Chapter One - Part One

THE FIRST PARAGRAPH:

William sat on an old, wooden soap box a few feet from the edge of the street and watched the traffic rumble past. He watched the carriages and horses struggle up the steep road under the relentless streams of rainwater that carved their way around the slick cobble stones. Drivers whipped their horses on each misstep and pedestrians stayed clear of the muddy splashes made by the quick and heavy vehicles. A lot had changed in 20 years in Marnie, but William would have never known the difference. He leaned against the stone wall of a fish stand just below his apartment as he routinely did on heavy traffic days. His legs were crossed and straight out, pestering the wealthy passersby who had little choice between stepping over him or getting drenched from the puddles in the street. They, in return, muttered rude comments about the boy’s behavior and rushed off to catch the nearest cab or into the warmest pubs at the Crossing. But none of that mattered to William Calloway, III because at the playful age of seven, he had learned the cynical ways of his elders even if he did not fully comprehend them.

“Willie! Will! William!” shouted his mother from a window above. She always yelled these three names in succession. Willie often thought that it was his mother’s attempt to show the world that she was smart enough to have named a son with three names, because she never called him anything but William in private.

FOR FULL TEXT CLICK READ MORE BELOW

“Willie! Will! William!” she shouted again from the small window, this time peering out into the street. Willie was sitting directly beneath the window she was standing in, but because of a small over hang between the bottom of the window and the top of the store, it was difficult for her to see anything but shoe tips.

“Willie! Will! William!” she screamed at the top of her lungs angrily.

“Good God woman!” a man in a dark coat said as he stopped in the middle of traffic. “Can’t you keep it down? There is enough noise on this street as it is without your shouting.”

The woman paused and glanced back at the man with a scowl.

“I’m looking for my boy,” she said irritably. “And you can just mind your own business.”

“I would mind my own business ma’am, but I cannot help it if you are screaming obnoxiously into a random crowd.”

“Mister, I am simply searching for my son. Now please move along and let me to my own business.”

Without hesitation he started to rant, “I will move along miss. Don’t you worry about that. I wouldn’t be caught dead wandering these parts if I didn’t have to. Such a filthy place it is. I’m not surprised at your laziness. Is it the rain that keeps you from coming out to look for him?”

“It is my preference to shout from here. And if you don’t like it, you can keep on walking!”

“Is this your dear son here ma’am?” he said pointing at William.

The woman looked down and could barely see the short legs of her seven-year-old doing exactly as she told him not to do so many times before. She grew red in the face.

“Why I believe it is my son, sir. And you would do me a favor if you gave him a swift kick for me.”

The man gasped, “Disciplining a delinquent from Marnie? For his mother?” He regained his composure and spouted, “I will not be insulted. You are lower than me. And I guarantee that this nuisance of yours will be nothing but trouble for us again in the future.”

The man passionately turned his back to the window and walked off. The stiffness in his shoulders stretched down to knees as he pounded the sidewalk with his feet. Penelope could see from her perch that his knuckles had gone white from clenching his umbrella. She smiled until the man disappeared into the crowd. At last, she left her feet to look upon her missing son, who was spying back at her with a smirk on his face.

“You quit your smiling and get up here young man. You have chores to do.”

The window slammed shut and Willie reluctantly got up from his box to head upstairs. The pedestrians around him made little effort to hide their pleasure at his impending punishment and soon enough a new lane opened up and the traffic flowed more evenly.

Around the corner from the street-front was the entryway to the apartments above the fish shop. There, a doorless entrance led to a set of rickety stairs that reeked of urine and rat nests. Willie hated going through the main entrance because he was afraid of the rats in particular. To make matters worse, a group of bullies that lived across the alley took every advantage of this knowledge and exploited it mercilessly. At least once a day. they tried to capture a rat and spring it on the poor boy when he came around to go inside. And of course, because of his mother’s rhythmic callings, the bullies had plenty of warning to hide and surprise him. But on this day Willie used the entrance in the back of the fish shop, which was forbidden by his mother because of the inconvenience it caused the fish monger.

“Mr. Keenan?” he asked. “May I please use the back door to go up?”

Mr. Keenan had warned William not to press him when he was dealing with a customer. His patience was wafer thin from the years of having to slave over the cutting board separating the freshest catch from the ones that would never sell. More and more customers preferred to buy their fish from the traders on the docks in part because of the guarantee of freshness they offered. But also they had no desire to buy in Marnie. The docks, as it turned out, had almost eliminated any need to ever shop there. North end estates even established their own market houses to trade for goods and only passed through Marnie in transit. Business was crawling as usual.

Patrick Keenan was once a tall and muscular man and an icon in the community before a leg injury forced him to use a cane. Now middle-aged, his midsection swelled noticeably, but was not as noticeable as the round bald-spot on the back of his reddish head. And the red spots that used to be freckles stained his face with a maze of pale white mixed in to form an obviously weathered mug.

“What do you mean use the back door?” he said sternly looking down at the young boy as he folded a wrap of haddock for an impatient cook’s servant.

“My mum has just called me sir, and I need to go up?”

“Yes, I heard her In fact everyone heard her. We always do. And we always hear the complaints from the customers too. Her screechy voice is no good for business you know.”

Willie stared down at the floor in embarrassment. He realized that sometimes it was easier to take the punishment of the bullies and the rats because at least then it would only last a few seconds. If he stood there with Mr. Keenan, and then came through that back door, he would hear it from his mother for another two weeks and have to put up with Mr. Keenan’s ramblings as well.

“Sir, I think I will go to the other entrance instead. Thanks anyway,” he said somberly and started to walk out of the shop.

“That’s a good idea boy. And I say so because I know the older boys are not around today, there is a match on the meadow. They are certainly there,” Mr. Keenan said a bit more cheerfully before turning his attention to his next customer who had just rushed through the door.

“Willie! Will! William!” shouted his mother again.

“Such a woman,” the gentleman said to Mr. Keenan. “Where is your best haddock. I haven’t got the time to waste talking so please hurry up.”

“There you go sir. A nice day to you.”

“It will be as soon as I get out of this place.” The man threw his money at Mr. Keegan without waiting for a price and walked out as quickly as he had come in.