Spy Games, page 3
The potatoes from the garden were the last of the season. We had sacks full of them stored for the lean winter months, but if this was anything to go by, we were in for a world of hurt. Even with the skins removed they looked sickly. Dark spots stained the white starch, they were hard even though they'd been boiling for ages, and no amount of homemade butter and copious salt and pepper could disguise how unappetizing they looked.
We each had an omelet stuffed with peppers, tomatoes, a generous grating of cheese, and whatever other leftover veg Phage could find. It looked lovely, but there are only so many times you can have eggs as your main evening protein source before the novelty well and truly wears off. It had worn off long ago. By the end of the first week of rationing, in fact.
"The coleslaw looks nice," said Jen with a smile.
"The caterpillars ate half the cabbages, and we didn't have any mayonnaise so I made my own. It's horrible." Phage stared at her plate glumly. She hadn't even picked up her knife and fork.
"I'm sure it tastes great," I told her, then stuffed a forkful of the green stodgy mess into my mouth and chewed enthusiastically. As the sour "homemade mayo" hit my taste buds, I coughed and spluttered, feeling myself turn beetroot as I tried to figure out exactly how to swallow it. I finally managed it, much to Jen's amusement and Phage's sighs.
"Yummy omelet," said Jen with more cheer than she clearly felt. "Did you do something different to it? Maybe add spices?"
"No."
Jen and I nodded encouragement to one another, trying to get the other to say something nice, but neither of us could think of anything. Phage was on a real downer about the food issue, and it was becoming harder for any of us to muster much enthusiasm for offerings that in other parts of the world would be more welcome than gold.
I took a sip of water, but even that tasted wrong. Like it was full of additives. Could it be? There'd been rumors lately of there being sedatives in it to keep everyone under control, but surely it was tested for such things?
Not wanting to upset Phage further, who was currently sitting hunched over, hair over her eyes, staring at her plate, I cut up a potato then rubbed it around to get as much butter and garlic on it as possible. It tasted like cardboard coated in the good stuff, but I chewed then swallowed as soon as I could manage.
Jen, bless her heart, copied my suggestion and forced some potato in then washed it down with the bitter water.
Phage sighed as she shoved back from the table violently then ran into the garden, sobbing.
"What are we going to do, Dad? Mum's so upset and the food situation is awful. What's wrong with the potatoes?"
"Sometimes you get a bad year," I told her. "Not much you can do about it. It's the heat. All the strains we have are from back when we had cooler and wetter weather. They aren't designed to cope. There are new varieties now, but they're too expensive and there's nowhere near enough anyway. They only sell them to farms."
"So what's the answer? I mean, everyone at school only has one topic they talk about now. Used to be stuff online, now it's food and wanting to go places. It's beyond a joke."
"Honey, this is life. We make do. That's the only answer. We aren't starving. I mean, look at us. We're fit, healthy, just a little hungry now and then. And then we get a break, have some meat or bumper crops from the garden, and we're good again. Maybe I should slaughter another chicken," I mused, although I was loathe to do so.
"No, we need them for the eggs. There are no broody ones at the moment, so there won't be any chicks for a while. We can't risk it. "
"You're right. Damn, I hate seeing Phage so upset. It's tough for her as she's always been so proud of the meals she makes us. She likes to see us eating well."
"I like us eating well."
"Just do your best to eat what she gives us, and try to think of a way to get more food. But Jen?"
"Yeah?"
"We still have it better than millions of people all over the world. I mean, we have fucking water coming out of a tap right where we want it. That's a real luxury. Rationing is nothing new. After the Second World War it lasted years, and everyone just got on with it. And before that, back when I was a young man, being hungry sometimes was just the norm. You took what you could when it was available and just got on with your life. Try not to be too focused on food. You're doing a great job about not complaining in front of Phage, so thank you for that."
"I'm trying my best," she said, stomach rumbling.
"I know you are. Now, I think I better go find your mother and check she's okay. This is hard for her. She's a proud woman, and making meals not up to her standard has hit her harder than she expected."
"She is a great cook," agreed Jen, then forced another piece of potato into her mouth and swallowed hurriedly.
"Good girl. See you in a while."
I went to find Phage.
"Hey." The word sounded utterly ridiculous when there was so much more that could have been said.
"Hey." Phage wiped her eyes with the back of her hand then smiled sadly at me.
"What you doing here?"
"Just thought I'd get some shade and see how the Necropub is holding up after being moved." Phage turned away from me and stared at the sign above the door.
I moved beside her and put my arm gently across her shoulders. "That was two years ago. I think it's settled in by now," I joked.
"Do you remember that guy in charge of all the straps and things? He wouldn't stop talking the whole time it was being craned into place. The crane driver was bright red in his cab, yelling and screaming while the other guy was just chatting away to Jen like he didn't have a massive building swaying over his head."
"He was definitely a chatterbox," I agreed. "He couldn't understand why we bothered to have it moved. Said it would have been easier and a helluva lot cheaper to just build another one."
"He didn't understand. It's not just the cost. It's the memories, the history. The fact it's ours. A bit of our past. Something you built, then rebuilt. Not to mention the vampires in the cellar."
"Now that was something we couldn't bring with us. Damn, I still don't know how they dug out another cellar so fast. And it's bigger than the last one."
"They wanted a double bed. You should have seen Mary's face when she saw it. She was so happy." Phage frowned then added, "At least, I think she was. She's changed so much. Her face is all…" Phage glanced at the door then lowered her voice and whispered, "Like the Brewer's. How could she do it to herself? How can they be happy living like they do?"
"Horses for courses," I shrugged. "But yes, it's mad. And I'm not sure they're happy as such. I think they're holding it together because they have each other. And you have to admit, the beer is fucking awesome now. Mary's a natural, and they've really upped their game. Fancy a pint? Anything's got to be better than drinking the bloody water."
"It's awful now, isn't it?" snorted Phage. "Makes me wonder what they've put in it."
"Something to control the masses. Best stick with beer or shit wine."
"I wish they'd get their act together and actually make nice British wine. Why can't we have booze that tastes good?"
"We've got the wrong kind of sun, or soil, or something," I lamented. "Or, and this is just a wild guess, they do it on purpose as they don't want everyone getting pissed. And anyway, it's too expensive to buy now. I'm amazed anyone drinks at all these days."
"I don't think many do. Not bought stuff anyway. Everyone makes home-brew. It tastes better. So, yes, let's have a beer." Phage smiled weakly then nodded.
I could see it coming, so hugged her tight, taking in her familiar scent, the feel of her, then I released my suffering wife and gave her some space for what I knew would be an epic meltdown.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she screamed. "The bastards. I hate it, I hate it. I want some fucking cheese, Soph. Why can't I buy nice cheese? I want to go and buy Jen treats. Crisps. I want crisps for my little girl. I want to stand in front of an aisle of cereal and not know which one to choose. I don't want to have a choice of two fucking cereals. I want unhealthy food that's been processed, like you said you used to always be able to buy. The bastards." Phage shook a fist at the sky and screamed again, "You bastards."
"Finished," I laughed.
"No. I have not," she snapped. "I want to be able to buy clothes from a real shop, where I can try them on and stand in front of all those mirrors that let you see what you look like from behind. I want to buy inappropriate shoes. I don't want everything to be bloody British. I want electricity all the time and water that tastes nice. Why can't we have a car? I want a goddamn bastard car and to take my daughter to the beach whenever I damn well choose. I want to buy a cheap bucket and spade and a dinghy and get expensive ice cream and have fish and chips on the fucking beach!" she yelled, banging her hands on the Necropub's door. Whirling at me, she pointed her finger and warned, "Don't you dare laugh at me."
"I'm not."
"Half of those things I've never, ever done. You did it all. You had the chance. You did whatever you wanted, went wherever you wanted. I missed out on nearly all of it. But at least I did some. Jen hasn't had the opportunity and never will. She's trapped, being ruled by these bastards who don't give a shit about any of us. They're up to something. They always have been. Making us prisoners. Turning us back into peasants relying on handouts without the opportunity to make our own way in the world. A bunch of goddamn fucking bastard drones just there to keep the bloody wheels turning. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it." Phage was on the ground now, slamming her palms into the dirt. Dust billowed around her, covering her face. Streaks of tears poured down her face as she stood, her knees dirty, her shoulders shaking.
And then, just like that, she wiped her eyes again, let her shoulders relax, and smiled.
"Better?" I asked.
"Fuck yes. Much," Phage sighed. It was out of her system. Years and years of pent-up frustration finally erupting, leaving her buoyed and maybe even more accepting of this strange new world she'd lived in most of her life but knew wasn't right, and understood and had experienced just enough when younger to know that this was not the only way. That there were alternatives, maybe even better options, but that nobody had quite figured out what to do instead.
"I think you swore more in a couple of minutes than you have all the time we've known each other."
"You know I don't usually swear much. Unlike some people I know," she said, pointing at me just in case I didn't understand the bloody obvious, but smiling too.
"Hey, I come from a time when swearing was practically the law."
"And you haven't had to adjust other things to stay current?" she chided.
"I try not to," I laughed. "Anyway, you didn't mean that stuff, did you? Do you really want those things?"
"No, not really. I was just venting. Getting it out of my system. I just want our freedom back, Soph. It isn't the food, I can deal with that. Although it is frustrating and annoying as hell. I get that we're privileged, that we have so much, and I shouldn't moan about silly things, but it's the kids I worry for. They don't know what the world used to be like. They take it for granted now that people don't travel or go on holiday. That you can't just buy a plane ticket and see the world. All of that's lost to them. Unless you're super rich or a bloody politician, you never get to see anything."
"She will. You're forgetting who our daughter is. What she is."
Phage frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean she's special, even by Necro standards. We both know that. What, you think her and Tyr won't fly abroad? I wouldn't be surprised if they already have. And in a few years she'll be morphing, is my guess, and I have no doubt she'll be bloody great at it. Better than me. You know Tyr's seen the space station, right? From actual space. He told me he's been to the sun, and I'm not saying I believe that, but he's been up there, Phage, thirty miles or so right up into space. Trust me, she'll see plenty."
"Now you've got me worried," she laughed, the sparkle returning to her eyes. "God, you don't think Jen will go into space, do you?"
"Of course not," I laughed. "I'm just saying not to worry too much. Our little girl will have more than her fair share of adventures. She isn't stuck like the other kids. She can go anywhere in the country she chooses. I wish she couldn't, but she can. On a dragon. A bloody real life dragon. It's nuts."
"When you think about it, it is. Sometimes I can't quite believe it's real. Dragons and unicorns and being able to talk to them. What a life."
"Yep," I agreed merrily. "What a life. And I wouldn't change a thing." I kissed Phage then gripped her hands. "Apart from the wine situation. I'd change that. Oh, and did I tell you? I think Shey Redgold has finally moved in."
"Oh, great. Thanks for sharing," she chuckled, squeezing my hands.
"Sharing is caring. Come on, I think we deserve that beer before we go tidy up the kitchen."
"What about our dinner? Aren't you hungry?"
"Yes, but I'll manage. And besides, Mary and the Brewer's latest concoction is about as filling as a three-course meal."
"And tastes a lot better," said Phage with a sigh.
I unlocked the door to the Necropub and we entered the gloomy, musty interior.
BAD TIMING
"It still smells weird in here," I told Phage yet again as I sniffed suspiciously.
"You mean like the last twenty times. I think it's lovely." Phage inhaled deeply then breathed out slowly as if savoring the scent of fresh beer, stale vampire, and pine disinfectant.
"Why does she have to use so much cleaner? And why does she do it even when everything's spotless?" I stared at the floor with suspicion, like the polished, sparkling wood held secrets. Maybe it did.
"She likes to keep things in order. That's not a bad habit, it's a good one. Wish I could be bothered, but life's too short to be stuck inside cleaning when you can be doing basically anything else at all."
"I agree. But this is obsessive."
"Soph, it really isn't. She just comes up to tidy the place most days, that's all."
"But we only come in here a few times a month." Phage raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe once or twice a week. And it isn't like we make a mess."
"She just likes it this way. And my guess is it's to have a break from you know who. And maybe just to get some space. It's pretty cramped down there."
"That's how vamps like it."
"Maybe not this one. Don't forget, she's still very new to it all."
"Or maybe they're having a hard time. Aren't getting on. Ugh, they better make it last or we're all in for a world of hurt."
"Don't be so selfish. And stop just thinking about your beer." Phage punched me playfully and smiled.
I figured I'd leave off mentioning her streaky face until I knew for sure she was in better spirits. "I hardly ever think about beer. Mostly, I think about you and Jen and how fortunate I am."
Phage kissed me and melted into my arms. Result. I was truly back in her good books and I didn't even have to lie. I did think about them more than anything else. As was right for a father and husband.
"I'm such a lucky gal," she said, suddenly coy. "And sorry about the meltdown. That's not like me at all."
"We all need a release sometimes. It's a lot to handle. And I know you feel like you're missing out, Jen too, but trust me, this is as good as it gets. Life is still better than it has ever been, and we're very lucky to live where we do and have the freedom we have with this place. Imagine being stuck in a flat with these crazy rules."
We both shuddered. It would be unbearable for us. We needed outside space more than inside, just for our sanity.
"I'll make something good for dinner tomorrow, promise."
"Don't worry about it. I'm happy with eggs," I told her, face serious.
I caught the corner of her mouth rise with a smirk, which became a smile, then a shake of the head, then a laugh. I soon joined her, and then we were guffawing like a pair of old fogies in their gentlemen's club, not a crappy shed in the garden.
"I fucking hate eggs," spluttered Phage.
"Me too. If I never see another one in my life, I honestly won't care." When we'd finished laughing, I lifted the section of counter that let me get behind the bar, then pulled us two pints from the gleaming pump.
Back around the bar, with my foot resting on the shiny brass rail, I turned to Phage on the stool and asked, "Ready?" as I inhaled fumes emanating from Mary and the Brewer's latest concoction.
"Ready."
Phage and I took a sip. "Damn, that's nice," I gasped, then took another larger drink.
"Liquid gold," she agreed.
An hour later, we were on our third pint each, which turned out to have been a very bad idea.
WAKE UP
"Dad, wake up!" came a scream from the other side of the world.
I bolted upright, then groaned as I became aware of my body, and more importantly the pounding in my skull like a keen dwarf hammering at the mother lode. A thousand pickaxes chipping away at my brain cells, splitting them into tiny shards that pierced my eyes and tore at my ravaged throat.
"What the fuck?" I croaked, clutching my head and trying to contain the nightmare within it. "Jen, where are you?" I reached out but felt only heavy air. The smell of stale, acrid beer tickled my nostrils and I sneezed violently, setting off the manic dwarves in my head once again with renewed vigor.
"Open your eyes and you'll find out," she snapped, sounding extremely pissed off for some reason.
"Yeah. Course." I did as instructed and opened my eyes, but they were stuck closed. Panicked, I used my thumbs and forefingers to peel the lids apart and met Jen's steely gaze. She looked very annoyed, hands on hips, scowl on face, perfecting teenage angst and general pissedoffness. And she loomed. Very loomy. Prize-winning, in fact.
Avoiding her eyes, I checked where I was, the last few hours totally blank for some reason. Seemed I was prone on the floor of the Necropub. The room was dim, just a shaft of light highlighting the dancing motes of dust where the door had been left ajar.
