CHAPTER 15

I barely made it a street away from Ma's house when I heard the pounding footsteps behind me. My fingers tensed into a fist. This late at night, only drunks and thieves roamed. Wearing the clothes of a gentleman didn't mean I would act like one if being robbed. As I turned a corner, I stole a glance over my shoulder.

"James?" I came to a stop

He hurried towards me, his face red and his chest heaving. Had he watched me leave Ma's?

"John!" he panted, skidding to a halt in front of me. "Where the hell have you been?"

I frowned. "I got a job offer that I couldn't say no to. Why?"

James circled around me and flicked at the sleeve of the jacket. "A job as what? Heard rumours saying you still have your job at the mill, yet you haven't turned out. Haven't been at the picket. You going off saying nothing and leaving your ma home alone." James scowled, his brows drawing together.

I bristled at the accusation in his tone. "Ma wasn't alone. Your sister was staying with her, or did you forget I arranged that?"

James waved a dismissive hand. "Millie's not up to that. Shame on you for putting that on her. She might be gone before year's end and you being selfish. But that's not the point. The point is, you disappeared without a word, right in the middle of the strike!"

"The strike doesn't pay and the other job did," I said.

James' eyes narrowed. "Other work? Or other masters?"

I blinked. "What are you on about?"

He stepped closer, his face inches from mine. I could smell the sour tang of beer on his breath. "You know damn well what I'm on about. You disappear right when things are coming to a head, and then the strike falls apart like a house of cards? It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together."

My fists clenched at my sides. "If you've got something to say, James, spit it out."

"Fine." His lip curled in a sneer. "I think you've been spying for the mill owners. Feeding them information, helping them break the strike. That's the only explanation for why you'd up and leave like that."

Red tinged the edges of my vision. I'd known James a long time, counted him as a friend even, but in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to knock his teeth down his throat.

"You're drunk," I said instead, my voice low and cold. "And you don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" James laughed, a harsh, humourless sound. "Then why don't you enlighten me, Johnny boy? What was so important that you had to abandon your own people?"

"My people," I spat, "are my ma and myself. I don't owe you or anyone else an explanation for how I live my life."

James' face twisted into an ugly mask of rage. "You're a traitor, John. A filthy, stinking traitor. You think we don't know you've been sneaking about with old Lady Catherine's heir? Now I see exactly what you had to gain and when the others hear about this—"

He never got a chance to finish. With a crack, my fist collided with his jaw. Stumbling backwards, James tripped over his feet. He went down hard, sprawling in the dirt beside the footpath. I stood over him, my chest heaving, my knuckles throbbing from the impact.

"You listen to me," I snarled, standing over him. "You can think what you like about me, but you keep your mouth shut because if I hear you've been spreading lies, I'll do a lot worse than blacken your eye."

"Millie hits harder than that," he said as he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve.

James lunged, catching me around the waist, sending us both to the ground. I heard the clatter of metal as I lost my grip on the tool before my clothes tumbled to the ground. I flinched from the pain as his fist connected with my eye, struggling to push him off.

"I don't want to fight with you." I tried to kick him off, but James flipped us over and crashed against one of the iron fences. With a hand free, I gave him a jab to the ribs, and he grunted in pain but managed to grab my wrists.

"You don't want to fight with me? Don't want to fight for our living, either?"

I tried again to kick at him but he got me on my back. Straddling me, he rained down blows on my face and chest. I could taste blood in my mouth, feel it running hot and thick from my nose.

"Stop James!"

A cat hissed. It hurried around us, diverting James' attention. I landed a punch on his cheek and he rolled to the ground, clutching his face. My head was spinning, my vision blurry.

Reaching out my hand found the bricks of the wall. I pulled myself to my feet just as James started to do the same.

"Leave it be. One day, I'll be able to tell you, but not tonight. It's not my tale, and you need to sober up."

He turned as he found his feet, holding himself steady by clutching the iron fence.

"You're not my mother."

He came at me again, his fists flying. I ducked and weaved. Bryson would send us home if we were in too poor a state. Meddling church folk saying we should rest over work had cost old Larry Peterson his job last summer. And Stephen Lucas lost his job when he turned up with two black eyes and a broken nose just before winter. Behind me, glass shattered. I turned to look just as knuckles crashed against my cheekbone. Pain raced across my face, and I staggered backwards and stumbled to the ground.

"See, not so tough. Weak like all the other cowards who didn't turn out to strike. It cost us. We got nothing but tails between our legs begging to keep our job."

James loomed over me; blood streaked across his face and clothes. He swayed back and forth as he squared up. I surged to my feet, my fist landing a blow to his throat. His eyes bulged as he stumbled backwards, clutching at his neck, gasping for breath. I drove my knee into his gut. He doubled over, retching, and I followed up with a swift uppercut to his chin. His head snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground.

For a moment, I stood over him, my chest heaving, my fists clenched. Blood dripped from my nose and I couldn't see out of my right eye.

"You fool. Why James? Why'd you do it?" I grumbled. He didn't reply. I moved over to him and crouched down. His mother would have my hide if I'd gone and killed her boy. "James. James, comes on. Your ma's probably waiting for you."

He groaned. His eyelids fluttered open. James stared at me before pushing himself up to sit. He just sat there, glaring for a moment, before scrambling to his feet. He wiped away the trail of blood from his mouth with the back of his sleeves before spitting a tooth onto the footpath.

"This isn't over," he hissed. "You'll get what's coming to you, John. Mark my words."

And with that, James turned and stumbled off in the direction of his house. I leaned against the brick column, trying to get my breathing under control. When he was out of sight, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to rid the past few minutes from my mind.

"The envelope." My eyes opened again. I tapped at the pocket in my pants, relieved to find it still there. "Better get moving before an angry cat decides to finish what James started."

I picked up the scattered clothes and found the bar on the wrong side of the fence closest. As I turned to walk, something stirred in the shadows of the tree across the road. A hunched figure shuffled towards me. The crazy woman. Why tonight?

She caught my gaze and grinned, revealing a mouthful of blackened stumps. "Swallows in cages will die," she said. "Mark my words, boy. Swallows in cages will die."

I felt a chill run down my spine. Those were the same words she'd said to me the other night, and they made no sense to me.

She cackled, a sound like dry twigs snapping. "You can't escape it, boy. The truth will out, one way or another. And when it does…" She drew a gnarled finger across her throat, her eyes glinting.

"Whose truth?"

"The truth that's hid. The one that's buried. Cages. Cages hold. Cages control. A swallow in a cage will die," she paused. "Swallows should be free."

"What swallow?"

"Swallow? Bird. Flutter-flutter. Fly away. Locked away. If swallow dies, then the cage wins. If the cage is broken the swallow wins."

I took a step back, my heart pounding. I wanted to ask her what she meant, but my tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth. The old woman laughed again, then turned and shambled off, disappearing back into the darkness as quickly as she'd come.

I stood there for a long moment, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. It was just more crazy talk; I told myself. The ramblings of a woman who'd lost her wits along with her teeth. It didn't mean anything.

Even as I set off towards the manor, I couldn't quite convince myself. By the time I reached the field near Frogmere, the moon shone high in the sky, casting everything in a pale, ghostly light. I slipped across the makeshift bridge, past the maze. My gaze wandered over the windows for any sign of movement, but all was dark and still.