rhubarb, honeydew, vanilla and whipped cream
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: The Doll
Rating: G
Challenge: Rhubarb ‘My Treat’ #20: what do you have there? (overprotective big brothers make it hard to Isaac to do nice things), Honeydew #28: rain check, Vanilla #15: inhospitable lodgings
Toppings/Extras: whipped cream
Wordcount: 441
Summary: Jude Prowse wants what’s best for his brother.
Notes: Another of Marina’s wonderful ‘My Treat’! This turned out a bit grim.
“Where’re you goin’, boy child?”
Shamefacedly, four-year-old Isaac Prowse turned to peer at his fourteen-year-old brother through the thick blackness. The doorway they were sleeping in-belonging to one of the governmental buildings near to Vauxhall Bridge-was one of the best spots for rest and they had nabbed it early. It was a night that promised frost in the early hours and the Thames had cast out a chilling mist.
“Lady’s cryin’,” Isaac mumbled.
“Come ‘ere,” the sleepy Jude sighed, taking his younger brother by the wrists and pulling him closer. Opening the front of his jacket, he brought Isaac close to his chest and wrapped it closed around both of them. Being four, Isaac did not have much of a sense of perspective, but he noticed in the back of his mind that Jude was much thinner than he had been a year ago. “She ain’t.”
“But I...”
“Shush, boy child. You need some sleep.” Jude’s teeth were chattering and there was only sparse warmth to be found even under his coat. Isaac felt his bony arms shifting around him. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with the lady. She lost her dog. It’ll come back.”
Isaac wasn’t convinced by this. The lady they were both talking about was a vagrant named Emily and she cried quite often. They saw her from time to time and the night seemed to be her time for weeping; diminished, juddering little affairs. No wailing. Which was worse in a way.
“I was goin’ to give her...” Isaac began, and then trailed off.
“What’re you talkin’ about, fool child? You got nothin’ to give.”
Through the collar of the oversized coat, Isaac poked some sort of... doll. Jude looked at it for a long moment before dipping his chin until it rested on Isaac’s unwashed hair. It was potato-shaped and looked like it had been made from a sock.
“Where’s that from?”
“Dunno.”
Sighing-causing a cloud of fog to roll into the air-Jude pulled his brother closer and curled up on the step. Behind them, Micah Prowse twitched and rolled his head a little.
“Sleep now, kid, an’ well see what’s goin’ on in the mornin’. You know what Mick gets like if he hasn’t enough sleep. He’s a right grumpy git, and no mistake.” After he heard Isaac giggle a little, Jude stilled and felt his youngest brother drift into sleep. His other younger brother was mumbling something drowsily, although it wasn’t coherent.
Resting his head against the door behind them, Jude stared across the street, Isaac heavy on his lap and the sound of sobbing faint on the air.