Page 42 of Mine before Dawn
Asha planted herself squarely in the doorway. Suddenly, she was angry, so angry. She wanted to kill him. It was all his fault.
“What do you want, James?”
Her expression was militant. She looked prepared for war.
He looked down at her from his great height as she glared back at him. Suddenly, she wanted to slap his stupidly handsome face. She wanted to bite him until he bled the way she had been bleeding all week.
Not for the first time, Asha had the distant thought that he could crush her like an insect if he truly wanted to. Except he handled her like the finest porcelain. He always backed off when he sensed she was upset.
Except tonight, that is.
James walked forward, forcing her backward step by step into the room until the side of her hip struck the table edge.
Then he reached behind himself and shut the door firmly with a loud click.
“Hiya, mate,” he said casually to Tanay, but his eyes never left Asha’s angry face.
Tanay brightened instantly.
“Hi, James.” Then with complete childish honesty he added, “I thought you weren’t coming back.”
James’s jaw flexed.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Yer mam tried that. Didn't work.”
Asha opened her mouth furiously to tell him he could turn around and walk out.
And another knock blasted the door. James closed his eyes briefly.
“Christ, give me strength,” he muttered under his breath.
Asha managed to twist around him and yank the door open again.
Mrs. Burton stood there in a bright pink housecoat and slippers, grey curlers still in her hair, looking ready to commit murder.
“What in God’s name’s goin’ on up here?” she hissed. “I should tan yer backside, James Fletcher. The whole bloody building can hear you.”
James rubbed a tired hand over his face.
“We need to talk.”
“Oh aye?” the landlady snapped. “At volume fit for the mines?”
Then she noticed the boy sitting at the table chewing on his pencil, staring between them all with huge eyes.
Her expression softened slightly.
James looked at the boy, as if remembering himself.
“Tanay, mate, d’you mind goin’ with Mrs.Burton fer a bit?”
The landlady sputtered with indignation.
“The nice lady’s made carrot cake. I could smell it on my way up,” James added smoothly before she could protest. “An’ if there is no one to eat it, she’ll only throw it away.”
Mrs. Burton glared at him.
“Cheeky sod.”
