Broken City

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

It is later and my father has sent everyone to bed in preparation for his forthcoming chat with Tom, surprisingly my father asks me to stay and make a drink for them. Having arranged the tray I bring it to the small table beside the sofa so that my father can pour it out when Tom arrives.

“Three cups, Deeta,” my Father smiles. “I think you’re going to be a necessary factor in this conversation.”

I fetch another mug from the sideboard wondering what he could mean, and place it on the tray.

“What’s wrong, Deet?”

He reaches for my hand, finally having noticed my reluctance.

A loud and impatient rap on the door that signals Tom’s arrival interrupts my reply and almost without realizing I’ve moved, I find myself opening the door. Tom’s face leaves me in no doubt that he had expected me to be in bed and as he enters the room I see a frown settling on his features.

“I’m sorry sir but I thought I specified that it was you that I wished to talk to.”

The stinging meaning of his words are not lost on me and I almost spill the drink I’m pouring in my haste to put it down.

“I asked Deeta to stay, is that going to be a problem?”

My Father seems a little bemused, and Tom realizing he has been brusque shakes his head.

“I don’t suppose it makes the slightest difference,” concedes Tom but I can tell that he wishes me elsewhere. “I’ve come to talk to you sir because it is necessary for us to start looking for a new home, a new compound.”

Whatever my Father had been expecting, this wasn’t it—for a second this statement takes him by surprise.

“I had thought that there might be a need for that, I wasn’t sure—but obviously you think it’s unavoidable?”

“Yes sir, completely unavoidable. The Andak will come back for me and whether they find me or not they will never believe that the tribe isn’t protecting me. They already know that they can breach our security and they won’t think twice about it, believe me when I tell you that you don’t want the trouble they’ll bring.”

“We don’t have time to find a place do we?” my Father’s face is grey and drawn.

“No, sir,” Tom shakes his head. “Our best course is to go to another tribe for help, one with whom we enjoy peaceful relations.”

“The Marshall’s.”

It is a flat statement not a question.

“I would welcome another suggestion, sir,” answers Tom.

He is seated on the sofa leaning forwards, his elbows resting on his legs and his face deadpan calm. “They will expect compensation for their help.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” answers my Father dryly.

“Unfortunately we have little choice, sir.”

“That doesn’t make the idea any more palatable, what do you suggest we do?”

“That you send me, Jamie and Nella to the Marshall council while the rest of the tribe strips this place. The Marshall’s will make their terms and whatever they are we will have to accept them, whatever happens by tomorrow night we must have left this building.”

“We haven’t even spoken to the other elders yet!”

“Yes sir, I was hoping that you would be ready.”