman with a good appetite.'

Morven gave him a suspicious look, not sure if he was taking the piss or not. But her eyes and ears and nose drew her back to the van. How long did it take to make a burger? Just as she was fighting off the urge to leap over the counter, Zach slapped the goodies down.

Morven paid up, thanked Zach and headed for the nearest table. Her stomach gurgled and growled as she ripped off the burger's paper wrap and took a huge bite of meat, bacon, egg and salad. But as she chewed she was filled with a dreadful sense of disappointment. The burger was nowhere near as good as it was normally. A bit tasteless. Dry. No, it was not what she fancied at all. She put the burger down. What was it that she really, really wanted? Nothing came to mind.

Until, that is, she watched Zest take a bite out of his sandwich. Of course. That was it. She wanted what Zest had. A big, juicy piece of steak. As Zest took another bite he must have become aware of her avid observation. He stopped chewing. ‘What?'

‘Oh, nothing.'

His eyes fell onto her abandoned burger. ‘Don't you want that?'

She sighed. ‘No.'

Then he twigged. ‘You want mine, don't you?'

Morven had to admit that she did. She inspected her financial situation. There was just enough. ‘I'll get one,' she said.

‘Don't be daft. We'll do a swap.'

Although she would have liked to be magnanimous and insist on ordering, the sight of that sandwich was simply too much. Besides, the idea of another interminable wait was miserable. Without a word she pushed her burger across the table. Zest handed over his own. Morven took a huge bite.
Yes
. This was just the thing. Usually she'd gag at the sight of the red, moist, bloody insides of the steak. But today, it looked pretty damn good. And it tasted even better. Her teeth sunk into it like it was chocolate cake. And then it was gone. Next time, she'd order two each. One really wasn't enough.

Zest was polishing off his dinner watched hopefully by Dog. Morven was mortified. What the hell was wrong with her? She always saved a bit for Dog. That made up her mind. She got up abruptly and went back to the van. It took a while as Zach was busy. Finally she had his attention.

‘Zach, can I have a steak sandwich please.'

Zach smiled. ‘Sure can do. Medium, rare or well-done?'

Morven didn't need to think. ‘Rare. No onion.'

She leaned across the counter to watch. Zach went to the fridge and came back to the range with a piece of meat. Close up it smelled scrummy. ‘Zach,' said Morven, ‘can you make that very rare?'

‘Sure can do. Blue it is.'

And it was done. Morven paid up and raced back to their table. She tore off the paper and stared at the sandwich. Something was still not quite right. It was the bread. Bread spoiled it. Dog caught the two white slices midair.

This time she remembered to save Dog a bit. She flicked it to him and licked the blood and juice from her fingers. She felt full at last. Only then did she become aware of Zest's green eyes upon her. His expression was unusually serious. ‘Are you finished?'

It was not the question she was expecting. And then she felt a flush of embarrassment; maybe he was turned off by her newfound fetish for flesh. She nodded. ‘Aha.'

He flashed a familiar smile, and was himself again. ‘We'd better get Dog home, or we'll miss the last train.'

This galvanised Morven into action. Zest was right; it would be tight, especially without her board. With a quick goodbye to Zach they headed off. Ten minutes later they
were back at the yard. Morven gave Dog a hug and swallowed the lump that formed in her throat at the sight of him imprisoned once more. As they retraced their steps she was aware of him watching silently, his tail at half-mast.

They made it to the station with just minutes to spare. In the solitude of the platform and the sudden cessation of movement, Morven felt acutely aware of Zest's presence. Usually they'd utilise their time playing chicken on the railway tracks, or practising board tricks. But tonight was different. And she was sure it wasn't just her. Zest seemed strangely subdued. There was an odd tension between them. Morven tried to find something to say, to try and recreate their usual easy companionship.

‘That was quite some ride, wasn't it?'

Zest turned to her then and flicked an aniseed ball to her. He sucked silently on his lolly and then looked down toward the tunnel. ‘Morven, how did you do it?'

Morven felt a worm of unease wiggle in her stomach. ‘Do what?'

‘How did you save Dog?'

She laughed nervously. ‘Don't be silly, I didn't really do anything. It was just luck, that's all.'

He took a step closer, his green eyes boring into hers. ‘Are you absolutely sure about that?'

Morven opened her mouth to defend herself but the words would not come. Instead she turned inward, unable to resist the surge of memories related to the strange events of that day. Individually she could shrug them off. But strung side by side like beads on a necklace they seemed to form something more complete. For a moment she felt scared. What if she were mentally ill? What if she had a brain tumour? She'd seen Phenomenon. It'd explain a lot of weird stuff.

The train was coming. She looked expectantly down the line. But there were no lights illuminating the tunnel. Unnerved, she stepped closer to Zest. And she could contain it no longer. ‘Oh my God, Zest, I think I'm going crazy.'

‘Morven, there's something in my backpack that shouldn't be there. Do you know what it is?'

Now he was being crazy. ‘You're not helping.'

He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I know, I know. Just bear with me. Think. What's in my backpack?'