Machia Veil Timeline

Three days later, morning – Main Street, Village of Denewood, Surridge

The following morning, Nate’s shoulders drooped, the weight of another rough night evident in his posture. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Lauryn’s pendant. He took a deep breath and composed himself. “I’ll find a job in Dene,” he said with conviction. Somewhere Mum will walk in. “That’s how I’ll find her.”

A famous town like Denewood made for a busy movement of people. He tidied himself. Work would give him access to his mother. It was all he had. He advanced toward the first coffee house where guests sat under parasols. At least the sun was out for a change, despite the bent windows.

“Do you have any vacancies?” he asked.

The server peered at him over his glasses. “Sorry, fully staffed, but ask the Lyon’s Inn,” he pointed. “They have a vacancy sign.”

With trembling legs, Nate walked into the pub.

“I am looking for work. I am happy to do anything,” he said.

“How old are you?” Asked the grey-faced man looking through papers. He had thinning hair. Then he looked up. Nate straightened his posture, his back aligned, and shoulders squared.

“Nineteen” lied Nate, side-tracked by eggs benedict on a stand.

“Are you happy to clean dishes?”

Nate’s eyes shined. “Anything, anything will be great.”

“When can you start?”

“Now?”

“Okay, you can start at five today. If you’re good, you can stay as a server, otherwise we will move you to dishwasher, understood?”

“Understood! Thank you so much.”

Relief! At last!

Starved of sleep, he sank under the sun in the meadow that bordered Denewood. When he roused, he was smiling. He stripped off his clothes and leapt into the river. His belly still hurt, and he was tired. But the countryside offered a break from the intense colours in Dene. I am going to eat at 5 pm! After his swim, he returned to Denewood, eager for his first job ever. He had a feeling of accomplishment. I will find Mum!

He made the ten-minute stroll to Dene as if floating on air.

What a great feeling! Ouch! His belly growled. Grasping his abdomen, he quickened his stride. He turned a corner when a familiar sound moved him.

His heart skipped a beat, and he ambled towards the music. The faint echoes of a flamenco guitar and its orchestra grew in volume. It was coming from a ground-floor window. A civic centre. Nate crept closer.

That’s when he saw her.

***

She wore a bright red dress with playful polka dots. Silky raven hair cascaded down her back.

Asian eyes! he marvelled.

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Her face had a kitten-like charm to it.

With each rehearsal, she added an extra layer of anger and defiance to the step. Reaching up, curling her hand, and then diving to the ground. Swivelling and tap dancing until she came to a stop. Striding towards a sound system, she resumed the track, and her entrancing movements began again to the beat of a Spanish guitar.

The dance was a living poem, with each step telling a story.

It startled Nate when a man in his mid-fifties stormed in. He killed the music.

Without a word or explanation, he struck her hard.

“You broke the rules!” he thundered.

A spark of determination flickered in her eyes.

The man struck her again.

A lad rushed in before Nate could intervene.

“Back off!” he shouted, positioning himself between them. Nate held his breath.

“Back home now!” The older man roared as he turned to leave.

She burst into tears.

“Kenya, tune out that monster. You’re too good a dancer.”

“Kenya!” Nate whispered.

“Why don’t you leave? Try Londoom,” he said, opening a fridge door and searching for ice.

“But I missed the solstice.”

“Someone will help you; you have to try.”

“I have to go to work,” she said, nursing her black eye with the ice.

Nate was immobile. A mix of fear for her and dreams engulfed him. Her swaying fixed in his mind.

He wandered through Dene in a trance-like state.

***

His new boss checked his watch. “You’re late!”

“I am sorry!” He jumped. He was not used to explaining himself.

“If you’re late again, you’re out, you hear me?”

“For sure! For sure!”

“This is Sue. She’ll train you.”

Sue was pleasant and presented Nate a black apron to wear over his clothes. He felt the pockets.

“You have a wine opener there. Don’t lose it! A notepad and pens. You’ll start filling the tomato sauce bottles.” She pointed at the corner of the tent where three other servers ogled Nate.

“Come on, you lot! Don’t stop!” She sighed.

Nate sat at the table. It was refreshing no one recognised him, but his head was elsewhere.

A man from the kitchen brought out a tray of cold rice salad. The quantity made Nate’s eyes grow wide. He feared the food would disappear, so he lunged forward and stuffed his mouth as chairs screeched.

Nate paused. Red as a beet. He suspended his hands in the air. This was the end. First late, now he was acting like an animal.

Sue approached Nate. “There is plenty for everyone,” she said, taking the tray away from him.

“I-I…I’m sorry,” he said, spurting bits of rice from his mouth.

Thirty minutes later, and relieved to have eaten. Nate began working.

***

The locals had dull complexions, as though they never left their homes. Or was it the weather? That day, Nate served a couple at a corner table with their children. He over smiled, and they leaned backwards when he came close. Later, he overheard them talking to Forester, his new boss.

“He smiles too much. He’s hiding something,” said a diner.

“Give him a chance. I took pity on the boy,” he said.

An hour later, Kenya walked into the restaurant and placed her server apron on.

Nate froze, holding a tray of drinks.

A co-worker levelled the tray before it crashed.

“Woah, easy Nate! Kenya is way out of your league!” he said. “Table 12 hurry, drinks are waiting!”

Forester took her to one side and exchanged some words. She headed to the change room.

“Nate!” said Sue, startling him. But he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Kenya, and he followed her. He was a meter away from her when she faced him.

“What?” she asked, flushed. “Who are y-. Hey, I recognise you! Don’t I?”

Up close her eyes glistened like pools of obsidian, and her nose, the most unexpected freckles.

They spoke without words. Nate’s hand reached towards her black eye when Forester interrupted them.

“Nate, for heaven’s sakes! Hurry, table 12 is waiting! Kenya, see you in a few days.”

***

Nate walked out with a silly smile that lasted the evening. How was she possible?

Later he was leaving the Inn when Forester approached him. “We have a room here,” he said.

“A room?” said Nate. A room!

“If you need a place, you may stay.”

“I may?” I can stay!

“Do you want the room or not?” asked Forester.

“Yes, yes!” he whooped.

***

Inns have rooms! Nate grinned as he went upstairs through a warped Tudor corridor with a narrow low ceiling. He searched for room three.

A small room. He breathed in. The bed had pristine linen! The window faced a red brick wall only a yard away. Despite the cramped space, having a bed to himself filled him with joy. He was to share a bathroom in the hallway with another four. He didn’t care. Sleeping well was all that mattered.

Later, he had a glorious meal. Fish and chips. After three days of homelessness, he appreciated everything. The taste, the smell, the charity of the Forester family. He would treasure this time forever.