Page 21 of Box of Frogs
I gazed at them all, confused. Although they came in all shapes and sizes, with different styles of clothing and a range of ages, there was something in all of their faces, some twist of pain, which was remarkably similar. I frowned. ‘Were they praying?’ I asked.
Morgan shot me a look from under his eyelashes. ‘AA.’
As I tried to make sense of this, a tall man with stooped shoulders shuffled out. He cupped his hands to light a cigarette and I felt a tug of nicotine longing. Then he glanced to his right and spotted us – or should I say he spotted Morgan. His expression lightened then he spotted me and he seemed to cower.
A few of the others clapped him on the back as they departed but he only had eyes for us.
Once most of the others had dispersed, Morgan called over to him. ‘It’s alright, Vandrake. She’s on a close rein.’
I stiffened. I didn’t feel I was in a position to say anything but, all the same, I managed a quick snipe at Morgan. ‘A tight rein? Does that mean you still want to ride me?’
It was Morgan’s turn to stiffen. Just his shoulders, not any other part of him. He kept the friendly smile directed at Vandrake; he was far more of an expert at dissembling than I was. And what was it about people with strange names?
‘Either we’re doing this, Madrona, or we’re not. It’s entirely your call,’ he murmured under his breath.
I raised my shoulders in an irritated shrug. Fine. Whatever.
Vandrake walked over, reluctance dogging every step. When he reached us, he made sure to side step so that Morgan’s large frame was blocking me.
‘What is she doing here, Morgan?’ He took a long, shaky drag on his cigarette.
‘Don’t worry about her. I won’t let her touch you. In fact, she won’t even talk to you. I promise.’
I opened my mouth to interrupt and tell him in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t prevent me from speaking but when Morgan’s head turned towards me and I saw the dangerous glint in his eyes, I changed my mind.
‘How did the meeting go?’ Morgan asked softly.
Obviously still disturbed by my presence, Vandrake wrinkled his nose and obfuscated. ‘S’okay. I’m not giving away any truths, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘The thought never even crossed my mind,’ Morgan said.
I wasn’t sure that Vandrake even heard him. ‘I’ve told them it’s cocaine. I thought about saying heroin but then I’d probably be expected to be on methadone for the withdrawal and I’m not sure I could pull off those conversations.’ He flicked ash onto the pavement. His hands were still trembling.
‘It’s alright,’ Morgan reiterated. ‘I know you wouldn’t give us away or allude to anything out of the ordinary.’ He reached out and squeezed Vandrake’s shoulder. ‘You’re doing really well. I’m not here to jeopardise that.’
He received a watery smile in return. ‘Thanks.’
‘How long have you been off the dust?’ Morgan enquired.
Vandrake threw another nervy look in my direction. As if burned by the action, his eyes hastily slid away again. ‘Eighty-two days.’
‘That’s amazing.’ Morgan sounded for all the world like he meant it. ‘Who was your original supplier?’
Vandrake swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His answer was barely audible. ‘She was.’
There was no question which ‘she’ he was referring to. I examined him more curiously. There was nothing to indicate he was lying. Not that it mattered. I already had it on good authority that this pixie-dust stuff was a good thing. It made everything better.
‘How did it make you feel? When you were taking it?’
Vandrake took one last swift drag, the end of the cigarette glowing before he dropped it under his toe and stubbed it out. ‘What’s all this about?’
‘Humour me,’ Morgan said. ‘I’m making a point.’ He jerked his head in my direction.
Vandrake’s mouth tightened but he still answered. ‘I felt like I was flying.’ He rubbed his shoulders. ‘That ache that’s always there? You know the one.’
Morgan nodded. I stared. What ache?
‘Well,’ Vandrake continued, ‘it vanished. The dust made me feel like it didn’t matter. That I could be happy here despite…’ His voice drifted off and his eyes glazed over momentarily. ‘Well, you know.’
