“It’s part of the role.To think ahead.”
And he is thinking ahead.The next few weeks.Could we really be stuck out here for that long?We’re nine days into this, and it still feels like a small holiday.But when will it stop feeling like that?What then?
We reach the main road that runs through the small town of Hellion Vale.It’s a sleepy town, with a handful of shops all set around a square that’s been made into a car park, which we pull up in.The shops look quaint, like this place has been frozen in time for the past fifty years.I wouldn’t be surprised if the shop owners are wearing aprons and sporting handlebar moustaches.
As we exit the Jeep, Fenrir checks the surroundings like a watchful owl, his head swivelling in all directions.It must be exhausting to be on this level of alert all the time, especially coupled with the fact that he isn’t getting much sleep.
Heading for the general store, Fenrir guides me, using his hand to steer the base of my back.I’m a little lost again, as this is something one of my book boyfriends would do and I’d completely lose my shit over.
We appear to be the only people in the store.I grab a trolley, and we start to load it with the essentials: candles, firelighters, powdered milk, eggs, bread.
Fenrir doesn’t seem to notice—or if he does, he turns a blind eye—when I chuck in a couple of magazines and a few bars of chocolate.
By the time we reach the checkout, the trolley is piled high.
The man behind the counter looks relieved for something to do, but also a little intimidated by Fenrir as he clocks his size and his scars.But then his attention goes to me, and he scans our things a little slower.
I feel Fenrir tense behind me, his focus gone from loading the conveyor belt to whatever reason this guy is staring at me.
“Hey, are you guys up at Belial House?”
I read his nametag: Kevin, General Manager.I worry for Kevin with his receding hairline, kind face, and tortoiseshell glasses.He’s probably just making conversation or trying to be nice or enjoying a break from the monotony of having spoken to no one all morning, but Fenrir has already slipped his hand inside his coat.
When neither of us answers, Kevin barrels on, and I only hope he isn’t digging his own grave.
“I only ask because I’m the guy who brought all the supplies up a couple of weeks ago when Mr Devall called and said he wanted the house stocked up.You can imagine my surprise.”His thick eyebrows rise above the rim of his glasses.“I haven’t been called to stock Belial House in, God, it must be over twenty years.I wasn’t the general manager then.My dad was still in charge, but he retired some time ago when things started to get a bit much for him.So, it’s just me now and my husband, Al, but he’s at the wholesaler’s right now.”
I don’t know what to say.I’m hoping Fenrir takes the lead.This guy sounds genuine.Willa said the house had been stocked, but she never referred to Kevin.
I’m about to say something when Kevin speaks.
“I’m sorry for asking, and forgive me if I’m wrong, but you must be Junko’s daughter.”
My mother’s name has my ears pricking up.How does he know her?
He continues to scan items.Fenrir keeps his hand in his jacket.But I can’t stay quiet any longer.
“How do you know that?”
“You’re the spitting image of her.You have her cheekbones.Is she not with you?”He glances outside as if expecting to see my mum loitering outside the shop, but the street remains empty.
“You know my mother?”
“Of course.I delivered their food the only time they came up to stay at the house.”
“When was this?”I’m slowly packing things in the trolley, focused entirely on what this man is saying.
“Like I said, ’bout twenty years ago or so.I was the delivery boy back then, working for my dad in between studying.She and Mr Devall had just got married.They came up here for a few weeks, and I’d bring their supplies up as needed.Junko was so lovely.She always welcomed me in, and she’d make me this Japanese tea, which was the best tea I’d ever had.And we’d chat about things.I always got the impression she didn’t like the house, though.Think she felt a bit lonely up there.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, why else would she invite the delivery boy in for tea and cake?”He stops for a second.“She’s okay, isn’t she?”
I want to say,“Define okay.”She’s breathing, yes.She’s walking and talking, yes.But my mother is far from okay, and the scary thing is, I can’t remember a time when shewasokay.But here is Kevin, telling me there was another version of my mother, a chatty version who invited him in for cake and tea.
“She’s fine,” I lie.
“Tell her I said hi.”Kevin looks at the till.“That’ll be one hundred and eighteen pounds, please.Cash or card?”
