The Faintest Ink (Watty Winner 2015)

Chapter Forty-Five

By the time Blossom found herself able to move, the carriage was utterly surrounded. Her screams had brought half of Dakley out onto the street. Women with their sleeves rolled up and their forearms red from working on the laundry, and men still wearing their aprons, pressed in from all sides. There were children too, hanging back, their mouths in perfect 'o's of astonishment.

She pushed forward, punching at the wall of backs and legs until they let her through. The horses were dancing, tossing their heads from side to side as if wanting to bolt but restrained by the cage of the crowd.

A sharp jab between her shoulders sent her flying forward and she slammed into the side of the carriage, the painted wood catching her cheekbone. She gasped in pain, her face still flat against the vehicle. Inside, she could hear his Lordship, the Earl of Fellshire shouting at his coachman to drive on, and push through. But the crowd wasn't having it. Someone had grabbed the reins and the driver had to retreat to the roof of the carriage for safety.

Blossom didn't know what had happened to the liveried footman. Perhaps he was hiding on the roof as well.

She could feel the warmth of a stranger's breath on the back of her neck, and it made her shudder. Everyone was standing too close, and she couldn't see what was going on. She had no idea where Caul was. She wanted to turn around and tell them all to shut up. She couldn't hear herself think over all their wailing. And they were all just standing there, not doing anything. Caul needed help and no one was offering any.

With her heart still hammering, she let herself drop to the ground, and sliding around the huge spoked wheels, she crawled under the carriage.

The first thing she saw was Caul's jacket. He was lying with his back towards her, curled around, as if he was sleeping. For a moment Blossom thought that he was just hiding out away from all the noise and yelling until the crowd dispersed.

But then she saw the blood.

It coated the cobbles, making them shine in the dim light, seeping slowing away from her friend like ripples of water in a bucket. It was everywhere. With horror, Blossom lifted her hand and found it coated, as glossy and red as cadmium. Her father had been using it in his studio only the previous night, mixing it with linseed oil until it shone. Blossom rubbed her fingers together, watching the colour streak across her skin with hints of brown and gold.

"Caul?" Her voice came out as nothing but a rasping whisper. Her mouth was so dry. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Caul? Can you hear me?"

On her knees, she inched forward towards him. She couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. Her eyes itched and she longed to rub them, but her hands were still filthy with his blood. Hurriedly, she wiped them on her skirt, but the cloth was already saturated. There was so much blood. No one could possibly live after losing so much.

As she edged around him, she could see that his hair was all messed up. The grease that kept it slicked back as smooth as a raven's wing, now cast it into spikes, giving him the air of a soot covered hedgehog. But there, underneath the mussed tresses, was the source of all that blood. A gash, running across the back of his head, splitting it open.

Blossom closed her eyes and tried to quell the rising vomit in her throat.

"Caul," she whispered, unable to open her eyes. "Please be alright. I swear..." she stopped, unsure how to continue. She would have promised anything so that he could just roll around and put on one of those grins of his and tell her it had all been an elaborate joke, and hadn't she been a fool to fall for it.

With a tentative hand, she reached out to him. She brushed the lines of his jacket with the tips of her fingers. He didn't respond. Tears flooded her eyes and she couldn't hold them back. A huge lump rose in her throat and it was all she could do not to choke on it.