The Drowning of Arthur Braxton. Caroline Smailes

he says. ‘Do as I say or you’ll get the sack,’ he says. ‘And I’ll make sure no one round here gives you a job,’ he says.

      I start walking towards him, hoping to get around him, hoping for a miracle, a something to make this better. He grabs my arm.

      ‘Get off,’ I say, trying to wriggle away, but that makes him grip harder and pull me in closer.

      ‘I’m going to taste you,’ he says. ‘That’s what lovers do.’

      I feel sick, I’m crying, I want him to stop, I want to be back at my desk, with my book, with the clients, with the appointment book. And that’s when he lets go of my arm and that’s when he opens the door out of the changing room.

      ‘Off you go, prick-tease,’ he says and he slaps my arse as I walk past.

      I’m still crying when I get to the desk. Silver’s there, he’s watching me, but when my eyes meet his he turns away.

      ‘Silver,’ I say, ‘what shall I do?’

      ‘Run for your life,’ Silver whispers, but he carries on walking.

       An Arrow Tipped with Lead:

      Next day’s here and Silver’s still ignoring me, like actually not even coming near me, and sending his last clients to ask me questions for him. I don’t know what to do. I mean, I didn’t sleep proper last night, ’cause I kept thinking about all the proper bad things that could happen to me. And I kept thinking about what Martin Savage could have done to me in them changing rooms. I ended up really freaking myself out and making my heart beat funny like I’d been sprinting in a race or something. I tried to talk to Mum this morning, but she said I was just being silly and Silver was probably having a bad day. She even said that Martin’d be a good man to ‘pop my cherry’ as he’d know what he was doing. She’d laughed, like I was being silly for being so scared. I told her I didn’t want to go into work and she got cross. I know not to push it with her, I know she’s thinking I’m just a stupid little girl but I’m not. I know Silver, he’s a kind man, he wouldn’t be being like he’s being unless there was bad stuff he didn’t want to say.

      I had to talk to him, I had to find out what he meant, so I waited until his last client left and I walked into the Females pool. But Silver was having none of it. He barged past me and out the main door.

      ’Course, Martin Savage’s finding it all hilarious. Just now he said that if I showed him my titties he’d talk to Silver for me. And now, I mean I know he’s watching me now. ’Cause I’ve just run off and I’m chasing Silver down the steps, along the seafront and onto the beach. My DMs are rubbish to run in and I’m having to push my dress to my thighs to stop it from flying up and showing everyone my knickers. I can hear Martin Savage’s dirty laugh behind me and that’s when Silver stops walking, turns to me and puts his fingers in his ears.

      And that’s when he shouts at me, ‘Bugger off, Laurel!’

      I know I have to, I don’t want to be upsetting Silver, I think he’s a sort-of friend and I don’t have many of them, so I stop and turn back to The Oracle.

      I can see him, that Martin Savage, as I walk back. He’s like a tiny black fly in front of the huge bumblebee building. I walk slow, much slower than I should, considering there’s a bit of a queue snaking out from the Males 1st Class entrance and when Madame Pythia finds out that I ran off she’ll have a proper fit.

      I’m getting closer to Martin and I can see his nasty face. I don’t like him, not one little bit. He’s a cheating ball of slime, I’ve seen what he does to the women who come here to be healed. They trust him and he’s proper dirty. But the more I give him the evils and the more I refuse to speak to him, the more he seems to like it. I know he thinks I’m playing hard to get, but I’m not. I hate him.

      I walk past Martin Savage and the few women who’ve formed a queue for appointments, but just before I get to the steps, he jumps forward and goes to put an arm around me.

      ‘GET OFF!’ I shout. I think I hear one of the queuing women tut.

      ‘Laurel,’ he says, in a sickly sweet voice, ‘what’s wrong, pet? Has Silver upset you?’

      ‘FUCK OFF!’ I shout, barging past him and knocking shoulders with at least two women in the queue.

      ‘Silly bitch,’ one of them says.

      ‘Got the manners of her mam,’ another says.

      I keep walking through the entrance and that’s when I hear Martin Savage saying, ‘Now, now ladies, leave the poor lass alone. I’ll sort her out later, make sure she’s okay. I reckon she just needs some Martin-loving.’ Then he laughs.

      And although the words he’s saying are sounding all nice and kind, there’s something inside of me that’s screaming for me to run for my life.

       Her Name is Madora Argon:

      But there’s no time for dwelling, I’ve work to do. I mean, it’s not like I’ve got a choice, I don’t want Madame Pythia having a go, but my head’s all over the place. I’m trying so hard not to stand up from my desk and throw the biggest strop ever. I need Silver to help me, I need to try and talk to him later.

      So, for now, I’m sitting at my desk, my bare toes on the cold mosaic floor, and trying to lose myself in a book. That’s when I feel a young lass’s eyes staring at me. I look up and I blush, ’cause I reckon she’s been standing there for ages and I haven’t even realised.

      I put my book down on my desk. ‘I’m after an appointment?’ she says.

      ‘For when?’ I ask. I flick the pages of the appointment book forward to when there’s some free slots.

      ‘Today?’ she asks. I can hear a quiver in her voice.

      I shake my head, ’cause I know how busy we are, and that’s when I glance up at her and that’s when I catch a look in her eyes. I’ve been working here long enough to know when people are desperate, to know when it’s proper important that they see a healer. This lass needs help, her eyes are pleading with me to help her.

      ‘They’re all booked up, Martin Savage has a drop-in later,’ I say, then, quickly, ‘but Silver’s always good at squeezing in an extra session. If you don’t mind waiting?’

      ‘I really wanted to see Madame Pythia,’ she says, looking down at the mosaic tiles. ‘I’ve heard she’s the best.’ She’s not crying but I reckon she’s not far off. She’s pulling her red hair into a ponytail and looking anywhere but at me. I’m staring at her face, her skin’s white like posh china. She scares me, she’s proper fragile.

      ‘She’s booked up for weeks,’ I say, I’m still staring at her, she’s still looking at the mosaic floor. ‘But Silver’s proper good.’

      She nods and her face does an angry twist. I’ve seen the look before, it’s like the lasses blame me for them not thinking ahead and booking appointments, but there’s something else there too. There’s more to her angry twist than her just being cross with me. This lass is proper desperate.

      ‘What’s your name?’ I ask. ‘To write in my book,’ I say, holding my pencil over Silver’s page.

      ‘Madora Argon. But Maddie, I’m called Maddie,’ she says and her eyes meet mine. She smiles but her eyes don’t.

      ‘Why don’t you wait outside in the sunshine? I’ll ask Silver when he’s likely to fit you in and let you know,’ I say.

      She nods again, turns and walks out the main entrance, she’s dragging her