Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [18]
“Yes, and they send their kisses.”
“I’ll go and say ‘goodnight’ to them anyway.”
“Freddie, they should be asleep by now.”
He had already started up the stairs. “Well it won’t hurt them to wake up to see their father.”
“I’ll have your sherry ready when you come down.”
“No, I think I’d prefer a whisky.”
He could feel her surprise, for he seldom drank spirits, keeping them mainly for guests. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that what he wanted wasn’t really a whisky. It was a bath. He felt unclean.
Chapter 4
Bytes knocked back a mouthful of gin from a mug and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. The light from the Bunsen burner cast a flickering glow over his sweaty face.
“Are you sure you got it right?” he demanded.
Tony sighed. They had been over this so many times and Bytes couldn’t take it in because he didn’t want to.
“I told you Bytes—” A cuff from the back of a hairy hand knocked him flying before he could say more.
“Mr. Bytes to you.”
Tony picked himself up from where he had fallen against the cellar wall and went to sit exactly where he had been before. He and Bytes were in the “desert” alcove that had been set up for the Elephant Man, cooking breakfast over the hot brick. Bytes had taken the little stool for himself, leaving Tony to sit on the floor. The Elephant Man was nowhere to be seen, but snuffling sounds from the darkness enveloping the main body of the cellar announced that he too was partaking of his daily nourishment.
Bytes examined a sausage he was attempting to cook. “Tell me again,” he ordered. “And try and get it right.”
“I took ’im—” Tony cocked his head toward the darkness. “—in the cab, to get the shillin’ from that doctor feller. Only this time he gave me two shillin’s and said it was ’cos ’e’d be sendin’ ’im back later than usual. I said when did ’e want ’im next, and ’e said ’e didn’t know, but it wouldn’t be for a bit.”
“That’s the first time he hadn’t asked for him back,” said Bytes grimly. “You know what that means?”
“No more shillin’s,” Tony confirmed at once. “Not unless you can find somethin’ else just as good.”
“Where am I going to find anything else like that?” Bytes demanded bitterly. “This last two weeks he’s been like a gold mine—shillings every other day. And now, suddenly, just like that—finish. Don’t send him anymore, thank you very much, Mr. Bytes. I’ll let you know when I have further use for you.” Bytes’ voice had become a winning caricature of cultured speech. “This year, next year, sometime—bloody never! And who cares if I starve? That creature doesn’t. Listen to him.” He cocked a head toward the slurping noises coming out of the darkness. “Eating. Never stops. He’ll eat me into my grave.”
“Not on potatoes and water,” said Tony cheekily.
“Hold your lip. Potatoes and water is all he needs. He stays alive on it, doesn’t he? What more do you want?” He studied the sausage and decided it needed a little more doing. “Listen to him?” he said again. “Why can’t he eat without making that noise?”
“ ’E can’t close ’is mouth,” said Tony.
The gusty animal sounds became noticeably worse, indicating that the Elephant Man was now trying to drink. Bytes threw him a venomous look that contained all his disappointment over the sudden loss of business. When the slurping came again his temper snapped. Snatching up his riding crop he jabbed it in the rough direction of the noise and poked about till he found his target.
“Belt up, you misbegotten garbage.” His voice sank to a self-pitying mumble. “How can I eat with that?”
He took a mouthful of gin and mockingly slurped it in imitation of the Elephant Man.
“How can I eat with that?”
He went back to the sausage, which now seemed to be done to his satisfaction. When Bytes’ whole attention was given over to eating, the Elephant Man tried another drink. But fear constricted his throat and he began to spit and cough the water out onto the floor, gasping and wheezing for breath. Instantly Bytes was on his feet, smashing him across the shoulders with his riding