Читаем The Hunter полностью

“I’ll do it later.” Trey can’t stick looking at their faces another second. The air feels like it’s clamping in all round her. She needs to move.

“You’ll do it now.”

“Sure, you can’t go out anyway,” Johnny says, in a peacemaking voice. “I’m off for a wee saunter myself, in a bit; you need to stay here and help your mammy while I’m gone.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Maeve tells him, pouting. “Stay.” She nuzzles up against Johnny’s side. He smiles and smooths her hair.

“Quit acting like a baby,” Trey says.

“I’m not!” Maeve snaps, her lip trembling. “I want Daddy!”

“You’re fuckin’ eleven.”

“I’m scared!”

“You make me wanta puke.”

Maeve kicks out and gets Trey in the shin. Trey shoves her hard enough that she staggers back against the counter. Maeve screeches and goes for her, raking at Trey’s face with her nails, but Trey catches Maeve’s wrist and punches her right in the gut. Maeve wheezes for breath and grabs for Trey’s hair, but it’s too short. Somewhere Liam is laughing too loud, like it’s fake but he can’t stop.

Their dad gets between them. He’s laughing his arse off too. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, cool the jets there,” he says, holding them apart with a hand on each one’s shoulder. “Holy God almighty, wouldja look at the pair of spitfires we’ve got here? None a that, now. Leave that stuff to the big rufty-tufty lads. Ye’re both too gorgeous to go ruining those faces. Are you all right, Maeveen love?”

Maeve bursts into tears. Trey shakes her dad’s hand off her shoulder and goes to the sink to wash up. She feels like she’s drowning, deeper in bog every second, the mountain sucking her down.

—

On his way out, Johnny pokes his head into Trey’s room, where she’s shut herself to get away from the rest. Maeve is in the shower and has been for a while. Trey would bet money that she’s using up all the hot water on purpose.

“There’s my wee wild woman,” her dad says. He’s all dolled up, with a fresh shirt on and his hair arranged in an appealing swoop; Trey can smell his aftershave. He looks like he’s going on a date. “Now, you do what your mammy says while I’m out, and look after the little ones. And don’t be bickering with Maeve. She’s a bit nervy, just. ’Tisn’t her fault she’s not as big and brave as you.”

Trey shrugs. She’s brushing Banjo. Normally he basks in the attention, twisting to make sure she gets the best spots, but tonight he’s too hot to do anything but lie there like he’s melted. She thought about leaving the shed fur in Maeve’s bed, but that kind of babyish shite doesn’t fit in the place where they’ve found themselves.

“And don’t you go worrying your head, now,” her dad says, waving a finger at her. “No one’ll do anything on anyone tonight. They’ve all gone for a nice sleep, after their shenanigans last night. You do the same.”

“Why can’t I go out, so?”

“Ah, now,” Johnny says reprovingly. “I know you’re missing your pals, but a bitta responsibility won’t do you any harm. ’Tis only for one night; you’ll be out and about tomorrow.”

Trey doesn’t answer. Johnny switches tone. “Ah, sweetheart. ’Tis awful hard being the oldest, isn’t it? It’ll be only great when Brendan gets the rambling outa his system and comes home. You can be one of the little ones again, and have the poor lad’s head wrecked.”

Trey doesn’t want to think about Brendan. She keeps her eyes on Banjo.

“Meanwhile,” Johnny says, “you just keep telling the rest everything’s grand. ’Cause it will be. I’ll do my bit tonight, and you’ll do your bit tomorrow, and we’ll have the show back on the road in no time.”

“What’s your bit?” Trey asks.

“Ah,” Johnny says, tapping the side of his nose, “that’d be telling. This and that, and a bit of t’other. You just get some rest; you’ve a busy day ahead.” He gives Trey a wink and a thumbs-up, and he’s gone.

—

Trey doesn’t want to sleep, but after last night and the night before, she can’t stop herself. She moves in and out of a sweaty doze, jerking alert to things that could be real or dreams—a door closing, a strange voice snapping Wait in her ear, a flash of light, a sheep’s insistent call—and getting dragged back down into the doze when they fade. Maeve tosses and mutters wretchedly.

When she half-wakes for the dozenth time and sees dawn light around the curtains, Trey forces herself to sit up. The house is silent. She doesn’t want to be around for everyone getting up, her dad putting his arm around her and giving her instructions, Maeve pouting and whining for his attention. She carries her shoes out to the kitchen, feeds Banjo, and butters a few slices of bread while he eats. She’ll find somewhere in the shade to eat them and wait for Ardnakelty to get underway, so she can start assessing the damage.