A Kingdom of Our Own

Chapter Twenty One - Labour

Skandar hadn’t been exaggerating the point when he’d said it was going to be an “early rise” the following day.

It was still pitch black outside when he walked into Dalton’s room with a lamp held in his right hand and rubbed his Godson’s shoulder tightly with his left hand to rouse him.

“It’s five thirty. Wakey, wakey, we’re not at a summer camp you know!” he called out, rather enthusiastically given the time. The only time that Dalton was ever pleased to get up early was on the last day of term, signifying the beginning of a fortnight’s worth of rest and fun.

Dalton’s eyes flickered open slowly and he exerted a weak moan, feeling utterly sorry for himself. He found himself waking in a strange bed, lying on top of a soft mattress, all the sheets kicked onto the floor. The only light that he could see was the intense glow of the lamp that Skandar held above his head and he shielded his eyes from it by raising his right arm weakly.

“Can’t you turn that thing down?” He groaned, still half asleep.

“No, we haven’t got any electronics here. No dimmer switches, nothing,” Skandar chuckled. “You’ve got ten minutes and then I’m coming in with a bucket of iced water.”

He heard the creaking of floorboards, followed by the door closing with a soft “thud”. Then he was alone again. A moment later he slung his legs over the side of the bed and it squeaked in protest as he sat on the edge of it. He remembered Harry being taken away by some girl and driving here in Skandar’s Pontiac. Things quickly cleared up in his head.

He walked over to the door where his sneakers lay strewn on the carpet and he quickly slipped them on. Then he opened the door with a click and stepped out.

The hallway was still, and a fair bit cooler than his room was. He eased to the stairway and trampled down them, not wanted to get a bucket of ice thrown over his head. Skandar was a man of his word and he knew full well that he always carried out his threats. If you didn’t, your name wouldn’t have any credibility, and to Skandar his infamous reputation meant a great deal.

There was a low glow of light visible from under the kitchen door and he realised that this was where Skandar must be. He took a series of steady paces towards the light, not wanting to knock into anything and turned the knob on the door.

Skandar was sat down in the far corner of the kitchen, sipping on a mug of coffee. He looked up as Dalton entered and waved him over warmly.

“Ah, Dalton my lad! Take a seat.”

He did as he was told, sitting down on a chair on the opposite side of the table, facing his Godfather. Skandar had fixed toast and cereal for him. Dalton started to nibble on one slice of toast, but quickly gave in and put it down. No matter how much he needed the food, he couldn’t work up the appetite for it. He just sat there, staring at the half-eaten piece of toast, but not attempting to eat any more of it. Skandar watched over him with great concern as he did so.

He thought about when Dalton had arrived the night before, drenched in sweat and near scared to death. The man was tall with shaven hair and had a tattoo of a snake on his one arm. He had listened in horror as this small, shivering child described the knife attack and how he believed it was his fault that Harry had been stabbed. Who knew what that boy was going through right now? It was a frightening event to hear about, but it had happened to someone else. He was not directly involved. The knife had not been pointed at him. So how could be possibly know what the right thing was to say?

He poured another cup of coffee from the kettle by the sink and returned to the table, still trying to unscramble the past ten hours of his life. Barney, his pet sheepdog, lay curled up on the chair next to him. The first light of dawn was beginning to filter in through the curtains. He held the warm mug with both hands and took tiny sips from it, waiting for the liquid inside to cool down. He sniffed and thought about how much he despised Blake and what he would do to him should they ever cross paths with one and other.