These Hills Called Home | ONC 2024

[6] Let the Dead Lie

    "I'm getting there, slowly, with a little help from these two." As Gemma looked to the sofa, Nathan shook through a forceful snore, while Avery slumped down her seat until her beanie dragged over her eyes. Huddled together for one shutter-snapped moment, her friends revived the dim room with a fond, irrepressible light. "Okay, a lot of help. They've really looked out for me, even though they barely know me."

    "That's how we are here. We look after our own." Graham extended his curled cap towards Gemma, delivering his syllables with paced wags of its smoky herringbone fabric. "It doesn't matter whether they're someone's blood family like you or the North girl, or just someone with the spirit of the land in them, like Jake had. If they respect our community, we'll do right by them."

    Water rocked up the sides of Gemma's glass as she paused her sip. "Vee came here too? Where from?"

    A dismissive scoff stirred from Graham's weary face, and he worked his thick fingers over his head's bare flesh. "Never you mind that. She'll tell you herself if she's wanting to," he grumbled, his nose scrunching at the bitter taste of his coming words. "And you'd be best shushing questions like that for a spell. Folk here don't much care for newcomers prying, as that Silverlake lot found out the hard way."

    "So I've heard." Resting her elbows on the island's worktop, Gemma followed the swirl of her water around its glass. "What do Silverlake actually do here?"

    Graham pressed two fingers to his lips, thoughtful mist settling over his eyes. "Far as I know, they run security for Croftwick, the Cox estate. Cameras, gates, and the like," he eventually said with a resigned shrug. "I don't get told the details, and that's fine by me. As long as they stick to Edgar's land and send their bills to his post box, it's none of my business."

    The pub building twitched in the wind, and a shower of raindrops splashed against the windows. Studying the man's body language, Gemma added an airy, casual spring to her voice's step. "But if they did want to do anything in town, they'd have to run it by the council first, right?"

    "That they would. And judging by what I hear from the others, they'd be better off asking the river to run backwards," Graham answered through a rough laugh. As his humour's momentum ebbed away, he pulled at his ear and leaned into the counter. "There wouldn't happen to be a reason you're asking about Silverlake, would there?"

    "No! I mean, not really." Hurrying back to the far side of the counter, Gemma hid her hands behind her back and shrugged off the weight of the flash drive in her pocket. "I just thought it'd be nice to know what Jacob did for a living. We only exchanged a few messages before I came here, and he hardly mentioned anything about his life here."

    Her words failed to ripple in the deep pools of Graham's doubtful eyes. "Now, I know you don't want to hear an old man's lectures, but heed one bit of advice: let the dead lie," he said, honing each of his final words with his sharpened tongue. "Nothing's bringing Jake back, however much you rake over it. We've lost one bright young thing, lass. We can't be losing you too."

    Gemma let her gaze fall and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Maybe you're right. I'd thought I was done hurting over Jacob, but this..." she whispered as her burning cheeks drew shimmering tears from her eyes. "Sorry."

    "Enough of that. You've nothing to be apologising for, unlike this one," Graham said, holding for a pause in his son's snoring before he thumped his foot against the floorboards. He chuckled in satisfaction as Nathan woke with a jolt, his startled arm floundering into the side of Avery's stirring face. "Afternoon, son! And to yourself, Miss North."

    "What? Dad? Afternoon?" With dazzled eyes, Nathan fired wild looks around the room until he spotted the wall clock. His hot flash of panic dissipated into the cool, dark air. "Very funny. Listen, I'm sorry I overslept. We were –"