Jester

The Black Gates

The black gates that haunted her sleep crept into her waking hours, like curtains pulled over her eyes the play went on. Black bars of smouldering iron entrapped her.

She held onto the bars. Smoke was burning up the chimney across the street. What was once a sign of a freedom and safety for the juvenile that roamed the street, now caused her distress. Clive was in town and there was nothing she could do about it. Other than wishing him dead.

"What are you looking at?"

Soho shut the curtains.

"Nothing, Father. Just checking the weather"

"Do you have somewhere to be?", Mr. Basu rocked in his wooden chair, eyeing the girl from the corner of his eye.

Mr. Basu was a small bearded man. His skin aged by the sun, making him look older that he was. He worn his shirt tucked, with sleeves folded to his elbows displaying his pigmented discoloured skin.

"If you do have something to do or places to be you'd better get going. Wouldn't want you loafing around any longer", he flicked the newspaper open, peeping at the bold print from over his steel brimmed glasses.

"I am not loafing", her lips were tight, "I have tried-", she sighed, "I am trying, Father".
Soho reached out for her beanie and her scarf on the rack. She knew she was not lying. That was the twelfth time she had changed jobs and it was going well. At least better than it went at the others.

The whole working business was not for her, she told herself. First, she was not old enough to be working and on top of that, her bad temper was not doing her any favours.

She carefully opened the front door, squinting to see into the window of Clive's house where lanky figures in grey and brown were swaying from one side to the other. When she felt certain that it was not him, Soho pulled the beanie onto her ears and left for the café, closing the door behind her with her father enamoured with the Sunday headlines.