Lets Drink To The Dead by Simon Bestwick

jabbed a finger at him. “Do not talk to me like that.”
    “Somewhere dangerous.”
    “Bron, I’m your wife. I’ve been your bloody wife for thirty-three years. I married you even though no bugger would give me the time of day after I did and I held my head high till they came round. I have stuck by you through everything, even through driving our son away–”
    “I did not drive him.”
    “He hasn’t spoken to us since he left, Bron. Do you know what that’s like? Do you feel a bloody thing?”
    “You know I do.”
    “Do I?” She hugged herself tightly. “He could die. He could die and I wouldn’t hear from him. And now you as well?”
    “I will be alright. I will come back.”
    “Then why write that? If you aren’t worried?”
    “Just in case.”
    “Just in case, my arse. Where are you going, Bron? Do not tell me I’ve got no right to know.”
    “Alright. I’m going to Ash Fell.”
    “Jesus Christ.”
    “Yes.”
    “ That place.”
    “Yes.”
    “Why? Who are you going with?”
    “A friend.”
    “Who?”
    “Someone I gave my word to help.”
    “ Who? ” When he didn’t answer, Roberta snorted. “It’s her, isn’t it? Myfanwy?”
    “How did you–”
    “I’m right, aren’t I?”
    “She asked for my help.”
    “I’ll bet.”
    “Roberta, wait–”
    “Oh, piss off back to your fancy woman.”
    “Don’t talk wet.” Bron didn’t use English slang very often; it came out as ‘vet’. Roberta half-laughed, a hand covering her mouth, but her eyes were moist. Bron went to her – held her arms; she twisted in his grip. “Roberta–”
    “Get off me–”
    “Listen to me–”
    “Get off me, Bron.”
    “Alright.” He released her. “There is... Myfanwy says there are children in danger tonight.”
    “Well call the police, then.”
    Bron shook his head.
    “Why not?”
    “The police may be involved.”
    “Oh, that’s rubbish.”
    “I wish it was. But Myfanwy says they are.”
    “‘Myfanwy says.’”
    “She has never lied.” Roberta turned away. “Roberta, she may be wrong. Of course she may be wrong. And then that will be an end of things. But if she is right? If children’s lives were threatened and I did nothing? What then? Could you live with such a man?”
    She looked back at him; he saw she was weeping. “I’ve lived with you since Michael left, haven’t I?”
    He looked away.
    “Why can’t someone else do it?”
    “Because she trusts me.”
    “She trusts you.”
    “I gave her my word. Roberta... Roberta, when I came here, Myfanwy was the first friend I had, the first person who would speak to me.”
    “Friend. Bit more than that, if I remember. You were her bloody toy-boy.”
    “It was not for long. And then we were only friends again. And Roberta, I have never hidden that from you. Have I?”
    “No,” she said at last. “No, you haven’t.”
    “I gave my word. And...” Bronisław picked up the shotgun. “I grew up on a farm like this. You know that. And as any farmer’s son must, I grew up with this too. So with it, as a boy, I killed. Birds, rabbits – for food or to protect the crops. I took no pleasure in it. It was just something that had to be done. But it stood me in good stead when we fought the Germans.”
    Roberta lowered her arms. “You know, you’ve never spoken about that.”
    “It was something I wished to forget. I was with the Home Army, in the Mokotów district of Warsaw, during the Uprising of 1944. I saw many friends die around me. I fought with a rifle, a sub machine gun. Hand grenades. Once, I ran out of ammunition and used my rifle as a club. I beat a German soldier to death with it.”
    Roberta put a hand to her mouth.
    “Did I take pleasure in that? I don’t know. But I took human life, not once, but often. And came to do so without thought, because you cannot think of such things. Not at the time.”
    “But after?”
    “Yes. That is why I did not want Michael to become a soldier. I did not want him to see or do