Lazarus by Sarah Cawkwell

Author:Sarah Cawkwell [Cawkwell, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Winged Hussar Publishing, LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

INTERLUDE

Extract from ‘Unlikely Tales’

In due course, Constance’s tears ran dry and Mama Marie sat by, studying the widow’s tearful face. “It hurts bad, don’t it, chile? But all this cryin’? Why, that ain’t gon’ get you what you need. You grievin’ for your man an’ I understand that, I truly do.” She stood, moving to the other side of the small hut. She took two shot glasses from a shelf and, reaching up above her head, brought down a small, square bottle that was intricately decorated with shapes and patterns that made no sense to Constance.

“Glass of this an’ you’ll soon be focused,” said the poured two glasses of a thick liquid. In the semi-light of the woman’s hut, it looked to be the colour and consistency of blood. Constance shuddered at the thought, but when she was handed her glass, she smelled berries. Mama Marie smiled at her. “Raspberries, in the main,” she explained.

Constance took a tentative sip. It was sweet and potent as were most alcoholic drinks brewed by those not licensed to do so. It was also quite delicious and following Mama Marie’s lead, she tipped the glass’s entire contents down her throat in a single move. She did, in fact, immediately feel less grief-filled and calmer. Mama Marie gave her another smile.

“Take another, girl. An’ let’s talk some about how you can help me.”

“I ain’t got nothin’ to offer, Madame Marie,” said Constance, a little sadly as she downed a second glass of the raspberry flavoured drink. She felt a little light headed, but no more than all the bourbon she’d downed since her husband’s death had left her feeling. Keep on drinkin’ like that, girl, an’ you’ll wind up pickled from the inside out, she’d said to herself in the more sober moments.

“That, darlin’, is where you’re wrong. So, so wrong. You ain’t got no family, have you?”

“No, Madame. When my husband… now he’s gone, I ain’t got nobody. His parents, my parents are long-since dead and there weren’t no brothers or sisters…”

“No children?”

Constance flushed, upset once more by the remark. “No, Madame. Weren’t for want of tryin’, but for whatever reason, we weren’t graced with children.”

“An’ you gave yourself to just the one man? No lovers?”

“Madame Marie!” Constance was suitably shocked. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“To make sure you ain’t got any ties bindin’ you to this life, holdin’ you back from what you could become. I mean no offence. If you honestly want a better future, my girl, then you gotta be prepared to embrace it. An’ that means letting go. So now you gotta let go.”

Again, Constance could not tell if it was a trick of the light, or the sense of wooziness she felt after drinking Mama Marie’s liqueur, but there was something in those words that filled her with a deep-seated terror – but it was tempered by curiosity.

The wall behind Mama Marie came alive once again, a writhing, seething mass of repugnance that the young widow failed, once again, to notice.

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