The Fall of Chance Page 4

Soft as her words were, they seemed to knock Unt’s tongue out of his mouth. It scrambled to get control over half a dozen witty responses but all that came out was “What?”

  Olissa rolled her eyes and flicked a curl from her face. She didn’t utter a sigh but it was there all the same. Unt felt girlish fingers close on his, then a flash of disappointment as they prised the flask out of his hand. Olissa made no effort to disguise the swig she took.

  “Hey, that’s mine!” said Bull, snatching it back. “I’m sorry girls but a man’s generosity is only as large as his hipflask.”

  “And that’s not all,” muttered Olissa. “Fine, suit yourself.”

  Mélie and Unt shared a glance as though to say “what can you do?” He wanted to dispel the dark cloud that had suddenly descended but no words would come. He just needed to say something trivial to fix the mood but his head had nothing to offer.

  There was something on his mind that was a definite conversation topic but there was no way that any of them would broach it. On the way over, Unt had snapped at Bull for even hinting at it. He was worried about it and so, probably, were the other three.

  It was something and nothing and it all started at the river. During their Work Experience with the Labourers, there had been an incident. The girls had fallen in the river and Unt had rescued them. Afterwards, the incident had to be reported but Unt hadn’t wanted the attention that went with it. They’d all agreed to say that Bull had made the rescue and that was the story they told.

  It was just a white lie; one that should have ended there, but the rescue went on Bull’s record and that record could alter the post he was awarded in the Fall. The fact that the incident should have gone on Unt’s record meant that his award would be altered too.

  This was a very big deal. To carry out fraud in the Fall was as serious a crime as was possible. There were no witnesses, so no-one could ever dispute their words but if they were found out, they would all be in real trouble and that made them wary.

  It was a relief when they finally reached the tables with the food. Some of it was cooking in a long, flaming pit and that was the source of the richest smells. There were sausages, patties and great slabs of meat, all mingled with the smell of frying onions. Ears of corn and bright red tomatoes cooked next to them, their colours intensifying as the flames did their work. Baked potatoes were lined up on skewers with crispy blackened skins. The food was definitely better than usual.

  Taking from the pile of waiting plates, Bull went first, making a small mountain as he piled his food high. It was a mini-marvel of engineering that it didn’t all fall off. If any aptitude assessors from the Engineers were watching they’d have marked him up for it.

  Unt was more conservative, settling for a steak and a couple of potatoes which he drowned in butter from the waiting churn. He grabbed a bread cake from the side to mop up the excess that oozed from the bottom then stepped away.

  The food was enough to dissipate the ill mood that had descended but the union was living on borrowed time. They were saved a few more minutes as they got out of the crowd while struggling to keep their plates intact.

  They found a quiet bench on the corner building where Gate Street met the Square. Bull planted himself in the middle between Unt and Mélie with Unt almost squeezed into Gate Street itself. Olissa stayed standing.

  Gate Street ran from the oldest entrance to the town. The Gate was no longer there but the name remained. It had the oldest residences in town and many of the oldest residents too. A lot of the old folk either chose not to go to Promenade or just couldn’t and the yellow torches lit a mostly empty street.

  “So, what we gonna do after this?” asked Olissa as she ate.

  “There’s a quiet little court up Gate Street there,” said Bull.

  “You really know how to treat a girl, don’t you?” said Olissa.

  “There’s always Unt’s house,” Bull offered up.

  “Hmm. Maybe.”

  Unt tried to hide his reaction to that. He stretched round to take a look up the roughly cobbled street, just as something clattered into the back of him. He turned and saw Crystal and Rob. They’d clearly been running with Crystal leading Rob by the hand and it was Crystal who ran into Unt. Only Rob’s hand stopped her from falling.

  Her smile stayed on her face as she fell but it faltered when she caught sight of the four of them. It was back instantly, the automatic reflex of a girl born with regal bearing. Unt was knocked back again at the sight of her, reminded of just how lovely she was. Impossibly white teeth gleamed at him from the dark.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said, raising a hand like she was almost going to touch him.

  “No, no. My fault,” he blundered. He chanced a look over her shoulder at Rob to see his reaction. Was he ok with Unt nearly tripping his girl? As ever, the man was unreadable. Unt got the feeling he didn’t make enough impression to merit blame.

  “Well, no harm anyway,” smiled Crystal.

  Nobody answered immediately. Crystal and Rob wanted away, everyone else wanted them gone, but no-one knew how to initiate it. Crystal moved in quickly. “So, you guys ready for tomorrow?”

  “Yes”, Olissa assumed the role of surly spokesman.

  “That’s nice. You four spending one last night together?”

  “We just queued for food together,” said Olissa, “We’re going shortly, aren’t we Mélie?”

  Unt looked at Mélie and saw a hint of something he hadn’t seen there before. He also saw her mind at work, debating something. From her pocket, she took her dice. They were cut with elegant, rune-like numerals. She cast them on the ground and Unt saw a red one and a white four. “Yes, I’ll come,” she said, placing her half-full plate at her side and retrieving her dice from the floor.

  Crystal looked bemused but kept her smile in place. “Oh, well, don’t let us stop you,” she said.

  “No,” Olissa smiled back insincerely , “Don’t let us get in your way. You two enjoy this last night of innocence too.”

  Crystal blinked and smiled but didn’t answer. Rob stepped forward and gently made to lead her away. “Come on, Crys,” he said. He didn’t give the rest of them so much as a glance.

  Crystal let herself be led away. “See you all tomorrow,” she said as Rob guided her back onto Gate Street.

  “You too, sweetie,” said Olissa with a sneering smile at their backs. A few yards later and Unt’s group was forgotten. Half a minute more and the two lovers were out of sight.

  “Bitch,” said Olissa.

  “You guys aren’t really going, are you?” asked Bulton.

  “Well you don’t have the booze to go round, do you?” said Olissa, “Come on, Mel.”

  She started to walk away before Mélie had a chance to get moving. Mélie looked down at Unt, looked up Gate Street’s empty cobbles and stood up. “Bye. Sorry,” she said and followed after her friend.

  Unt watched her go, trying to work out what had just happened.

  “Well, there’s a turn up for the books!” said Bulton. “Those bitches use us to cut in the food queue then up and run because we won’t give up the good stuff too?”

  Unt didn’t answer so Bulton carried on talking. “Good riddance to them. Tomorrow, I’m gonna get me a wife and she won’t nag me for a few drops of moonshine.”

  “It could be one of them,” said Unt quietly. He slumped forward, eyes on the wasted food at his feet.

  “They’d better hope not,” said Bull. He paused while he used a toothpick to rive at some dinner in his teeth. “Ah well, let’s go back to yours and get hammered.”

  Unt thought about it. The thought of sitting at home getting drunk with Bull didn’t excite him right now and he didn’t like the idea of risking a hangover in the morning. On the other hand, he didn’t feel like any more Promenading either. He tossed his dice in the place Mélie had cast hers. He took in the numbers. Yes, he would go home. Yes, he would get drunk.

  “Lead on,” he sighed at Bulton.

  3.
The Fall

  Sunshine and birdsong: these were the twin delights that Unt woke to most mornings and today was no exception. It was a cliché to be sure but it was a pleasant one to live in.

  That trilling noise came in through the open window, carried in on the cool breeze that caressed the muslin curtains of the room. The morning sun beamed brightly through the gauze, the regular holes allowing squares of light to form a pattern on the opposite wall.

  Unt looked around and took a personal inventory. He’d got to his bed, which was a good sign and his clothes were crumpled on the floor. So far so good.

  Most importantly, there was nothing that shouldn’t be there: he hadn’t thrown up anywhere he shouldn’t have: doubly good. He still had his underclothes on which was unusual but no cause for concern.

  Now for the big test: he lifted his head from the pillow. It didn’t hurt, He sat up: no nausea either. In fact, all he felt was a good, honest, pang of hunger. He gave himself an inward cheer in celebration. However the night had ended, he seemed to have escaped unharmed. A good thing too: he wouldn’t want to face a day this important with a hangover.

  He was tempted to stay lying there but the audible undercurrent of human voices told him that, whatever the time, it was late enough for him to be up and about. He threw off the duvet, swung his feet onto the polished wooden floor and enjoyed the coolness of its surface.

  With a measure of trepidation, he padded over to the door between his room and the main living area. How had the night ended? He couldn’t remember. He and Bull had finished the hipflask then Bull had raided his parents’ house for more booze. Unt couldn’t remember where their conversation had led or when Bull had left. He could still be there now for all Unt knew. It wouldn’t be the first time. He dreaded whatever carnage awaited round the corner.

  But for the second time of his short morning he got a pleasant surprise when he got his first view of the damage and saw it wasn’t too bad. The living area was dominated by a sunken recess where two leather couches faced off against each other over a dark wooden table. What mess there was was contained within that space.

  Four unmatched glasses and a single pair of plates covered the table together with the remains of two green candles. These had burned down to stubs and spilt their wax onto the battered veneer. None of the glasses were fully empty: one was nearly full and the bottles that had filled them took up the rest of the table’s surface. A battered red blanket was thrown across Unt’s favourite couch and opposite was a black sweater that Unt recognised as Bulton’s.

  That was it. That was the entire consequence of an ill-advised night of heavy drinking. Unt’s luck was with him this morning and what a morning to have it. He prayed it was an omen of things to come.

  He looked to his left and took in the giant walnut clock that hung above the fire and swallowed up the chimney breast. At four foot across, it was huge. Once, it had been a table but a friend of Unt’s parents had, for some reason, taken it upon himself to give it a clock mechanism, hands and numbers and given it to them as a present. Unt couldn’t remember the occasion but he remembered it being installed the month that they died. Unt found it ugly and out of place but he wouldn’t take it down. For one thing, it was the only clock he owned and it was a remarkably true one at that.

  Right now it was showing as ten before nine. The ceremony was scheduled to start anywhere from eleven and people would be gathering half an hour before that. That gave him one hour forty five to have breakfast, dress and get there.

  He began by making himself a cup of coffee: black, like he only had for his first cup of the day. He drank it while sat among last night’s debris, together with lukewarm porridge that he ate sweetened with honey. After that, he went to work.

  His wash room was a small closet to the right of the chimney breast. Its high window ran along the length of the outer wall but the room was at the rear of the house and the light it gave in the morning was feeble. A drop-down shutter could seal the window to keep the heat in but with the year warming up, Unt had taken to leaving it habitually open.

  The zinc tub was still filled with yesterday’s bathwater, the basin beside it likewise. The houses in this quarter had the older plumbing system - drains but no running water: the neighbourhood was waiting for the improved system but the schedule for development had yet to roll in their favour. Unt hadn’t the time or inclination to go outside to the pump so he just made do with what he had.

  The water smelled all right but felt grey on his skin. He was still too young to have much to shave but there was enough hair to need getting rid of. The cold water made the razor glide easier but without the heat he covered himself with lots of minor cuts. Congratulating himself on the wisdom of doing this first and so giving time for the bleeding to stop, he splashed water at the expanding dots of red until they finally relented.

  Afterwards, he drained both bowls, brushed his teeth with dry brush and powder, then went over to the bar of his kitchen and snatched a couple of mint leaves from the herb pots.

  He chewed the leaves as he dressed: black pants and black waistcoat over a white shirt. Parts of the black items were lined with crisscrossing red and white thread. Unt wasn’t sure of the term but he thought it was “piping”.

  He’d never paid much attention to clothes. His daywear almost always got dirty and much of it was khaki anyway. He had more clothes for evenings but all of them were casual. These clothes were the smartest he had but he was conscious that he’d worn them recently for other formal occasions.

  Other people took their clothes much more seriously. Most of Unt’s peers had been planning their outfits and would have made them with their families over the last few weeks. It was of the big family traditions connected to the Fall, one that brought people together and honed a person’s sewing skills – one of the basic abilities that everyone was expected to have.

  Unt had no family to come together with and he was happy with his sewing skills. They were utilitarian, not decorative and he didn’t need to show them off. Bulton’s mum had made these clothes for him a while ago and they were still a good fit.

  Job done, he was sitting on the veranda, enjoying his second cup of coffee and feeling odd in his formal clothes, when Bulton showed up. He was decked out in strange grey-blue trousers with silver buttons up the side and a black jacket with jagged orange stripes. The jacket was fastened with a sort of flap across the chest. This was another clothing design Unt was sure there was a term for but hadn’t the faintest idea what.

  Right now though, Bull’s fastening flap was wide open. It showed a red interior lining that flapped around like a dog’s tongue. His boots were only half-laced and his hair was sticking up in patches. Yellow fuzz still sprouted from his chin and he clung to the back of his head with one arm as though that was the only thing keeping it in place.

  “Morning,” Unt raised his coffee in salute.

  Bulton squinted up at him. Sweat glistened on his forehead. “Oh, don’t ‘morning’ me, he moaned, “I don’t know what you put in your food but it’s got it in for me.”

  “Nothing to do with what you drank last night then?” Unt laughed as Bulton tackled the steps like they were a mountain.

  “Nothing at all,” said Bull. “I could drink twice that and never feel it. It was whatever it was you served up.” He collapsed in the chair opposite Unt.

  “I can’t remember serving anything,” said Unt, “but if it’s anything like what I normally give you, that would be nothing. Anything you’ve eaten from my house, you’ve helped yourself to.”

  “Is that coffee?” Bull noticed Unt’s mug. “Make me a cup, won’t you?”

  Unt poured a cup from the standing pot as Bull continued moaning. “Even if you are so bad a host that a man’s forced to feed himself, he should be able to go in a cupboard without having to fear for his life.”

  Bull took the offered mug and slurped it down without thanks. “What are you doing here?” Unt threw back his own mug having noticed it was no
longer warm. “Did you forget something?”

  Bull waved a dismissive arm, downed the remainder of his mug and finally answered. “Nah, mum sent me: wants to know if you want to walk over with us. She was gonna ask last night but never saw you.”

  A tug of guilt pulled at Unt. He’d forgotten all about Bull’s parents. They’d kept their distance last night but they would surely have been hoping to see them a little bit. Under Bull’s casual attitude, he thought he saw that same guilt too.

  “That’s kind of her,” he said. “Tell her I’d be glad to.” And it was good of her. The Fall was the absolute end for the family unit and she’d chosen to include Unt in it. Maybe the gesture was expected but that didn’t stop it being kind.

  “Best leave it a bit,” Bull raised his palm as though Unt had been about to get up there and then. “I’m not exactly flavour of the month right now. Seems like I made a bit of a mess when I got in last night and mum’s cleaning it up. Dad’s noticed his drinks cupboard’s a bit bare too.”

  Unt shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, don’t worry,” said Bull, “You’re still the golden boy, as usual.”

  “Ok but we’ll have to head off in half an hour or so. You’ll have to finish getting ready too.”

  Bull grinned lazily. “Funny you should mention that. Got any shaving water?”

  “I threw it out,” said Unt, honestly.

  “Go and pull us some more,” Bull yawned and stretched.

  “Get it yourself.”

  “Never mind, I’ll go dry,” he said and wandered into the house.

  A few minutes later he re-emerged, face bloody like he’d been in a knife fight and sopping hair only slightly neater than when he’d turned up. At least his boots were now tied but his jacket still flapped open.

  They wandered over to Bulton’s house and entered through the back door that Unt had used so many times before. Jenna, Bulton’s youngest sister, was playing with a toy on the kitchen floor. All of five, she didn’t even look up as they entered. They skirted the big, square kitchen table into the family room. There, Bulton’s mum was arranging her hair in a mirror while her husband herded Bull’s other two sisters.