Chapter 11-2
1571 Words
I put it with Amelia to post to Tony. As she left, she said, “Anything else, mum?”
“No, Amelia.”
“I’ll get some groceries then.”
I poured another bourbon.
But something in the way Jon spoke nagged at me.
I thought back to when he lied on Queen’s Night after the dinner: he told me Roland was his brother Cesare’s son. I’d been focused on Tony and Gardena, yet even then I knew something wasn’t right. But just now …
I stood, pacing, the curtains fluttering in the spring breeze, and the air was strangely silent.
Oh, gods.
Still alive?
It had to be some lie. Tony lied about Gardena, he lied about Roland, he probably even lied about it being so dangerous that I had to be caged everywhere I went.
My mind flashed to the times I barely escaped violation by a scoundrel. Vig was there the first time, and I had my pistol the second. Tony simply couldn’t conceive that I could handle myself.
Why would Tony concoct such a lie? Why would Jon spread it?
I sat, drained my glass, poured more bourbon.
Lit a cigarette, hands shaking.
Jon couldn’t lie like this, bold-faced, without any shame or guile. I knew when Jon lied, because it was so rare.
knewJonathan Diamond believed Joseph Kerr to be alive.
But it was impossible. How could Joe be alive? What would possibly make him not come to me?
Joe would have tried anything to get to me. He would have sent someone, if only to learn if I was well. When he learned I’d been ill, put under house arrest … he would have been frantic.
I paced the room. There must be some reason he couldn’t come to me. Maybe he feared Tony would harm me if he did. Maybe he feared the men who sought him had spies here, or at the hotel when I was there. Perhaps they chased him off.
But to not even send a message …
No. Joe would never abandon me like that.
Joe could be lying in a ditch somewhere. He could’ve been waylaid. He could’ve been killed by one of these men …
Three loan sharks … and six gambling halls …
Joseph Kerr owes a great deal of money.
I sat heavily. Jon thought it was a great deal of money.
JonJonathan Diamond had access to as much money as Tony did.
How could Joseph Kerr owe so much money?
His sister Josie had spoken of their grandfather’s desire not to take money from the Hart syndicate, and they’d suffered for it. Their poverty was obvious. Joe said they couldn’t even afford to feed the horse we’d loaned them.
I could understand Joe taking out loans. I could perhaps understand going to a loan shark if their credit was very poor. They were Kerrs, after all, the last descendants of that old, hated monarchy. Perhaps they weren’t deemed worthy of proper rates.
But why would Joe gamble?
How could he get himself into that much debt?
thatThe side door opened and shut.
Joe asked if I had any money … any money at all …
Dread gnawed at me. I gave him all the money I had in the world so he could get our tickets …
I gave him all the money I had in the world so he could get our tickets …The night we left, Joe showed me the tickets. Three tickets, edged in red. One for him, one for me, one for my Ma.
I didn’t get a good look at them, but they were real. I saw them.
I rose, frantic. “Amelia!”
She came running in. “Yes, mum?”
“Do you know anything about the zeppelin?”
“Like what?”
“When you get your tickets. What do the colors mean?”
She let out a relieved laugh. “Well, mum, I’ve never bought them. But the colors are for the year. That’s why everyone goes on holiday during Yuletide. You buy them whenever you like. But the outgoing ones are only good until midnight, New Year’s Eve.”
“So what’s this year’s color?”
“Blue, I think.”
“It can’t be …” Joe’s tickets were red.
The stubs on the station floor two weeks ago — edged in blue.
The ticket stub fluttering away from Jon’s pocket — edged in blue.
Had Jon been out of the city and back again since he brought me to Clubb Hotel? Where did he go?
“Mum? What’s wrong?”
“Blue? Are you certain?”
“No, mum, I’ve never bought one. If it’s important, I can ask.”
“What color were they last year?”
She chuckled. “That I remember. A dark yellow. My uncle’s grandson works at the ticket factory. Last year at Yuletide he said they looked like —” she blushed, hiding her mouth with her hands.
“Like what?”
“Like they was dipped in piss. Forgive me, mum, I —”
I waved her off. “I’ve heard the word before.”
“Yes, mum.” She rushed out, closing the door behind her.
Blue this year.
Ticket stubs edged in blue littered the zeppelin station floor …
A ticket stub edged in blue fluttered away in the wind …
They were yellow last year?
yellowHow long had Joseph Kerr held those red-edged tickets?
Why would he trick me this way?
“I trust Ten,” Tony said, “and I trust you.”
I collapsed into a chair and began to weep.
I left Tony … dear sweet Tony who trusted me. Who loved me. Who stood up to Roy Spadros for me. Who gave up Gardena and Roland for me.
And then the only man I had ever truly loved took all the money I had and left me!
Left me to face Tony. To sit at the zeppelin station, humiliated and alone. To become Regina Clubb’s pawn because I had no other option. To the mercy of Frank Pagliacci, Jack Diamond, and Roy Spadros. To face public shame, and at the end, the gallows.
Joe knew what would happen if I remained in Bridges.
And he left me anyway.
I cried tears of shame, of fury, of anguish and hate. I threw my glass at Amelia when she asked what happened, and wept at the mark on the door, the shattered ruin, the wasted drink.
I wept as I brought another bottle to the table, and as I wrote to everyone, asking their forgiveness.
Ma never came to check on me, not even when I was sick. I remembered her disdain the night she sent me away.
Was she glad to be rid of me?
I set the letters out on the table in the hall. “Amelia,” I called out. “Send these at once.”
“Yes, mum.” Amelia peered around the corner from the end of the hall. “Then I’m going to see my daughter, she’s unwell.”
Amelia was probably glad to be away from me too. “You do that.” I closed the door to my room, locked it.
Then I saw my little bird, its body torn by that wretched cat.
My bird lay unmoving … dead.
“No!”
I clung to the cage in anguish, weeping. My little bird!
My little bird.
“Oh, gods,” I wept. “Finally you’re free.”
I would never be free. Tony would never release me. Despite Mr. Pike’s words, no one would believe me innocent. I’d have to betray everyone to get out of the city. And Joe … how could I ever be free of this torment, knowing the man I gave everything to took my love and crushed it beneath his feet?
Five women, Joe? And one of them fifteen?
I searched for a glass, my house shoes crunching as I went. I returned to my table, opened a bottle and drank straight from it. I’d never done so since I first drank vodka, the night Air died.
Air. Gods, Air, why did you ever care for someone like me?
He was as big a fool as I was. He made the mistake of loving me. I killed him. No matter what his mother said, I killed him.
I loved the way the liquor burned through me, the way it did those few moments me and Air were happy together. Perhaps it was a sign. Maybe I would see Air again before it was all over.
I lay my pistol on the table in front of me. I put my dagger next to it. The curtains blew in the breeze, and the air was warm. It was a good day. I couldn’t have picked one better.
The bottle beside me was empty, so I got up, opened another one. After some time, I squinted at the bottles on the table. How did two empty bottles get there? I needed more to drink.
A full bottle sat on the sideboard across the room, so I got up to get it. But my foot slipped out from under me. The room moved, and I felt sick. I thought I might be falling.
In fact, I was sure of it, but I didn’t really care anymore.
- Writer
