Woodlington

Chapter 23 - Secrets

Alex bounced off him.

He grabbed her before she could stumble over Jessie's body, and held her tightly.

"Woah there, take it easy."

Hatred flared within her. How dare this man - he, who'd tricked her mother, who'd killed innocent families, who'd hurt Jessie - how dare he talk to her as if they were friends?

She wrenched her arm free and launched into a fresh attack, her fists flailing against his torso.

Catching her wrists, Whiskey pushed her back onto one of the seats.

"Calm down. Look, let me help Jessie, and then we can talk."

Suddenly, the fight went out of her; he was too strong. She'd wait till Jessie was okay, then try again, two on one.

She looked down at her friend.

Impossibly, she was grinning.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked as Whiskey pulled her up.

"What?"

Alex could only stare in astonishment.

"You came to rescue me, didn't you?"

She eased herself into the opposite seat.

"Of course she did," smiled Whiskey. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

At his words, Alex half rose, hands clenching.

"Relax Alex," said Jessie, gently massaging her forehead (where a large lump was starting to appear).

"He's not our enemy. We got it wrong. Big time."

Alex blinked in confusion. Obviously, Whiskey'd clobbered her, and she wasn't thinking straight.

"What's he done to you?" she demanded, eyes fixed on the growing lump.

"This?"

Jessie raised a hand to her head.

"This was you, not him."

She chuckled.

"I'm surprised you didn't kill me, barging in like that."

Alex gaped.

"You mean..."

She turned to Whiskey, who was looking at her strangely.

"It wasn't you?"

"Of course not."

He moved between them, leaned through the caravan door, looked around, then closed it firmly.

"Jessie's the last person I'd hurt."

Alex glanced at her friend, who simply nodded.

"He's telling the truth Alex."

"But –"

"Whiskey isn't Harold!"

She turned to him.

"Tell her."

Whiskey suddenly looked uncomfortable.

He reached up and ran a hand through his ragged beard, thinking.

"Okay," he nodded. "Okay."

Sinking into a squat, he rested against a cupboard.

"Let me tell you a story Alex."

"Just say what you've got to say."

The words were almost a snarl.

"Bear with me, please."