One of Us Buried by Johanna Craven (year 2 reading books TXT) 📕

could answer. “She had too much to drink and wandered out into the bush.” Her voice was cold. Empty of emotion. And suddenly she was on her feet, grabbing Willie’s basket and making for the door.

I chased her out into the hallway, letting the door slam behind me. “Where are you going?”

“It was a mistake to come here.” She strode towards the stairwell. I grabbed her arm.

“Please don’t leave.”

She pulled free of my grasp. “Instead I’m to stay here and listen to you spout lies about my husband?” She shook her head. “I ought to have known you’d do something like this. You turn up at my door, filthy drunk because you lifted your skirts to your lobster, and you’re still doing all you can to show me how much better you’ve done than me.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” I hissed. “Kate deserves to know the truth.”

“And that’s what I told her. That Maggie was killed by the savages.”

I let out my breath. “You can’t truly believe that.”

Lottie shook her head. “No,” she said. “We’re not going back here, Nell. Not after all this time. We’re not having this conversation again.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. “You’re right.” I dared to take a step towards her. Dared to press a hand to her forearm. I was relieved when she didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I never meant to look down on you. I just want you to be safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Lottie sighed, but she didn’t walk away. A burst of drunken laughter floated up from the tavern.

“We look out for each other,” I said. “Isn’t that what you always told me?” I squeezed her wrist. “And it goes both ways, Lottie. I need you to look out for me just as much. You saw the mess I was in tonight. I’m barely stumbling my way through this place.”

Finally, she looked up to meet my eyes.

“Please come inside,” I said. “Willie needs to be warm and dry. You know that.” I flashed her a tentative smile. “I’ll not speak of Owen again. I promise.”

*

When I woke, I was alone in the bed. Pale dawn light was filtering into the room. Kate was at the window, peering through the curtains. I sat up, frowning. “Where’s Lottie?”

Kate looked back over her shoulder at me, a thread of dark hair clinging to her lip. “She left.”

“What do you mean? Where did she go?”

She shrugged. “I just saw her leave.”

“When?” I tried to rein in my impatience.

“Don’t know. But it was still dark. And then I went back to sleep.”

A knot of panic tightened in my stomach. Had something happened to Willie in the night? Or had Lottie gone to Owen? Was she making another attempt at getting him to take her back?

If she had, who was I to stop her? Perhaps I had done all I could. Perhaps the time had come for me to accept that. To let her live her own life and make her own mistakes.

I pushed the thought aside. I knew I would never be able to do such a thing. Owen had wrung Maggie’s throat and left her body at the side of the road. I would fight until I died to stop the same thing happening to Lottie.

I grabbed my damp dress from the chair and slid it over my head. “Stay here,” I told Kate, fastening the hooks with unsteady fingers. “There’s bread on the shelf. And you can go to the kitchen and make some tea. Charlie will help you.”

“Where are you going?”

“I need to find Lottie.”

I climbed downstairs and out through the empty tavern, locking the door behind me. In the early morning, the air was cool and still. Empty barrels were stacked up against the wall of the tavern, flies swarming and the smell of stale liquor thick in the air.

I began to walk. I would go to Owen’s farm first, and if there was no sign of Lottie, I would try at the Rocks. The streets were close to empty, just a few sailors stumbling from the taverns. At least if Lottie was roaming the alleys, I would have a chance of finding her.

I passed the Dog and Duck tavern, and hurried along the street that wound around past Captain Grant’s house. Kept my eyes firmly on the ground.

The sound of footsteps made me look up. There was Lottie, rounding the bend, flanked by Owen and Brady. Willie was strapped to her chest. They were striding down the narrow street from the direction of Owen’s farm, heading for Captain Grant’s house. A pistol peeked out of Brady’s fist.

At once I knew exactly why Lottie had left the tavern in the night. To lead Patrick Owen to the man he despised. To give him a chance at Blackwell without the Rum Corps watching.

Heat flooded me. Lottie’s betrayal burned under my skin. But it was the fear that caused my heart to race. Fear that Blackwell would never set foot on that ship back to England. That he might die by the rebels’ bullet and never again see his wife.

I darted down the side of a neighbouring house and stood with my back pressed against the wall. By now, Grant and his family would have left for Van Diemen’s Land. The house would be near empty. If Owen and Brady made it inside, they would have a clear shot at Blackwell, with not a single witness.

I would not make it to the Grants’ without being seen. But I had to warn Blackwell the men were coming.

At the sound of my footfalls, Lottie turned to look behind her. Our eyes met. I stared at her, hot with fury. I’d never felt more betrayed. I knew, of course, that at its core, this conflict