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Ferry into Barrenlands Part 2

I walked out of her office, hands deep in my pockets, feeling drained and, a tad molested.

I'd been right, Felicia had known me well, she had known how to play me and, she had.

The 'Pool had used me again.

And, as I left the building, her building, St Brides; I sat on the steps, elbows on my knees.

It'd gotten cloudy as we'd spoken.

It seemed to fit my mood.

Then, needless to say, a light rain began to fall.

Rising, I sigh and walked slowly back into town, where I sought a cafe and a coffee, black as needed.

Only a few hours long, the day had been too long. And, now I felt weary.

I had her agreement to provide the antivirus The Wirral needed.

Yet, to obtain it I'd had to promise away our neutrality to The 'Pool and, in truth I didn't like that.

A backpack carried some food for the day and extra clothing if needed; and at the bottom, three vials of the much-needed antivirus.

Then, having found my cafe, I'd sat and very slowly drank my coffee, aware that there was still another journey to be had, to go home. I was tired, very tired.

I'd not wanted to make the journey to The 'Pool in the first place, yet, here I was.

Here I was, drinking bitter black coffee, from a chipped mug, sighing as I watched the passers-by, passing by. Although people were grittier in The 'Pool, they were as real as the people in The Wirral.

It was just that there normal is the same as we know... 'we', The Wirral, where I've acted as their representative, thought our new dark times.

I held onto my mug with clenched hands, watched those who passed by me, manage to avoid my gaze.

It was known, already.

I was seen as hers. Yet still she had her favour to ask in return and boy-was it a doozey. Open the tunnel, again. I couldn't imagine the faces on the heads of The Council.

But,' I almost smirked, 'you got what you wanted sunshine, now pay for it!”

'I was tired, sticky and, it was only three in the afternoon. In essence, a very long day, in a few short hours and, I felt every minute, of every hour.

I continued to drink my coffee, raising my head a little to stare at the passers-by.

At least it wasn't synth-caff, gawd I hated that shit. Coffee... sheesh.

I continued to drink, my real coffee, knowing it would end soon, regretting that.
I didn't drink the real thing, too often, but do like to do so when I can.

Economics, what else can I say...

And the rain that had stopped, started again and, I continued to sit there and drink the remainder of my coffee, well aware I could not stop stitting here any longer. I had to move, motivate myself. 'Now,' I told myself and, the rain continued to fall.

The people continued to walk passed and, I set my chipped-mug down, then sighed.

Wet as I was, I still didn't want to move, my mind whirling.

I was a blob in a seat, suppodsedly understanding glances being thrown my way.

I sigh.

I sigh again, 'never wanted this I mutter,' finally standing.

And, the rain continues to fall, as I sink my hands deep in my coats pockets and, I began to walk to the river-front, my head bowed, hair falling in my eyes.

People were still looking at me, as those walking toward me parted, like the proverbial parting of the Red Sea.

I was at the end of James Street and, I could see the river-front ahead of me.

Ahead was The Wirral and home.

It was grey and wet; I wanted to be home, before my fire.


“Mister!” I heard a female voice call me, through the rain, getting heavier by yhr minute.

Stopping, I wipe the fringe out of my eyes and turn my head.

It's the colourful kid, 'rainbow?' or what that just hoe I'd thought of her.

“Where you goin mister?” Sh asks brightly, suddenly finding my right hand in her left.

I stop and sigh, “Back home to bed?”

Beaming she asks, “Can I come too?”

My pulse races, but I do have decorum.

“All my mates say I'm good, really good,” she says, as the rain falls.

Then, she leans forward a little, to add compiratorial fashion, “Even the guy's...”

Sod decorum.

“How old are you Rainbow?” I ask quietly.

“The foster home said I was sisteen, when they through me out,” she tells me without her usual smile and, I can't help but picture her thrown out of two havy doors, to lan on her butt, all alone.

“Got anywhere else to go tonight?” I ask.

“No,” she admits, toes dancing together, her grip on my hand tight.

'Geez', I muse, as if Francine was bad enough, now I'm a sucker for a teen girl, albeit a very cute one.

“Can I come to yours?” She asks, holding my right hand with her left, as the rains falls upon us.

“My friends say I'm good,” she tells me, “even the guy's,” she adds, then giggles.

I glance to my right and the teen, wary but still I find myself answering, “Yeah, why not?”

Her hand squeezes as the walk continues, my paces long, her skipping at his side.

We walk toward The Ferryman, who smiles to me, holding a wide black umbrella over his head.

“You made it just in time fella,” he bellows over the sound of the falling rain, “with the weather as it is, I was gonna close up early...”

I return his smile, “Glad you're still here fellow. I want my fire, I want my bed.”

“I hear you, I hear you fella,” he calls out to me, as Rainbow and I board the ferry.

Thankfully, he doesn't play that damn track...

Slowly we're drawn across by line, until we disembarked at Woodchurch.

His brother had taken my tip, “for good service” I'd told him, with a grin.

We went up the gangplank and got to the roadway, where Rainbow looked to me and asked of me, “Where next?”

Her hand was holding mine, again. I didn't mind.

“The station,” I told her simply.

Bug-eyed, Rainbow looked at me, mouth loose.

“Are you talkin 'bout train?” She asked, querulously.

“Trains, plural,” I added with a smile, “there's two of 'em. Might three in a year, or so.”

Again with the loose mouth.

“That's why Ms Francine...” Rainbow said to me, slowly.

“Ah, Francine,” I sigh, “let's get to the station,” I add, seeking distraction.

Francine.

No-one expected me to pay The Ferryman, as her man. I had, twice, just for the point of it.

We walked across the Square, then down Argylle Street, toward Central Station, where Rainbow and I had boarded a train destined to be the second to last of the night. I'll blame to weather and, 'rain on the tracks.'

Or, something like that...

The look on the teens face as the steam train chugged onto Chester. She was wide-eyed, entranced by the experience and, I'll concede I liked it.

When the Guard had called round to our carriage with his Ticket Machine, Rainbow watched, mouth agape once more, as I paid for our journies.

We'd left the train at Bromborough, run from the train to the covered steps, still hand in hand.

At the exit, the teen asked me, “Where now, mister?”

Inwardly, I growled, “It's Aaron, Aaron Lancaster, remember you held the sign.”

Remonstrated, Rainbow looked to me, “Sorry... Mister Lancaster.”

Considering all we'd spoken off I add, “It's Aaron.”

I squeeze her hand, gently and turn to look at her.

“Alright my young friend?” I say to her.

She nods silently.

It's still raining, as we start to walk, to my home, fire and bed.

There is silence between us, with many words unsaid.

But, it seems like there's a night ahead of us and, time to talk. Perhaps.

And, I we take a left into my road, I do like it that this attractive woman is holding my hand, still. Although now she has another reason to do so, it seems. Because she says to me, “It's dead posh round here innit?”

“Nah,” I assure her, as we cross the road, to the small bungalow where I live, “people are people, good and bad, weherever you go. There's good people in The 'Pool an, there's good people here.”

I smile as I usher her inside and turn the light on.

Again with the loose-mouth.

“You have 'lectricity,” she says with amazement.

“And a shower if you want one Rainbow? Or a bath?” I suggest.

Again, eyes widen.

“You mean it mist... erm, Aaron?”

“Yeah-huh and, I'll heat you up some stew, once I'm out of my own wet clothes...”

Then I show her to the bathroom and call out, “I'll get you a robe.”

I have two, both white and fluffy and know it will dwarf her. But, what the hell.

With decorum, I carefully pass the robe through the partially opened bathroom-door, with a grin on my face, at the insanity of the moment.

“Thank you,” she responds, in a very quiet voice, as the steam leaves the room.

She's chosen to opt for a bath I note, hearing it fill.

“No problem,” I tell her, then leave for my own room, dry robe and soon, dry feet.

Then once ready, I make my way through to the kitchen, to reheat the stew.

Although we do have electricity, it's not a lot, so I use the hob, for most of my cooking.

I did have a microwave, once.

But useful as it had been, give me gas anyday...

And then, there she stands, at the kitchen door.

Rainbow is bare-legged, bare-foot, head down, hair wet, holding my massive white fluffy robe around her small frame.

She looks up to me, with sloe-eyes, looking way smaller than she had the first time I met her.

“You don't mind, do you?” She asks, as I ladle stew into bowls, for us both.

“Mind? Mind what?” I ask sitting down and gesturing for her to sit opposite me.

“Me bein here...” She says simply, her voice very quiet, child-like and, not self-assured.

Setting my spoon down, I grin.
“You said you'd be good, didn't you?”

She nods, silently.

“Then eat your stew, before bed...” I snap.

It's obvious she feels hurt, but then she begins to eat.

Inwardly, I grin.

I'm male, but no shit.

Reaching over with my right hand, I lightly touch her free hand.

“I have two bedrooms Rainbow, you can sleep wherever you want to. Hell, if you don't want a bed, I have a darn cood sofa, in the front room...”

Again with the mouth agape...

“If you want the bed in the guest-room, it's at the end of the second hallway. And yes, my room next door. But, that not a worry to you. Light?” I assure the teen, to her obvious delight.

Then quiet resumes and we continue to eat, with a light beer to enjoy with the meal.

Finally, I sit back before my roaring fire, warming my feet, as I'd wanted for much of the day.

I reach beneath my armchair and dig out the old laptop.

“Do you want to watch a film?” I ask Rainbow, who stands very near me, making an effort to keep the robe together.

“A film?” She queries and, I sigh.

A long night, in more way's than one.

“Sit down honey,” I say, gesturing to the rug in front of the fire.

She does as asked, sitting with her knees crossed, her arms rapt round them, hair still wet.

“Okay,” I say to myself, “where to start?”

As it transpires, I'd stared with a couple of black and white short films, starring Larel and Hardy.

She had liked Stan Laurel, with her eyes lighting up with delight, as he lit his pipe with flame from his thumb.

Then I'd move onto a colour film, the Jason Statham film, 'Death Race.' Well, by the time her hair had dried, I'd sussed out my little Rainbow liked action movies. So, as a late-night treat, I dug out a smoke, a whiskey and, a copy of 'Alien.'

I even turned the lights off, grinning as I did so.

We'd shared my smoke and whiskey, as she watched the film with me, intently.

I still think its one of the best films ever made and, was tickled that the scene with the creature bursting out of John Hurt's chest got to her, as it had got to me, the first time I'd seen it.

Finally, the film ended and, I had to stumble a little to find the light-switch.

“I liked her,” she extolled, meaning the character Ripley, a strong women in a harsh world.

Then suddenly she looks up to me and asks, “Do you like me?”

I rub at her hair.

“You wouldn't be here,” I tell her, “if I didn't like you.”

I add.

“Now, I'm gonna get the maiden an hang up our clothes, before the fire. Alright?” I say to her.

She nods, looking around, obviously feeling unsure of herself.

After a few seconds of silence Rainbow asks quietly, “I can have a room of my own?”

“Uh-huh,” I answer, hanging up the clothes, before the fire, still not knowing what to say.

I felt content, before bed, which is what I'd needed.

“Now go Rainbow,” he chided, “bedtime.”

“I have my own room?” She quizzes me eyebrow raised.

“Uh-huh,” I tell her with sigh, the guest-room at the end of the corridor.”
Then, for some inexplicable reason I add, “It's yours while you want it.”

Still don't know why I did that: but, I'm learning.

A gulp and a sniffle and a, “Are you sure?” Then she makes her way to 'her' room, while I return to stoking the fire for the night.
I undress hurriedly and get beneath my duvet. I read by torch awhile. A Saint novel, by a fellow called Leslie Charteris.
I like it, but this night it doesn't do anything for me and, I'd been so pleased to find it. Now...

I turn off the torch and try to relax.

I face my left and the window, but the rain is distraction itself.

Lying on my back is no better, the rain on the pane is annoying me now.

Finally I turn to my right side, facing my wardrobe and the bedrooms door to its right.

The rain falls, wind is gathering.

So maybe I was right, a storms on the way; we're a penisular, storms are rare, but they happen.

Suddenly, thunder... I count.

“One, two, three...” and abruptly, lightning illuminates the night sky.

Seconds pass, then thunder strikes again and, again I count.

“The storm is almost directly overhead now,” I tell myself.

The suddenly, there is a creak, as my bedroom door and, Rainbows head appears around the door.

“Mister Lancaster...” she stammers shyly.

“Aaron,” I remind her groggily, my eyes still closed.

“Aaron...” she utters in a quiet voice, “I'm not good at lightning and thunder, at all.”

I open my eyes and sit up a little, looking to the wide-eyed teen.

Patting the side of his bed, Aaron I tell her, “C'mere.”

Rainbow had made bedtime promises and, now here she was. Inwardly I grinned.

She closes the door, after entering my room, looking small, very small and frightened.

'She'd been telling the truth,' I think with a light smile.

I edge toward the window a little and the pats at the space he has made in his bed, for her.

“C'mon them,” I tell her, managing to smile gently.

In answer, Rainbow pads across the room and enters my bed, cuddling up to me, as the storm raged outside...