Ring. Sister. Piano (Book 4 of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Five: A Lot to Think About

Contrary to Ellini's expectations, the meeting of Robin and Elliott did not bring about the end of the universe. There wasn't even a thunderclap. Technically, they were strangers, but they seemed to recognize each other on some cosmic, storybook level, because their faces froze in instant dislike. She supposed Robin saw Prince Charming and Elliott saw the wolf. And how could she explain that she didn't want to end up in the belly of one or the palace of the other? 

Names were immaterial, but she introduced them anyway. They did not shake hands.

Robin gave him a wide, unfriendly smile. "Oh, the piano boy. Cushy job, is it, sitting down all day, playing concertos?"

Elliott, who probably hadn't understood the meaning of the word 'cushy', just said, "How do you do?"

"Well, we have to be going," said Ellini, bright and crackling with unease.

For a moment, neither man was sure which 'we' she meant. But then Robin turned to leave, in the expectation that she would follow, and Elliott's face fell. He drew her velvet choker out of his pocket, as if he was thinking of looping it round her like a lasso and dragging her back.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again," said Ellini hastily. "I don't have any plans to leave Northaven in the next few days, and it – it would be lovely to hear you play again."

She didn't dare look at either of their faces. It was all she could do to leave the parlour without running. She hurried through the door and into the town square, where the new-breed dancers were just warming up for the night. Even with all the music, she could hear the sound of Robin's cool, unhurried footsteps at her heels. It was reassuring, but only because it meant he wasn't following Elliott.

Ellini hurried through the throng. Once or twice, she got caught up in the dance and whirled about, but it didn't matter. It complemented her dizziness and her churning stomach perfectly.

The new-breeds were in high spirits. One of them – a big bear of a man, with hair creping out from under his collar – tried to kiss her, but Robin pushed him back, with a flash of those dazzling, even teeth.

When they reached the quieter streets, he started talking. "Let me be the first to congratulate you, Ellie. A pianist's wife in a provincial town. What a homely, wholesome life you'll have to look forward to. You could bake pies and teach Sunday school."

Ellini kept walking, and he kept following her. He seemed determined to probe this image of wedded bliss to the very bottom, however much it angered him.

"You could be a pillar of the community," he said, running his tongue over his perfect teeth. "You could found a philanthropic society and pass round the collection plate every Sunday. You could auction off your needlework and host charity dinners at Christmas."

Ellini didn't respond. He was trying to be cruel, certainly, but she wasn't sure why it was cruel. Was he taunting her with a life of cosy domesticity that she could never have, or a life of cosy domesticity that she was supposed to consider beneath her? And how did she feel about cosy domesticity, in the end?

"You could join a mission to convert the Indians, and make them wear neckties and petticoats."

This, for some reason, was the last straw. She rounded on him. "What are you doing? Why are you saying this? I'm obviously not going to inflict my company on that poor man. Good God, can you imagine-?" She stopped, unwilling to show him too much of her worries, but her brain supplied the rest – it had been running along these lines all the time Elliott had been describing Franconia.

Can you imagine the kind of evils I'd bring to that peaceful town? The fights? The murders? The broken homes? The mountains wouldn't be green for long – they'd turn charcoal black. They would burn. And I couldn't be true to him – I couldn't even be true to him during that conversation. My mind kept straying towards Jack, wondering if he was dead, wondering if he was coming after us.