Lilith
I rested my forehead against Ruby’s flank and breathed in the comforting smell of horse sweat and damp earth. Finally I turned to face the man I had just verbally flayed. Part of me still wanted to kick him into the quarry, but his apology had cost him dear and I had known bigger men than Finn Strachan run rather than face out the worst excesses of my rage. ‘Well, at least you didn’t use your start to the day as an excuse.’
‘How…? Ah fuck, Henry.’ Finn subconsciously rubbed at the sticking plaster in the crook of his left arm and I could see the reddened skin around his wrists and biceps where he’d been held down. ‘That shite of a man will not keep his mouth shut.’‘I’m not the enemy here, Finn.’
‘I know. I know you’re not.’
‘Then do me a bloody huge favour. Don’t fight me. Please.’
Finn looked at me in surprise. ‘Is that it?’
‘Is what ‘it’?’
‘You – the bollocking – I mean, that’s all?’
‘Do you want some more?’
He gave a sheepish smile. ‘Hell, no. It’s just that, well, let’s just say I’m used to slightly more far-reaching repercussions for my fuck-ups.’
‘I can imagine. No, as far as I’m concerned, that’s it done with. And it goes no further,’ I added, and watched naked relief appear in Finn’s eyes. He gave a nod and bent to inspect Ruby’s leg. The mare let him run practiced hands over her fetlock and pastern.
‘If you’re up to it, we could ride back down the stream,’ he suggested. ‘That should cool her down.’
‘Sounds a little more enjoyable than the outbound journey.’ I tightened my girth and remounted. ‘Mind you, she’s got a fair turn of speed on her, I’ll say that much.’ This time Ruby merely gave a snort of mild disapproval.
‘Yeah. Blaine’s always had an eye for good stock.’ Finn lithely pulled himself into the saddle.
*****
We used the meandering little stream as our path back to the lake, letting the horses pick their way down the pebbled bed at their own pace. I had a lot more time to take notice of my surroundings now, and for a while we rode alongside the towering granite wall that marked the far reaches of the Albermarle estate. Up close it looked more like a prison barricade than a boundary. ‘What happened when you tried to escape?’ I asked.
‘When. Not if. Do you ever get it wrong?’ Finn swung his left leg over his horse’s back so that he sat in a relaxed side-saddle, and cupped a cigarette in his hands to light it. He rode with insouciant ease and I knew he would have been one of those boys who kept a horse tethered on whatever piece of verge they could find on the big Dublin estates. Finally he asked, ‘What do you think?’
I gave it some thought. ‘It won’t have been pretty. If Blaine’s prepared to hurt an autistic ten-year old just to get me to slap a bit of paint onto a canvas, I don’t want to imagine what she’s got hanging over you. But I reckon that wouldn’t have stopped you in the early days.’
Amused, he narrowed his eyes against the haze of smoke. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘Serial escapologist. You might not be able to manage it physically any more, but you do it chemically whenever you can.’
‘You sure you’re not fucking psychic?’
‘Nope. Just extremely observant, and a reluctant expert on self-medication. So. What happened?’
‘About six months into my tenure I was in town with Henry and decided to do a runner. Thought I had nothing to lose, maybe even that Blaine was bluffing about the crap she could rain down. Then she called the police. The Chief Constable has an appointment with her every couple of months, so within an hour of me hitting shore, they had a fucking helicopter up; dogs, the lot.’ He paused to draw on his smoke. ‘They were told they were lookin’ for some filthy Irish bastard that’d just touched up a four year-old on holiday with her mammy and daddy.’
‘Nice.’
‘Oh yeah. Still, took ‘em six hours to find me,’ Finn smiled, a trace of pride still evident. ‘I’d spent years in Dublin hoofin’ it away from the gardai after we’d nicked a motor.’
‘And when they got you?’
‘As I remember,’ he began to count off on his fingers, ‘Two broken ribs, concussion, a cracked cheek bone and eye socket, and a kickin’ to my kidneys that had me pissing blood for the best part of a month.’
‘Is that all?’
‘There’d have been more, but about an hour into the party the desk sergeant got a call from Blaine saying it had all been a dreadful mistake, so they hosed me down, said sorry and drove me home.’ Finn flicked his cigarette butt into the stream where it sank with a quiet hiss. ‘So as you so beautifully put it, I use the chemical method these days.’
‘Do you mind me asking what?’
Finn grinned. ‘I’m surprised you can’t guess,’ he challenged.
‘Do you want me to guess?’
He chewed at his lip for a moment. ‘Ah, why not.’
‘Right then. You’ve already said you were a smackhead, but I can’t imagine for a moment that Blaine would tolerate that. From the state of your eyes that night in the chamber of horrors I’d say there was some transference onto some heavy-duty tranquilliser and you’re not comatose all the time, which suggests something conveniently short-term.’
Finn gave me a respectful nod. ‘So, your guess, Ms Bresson?’
‘Temazepam.’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Fuckin’ hell, you’re good, woman.’
I smiled. ‘I know.’
‘You seem pretty clued-up – ‘transference’ and all that lingo.’
‘My mother’s bedside drawer used to look like a pharmacist’s warehouse. Everything from lithium to beta blockers, either taken in one handful or spat across the room as the work of the devil, depending on which day of the week it was. Temazepam was one of her particular favourites. Nasty stuff – even the withdrawal can kill you.’
‘You’re tellin’ me. It was just meant to take the edge off my smack-rattle, at first.’ Finn picked away at a fragment of peeling leather on his reins. ‘But take enough of the fuckers and nothing else seems to matter, y’know? Problem is, before you know it you can’t stop even if you want to. Mind you, Blaine’s happy enough ‘cos it keeps me docile. It’s also a little easier to get hold of legally than heroin in darkest Northumbria.’
‘Ah. I was wondering about that.’
‘Lady Albermarle’s tame doctor,’ Finn explained as we left the stream and took up the tree-lined track that would lead us back to the stables. ‘Ingrid Parnell. She faced being struck off for fiddling prescriptions a couple of years ago. Blaine pulled one of her strings to keep it out of the courts, so now she owns her soul.’ He thumbed the crook of his arm. ‘And the stupid cow takes blood samples like a fucking butcher.’