She sniffed up her tears and laughed a little. ‘If you insist. Thank you.’ She hugged him and her body sagged against his so that he had to support her.
‘Are you feeling okay?’
She gripped his biceps and forced herself to stand. ‘I think I’ll go rest. We can work on the costumes later. When I’m feeling better.’
‘Whatever you want, Mamá.’ He helped her back inside and into bed. She disappeared beneath the covers and her breathing became slow and heavy. It didn’t look like she was in pain but she’d hidden so much from him already, she could probably hide that too.
He left her to sleep and went out to find Bruce’s bank details. For that moment he’d shared with his mother, he was going to pay double.
Even then that wasn’t enough.
Chapter Ten
By the time Bruce finished the installation of the lights in Warren’s gallery, his stomach had grown impatient. Sustenance absent, it declared its intention to eat itself with loud and prolonged growling that echoed in the sterile space. He swept up his tools, hurried outside and threw them in the back of the ute, then returned to hand over the invoice. But Warren was with a customer so Bruce caught his attention and left it on his desk. He should have put it into his hand, or waited until he was free, because it was all too easy to get missed, but he was starving. And if he had to listen to excuses, he was probably going to bite Warren’s coiffured head off. He’d rather wrap his chops around a ham and salad roll. Maybe two.
He walked across Main Street, into the small arcade, and stopped outside The Providore’s window. Displayed inside were fresh sandwiches and rolls, made with good meats and cheeses, as well as a lot of fancy desserts that Bruce definitely did not need to eat. The sight of all that bounty revved the rumblings in his stomach to full throttle. He was bending over trying to make up his hunger-clouded mind about what to have when someone tapped his shoulder. His eyes darted to Clarence’s corpulent reflection.
If there was one person he definitely didn’t want to see while he had a case of the hangries, it was Clarence.
‘Salutations, Bruce!’ he boomed. Clarence was one of the loudest members of Brachen’s community. As a singer, his ability to project came in useful, but Bruce always wished for his earmuffs whenever Clarence was in the vicinity. Right now, the tenor’s voice punched his starving stomach.
‘Hi, Clarence, how are you?’
‘Oh, just fabulous, old boy.’ Never mind that Clarence was about twenty years older than Bruce. ‘I was wondering if you’d be available to install a new bookshelf for me. I’ve had a bit of a move around in my music room and would like to get some of those books off the ground before the mice nibble them out of existence.’
Bruce knew the ins and outs of Clarence’s music room intimately, having remodelled the damn thing about five times over the years. And every time Clarence was late with payment. He still owed him for the last job three months prior. The money always magically appeared when Bruce showed up for the next job, with Clarence claiming a slip of the mind. With the amount of work Bruce had going on, he was unlikely to be able to fit this job in for some time and by then he’d probably be homeless. He couldn’t wait for Clarence to pay him at his leisure. He could barely afford the sandwiches he was being delayed from buying.
He swallowed down his bile and hoped that would temporarily placate his stomach.
‘Always happy to do work for you, Clarence, but I won’t be able to for a few weeks.’
‘Oh, no worries, old boy, just when you get the chance.’ Clarence gave Bruce’s arm a friendly pat and turned to leave, but Bruce couldn’t let him go without addressing the unpaid debt.
‘Clarence.’ He coughed, unused to doing this. ‘Do you remember the last job I did for you?’
‘How could I forget?’ Clarence pressed his hand to his chest. ‘Those new windows are simply divine and they let the light in beautifully. The way the sun comes into the room now is so inspiring. I can’t help but sing.’
He bet he couldn’t. A job that most would have charged at least fifteen grand for and he’d gotten it for five. Still, that was Bruce’s fault.
‘The thing is you haven’t actually paid me for them yet and until—’
‘Are you sure?’ The skin around Clarence’s eyes twitched as he spoke.
‘Quite sure.’
You don’t suddenly forget you’re owed five grand.
Clarence’s fingers bunched at his pursed lips, wrinkles deepening across his forehead. The hams inside The Providore had nothing on Clarence. ‘I was certain I’d paid it as soon as you’d given me the invoice. You did give me the invoice, didn’t you? Because I always make a habit of paying things on time.’
All that hot air must have come in handy for singing to the rafters.
‘I definitely gave you the invoice.’ Bruce struggled to relax his jaw wide enough to let the words out.
Clarence’s hand fluttered to his puffed-up cheek. ‘Oh dear, oh dear. You see of course I’d love to pay you right now, and I’ll see what I can do, but I don’t think I have that much in my account at the moment. Things have been a little tight lately. And what was it? Three thousand?’
‘Five thousand.’
‘As much as that! Well, of course, I’ll go home right now and find the invoice but like I said—’
‘Excuse me.’ Gabriel’s voice spoke up from behind Clarence. Bruce hadn’t seen him approach, having been too engaged with Clarence’s contortions.
Clarence stepped aside and took in Gabriel with a withering look, like the one an actor would give if a phone rang in the audience during their soliloquy. ‘Oh, it’s
