The Fall of Chance by Terry McGowan Read Free Book Online

easier but without the heat he covered himself with lots of minor cuts. Congratulating himself on the wisdom of doing this first and so giving time for the bleeding to stop, he splashed water at the expanding dots of red until they finally relented.
    Afterwards, he drained both bowls, brushed his teeth with dry brush and powder, then went over to the bar of his kitchen and snatched a couple of mint leaves from the herb pots.
    He chewed the leaves as he dressed: black pants and black waistcoat over a white shirt. Parts of the black items were lined with crisscrossing red and white thread. Unt wasn’t sure of the term but he thought it was “piping”.
    He’d never paid much attention to clothes. His daywear almost always got dirty and much of it was khaki anyway. He had more clothes for evenings but all of them were casual. These clothes were the smartest he had but he was conscious that he’d worn them recently for other formal occasions.
    Other people took their clothes much more seriously. Most of Unt’s peers had been planning their outfits and would have made them with their families over the last few weeks. It was of the big family traditions connected to the Fall, one that brought people together and honed a person’s sewing skills – one of the basic abilities that everyone was expected to have.
    Unt had no family to come together with and he was happy with his sewing skills. They were utilitarian, not decorative and he didn’t need to show them off. Bulton’s mum had made these clothes for him a while ago and they were still a good fit.
    Job done, he was sitting on the veranda, enjoying his second cup of coffee and feeling odd in his formal clothes, when Bulton showed up. He was decked out in strange grey-blue trousers with silver buttons up the side and a black jacket with jagged orange stripes. The jacket was fastened with a sort of flap across the chest. This was another clothing design Unt was sure there was a term for but hadn’t the faintest idea what.
    Right now though, Bull’s fastening flap was wide open. It showed a red interior lining that flapped around like a dog’s tongue. His boots were only half-laced and his hair was sticking up in patches. Yellow fuzz still sprouted from his chin and he clung to the back of his head with one arm as though that was the only thing keeping it in place.
    “Morning,” Unt raised his coffee in salute.
    Bulton squinted up at him. Sweat glistened on his forehead. “Oh, don’t ‘morning’ me, he moaned, “I don’t know what you put in your food but it’s got it in for me.”
    “Nothing to do with what you drank last night then?” Unt laughed as Bulton tackled the steps like they were a mountain.
    “Nothing at all,” said Bull. “I could drink twice that and never feel it. It was whatever it was you served up.” He collapsed in the chair opposite Unt.
    “I can’t remember serving anything,” said Unt, “but if it’s anything like what I normally give you, that would be nothing. Anything you’ve eaten from my house, you’ve helped yourself to.”
    “Is that coffee?” Bull noticed Unt’s mug. “Make me a cup, won’t you?”
    Unt poured a cup from the standing pot as Bull continued moaning. “Even if you are so bad a host that a man’s forced to feed himself, he should be able to go in a cupboard without having to fear for his life.”
    Bull took the offered mug and slurped it down without thanks. “What are you doing here?” Unt threw back his own mug having noticed it was no longer warm. “Did you forget something?”
    Bull waved a dismissive arm, downed the remainder of his mug and finally answered. “Nah, mum sent me: wants to know if you want to walk over with us. She was gonna ask last night but never saw you.”
    A tug of guilt pulled at Unt. He’d forgotten all about Bull’s parents. They’d kept their distance last night but they would surely have been hoping to see them a little bit. Under Bull’s casual attitude, he