Victory Dance

Prologue

"I think it's starting again."

Thomas raised his head from his spoon of soup, his mouth gaping open as he strained to listen. If it wasn't for the plop of a carrot dropping back into his bowl, I could have sworn he was a statue. I dared not to breathe to let him listen, awaiting his verdict.

A moment or two passed like this, him with his spoon hovering at his lips and me clutching onto my tea towel. The wisps of heat from our bowls rose in the air between us.

Just a moment longer. The roads were too busy, filled with construction workers and beeping car horns, but he'd hear it if he just waits a moment longer. Just a little longer.

I could see how his eyes turned from the kitchen window to my face, by the change in his expression, from straining to listen to straining to understand. He was worried. Tommy was worried and he was never worried. His spoon returned back to the bowl, "Ruth...darlin', I can't hear a thing."

"J-just listen for a little longer-"

"Ruth. Nothing's going on. They've stopped, alright? I got them to stop. I just think – now come on a second, where are you- Ruth?!"

I was out of my chair and out of the room, my grip on the tea towel tightening. I knew I needed to calm down, I knew he was starting to starting to get really worried now. I paced along our front room, seven steps to one side, seven steps to the next, knowing that he was there, standing in the kitchen and watching me the whole time. Watching me like I was crazy. But I wasn't going to let him sway me this time. "Tommy, I know what I heard-"

With a soft shake of his head, Tommy pushed his shoulder off from the door frame. His voice was low, deep and rumbly as he bridged the gap between us, "Darlin'-"

"No."

"Ruth...c'mon. You saw me speak to them. They're young, they hardly even know what they're doin'-"

"'They don't know what they're doing?' Are you- they know fine well! Making those noises. They know what they're doing's wrong. They know it. Why else would they run away? Huh?"

"That's what lads do. They're just havin' a lark-"

"What?! Jesus- Tommy! It's not a lark! It's the noises, it's the following me down the street – the bins!"

The grimace on his face told me I was going to lose this battle. Especially when I agreed before, when I admitted that he was probably right.

"I thought we agreed that that was the foxes."

"I know. I said that, but... but I know, Tommy, I know. Leaving the chicken bones there – that's the type of stuff they do because they think it's funny-"

"Why would that be funny?"

"That's just it! It's not! It's not funny!"

"Look, would you just calm dow-"

A high pitched crash like thunder stopped him mid word. Suddenly the air was bright and frosted. I closed my eyes tight, trying my hardest to stop it all from happening, but I simply couldn't. My mind wound back, jumping to worst. I remembered chilly nights of complete darkness, of the ghoulish wails of the air-raid sirens looping over my mother's quietly murmured bargains with God to let them miss our house tonight. Through the chill, I felt something, piercingly hot and then surprisingly ice cold seconds later.

A nightmare was in front of me when I dared to open my eyes. Blood was dotted along Tommy's porcelain skin, studded with glittery fragments of glass, his eyes wide and imploring as he chanted my name. I hadn't realised his hands were gripping my arms, that he was guiding me down to the floor, "-you've got to, okay? You've got to bend down, darlin'. Lay down on the floor and just...just stay down. I'll call the police."

"I tried to tell you, Tom. I tried to-"

"I know. I know, but darlin' you've got to-"

"-you didn't get it. I knew-"

"Ruth, just stay -stay down. Crawl to the bedroom. Just keep away from the windows."

I glanced up from my place, pressed down to brown carpet of our front room towards my husband. My breathless, speechless husband. The pain of comprehension spread across his face as the sounds of hoots and pants got louder, as more voices joined in. His knuckles creaked in anger at the sound of them shouting monkey noises through our smashed window.

"Bastards."