My Dearest Jonah (24 page)

“What?”

“I never knew you were such an accomplished dancer.”

“I’ve been called many things in my time but never that.”

“I think you’d make a fine husband one day Jonah, just fine.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know what I see.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“You think Edward would make a good husband?”

“Who?”

“Edward, you think he’ll treat me right.”

“I think you deserve a good husband. But I don’t think he’s it.”

“You got evidence of that, stranger?”

“I need you to listen to me, Aimee,” I said, edging us as subtly as I could towards the tent’s exit.

“That sounds awfully serious.”

“I need you to go, now, you understand?”

“Not entirely.”

“I want you to go now and I want to know you’ll never see Mich... Edward again.”

“Why ever would you say such a thing?” she asked, suddenly resisting my attempts to exit the tent. We began spinning more and more to her movements, I felt myself being led back into
the ebb and flow of bodies whose enthusiasm was beginning to far outweigh any skill in the coordination department.

“He’s bad news.”

“You only shot ducks with the poor man, he can’t help the way he is... the scars and all. I’d have thought you of all people would understand.”

“I met Edward’s type before.”

“Edward doesn’t have a type.”

“Believe me when I say he does.”

“You going to have to stop speaking in code one of these days stranger.”

“God damn it Aimee no-one in this whole world’s been as nice to me as your Daddy has, and no-one deserves happiness the way you do. Edwards bad news, please believe me.”

“I’m not so sure I do.”

“He hasn’t even told you his real name.”

“How would you know?”

“I used to know him.”

Aimee looked up at me and began to slow her rhythm. “In another life?”

“Something like that. Please just do this for me.”

“How did you know him?”

“We were the same, he and I.”

“And now you’re not.”

“Now we’re not. He’s dangerous.”

“
Mysterious,
” she corrected me.

“Aimee just listen to me, just don’t see Michael anymore you hear me?”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” she said, looking up at me, a tear beginning to take shape in the corner of her eye.

Before I had a chance to answer a scream sounded out from behind the band. The music stopped and the attention of the room shifted to the rear of the tent.

The flames started small at first, teasing up the canvas like it was being spilled back into itself. Then it began to crawl along the rope that held the lights. It seemed as
though no-one moved in those moments, though my memory may not serve me entirely correctly. The bulbs began popping like tiny little fireworks, pieces of glass showering the band and the dancers
closest to the stage. Then the flames grew up to the dome of the tent, the chill around our ankles becoming more pronounced by the tingle of warmth that dripped from above.

Another scream. Then another. Before we knew it the crowds were rushing around us, tripping on tables and upturning folding chairs in the rush to escape the tent.

“Where’s Edward?” cried Aimee, battling against the bodies towards where the fire was at its fiercest. I grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her into the suffocating heart of
the crowd in which she had no choice but to move towards safety. We were carried almost without effort towards the exit where some of the elderly couples were already sprawled on the grass,
exhausted from the excitement. From outside the tent black smoke crept beneath the gaps in the awning. “Where is he?” said Aimee, pulling against my hold. “I have to find
him.” The flames grew over and around the roof of the tent like a cake being iced.

“I’ll find him,” I said as she struggled against me. “Just go.”

“You don’t even like him.”

“Just trust me I’ll find him, now go,” I pushed her into the crowds, which swallowed her whole and seemed to carry her to a safer distance. I turned and stood my ground. Around
me people rushed in hazes of colour and warmth, children’s feet levitated as their parents took either arm and double-stepped away from the mounting heat.

The tent became more and more furious, roaring towards the sky as though in competition with the commotion below.

“Where’s the girl?” said Harlow, grabbing hold of me in both arms as Barbara hovered, jerking from the bodies that pushed past her.

“Went with the crowd, should be waiting for you at the front,” I said, forced to shout over the din.

“Come on,” Harlow took my arm and began dragging me backwards.

“Friend of mine’s back there,” I said. “Just need to make sure he’s okay.”

“It’s not safe.”

“I’ll be out shortly, just go.”

Harlow hesitated before thinking better of entering into discussion on the subject, and, taking Barbara by the hand, joined the hourglass of bodies that flowed seamlessly towards the edge of the
field.

I walked into the masses - breaking and muddying everything in its path - shoulders bashed and bruised against mine. A boy following his father’s footsteps bumped into my leg and then
picked himself up again.

Through it all I saw him moving towards me, an unlit cigarette clamped between his teeth. He picked a lighter from his pocket and lit it as bodies rushed all around him like a flooded dam.
“Well won’t this make for a fine story,” he said over the noise of the fire, already wilting into itself.

I walked towards him and grabbed him by the shoulders, driving my knee into his stomach. I felt him double over and fall back.

“Well now, that was far from a clever move my friend, far from a clever move.”

“What the hell do you want from me Michael?”

“An apology for start.”

“I’m sorry,” I hurried. “I’m sorry, God knows I’m sorry but please, please just go.”

“Well I don’t think you really meant that. I want you to beg.”

“I’d sooner die.”

“Second time lucky. I don’t think you’ll be swerving the injection so easily this time,” he said, pointing to my stomach.

I reached down and felt the bony handle of the knife protruding. I pulled it from the fold in my denim and went to throw it.

“Now just you hold your horses,” Michael said, walking closer to me, wincing slightly as he moved. “This day and age a man has to be careful what he leaves lying around.
You’re all over that blade like stink on shit. I think - ” he said when I found myself unable to respond, “ - I’m going to hang around these parts for some time, get
acquainted with the little lady, maybe start me a family. Can you imagine that? My looks and her brain, it’d be the most backwards son of a bitch there ever... ”

His speech stopped as I took his head in my hands, pushing the blade of the knife towards the lowest edge of his lip.

“Now I don’t want to have to ask you again. I near as killed you once, nothing stopping me getting it right a second time. You either go or I’m going to cut the good side of
your face clean off, you understand?” There was a moment of stillness, that stinging second where the audience contemplates its reaction. I allowed Michael to work his face free from my hands
before stepping back, returning the knife to my pocket. “I won’t ask you again,” I said as I began to walk away.

He made no attempt to follow me, and it was only when I was some steps away did I hear him begin to chuckle to himself.

“Well, you’re as succinct as ever, big guy. But if you ask me you’re gonna be grateful for a friend like me once those police start sniffing around your house. There
isn’t one thing I left to chance my friend. And folk round here won’t be so kind once the fingers start pointing.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said, still not turning to face him.

“It’s just incredible what you find when you go sniffing around someone’s house. Five minutes in that old bedroom of yours I got a direct line to your soul, wow! I tell you
you’re a man of hidden depths, I never knew you had it in you.” I heard him move, and a rustling of papers. On the horizon car lights veined the brow of the hill as towards us six
flashing eyes of cobalt grew larger and more vocal with each passing instant. “‘My Dearest Jonah... ’” he began, in a whiny, pitying voice. “‘Please excuse my
lateness in response, for there have been developments... ’”

Before even I was aware of my actions I had knocked him to the ground and was sat on top of him, my fist working into the dried flesh of his face. Eventually he was still, his hand limp beneath
him. I took your muddy letter and folded it neatly into my pocket.

“Well wouldn’t you know,” he said through damp, swollen lips. “Looks like I found your Achilles heel.”

“You so much as talk about her I’ll kill you. You understand? One word Michael... all it’ll take,” I moved towards him and, still bent doubled, he raised his hand to stop
me.

“Now don’t be getting all excited there, friend. Of course I took her address, for insurance... ” I grabbed him by the throat and held him tight at arm’s length.
“... and I’m sure that both you and I would hate to hear of any such accidents happening, so how about you reconsider my terms? That’s all I’m asking. Just an evening of
your time and skills, then it’ll be like I was never here.” As he spoke he freed himself from my lessening grip, smoothing his shirt now speckled with blood.

“When?”

“I’ll come to you, friend. You old romantic.” I turned to leave. “Oh,” he said, when I was almost out of earshot. “If I were you I’d dig up that money
the second you get home. That old sack of coin’s a one way ticket to you know where.”

“Where is it?”

“Now,” said Michael, standing up. “Where’d be the fun in that? The old Jonah’d have known exactly where to look. Think of it as a test of your skills. I’m
gonna need you sharp as ever,” he patted me on the back as he passed. “Happy hunting. I’ll be seeing you soon partner.”

I will sit and I’ll wait for Michael’s call. It’s all I can do. You have to understand that I’m doing this for you, Verity. However bad things get - and
I can feel doom building like a snowstorm - you have to believe me when I say that at the back of it all, however misplaced, is my love for you, and only for you. And I will do whatever it takes to
protect you from harm. The world’s a more interesting place with you in it, and I intend to keep it that way.

Jonah

Dear Jonah,

Eve’s murder arrived like a plague. It grew impalpably, silently - crawling and multiplying beneath secret, unturned stones - before combusting into something grotesquely
irreversible.

“What do you think you’ll be when we get where we’re going?” I asked, contemplating three half used lipsticks on the bathroom counter. “Blood Roses, Honey Blossom
or Candy Frosting?”

Eve yawned as she came into the bathroom, sitting down on the toilet as her head drooped between her legs. “Aren’t they some of the girls at the club?”

“This is serious Eve, we got to sort ourselves out and fast.”

“Just take them all,” she said, pressing a gesture piece of tissue between her legs before standing back up.

“Eve I’m not your damn mother, you have to cut me some slack here. We need to get this sorted.”

She sat up and began to tease a nail with a dull file. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I don’t have one thing I need except you and that cash. I say we start our lives
fresh as mountain snow, let all of this turn to dust.”

I sunk onto the sofa next to her and took a cigarette from her packet. “Life’s not that simple.”

“It is for me.”

“And thank the Lord there’s only one of you. I say this out of kindness you understand.”

“I’ll miss this little life,” she said, relaxing into her third glass as I picked over the jewellery that scattered the coffee table. “We didn’t have it so
bad.”

“We could have it so much better if you’d help me pack.”

“I told you, I got it covered. All I need are the clothes on my back and a few dollars to see me straight. I’ll charm the rest.”

I bundled the jewellery in two tangled handfuls - mock gold, cubic zirconia, all brown edged and rusting - into an empty shoebox beneath the couch.

“You think we could go back to the club, just to say goodbye?”

“No!”

“Well you don’t have to yell,” Eve said, attempting to squeeze the final drops from the spent bottle. “I just think after all Miss Jemima’s done for us it’s
be rude not to say thank you.”

“We’ll write her.”

“You’re a cold woman, Verity,” she said, reaching into a crevice within the couch and pulling out a handful of bills. “Why don’t you go get us some more resources,
so we can celebrate our last night in style?”

I took the money and located my car keys. “I swear to God, Eve... I don’t find you here when I come back there’ll be hell to pay.”

Her hand rose from the sofa and waved lazily, before slumping back onto her stomach.

In the store I made my usual gesture of scanning the brands as if to imply I had any idea what I was looking for. In truth such trips were always born of the same incentive
– maximum effect with minimum outlay.

The lights above me shone sullen and iridescent making even the most menial tasks feel like a living, breathing headache. I selected the three cheapest bottles of burgundy grape I could locate,
unperturbed by the triptych of languages which formed its elaborate description, and placed them on the counter.

“This all, miss?” asked the man on the desk.

“No,” I said, walking back down the aisle towards the less heady luxuries. “I won’t be long.”

“No worries. You just take your time.”

I pressed my hands against the shining foils of the chocolate. Outside a group of teenagers sat on the roof of their car, a radio booming loudly from the doors, opened wide like aeroplane
wings.

“I’ll take these too,” I said, placing a bag of potato chips and three bars of chocolate on the counter.

“Bad week, huh?” asked the attendant as he placed my questionable feast into a brown paper bag.