Page 23 of Lawless (Dauntless Island #2)

NATTY

T he guys putting up the new phone tower on the lighthouse came over from the mainland the next week, and Button John insisted we go up and watch them work.

It wasn’t as though we had anything else to do.

Young Harry Barnes didn’t need us today, and I wasn’t due to work in Dominic’s yard for another few days—I wasn’t looking forward to that.

I was probably going to have to hide out somewhere until I saw him going out on a patrol, then rush in and hopefully get it done before he got back.

I felt bad for avoiding him, but I knew I’d feel worse if I actually had to see him.

He’d tell me again that we needed to talk, and no, there was no way I could talk with a copper.

If Dominic started asking questions about why I was really avoiding him, what the hell was I supposed to say?

I wasn’t a good liar, so I just had to never speak to him again.

Spending the day at the lighthouse with Button John seemed like a great way to manage it for today.

We stopped off at Mavis’s shop first, because it wasn’t like we were on a schedule or anything, and bought some snakes. Then we ate them on our way up the hill. Hiccup, Red Joe’s dog, met us halfway up, her tail wagging, and Button John gave her a red snake.

We weren’t the only islanders who’d decided that watching some telecommunications contractors was a spectator sport.

Julie Dinsmore and Yellow Sarah Hooper were already there, peering up at the lighthouse as they chatted.

A couple of Yellow Sarah’s kids ran in circles, and Hiccup went to join them.

Young Harry had borrowed one of Red Joe’s kitchen chairs, and was sitting in the shade outside the cottage, watching the guys lug their tool kits into the lighthouse tower.

“Boys,” Young Harry said from behind his fug of cigarette smoke and coughed.

“Those’ll be the bloody death of you, Young Harry!” Red Joe called from inside the cottage, and then stomped outside. “Jesus, you two are here as well.”

Button John grinned, but I didn’t. I was still pissed off at Red Joe for going out on the Adeline when Nipper Will was hurt.

I was tired of being treated like I was just a useless kid.

Bad enough that Will did it, but when the rest of the islanders took their lead from him it made my blood boil.

Young Harry Barnes and Eddie were about the only people on Dauntless who didn’t treat me like I was still toddling around in nappies.

And Dominic , I thought with a guilty lurch in my gut.

“Hey!” Button John said. He nodded at Julie and Yellow Sarah. “We’re not the only ones who came up for a stickybeak.”

Red Joe rolled his eyes. “They’re not here for that.” He waved to the women and ducked back inside. Yellow Sarah went with him.

“ Stickybeak ,” Julie Dinsmore said and gave Button John a narrow look. “Sarah came up for her prescription, not that it’s any of your business, and we’ve both got better things to do than hang around here all day. Some of us have work to do.”

“Oh, do you need any help?” Button John asked.

“Not from you,” she said, which was harsh but fair. There was no simple task Button John couldn’t make a dog’s breakfast of. She found a smile for me. “How’s your mum, Natty?”

“Good,” I said, which was my standard answer to that very standard question.

Julie clicked her tongue sympathetically. “Come by later. I’ll have scones out of the oven; you can take some home for her.”

“Scones!” Button John exclaimed.

“I’ve already got your sister coming to get some,” Julie said. “If you want some, you can ask her.”

Button John beamed. “That’s very generous of you, Julie, thanks.” Then, when Julie and Yellow Sarah and the kids were heading back down into the village, he asked, “Do you suppose she meant Addy or Emily? Because Addy is still mad at me for breaking her stereo. Which was an accident !”

It was always an accident with Button John, but I doubted that was any consolation for Addy. If Julie had meant Addy, Button John probably wasn’t going to get any scones.

We sat down on the grass near Young Harry Barnes. It was a sunny day, and the wind was strong. It always was up on the point. That was part of the reason we’d come—to see how much the guys working on the lighthouse would get buffeted in their harnesses while they worked.

“I can’t wait until I have a phone that works,” Button John said.

I wrinkled my nose. “Who are you going to call?”

“You,” he said, and then hummed. “I don’t know who else. Mum and Dad, probably. Oh, and I can install Grindr!”

“You think you’ll get any action on Grindr on Dauntless ?”

Button John glanced over at Young Harry Barnes. “Nah, but I go to the mainland every week, don’t I?”

“You got a lot of time between loading up groceries and luggage to sneak in a hook up?” I tried to sound derisive, but jealousy uncurled in my gut.

What if he did ? How the hell would I know how fast the fish bit on Grindr?

And then I realised that no, it wasn’t jealousy roiling in my gut, it was bitterness.

Because I wanted what Button John was chasing, and I’d had it—and then I’d been stupid and walked away from it.

From Dominic .

I knew what I’d done was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone to his place the other night, knowing that I was only going to walk away again.

That wasn’t fair on him. It wasn’t fair on me, either, and the heaviness in my heart reminded me of it every time I thought of him.

But that was a self-inflicted hurt, and I deserved it.

Meanwhile, there was no excuse for hurting Dominic.

It turned out I was a lot like one of those soap opera villains I’d imagined after all, and I didn’t like the feeling.

But every time I thought I could make it right, that I could go to Dominic and say I was sorry, the universe reminded me it couldn’t happen.

Like right now, when Young Harry Barnes said, in an undertone, “Come and see me tonight, eh, boys? Got a little job for you.”

Button John gave him a grin and a salute, and I felt my stomach sink as I realised, yet again, that this was why I could never be with Dominic.

* * *

I t was dark by the time Nipper Will got home.

Mum and I were watching TV and eating popcorn in the living room when we heard the kitchen door opening.

I gave Mum the bowl of popcorn and peeled myself off the couch to go and see what sort of mood Will was in.

I found him standing over the kitchen sink, stripped down to his underwear, wincing as he tried to rip the plaster bandage off his hand.

“Wet it first.” I elbowed him out of the way and turned the tap on.

The plaster was grimy. It was hard to tell, but it probably smelled as bad as the rest of him.

I grabbed his wrist and held his hand under the tap, just to soften up the ends of the plaster enough so they’d lift easily.

It took me a moment to realise that Will was watching me, his brow creased, and a weird, almost soft expression on his face. I jolted. “What?”

“Nothing.” His mouth turned down. “What’s for dinner?”

“Pasta. Mum wanted to eat early, so yours is in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, then cleared his throat. He pulled his hand away. “I’ve got it. I can do it.”

“You stink,” I said, going to the fridge and getting his dinner out. “You should have a shower first. I can heat this up for you.”

He tore the plaster off the heel of his hand and inspected his wound. He showed it to me; the clean, pink rectangle of skin, knotted stitches curling up like dead spiders’ legs, looked almost bright neon against the rest of his filthy skin. “Oil leak.”

“Go and have a shower,” I said again. “Put a new Band-Aid on first.”

He grunted and headed upstairs.

I heated his dinner up for him; Will was a grumpy fucker, and we butted heads more often than not, but he was still my brother and he worked hard for our family.

Which was one of the things that shit me the most—he wouldn’t have to work so hard if he let me shoulder some of the load, but I’d always just be a useless little kid to him.

I grabbed a dishcloth and wiped down the kitchen bench, then put some water on the stove so I could boil some eggs for sandwiches tomorrow. I heard the shower cut off upstairs, and the house’s old pipes groaned and rattled in response.

After a while, Mum wandered into the kitchen and put the popcorn bowl in the sink.

Sometimes she remembered to do stuff like that, and sometimes she didn’t.

She smiled and put her arms around me for a hug.

Then she looked at the plate of pasta at the table, still steaming from the microwave. “Is it dinner time, Natty?”

“No, this is for Will.”

She straightened in my arms, her expression brightening. “Will’s back?”

“No. It’s—” I swallowed. “It’s for Nipper Will, Mum.”

I looked over her shoulder. Will was standing in the doorway, his hair damp from the shower. His gaze held mine, and I wondered if his guts felt like mine did—like Mum was twisting them up and feeding them through the mangle on the old tub outside.

“Oh,” Mum said, and sighed as though she was disappointed.

Like she thought Dad was just running late, but any moment now he’d walk through the door.

Sometimes I wished he would too, just so Mum would be Mum again.

Sometimes I sat on the harbour wall at night to catch glimpses of any passing boats and imagined that my dad was on one of them, heading home to us to make everything right again.