Free The Dead Have No Shadows by Chris Mawbey Page B

cheerfully have punched this odious little man down the stairs and out into the street.  That would give the neighbours something to look at.  Instead, he fought to compose himself.  Mickey smiled and clasped Janic on the shoulder.  He grip was firm and unwavering as he dug his fingers into the man’s skinny shoulder.
    “If Elena.”  He made a deliberate point of using the girl’s name.  “If Elena is going to spend the rest of her ... time cleaning up after a husband that she doesn’t even know yet, then today, her last day as a free person, she will have my help.”
    Janic made to protest but Mickey silenced him with his stare.
    The old man glanced across at the mother and daughter audience.  Both were engrossed in the exchange, as Elena whispered a translation, and he could see that both were anxious to discover how it would conclude.  Janic was the head of the house he had to do something to save face.
    “Your ways are strange ways, Mickey Raymond.  But my house is your house.  Do as you wish.  We will smoke together later.”
    Like fuck we will.  Mickey nodded and started to pile up the dishes.  Elena quickly joined in and in a few seconds the table was cleared.  Mickey noticed that Janic had disappeared down the stairs.  Probably gone for a sulk.
    “Where do these need to go?”  Mickey reddened at the harsh tone of his words.  “Please.”  He tried to redeem the situation.
    “This way,” said Elena.  She led the way down the stairs to the larder.  A separate room at the back of this served as a scullery.  Like the rest of the house it was a basic affair, with a trestle table carrying an enamel wash basin.  Outside, at the back of the building, stood a barrel of water.
    “We do not use the sink anymore,” said Elena, indicating the plumbed in sink in the corner of the room.  “There is no running water.  We have to collect it from the river and store it.”
    “I’ll bring some in,” said Mickey.
    “No,” Elena replied.  She was smiling.  “You have embarrassed my father enough.  It would shame him more if you were seen collecting water.  I will fetch it.”
    “I didn’t mean to embarrass him,” said Mickey.  “But he’s wrong the way he treats you.  It’s so ... archaic.”  Seeing that Elena didn’t understand the word he changed it to, “old fashioned.”
    Elena smiled again.  “Thank you.  You are kind.”
    She fetched two buckets of brackish water and they set to washing the dishes.  Elena insisted on doing the washing and let Mickey dry.  The silence that fell was companionable to begin with but Mickey began to feel awkward after a while.  He fished around for something to start a conversation with but was afraid of upsetting the girl.  Finally his curiosity got the better of him.
    “How long have you been ...”
    “Dead?” Elena glanced sideways at Mickey to check if that was what he meant.
    Mickey nodded and took another dish from her.
    “We have been over here for two years now,” Elena replied.  “A mudslide swallowed half of our village.  The sun rose after nearly one week of rain.  Before the sun set that day we had been buried and had arrived over here.”
    Mickey hadn’t expected so much detail.  It shocked him.
    “I’m sorry.” It was a lame thing to say but was the first thing he could think of.  “How old were you when you died?  If you don’t mind me asking.”
     “You are funny.” Elena laughed.  “I was nineteen years old.  And I am still nineteen.  For me time stopped when the mountain collapsed and buried us.  The rest of the village though, they have kept the calendar.  That is why my father has arranged this marriage now.  In his mind I have come of age and can be married.”
    “That’s so wrong,” said Mickey.  “You shouldn’t be forced to marry just because of your age.  You should be able to pick your husband and marry when you’re ready.”
    Elena shrugged.  “It is the way of the