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Davy leaned against Martin. The snoring had started in the early hours when Martin woke after cigarette-deprived nightmares. The screaming crazies demanding nicotine had eased but sleeping was still difficult. Now the rhythmic passage of air past Davy’s slightly collapsed airways was the regular reminder that Martin was not asleep.
Martin looked over at Shona, the early morning daylight was just enough to see her. She seemed peaceful as she lay with her head on her hands. She’d have a stiff neck when she woke. She wasn’t pretty; she was rough around the edges but seemed smart. Martin was used to being with attractive people, like Caitlin. Had they found her? He had no way of knowing. A heaviness centred on his chest. He hoped she wasn’t alone and scared, wherever she was.
But maybe today he’d hear that Lloyd had contacted his father and the money was on its way. His father would find a way to get it despite the banks closing, and thugs ransacking their house, and—
Davy woke himself up with a pig-snorting snore.
“What? What d’you say?”
“Nothing.” Martin glanced over at Shona. The snore-of-the-century had woken her too.
Davy dozed off again.
“Hi,” Martin whispered.
“Hi, yoursel’.”
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Aye, until blubber-boy snored.”
“He’s been snoring from the wee hours.”
“We’re in Fife, aren’t we?”
“Aye, that’s what I thought.” He kept his voice soft and pointed to the front of the house. “Coast is that way.”
“I used to come here to ma grannie’s house for summer holidays. I got a feeling we’re near Kirkcaldy.”
“Aye, I think you’re right.”
“What do ye do, like, apart from being a rich brat? Mind you, ye dinnae seem like a rich brat. You’re smart, aren’t ye? Ye sound like it from the way ye speak. And you have a look on yer face like your mind is always working.”
“That’s because it is.”
The door flung open. “If you’re awake, ye can work.”
“What?” Davy snorted awake.
“Out, all o’ ye.” Dour-faced Declan stared down at them. “Ye have a fence to build.”
“What about the house wall?” Martin asked.
“Well, as ye so rightly pointed out, physicist, it requires the expertise of a stonemason. And well, they’re not too happy about coming out this way at present. So, it’s fence building for you all today.”
Martin stood and stretched; the others followed as he walked behind Declan to the front of the house. The edge of the world glowed orange as clouds over the Firth pinked and touched the water with magenta. The air was crisp and the fragrance of cow not too overpowering. Or was he getting used to it?
Martin turned and took in the view. Birds chattered in the far trees. There was no traffic on the road near the farms to the south. A solid object thudded against his spine. Martin spun.
“Shovels today.” Declan thrust the handle of the implement into Martin’s hand and gave one each to Shona and Davy. Declan walked ahead to where a long piece of string was tied to stakes along the front of the house. He paced certain intervals and, with a spray can, marked the ground with orange paint.
“Dig.”
They went to an orange spot each and began. During the next hour, they each got a turn at going to the bathroom to respond to nature’s call, under supervision. Shona came back stony-faced with young guy trailing behind her. Then Declan allowed them a break and they went inside for a breakfast of cereal.
The day wore on and a light drizzle became rain as the sky greyed over with the clouds and the rain the sunrise had promised. Shona’s top was wet. Martin stopped his digging and removed his jacket and handed it to her.
“Nae thanks. I would nae mind a real designer label, but it stinks.” Droplets fell from the strands of hair hanging over her forehead. “I’d rather stay wet than be mingin’ of your B.O.”
“Please yourself.”
“Why a fence? We couldn’t run with these minders.”
Martin flicked a glance at Declan and young guy. “They’re in for the long haul. Lloyd is building an empire on the back of disaster, so he thinks.”
Shona frowned and kept digging.
They dug a decent hole each and pounded posts in with a post-driver. The rain became heavier in the afternoon, the surrounding air thick with moisture and the view now a green and white monochrome. The patter against water-soaked ground was a constant background noise. Declan ensured the posts were aligned and perpendicular. Then Martin and the others went in, their worksite now a quagmire.
“I need a shower.” Shona stood in front of Declan, her face streaked with dirt and her clothes mud-stained. “With some privacy. No perverts observing this time, okay?”
Declan’s eyes narrowed. “Verra well.”
“Ah, may I have one also?” Davy asked.
“Aye.” Declan squeaked his voice and waggled his head. “Ye may have one also.” He turned to Martin. “I suppose you want one too, rich boy? Although, I should nae be calling you that anymore, as Daddy’s not come up with the goods yet.”
Martin’s feet stuck to the floor as ice ran down his spine already cold from his damp clothing.
“You haven’t got him?”
“Oh aye, we’ve got him. Just no’ got any money from him.” Declan pouted. “Maybe you’re not worth as much to him as ye thought.”
Shona gasped.
“He’s just finding the money in difficult circumstances.” Martin blinked.
“Better have not got the police involved,” Declan growled.
“Police are too busy,” Davy piped up. “More important things to bother about. Like the world falling apart.”
“Anyway, slaves, if ye want your showers, get going to the bathroom.” Declan pointed down the hallway.
Young guy followed them.
“What’s that young guy’s name?” Shona whispered over her shoulder as Martin walked behind her.
“Don’t know.”
“Don’t leave me alone with him. Please.”
“Okay.” He stretched the word out. “You mean, you want me to shower with you?”
“No,” she exclaimed over her shoulder. “Just be around if he decides to be there.”
Martin showered and put back on his damp, dirty clothes and stood near the doorway while Davy and Shona took their turn in the shower. Young guy hung around the open bathroom door.
“Clean clothes would have been nice.” Martin stepped in front of their minder when he leaned into the bathroom.
He scowled as Martin blocked his view. “It is nae a hotel, slave.”
Young guy escorted them back to the kitchen. Food preparation for dinner had not yet begun. Martin’s stomach grumbled.
“Are we getting to eat tonight?” Davy asked Declan when he ushered them into the pantry.
“Aye.” Shona pointed at the open boxes. “You’ve enough to make a nice pasta here.”
“What have ye been doing?” Declan yelled.
Silence filled the pantry.
“Have you been into the stores?”
“I, well, just had a wee look.” Shona remained by the boxes.
“They are nae yours to look at!” Declan bellowed.
He stepped into the pantry and grabbed Shona’s arm. Her eyes widened.
“It was all of us,” Martin said.
“No, it was just me.” Shona dagger-eyed Martin.
“Come here.” Declan dragged her out of the pantry and down the passageway to the library. Young guy sniggered and slammed the door in Martin’s face.
“Shit!” Davy said.
“Shit, alright. Didn’t I tell you two to leave their stuff alone?” Martin’s heart raced.
Davy squatted against the wall, chewing his nails.
Martin clicked his fingers against his thigh. “If they question us, we were all in it, okay?”
“Why?”
“It’ll make it harder for them to punish us.”
“Why?”
“If they hurt all their slaves, they won’t get any work done, will they?”
Faint yelling drifted down the hallway. Then a yelp. Then Martin heard footsteps coming back into the kitchen. The pantry door flew open. Declan had returned Shona to the kitchen where she stood with her back to them. Declan stormed into the pantry, grabbed jars of spaghetti sauce, paused at the open box of cheese strips, cursed at the obviously used and empty packaging, and stormed out, leaving the door open.
Shona placed a large pot on the stove and tipped water from a jug into it.
“You’re cooking for twelve tonight.” Declan threw packets of mince onto the table next to the jars of sauce.
“Aye.” Shona didn’t look at Declan while she turned and got a frying pan down from the hanging rack and placed it on the stove. Her face was blotched red, a darkening developing on her right cheek.
“Have you bastards hit her?” Martin couldn’t keep it in.
“Shut it, or you’ll be next. And we don’t pull our punches, as you well ken!”
“It’s okay, Martin.” Shona’s voice was thin. “I’m cooking us some dinner.”
“You shut it and cook,” Declan shouted at Shona as he stormed to the pantry door and slammed it in Martin’s face.