Read Online The Bottle Stopper by Angeline Trevena - Free Book Online
Authors: Angeline Trevena
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the sound of his name. The woman in the doorway was much older than the other girls. She was covered up, and could almost pass for a proper lady.
Harris moved closer, struggling to see her face in the approaching darkness. He frowned, searching through his memory for a name to attach to it.
“Bloody hell,” he said, “is that Niblet?”
She winced. “No one calls me that anymore. It's Madam Lemaire these days.” She gestured to the building behind her. “I'm a business woman now.”
“Very impressive,” said Harris.
Madam Lemaire picked at his habit. “No need to ask what became of you then. You were my best customer too. But maybe we can talk exclusivity deals, if you have some time. I can send all my finest girls to the monastery.”
“Actually, I was looking for Louis.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he's in. Want to wait for him? We could have that conversation.”
Harris sighed.
“Come on, for old times,” she urged.
“Alright. I'm pretty sure I got lice from the last one I was with.”
“All my girls are clean,” Madam Lemaire called over her shoulder as she led him inside.
By the time Lou was brought down to the bar, Harris was drunk, with a girl lounging on either side of him. He'd lost his habit somewhere along the way, left sitting in nothing but his long underwear. The girls stroked his chest, whispered in his ears, wrapped their toes around his ankles.
He pushed himself to his feet, and the girls tumbled from him.
“Lou, at last.” He clambered over tangled legs and pulled Lou into an unrequited embrace. “Get me out of here,” he whispered in Lou's ear. “God knows how big a debt I've already run up.”
“Where are your clothes?” Lou asked.
“Never mind them, just get me out of here.”
As they staggered out, they passed Madam Lemaire. “See you soon,” she said with a grin.
“You're a good businesswoman,” Harris mumbled.
“You're telling me,” replied Lou.
They wandered, stumbling together, along The Edge, the stinking river eager to swallow them if they fell. Lou tripped, and dropped Harris, his chin bouncing off the edge of the walkway. His inebriation dulled the pain, and Harris rolled onto his back, howling with laughter. Lou eased himself down to sit on an empty crate.
“That's going to hurt in the morning,” Lou said.
Harris looked up at him. “You're right about that.”
“So, how is it that Father Harris finds himself slumming it with the rest of us?”
Harris frowned. Somewhere in the fog of his brain, he remembered having a purpose. “I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
Harris twisted around, managing to sit up against the shack behind him. “I can't remember.” He laughed.
“It must have been important for you to come down here.”
“Yes!” Harris cried with a flash of inspiration. “The girl.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, I saw her. In fact, we bumped into each other.” Harris leaned his head back against the shack, trying to slow the spinning. “She looks just like her mother. I thought I was seeing a ghost.”
“Every day I have to look into that face,” Lou said. “It's like looking at my sister. Some days I'm sure there's something accusatory in her eyes, like she knows my part in it all. Every day, she's a reminder.”
“How is she?”
“Like a thorn in my side.”
“I was wondering if, maybe, sometime, I might come and see her.”
Lou snorted. “And tell her what? 'Hi, I'm your dad, and me and your uncle sold your mum to the administration. Then we spent the money on beer and hookers.' What a touching reunion that would be.”
“Maybe you're right.” Harris looked down at his socks, white in the moonlight. “Where are my clothes?”
18
Maeve unloaded the filled bottles onto the kitchen table. She had cleaned up the storage room, washed out the barrel, and paid a boy to fetch her more water. Uncle Lou had no idea she knew what he'd done. That was an advantage she was keen to keep hold of.
Glancing up the
Harris moved closer, struggling to see her face in the approaching darkness. He frowned, searching through his memory for a name to attach to it.
“Bloody hell,” he said, “is that Niblet?”
She winced. “No one calls me that anymore. It's Madam Lemaire these days.” She gestured to the building behind her. “I'm a business woman now.”
“Very impressive,” said Harris.
Madam Lemaire picked at his habit. “No need to ask what became of you then. You were my best customer too. But maybe we can talk exclusivity deals, if you have some time. I can send all my finest girls to the monastery.”
“Actually, I was looking for Louis.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he's in. Want to wait for him? We could have that conversation.”
Harris sighed.
“Come on, for old times,” she urged.
“Alright. I'm pretty sure I got lice from the last one I was with.”
“All my girls are clean,” Madam Lemaire called over her shoulder as she led him inside.
By the time Lou was brought down to the bar, Harris was drunk, with a girl lounging on either side of him. He'd lost his habit somewhere along the way, left sitting in nothing but his long underwear. The girls stroked his chest, whispered in his ears, wrapped their toes around his ankles.
He pushed himself to his feet, and the girls tumbled from him.
“Lou, at last.” He clambered over tangled legs and pulled Lou into an unrequited embrace. “Get me out of here,” he whispered in Lou's ear. “God knows how big a debt I've already run up.”
“Where are your clothes?” Lou asked.
“Never mind them, just get me out of here.”
As they staggered out, they passed Madam Lemaire. “See you soon,” she said with a grin.
“You're a good businesswoman,” Harris mumbled.
“You're telling me,” replied Lou.
They wandered, stumbling together, along The Edge, the stinking river eager to swallow them if they fell. Lou tripped, and dropped Harris, his chin bouncing off the edge of the walkway. His inebriation dulled the pain, and Harris rolled onto his back, howling with laughter. Lou eased himself down to sit on an empty crate.
“That's going to hurt in the morning,” Lou said.
Harris looked up at him. “You're right about that.”
“So, how is it that Father Harris finds himself slumming it with the rest of us?”
Harris frowned. Somewhere in the fog of his brain, he remembered having a purpose. “I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
Harris twisted around, managing to sit up against the shack behind him. “I can't remember.” He laughed.
“It must have been important for you to come down here.”
“Yes!” Harris cried with a flash of inspiration. “The girl.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, I saw her. In fact, we bumped into each other.” Harris leaned his head back against the shack, trying to slow the spinning. “She looks just like her mother. I thought I was seeing a ghost.”
“Every day I have to look into that face,” Lou said. “It's like looking at my sister. Some days I'm sure there's something accusatory in her eyes, like she knows my part in it all. Every day, she's a reminder.”
“How is she?”
“Like a thorn in my side.”
“I was wondering if, maybe, sometime, I might come and see her.”
Lou snorted. “And tell her what? 'Hi, I'm your dad, and me and your uncle sold your mum to the administration. Then we spent the money on beer and hookers.' What a touching reunion that would be.”
“Maybe you're right.” Harris looked down at his socks, white in the moonlight. “Where are my clothes?”
18
Maeve unloaded the filled bottles onto the kitchen table. She had cleaned up the storage room, washed out the barrel, and paid a boy to fetch her more water. Uncle Lou had no idea she knew what he'd done. That was an advantage she was keen to keep hold of.
Glancing up the
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