Drake turned abruptly, his cane slicing through the air and across Abel’s stomach. The impact left Abel gasping for breath. Drake grabbed his shirt and pulled him close so he could look into his contorted face.
‘Utter another word against my mother,’ warned Drake, ‘and I will be sorely tempted to give you the beating of your life.’
Drake let the warning hang in the air between them before pushing him away in disgust. He turned to leave, but Abel’s angry cry rang out before he had taken a step. Suddenly, his breath was knocked out of him as Abel’s body crashed into his. Drake stumbled, but did not fall. Abel quickly lunged again, grabbing at Drake’s cane to use as a hold. For a briefest of moments both men held it, knuckle touching knuckle, panting breath mixing between them. It was Drake who broke the standoff, by twisting the cane in Abel’s grasp and pulling it painfully upwards. The wrench strained at Abel’s taught muscles until he was finally forced to let the cane go. He kicked at Drake’s injured leg in retaliation. Drake’s leg buckled as a sharp pain shot through his already damaged knee. He grabbed at Abel and both men fell sprawling to the ground.
Neither let go of the other, both twisting and rolling as they tried to aim and parry opportunistic punches. Finally, Drake managed to straddle Abel. A brief respite followed as they stared at one another, until Drake lifted his fist and punched Abel in the face.
Drake pushed himself up using Abel’s prostrate body and straightened. He could taste blood. He dabbed his lips with the back of his hand, but found no wound. He explored the inside of his cheek with his tongue and winced when he found where he had bitten himself. He turned away and looked about for his cane. He found it, broken in two and no use to anyone. As he looked about for something else to use, Abel began to stir. He slowly stood up and had fully recovered when Drake finally noticed him. They stared at each other, both bloody and aware there was still unfinished business between them. Silently, they lifted their fists and were ready to spar again.
The first punch came from Abel and landed on Drake’s jaw. Drake’s head jerked painfully to the side, but he immediatelystraightened and followed it with a punch of his own. Abel paused, spat out some blood and readied his fists for more.
The two men snorted and sidestepped around each other, on guard for the next opportunity to attack. Abel grunted with the effort of his next punch, but Drake saw it coming and parried with a backward step. Abel’s fist fell short. Drake took advantage and aimed a punch of his own. The fight continued for several minutes. Two men, heads bowed and chests heaving, their bodies covered in a slick sheen of sweat, spending their anger at the injustice of life that had brought them to where they were now. The fight was finally brought to an end by a minor mishap of nobody’s making. Abel caught his foot on the curb of a grave and fell backwards, hitting his head on the gravestone as he fell. He lay as if dead, his head in the shadow of a gravestone, his body framed by the shape of the grave he had landed on. The bang to his head was no more than a glancing blow, but Drake still waited to see his chest rise and fall. Satisfied he was still alive, he turned to leave.
The breeze that had kept him company all morning, suddenly stilled. The cemetery grew darker and the temperature fell, causing his flesh to prickle as it rebelled against the chill. He looked up at the thunderous sky and saw grey rods of rain hurtling down towards him. The heavy droplets bombarded him, stinging his face and forcing him to look down. He turned up his collar and limped towards the graveyard gate. The torrential downpour roared in his ears. It was unforgiving, soaking everything without respite or a hint of when it may end. Drake hesitated and glanced back at Abel. His arm was moving, but he had yet to get up. Drake swore to himself and retraced his steps.
Abel groaned as Drake prodded his body with the tip of his boot and opened his eyes as Drake pulled him to standing. At first he was confused at what was happening, but the rain soonsobered him and together they made their way to the porch of the church. By the end of their journey, they could not be sure who was supporting who. A wooden bench, no more than the length of a man, lined each wall of the porch. On one of the seats was a blanket and a rolled up bag, on the other an empty wooden crate. Wet, tired and in need of a rest, both men sat on opposite sides, closed their eyes and leant their heads back against the wall to listen to the rain marking a rapid drumbeat on the slate roof above.
‘Want a drink?’
Drake opened his eyes to see Abel with a bottle in his hand. He shook his head. His mouth tasted sour with blood, but he had no stomach for alcohol today.
‘It is only water from the spring up yonder,’ pressed Abel. ‘I’m trying to stay off the drink.’ He removed the cork and wiped the neck of the bottle with his sleeve and offered it again. Again Drake declined it.
Abel drank a mouthful and rested the bottle on his knee. ‘You should have left me lying there,’ he said, twisting the cork into the neck of the bottle.
‘I had a mind to roll you down an embankment,’ replied Drake evenly.
Abel stopped twisting the cork and set the bottle aside. ‘How did you know it was me?’
‘Your laugh is distinctive.’
‘How?’
‘It grates on my nerves,’ replied Drake evenly.
Their eyes met in challenge, but rather than see an enemy, they saw a wet, dishevelled man looking back at them, just like them.
Abel smiled. ‘It grates on mine too.’ He rested his head back against the wall again. ‘You could have left me. No one would have known it was you who left me to catch pneumonia.’
‘You would have used your last breath to tell someone.’
‘My word is not worth listening to.’
Drake did not ask why. He had the feeling Abel would tell him anyway. It turned out he was right.
‘I lost my job at Carrack. Timmins said I was “unreliable”.’ Abel kicked at a stone on the floor. ‘I worked there since I was twelve and that was how he repaid me.’
‘Were you unreliable?’
‘Only a couple of times. I had too many drinks and did not wake up in time for work. I don’t drink now. The Crown and Rose have banned me.’
‘Rose and Crown.’
‘I can never remember which way round it is.’
Drake shook his head and tried not to smile. He watched Abel tentatively move his jaw, before leaning forward and appearing to chew on something. He spat an object into his palm and showed Drake.
‘That is the third tooth you’ve knocked out now.’
