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Alfie cursed as he carved a path through knee high snow. It clumped onto his trousers and froze quickly onto the soaking fabric, numbing his already chilled bones. ‘It’s north of here. North, over a creek and near a hill.’ The pikey had said. ‘Over a creek and near a hill.’
A creek, in Alfie’s loosest of definitions, was no wider than a sidewalk and should be easily crossable, jumpable even. The word itself, conjured up thoughts of harmless slow-moving water or foamy channels that babbled pleasantly when in view and disappeared from memory once out of sight.
What Alfie had come across, and subsequently fallen into, had not been a creek. It had been a river. A fucking river. It was at least as thick as two roads side by side, and deep as a fucking trench.
Had the pikey said, ‘You’ll need to cross a river, it’s not frozen over, despite the fuckin’ frost, and you’ll likely fall in.’ Alfie would’ve nodded and thanked him for saving him the trouble.
Had he said, ‘It’s about an hour walk in the snow.’ Alfie would’ve said his piece in the cafe.
Had the fucker mentioned, ‘The sun falls fucking quick mate and it’s going to get dark early. We’re not taking a road, or even a path, and there aren’t any street lights here like there in London, you won’t be able to get back on your own.’ Alfie would’ve fucking handled it then and there.
What he said instead, and in a distinctly cool tone, which Alfie supposed was fair given the circumstances, was- ‘It’s north of here. North, over a creek and near a hill.’
Blistering wind tore over head, cutting through naked trees as it knocked into Alfie.
“I’m going to fucking die out here, aren’t I?” Alfie shouted as he tucked his icy coat tighter around himself. He grimaced and tried to flex his frozen fingers. “I’m going to die Tommy--”
“Piss off Alfie.” Tommy shouted back. He almost hadn’t heard him over the wind. “It’s just up ahead.”
“Just up ahead!” Alfie repeated and stomped hard as he trudged through the snow. “You’ve been saying ‘Just up ahead,’ for an hour. I’m fucking soaked through!”
Tommy didn’t answer, seeming to choose instead to focus on keeping Charlie in his arms as he trailed through Alfie’s tracks. The wind died down again, letting Alfie focus on something that wasn’t his soaked and frozen feet, or the aching cold in his bones. He frowned as he glanced around, trying to spot anything that looked like a summer cottage, but tall pines and bare trees were the only company they had in the dark forest.
The last dredges of watery gray light had dripped over the horizon, plunging them into darkness. If Tommy disappeared, Alfie would be left to his death. He’d tried to leave deep enough tracks in case he needed to retrace his steps, but the wind was too strong and it blew over them, masking them quickly.
“Horse!” Charlie shrieked, his high voice piercing through the quiet woods.
Alfie whirled around, his nerves on edge in the darkness. He struggled to spot Tommy, but found him after a second. Snow coated his thick black trousers and dusted up his sleeves, almost camouflaging him into the woods. If it weren’t for Charlie’s bright yellow hat, he doubted he’d have noticed Tommy at all.
“It’s there.” Tommy shivered and hefted Charlie higher in his arms. “By the hill.”
Alfie twisted back around, peering through the twilight and felt his shoulders sink. When Ada gave him the name of the nearby town, he had assumed he’d been heading to a cottage. Some small homey place that she had bought to relax in, and get away from her brothers.
Instead he saw the dim shape of a horse and wagon.
There was no smoke coming out of the little caravan, although Alfie doubted Tommy would’ve left a fire going, unattended as it was.
Crunching past him, Tommy covered the last few paces quickly. He patted the horse’s nose once and whispered to it before tilting Charlie to one side and fumbling in his pockets. Finally he threw the door open, kicked off his snowy boots and waved Alfie in.
“How quickly can you heat these things mate?” Alfie asked, crouching through the doorway. They were out of the wind, but that didn’t make him any less cold.
Tommy stepped through the dark home, leaving Charlie on a pile of blankets as he worked. Alfie heard the scratch of a match lighting, and soon enough a small lantern was lit, dull and barely bright enough to see with, but warm. Reaching forward, Alfie instinctively cupped his hands around it’s faint heat.
“Give me a minute,” Tommy started, grabbing the light from him as he stepped lithely through the thin space. “It takes a bit of time.”
“Well hopefully not more than a minute, alright? Cause I’m not sure how many of those I have left at this rate.”
Tommy hummed indifferently as he worked.
The wind whistled outside, brushing up against the wooden siding and creeping through the cracks.
“A’fie!” Charlie called, reaching his chubby hands up and jumpstarting Alfie’s heart. He’d half forgotten the toddlers presence in the low light.
“Give us a moment Charlie, covered in snow, aren’t I?” Alfie said as he began pulling off his outer layers. He probably should’ve dusted his things off outside, he was making a mess. “I’ll hold you in a-”
Tommy flinched and threw a sharp glare over his shoulder.
Alfie’s voice died off.
He’d only come to apologize. To apologize about the priest and to apologize for putting Charlie in danger. He really hadn’t known about it. He’d hoped to find Tommy in some shit hole hotel in Birmingham, toddler in tow, and to talk and be done with it. Instead he found himself halfway to Scotland in knee deep in snow.
It’d been a shock find Tommy at all. Charlie had been pointing out sweets and toys at passing shops, before looking around and pointing out Alfie.
He’d gotten one look at the uncut hair and purple, sleepless rings around Tommy’s eyes and asked him to coffee.
Why hadn’t Ada warned him about the wagon? He wished she’d said something. Maybe she thought a weekend away would be romantic? She probably wanted them to get back together after this, but then, she hadn’t seen Tommy’s face during their last meeting.
‘They’re using my boy!’ Tommy’s grief torn voice rang in his ears.
He supposed he deserved the hour long walk.
A warm glow lit the wagon and hot air streamed from the small iron heater, quickly filling the room. Tommy lit a few extra lanterns and began pulling Charlie’s heavy wool coat off.
Alfie took a moment to glance at the room, noting worn cabinets and faded paint. He’d never been in the wagon, and Tommy had never offered to show him, but he’d always been curious about it. He used to tease Tommy, asking him if it had a round or square top, if it had bundles of dried flowers and herbs inside. If he carved pegs and trapped rabbits.
Tommy had never answered him, but Alfie felt the sting of his questioning now.
It had a round top, and was just tall enough that Alfie could stand comfortably, but someone like his nephew Goliath, would feel too big for. Little bundles of mint and flowers hung from hooks, and soft looking socks had been clipped to painted pegs.
“Tommy,” Alfie asked, wrinkling his nose as he flexed his fingers and toes. His damp trousers clung uncomfortably to him, reminding him unnecessarily of his dip in the river. “You don’t have anything I can fit into, do you? I don’t fancy going naked.”
Tommy paused, his eyes darting over Alfie’s miserable form.
“Probably,” He climbed to his feet and stepped past Alfie, opening a cabinet and pulling some towels out. “Stand on this while I get Charlie settled.”
“Yeah,” Alfie hummed as he leaned on one leg and pulled off an icy sock, dripping water everywhere.
“Daddy, A’fie’s wet.” Charlie told Tommy, frowning when Alfie accidentally got a few drops on him.
“Yeah mate, I went for a swim in an icy river.”
“Creek.” Tommy corrected, twisting to look at him as well.
“River.” Alfie said.
“Creek, it’s called-”
“I don’t care what it’s called, it was a fucking river.”
“Fine.” Tommy said, whipping back around to tuck a thick red blanket around Charlie’s shoulders. “You fell in a river called McGann’s Creek.”
Alfie fell silent, choosing instead to put his toes as close to the iron heater as he dared. As small as it was, it did the job well. The wagon was significantly warmer than it had been when they’d first walked in. Alfie might not die of pneumonia yet.
Tommy stood up again then, opening drawers and pulling out clothes as he moved.
“Here, hang your things over the tub.” Tommy sniffed, pointing to a stained metal basin as he handed him a bundle of cold, but blessedly dry clothes. “Sorry the lack of privacy, but,” He trailed off, gesturing at the small space.
“Don’t have to apologize about the space,” Alfie muttered awkwardly. “Knew what I was getting into, didn’t I?”
“Did you?” Tommy asked pointedly as he pulled his own soaked clothes off and threw them to the floor.
Alfie tensed, knowing in his bones that Tommy’s question was more about the kidnapping than the wagon or the cold hike. He realized now how intentional Tommy’s withholding information was. He’d wanted to sit down and discuss it though, and not hash it out like they usually handled fights.
“Are you sure you were aware of all the details before you made your decision?” Tommy’s eyes blazed in the dim glow before he tugged a sweater over his head.
“Alright, yeah,” Alfie said, sucking in a deep breath as he tried and failed to soothe his burning temper. “I could’ve asked a few questions, couldn’t I?” He said. “Could’ve asked you to elaborate, right? To specify that we’d walk through a fucking river!” Alfie snapped.
“But you didn’t!!” Tommy said harshly. “You assumed it’d be a short walk, you assumed there would be a path, you assumed it’d-”
“A path is a reasonable assumption!”
Charlie shrieked and fat tears began welling up in his eyes.
“it’s alright Charlie,” Tommy said exhaustedly as he spun around and scooped up his son. “It’s just an argument, just a loud argument.” He cooed, bouncing Charlie in his arms.
Alfie grabbed the clothes Tommy had given him and pulled the sweater over his head, frowning when it caught tightly around his forearms. Fucking thing was too small. Tugging it as loose as he could, he fussed with the thick wool, before giving up and praying that his own things would dry soon. He stepped gently through the small wagon, unsure if the wooden floor would really hold him and grabbed a few of the little wooden pegs. He tried to distract himself and think of something helpful to say as he clipped the soaked clothes up.
This was the first time they’d really spoken to each other since the meeting in the warehouse, and Tommy hadn’t left a way for Alfie to contact him. Not once he’d admitted to having a hand in Charlie’s kidnapping, no matter how unintentional.
Charlie cried louder, reaching a piercing pitch that wouldn’t stop no matter how sweetly Tommy spoke to him.
“Come on, Charlie,” Alfie started, turning around and eyeing the toddler’s distraught face. “Charlie, it really was just an argument, got to talk about our problems, don’t we? We can’t just leave them bottled up inside.” He said.
If Charlie responded, Alfie couldn’t tell. His voice was drowned in tears.
“Here, let me-” Alfie began, habit overriding his better judgment as he reached for Charlie.
Tommy flinched away, eyeing him cautiously as his arms tightened. Alfie’s heart stuttered in his chest. He shouldn’t have assumed. He shouldn’t have just assumed Tommy would hand him over, especially not when someone had kidnapped him that very same way.
His breath died in his throat. Tommy had never been nervous for Charlie around Alfie before.
The wagon rocked in the wind, rattling the heater and sending a pleasant warmth through the room. Charlie’s eyes scrunched unhappily, but he quieted down enough to speak with.
“See, you’re alright Charlie.” Alfie said kindly, watching as the toddler’s little hands clenched onto Tommy’s sleeves.
“Do you want some water?” Tommy whispered, rubbing a thumb softly over Charlie’s forehead.
Charlie sniffed wetly and shook his head ‘no’, burying his face into Tommy’s neck.
“Yeah, alright.” Alfie said, nodding at him. “Just want a cuddle with your dad, eh.”
Tommy peered through his eyelashes at Alfie. The warm glow from the heater bathed him and Charlie in an entirely too soft of a light for Alfie to be comfortable with.
He was here to apologize.
Kindly.
He wasn’t here to-to—
“Come on Charlie, let’s lie down now, ok?” Tommy said turning slowly toward the bed.
Alfie’s heart stuttered again, thumping hard in his chest. He could only watch as Tommy laid down and tucked Charlie in, whispering about horses and wide open fields. He wanted to help. He wanted-
He coughed and awkwardly busied himself with crouching as close to the heater as he could.
A bitter wind rattled outside the wagon, whistling through the trees and sneaking into his bones, in spite of the warmth from the heater.
He rubbed his palms over the sleep pants Tommy had loaned him and fussed with the rings on his fingers, unable to stifle how desperately out of place he felt.
If he hadn’t double crossed Tommy, they wouldn’t have taken Charlie. Although maybe they had always planned on kidnapping him? Tommy had few real weaknesses, and his family was a big one. Well, obviously it was a big one, or he wouldn’t have hidden his son halfway to Scotland.
Nearly half an hour later, Tommy climbed off of the bed and pulled down a heavy curtain.
“Is,” Alfie started with a whisper. “Is he alright?” He asked, watching as Tommy moved to sit in a small wooden chair.
“At the moment?” Tommy asked as dug out a cigarette from his pocket. “Or in general?”
Alfie hummed at the nonanswer and leaned back, letting the heat bake into his sore back. The freezing river had done nothing for his joints and worse yet to his bad leg. He’d dropped his cane somewhere in the water as well. The hike back tomorrow was going to be a miserable one.
The wagon swayed in the wind, letting in the chill again for a moment.
Lighting his cigarette, Tommy instinctively began to curl up, dragging his knees halfway to his chest before his eyes flashed to Alfie and he seemed to think better of it.
Alfie had a sudden snapshot of what the last few weeks in the wagon must have been like.
The image of Tommy, curled up and alone as Charlie slept, his thoughts running ragged as he tried to think of a way to keep his son safe.
“Tommy, I,” Alfie said, his voice soft as he stepped closer. He pulled out the chair opposite of Tommy and sat, his knees cracking and aching sorely. “You know I didn’t know.”
His heart fluttered uncomfortably.
Tommy threw his unfinished cigarette into an ashtray and dropped his head onto the table, winding his fingers into the long fringe at the top.
“I’m not-” Alfie said as he stared down at Tommy’s bent form.
Despite the freezing temperature outside, it was suddenly too hot. Sweat broke out across Alfie’s forehead and he rubbed his palms over the sleep pants again.
“I know you won’t forgive me, nor am I asking for forgiveness.” He tried.
“The priest-” Tommy mumbled, his head still hidden. “That priest-” He inhaled deeply and tried again.
Alfie swallowed heavily. He knew what the priest did to children. When he’d learned about Charlie he’d searched out any helpful piece of information he could find on the man.
“He’s dead.” Alfie whispered. “That doesn’t forgive me, or him, or help those who he hurt, but he is dead Tommy.
“I know.” Tommy said.
“And Charlie is safe. There isn’t a soul here who’d hurt him, and it’s a pretty fucking long hike to get to someone who might.” Alfie ran a hand through his hair as he tried to breathe, but he felt his throat tighten uncomfortably. “And I’m sorry. I am sorry Tommy.”
“Alfie,” Tommy raised his head slightly, looking at him with tired eyes.
Alfie waved a shaking hand, silencing Tommy quickly.
“I am. I meant what I said in the warehouse, about crossing the line,” He suddenly felt that if he didn’t say this now, he’d never get it out. “I meant it. You and I both know the way of the world we live in, and I fully expect that, in business, we do what we need to, but that being said. I am sorry.”
Tommy sat back and looked at Alfie. Unsaid emotions seemed to well up behind his eyes, flickering briefly from one thought to the next as he stared.
“Ok Alfie.” He breathed finally. The tension and fear that had lingered in his every move seemed to fall away, and he leaned back to watch the warm glow of the iron heater.
Alfie nodded, and debated whether or not he should say something.
Tommy didn’t seem to mind the silence, and he usually appreciated Alfie’s chatter, but the wagon felt too peaceful of a place.
He decided to keep quiet.
It was a long while later that Tommy finally pulled himself slowly to his feet and reached above his head to pull out two glasses. He set them gently on the table and twisted around, rifling through cabinets until he pulled out a bottle.
“Whisky,” He said as he unscrewed the top. “Irish. Will you have some?” He poured himself a bit and then held the bottle over Alfie’s glass.
“Yeah mate, why not. Just a bit to warm my bones.”
Tommy nodded, pouring in a bit less than he normally would have, and sat back down.
The warm drink was nice, and between the cracking kindling in the heater, and the whistle of wind outside, Alfie could see the appeal. Not that he wanted to spend any long amount of time in a wagon like this. There just wasn’t enough room.
He glanced down at the worn wooden flooring, wondering for the first time since he’d stepped into the small home, where he was going to sleep.
The chair he sat in now was too small, and there wasn’t any bedding that Alfie could see. Tommy must have some form of a plan, he always did.
He blinked over at him, pausing mid sip.
Tommy’s eyes had glazed over and were slowly drifting shut, the glass in his hand teetered dangerously, threatening to tip.
“Tommy, have you slept at all since you’ve been here?” Alfie asked, leaning forward.
“A bit.” Tommy muttered, seeming to fight against himself as he sat up slightly.
“Yeah, I bet,” Alfie hummed disbelievingly as he pulled himself to his feet. “What’s your routine then, eh?” He asked, picking up the damp clothes Tommy had thrown on the floor earlier. “Wash your face, blow out the lanterns?” He began listing quietly.
“No, I leave one lit.” Tommy said, sinking back into his chair again. “I check on the horse too.”
“Of course you do,” Alfie said. “Probably cold out there for him.”
“Her.”
“Her!” Alfie’s eyebrows rose as he corrected himself.
“She prefers cold weather, and she has blankets.” Tommy said, his eyes opening a hair wider at the topic of horses. “The wagon braces her against the wind. But yes, I check on her.”
“Well, how about you check on her then mate, ‘cause I think you might be falling asleep. I can’t be sure though, ‘cause I’ve never actually seen you do that before.”
Tommy stared dryly as Alfie stepped closer and held a hand out for Tommy.
“Unless you want me to see to her, so you can crawl into bed with Charlie?” Alfie asked, waggling his fingers temptingly. He didn’t know what he’d do out there, maybe stare at the big horse for a minute or two before deeming it safe. “Where would you like me to sleep by the way?” He looked around again, reaffirming the lack of any bedding or a second mattress.
“There’s only one bed,” Tommy said as his head dropped into his palm. “We’ll have to share.”
Alfie’s heart caught in his chest again.
He wondered if Tommy might’ve left him outside, stumbling in the dark to find his way home if they hadn’t patched things up. Or maybe he was as lonely as Ada thought he’d be, and despite putting Alfie through some punishment-- his right knee ached sorely at the thought of the river-- Tommy was desperate for a little love.
Tommy took ahold of his hand and let Alfie pull him to his feet. He sleepily tugged a hat over his head, toed into a pair of boots and was out the door without a word, plunging the wagon into an uncomfortable silence.
It was a beast of his own making, this awkwardness, only serving to point out just how out of place he still felt. It reminded him of just how much space Tommy took up, despite being a fairly small person. How much warmth he brought as well, in spite of his frosty personality.
He tried to distract himself by checking over his clothes, hoping that the last hour had wrung the water from them, but they were still soaked.
Tommy pushed the door open quickly, kicking snow from his shoes and dusting himself off, cold weather deterring him from spending too long in the frozen woods.
“How’s the horse?” Alfie asked, still leaning over the basin.
“Good, we might be able to take her into town tomorrow. Charlie would like that.” Tommy said, sniffing from the cold. He locked the door and stepped further into the wagon, tossing a few more dry sticks into the heater as he snuffed out two of the lanterns.
“Is it going to be ungodly cold in the morning?” Alfie asked, eyeing the heater. “Just want to know if I’m going to be frozen when I wake up.”
“You won’t be frozen Alfie.” Tommy assured him, stepping closer.
Alfie nodded in agreement, wondering if Tommy’d get up in the middle of the night to feed the heater. One more reason he’d be so tired. Although Alfie could do that as well, if just to take another task away from Tommy.
“It’s nice, you know.” Alfie muttered, eyeing the ceiling and decorated wooden cabinets, taking in the herbs and socks and little things that made it homey. He still couldn’t imagine living in the wagon, though, the more time he spent in it, the more he could see the appeal. “It’s peaceful.”
Tommy gave him a shy smile, and his eyes brightened in the soft light.
“You can stay, if you want. For a day or two.” Tommy said quietly, glancing around as Alfie had done.
Alfie’s heart wasn’t going to last the evening. It’d jumped and pounded, and stuttered too often around Tommy.
“Yeah, well, if we go into town tomorrow, I’ll give the boy’s a call, won’t I.” Alfie said, resisting the frighteningly strong urge to pull Tommy into a hug.
Tommy nodded and stepped around Alfie moving to pull back the heavy curtain hanging over the bed. Charlie was sound asleep, his little arms held high above his head. Alfie longed to feel that comfortable in his life, just once.
Crawling confidently onto the mattress, Tommy began slowly pushing pillows and blankets down.
There wasn’t enough room to stretch out fully, but it looked warm and soft. Thick cotton comforters were covered by heavy wool blankets, each with their own delicate designs. Alfie half wondered if they were all family heirlooms, as they seemed to go together.
“He sleeps pretty heavily, but be gentle.” Tommy whispered as he slid one arm under Charlie, pulling him up and cradling him against his chest. He sank down onto the mattress and faced the wall, curling protectively around the toddler.
Alfie nodded and slid onto the blankets. His fingers clenched uselessly around the covers, desperately wanting to tug them both close.
A soft image of Tommy drifted in the back of his mind. Wispy morning light barely breaking through the windows as Tommy snuffled in his sleep and pushed his head further into Alfie’s chest.
“Go on,” Tommy said, half asleep already. “We’re not going to bite.”
“Yeah, alright, just hold on now.” Alfie said, feeling he had to gain some small amount of control over the evening. “I am going to lie down, alright, on this side of the bed.” He flicked his hand down the mattress. “And I’ll admit, I’ve taken a bit of a lesson today, so I need to know now, if I’m fucking assuming anything, hm?”
Tommy tried to hide a small smile, but couldn’t.
“Not just this second, it really is just a bed.” He said, his voice cracking sleepily towards the end.
“Are you sure?” Alfie asked, pulling the covers up as he lay down. “Cause, I’ve-”
Charlie sniffed, silencing them in seconds.
They waited with bated breath as the toddler fussed for a moment, but settled back down quickly.
“Go to bed, eh? We’ll talk tomorrow.” Tommy glanced up at him, sinking deeper into his pillow.
“Alright,” Alfie said, letting his fingers brush through the thick hair on the back of Tommy’s head. Tommy’s breathing relaxed, and he tilted slightly towards him. “Thank you for listening, Tommy.” He muttered under his breath.
Tommy hummed.
The quiet forest whispered around them, seeming to fall asleep as well.