Dragon's Blood

Snapped?

The weeks rolled on and Sam was pleased when his persistence in inviting Bill to dinner finally paid off one evening, after Bill had helped Iyla carry her art project home from school.

As they lugged her rather oversized creation past the front of the shop to the side door that would lead up to the flat, they passed Mr Kalam tending to his hanging baskets. One of them was a definite lost cause, full of dead leaves and brown, curled up flowers with no hope of resurrection and Mr Kalam was teetering on a step ladder taking it down. Iyla and Bill put their bags and her project down for a moment to steady the steps for him.

"Thank you!" Mr Kalam smiled down and then, unhooking the hanging basket, stepped down to their level, "I think I finally need to accept this one is not coming back," he said ruefully, "but this one," he pointed to the flourishing basket hanging on the other side of the shop entrance, "Obviously your pruning skills were just what it needed," he said to Iyla and she looked confused. "You pulled some ivy out and it seems the other plants just needed that bit of room to flourish," he explained, "and the water probably helped too."

"Oh right, I only pulled a little stem off," Iyla remembered, "You must be developing some green fingered skills finally Mr Kalam."

"Hopefully!" he said cheerfully and then looked at the concoction of wire and papier mache that Bill was now picking up again as Iyla shouldered their school bags, "Do you need a hand with your ... erm ..." he waved vaguely at it, "With that?" he finally settled on, unsure what it actually was.

"It's not heavy," said Bill, "Just awkward." He gave Iyla a look and she smiled back.

"It's art." She said proudly, she was well aware she had not inherited her mothers artistic talents but she enjoyed doing it anyway so she didn't care.

"Oh." was all Mr Kalam could come up with, "Ok then, see you later!" and with that, he wandered round into the back yard to dispose of the contents of his dead hanging basket.

"What did you have to make something this big for Punkett?" Bill complained, wrestling it up the stairs to the flat "And what is it anyway?"

"It's an elephant, isn't that obvious?" Iyla said, holding the door open for him at the top of the stairs.

Bill set it down in the hallway and stood back from it with his head on one side, "Not your strongest subject is it, art?" he teased and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"It's an artistic representation of the persistence of memory actually," she said haughtily. Bill looked blankly back at her, "Elephants never forget do they?" Still blank, but accompanied with a slight shrug this time to indicate his complete and utter lack of understanding or interest.

Sam came out from the kitchen, "What on earth is that?" he asked, winking slyly at Bill. Iyla rolled her eyes, kicked her shoes off and went to the kitchen, "Do you want a drink Bill?" she called.

"Please," Bill answered to her surprise.

"Are you staying for dinner?" Sam asked, as he always did. He walked into the kitchen and Bill followed him without thinking. "It's just soup, nothing fancy but it'll fill you up."

Bill looked suddenly tense and wary, as if he'd forgotten himself for a moment and had only now realised where he was.

"You could take some home for your mum too if you like?" Iyla offered lightly, she really hoped things had continued to improve for Bill at home. He'd been attending the boxing club and really enjoying it, his skinny frame had even filled out a bit and he walked more upright these days. But the ashen complexion and dark circles round his eyes remained, as did the occasional bruise that he tried to hide.