Local Whispers by C. K. Williams

Author:C. K. Williams [Williams, C. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008354411
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers

“Florence O’Rawe,” I say, our breaths turning to white clouds in front of our mouths. “How did she know? How did she know about the injury?”

“I don’t know,” Daniel replies, fixing his gloves. At least he is wearing gloves, and a sensible coat. His thin face is turning raw in the cold. “I don’t know,” he repeats, and suddenly, he is taking off. “But we’re going to find out.”

12:11

We go to the practice first to check, but there seems to be nobody there. Then Daniel navigates me to the home of Florence and William O’Rawe. They live in a large house off the side road of a side road in the middle of a forest of tall, dark pine trees. Daniel rings the doorbell, but no one answers. They sky is an oppressive dark grey, as if the sun had no intention of ever rising today.

“That’s a bit unusual that no one’s in,” Daniel says while I try to glance in through one of the front windows. They live in a very nice house, the two of them, three floors and a private driveway and more land at the back than any one person should reasonably have. “Not Florence, she should be at the library, but William…”

I think I may be looking into their sitting room. “Would it be normal for them to be flying the Irish flag in there?” I ask.

Daniel shrugs. “Will took Florence’s name at the wedding, and he hasn’t exactly been quiet about his loyalties. Pat’s his best friend, and he was involved with the IRA in the past. I think the only reason why they are not putting up a flagpole is to spare his mother’s feelings. Staunch unionist, Elizabeth is. It’s relatively quiet here, usually, especially in the winter, but you should see the Mountains come July. People paint the pavements in the colours of the Irish flag or the Union Jack for the Battle of the Boyne. It gets fairly intense for a while.”

“I know,” I say. “I remember when I came here for the first time, Kate picked me up from the airport, and we were stopped by the police because they wanted to make sure we weren’t smuggling weapons. Apparently, both unionists and republicans have come to Germany for weapons in the past.” I look around the quiet woods, the tall mountains, the many many sheep. “When you look around, you wouldn’t believe that people paint their pavements here, would you?”

“There are even two newspapers,” Daniel says as he presses the doorbell once more. “To each their own. At least they can both be sold side by side at the Coop.”

That is when something catches my eye. On the holly bush by the front door, to our left. It is a bit of fabric, I think, as I step closer, dread settling at the pit of my stomach. It looks suspiciously like a bit of fabric from Kate’s new coat.

“This is odd,” Daniel repeats, “maybe he’s out with Neighbourhood P—”

That is when we hear the shot.

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