Page 44 of All My Broken Dreams

Maybe he was an idiot. Maybe his affection for his uncle clouded his judgment but Deacon couldn’t see how Robbie could be cheated out of what was rightfully hers. She wasn’t dependent on Alastair for the roof over her head and there were Stewart family solicitors to reckon with in any scheme he might have.

She would have a seat at the table at the next meeting of Fuil Bratach and Deacon would be relegated to the kitchen to await orders.

There was one bright spot–the hope that he could be useful to her one day. He would wait upon Robbie with pleasure.

So he was going to bury these feelings, he told himself.Bury them deep.So deep that there was no chance they would surface when he was around her. He’d pull a double blind. Fake disinterest with Robbie when in reality, he’d be faking his disinterest with Fuil Bratach.

He pulled on his work coveralls over his clothes and got the mop and bucket from the janitor’s closet, mechanically filling it with hot soapy water at the sink.

It was Monday. Monday, the floor in the main entranceway got a wash and wax. Students streamed past him as he worked, jumping out of the way of the wet and dirty mop with barely a glance at the young man who was not one of them.

Deacon found her sitting in Harry’s flat with the lights off. He only knew she was there by the dull glow against the curtain when he returned home from the Hall. She had turned on the gas fire and was sitting on the floor in front of it, staring into the flames.

“I knocked but there was no answer. I brought you some groceries and a takeaway from the cafe. You must be hungry.”

She looked up when he entered like she’d seen a ghost. “How did you get in?”

“You left the door unlocked. I saw the light from the fire.” He unpacked the groceries and put their dinner on the hotplate to warm up. “I see you got home okay this morning. What happened? Did you have a panic attack?”

Deacon snapped on a lamp on a side table and reached down a couple of bowls from the cupboard. He was grubby from a long day of manual labor and needed a shower, but he wouldn’t leave her alone in this state.

“Someone is watching me,” she whispered. “They’ve been in this room. Harry’s mug is missing. I put the fire on because I was cold but I couldn’t risk putting on the lights. There’s nothing to eat here. I boiled some water for tea.”

“For God’s sake, Robbie. You have to take care of yourself. I can’t be worrying about you on top of everything else.”

She peered at her, puzzled. “On top of what else?”

“Nothing,” he said irritably. “Did you see who was watching you?”

“No, I only sensed it, and then the mug was gone. I think I’m being followed. What did that man want this morning? The Black.”

Deacon stirred the container of beef stew with a fork to warm it through. “He wanted to know how you were coping with the news about him being Harry’s dad. He asked what your plans were; if you were going to leave Scotland. And he told me to stay away from you.”

“He told you what?”

“He said you were not for me. Warned me not to get attached.”

Robbie turned back to the fire. Deacon carried their bowls of stew and a couple of rolls to the fire and sat down on the floor with her.

“Dig in.”

“You smell like floor wax,” she said, taking her bowl.

“Sorry. I should go upstairs and change.”

“No, I like it.”

They ate in silence, watching the fire.

After a moment, Robbie asked: “Why does he want you to stay away from me? What’s it to him who you spend time with?”

“I’m his nephew. He’s looking out for me.”

“And he thinks I’m bad for you?”

“He thinks you’re going to reject me as soon as someone from your own class comes along and I’m going to get hurt. You’re Harry Listowel’s sister. Big things are going to open up for you. I’m the janitor. I mop floors and unclog toilets.”

She leaned back against the sofa, balancing the bowl in her lap.

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