Die Tryin' (39 page)

‘Yes,’ she said, and wiped that tear away. ‘It does.’ She then lifted both her hands up to her eyes as she began to weep. ‘One day when we were kids,’ she began. ‘I got this idea in my head to make fairy cakes. But, I made a mess of the kitchen—’ A small laugh then burst from her mouth. ‘And I burnt a hole in my mum’s tray because I left it in the oven for too long. I started crying, I was so scared that mum was going to go crazy and shout at me. Tony saw I was scared and said he would take the blame. When mum came home, he told her that it was him who made the mess. Mum went ballistic at him and wouldn’t speak to him for days…

That would’ve been me otherwise…’

‘He was protecting you, looking after you,’ Charlie observed. ‘Like he was always doing.’

Maria wiped her eyes and nodded. ‘I realise now. I just wish he wasn’t always so aggressive…’

Charlie nodded in understanding. ‘Yeah. So do I…’ he said and smiled ruefully.
‘And…’
he then said and paused. He licked his lips and hesitated.

Just say it, Charlie,
a voice said in his mind and he couldn’t tell whether it was his own voice or one of the others. Either way, he listened to it and did what it said.

‘I’m
gonna look after you and the baby now…’ he said and straightened his back, his eyes never leaving Maria, who first looked down, then up into Charlie’s wide, sincere eyes.

She gave him a solemn nod, then opened the door wide. ‘Come inside,’ she said before turning away and disappearing into the corridor.

Charlie stared at the floor in disbelief, unable to believe he just said those words, nor her positive reaction. He expected either to bottle it; her to tell him to get lost; or both. He looked around him with wide-eyed wonder.

You done it,
re… he heard Tony say in his mind.
I know you’ll look after her and treat her properly. Go inside…

And that meant everything to him. Everything. If it was okay with Tony then nothing else mattered.

And even if nothing transpired between them, he would still take care of her, and look out for her and her son for Tony. He swore not to leave her to fend for herself.

He took in a deep breath, controlling a sudden rush of excitement, and then reached into his inner jacket pocket. He pulled out the small bag he had stuffed in there. He opened it up and looked inside. Gold and jewels glittered and gleamed enticingly back at him. He knew he was crazy, but not that crazy to believe in cursed jewels, nor that crazy to hand something so precious and valuable over to leech organisations like Dump Ur Gold, or even worse, chuck them into the Thames. Besides, he had survived this long using an old adage that had served him well thus far—
Whatever the old bitch says, do the opposite…

‘You sly dog, Charlie,’
the Old Witch suddenly said in his mind.

Charlie put his hand up to his mouth. ‘That’s right. Now fuck off, you old bitch!’ he whispered loudly.

And her rusty voice was cut off like a caller swearing on a national radio station, leaving him with blissful silence.

Charlie let out a long sigh of relief and satisfaction while wiping his feet on the doormat.

Honey, I’m home…

He then smiled broadly as he stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

STAVRO YIANNI is a horror/crime writer based in north London of Greek Cypriot origin.

When not tending to his crop of super hot chilli plants, pumping iron, researching conspiracy ‘theories’, cheering on the Arsenal, listening to Anti NWO Hip-Hop and Roots/Reggae, climbing mountains, writing f*cked up books, and enjoying obscure foreign cinema, he can be found at peace in a quiet armchair perusing a book of a utopian/dystopian nature.