I tugged on his sleeve again, pulling him into a slow walk. I shoved Jack up the spiral staircase in front of me so he could not turn around and leave.
We ascended slowly. I could feel Jack’s body trembling as we wound our way up the staircase to the upper floor of the apothecary, where this woman clearly lived.
As we stepped onto the landing, Jack took my hand again and held it tightly as we looked around the modest living quarters. It was nice here, bright, airy and open. The space smelled of flowers and various other herbs and spices. I inhaled deeply and was immediately calmed by the scent. Mrs. Greenwood stood in the empty space of her living room, watching us quietly. It took me a moment to notice that the three of us were not alone. There was a man here. He was behind Mrs. Greenwood, with his back to us. He rested his hands on the mantelpiece of a fireplace. Jack spotted the man and his hand tightened around mine when the man turned to face us.
It was as though I was staring at a fifty-year-old Jack. The man resembled Jack so closely that there was no mistaking it. That messy black hair and those bright blue eyes told me exactly who I was looking at.
Mrs. Greenwood stepped aside so our view of the man was clear. Jack and his father stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before either of them moved. It happened suddenly; Mr. Greenwood made to move forwards – perhaps to embrace his son, but Jack crossed the threshold in three long strides.
At first I thought Jack was going to hug his estranged father, but I was sorely mistaken. Jack launched himself at Mr. Greenwood, sending him crashing to the floor with an almighty bang. Jack’s fists flew, punching every inch of his father that he could get his hands on.
Chapter Five
The Greenwoods
‘No!’ Mrs. Greenwood and I cried in unison, running forward to disentangle the brawling men.
Mr. Greenwood did not hit Jack, but tried to stop the blows that crashed upon his body. They rolled around on the floor like animals, knocking over tables and knocked vases off shelves.
‘Jack!’ I cried, trying to wrench my best friend from his father.
‘No!’ Jack growled at me. Before I could help at all, he had pushed me aside and sent me crashing to the floor too.
Mrs. Greenwood hurried over and helped me to my feet. As I rubbed at my sore backside, I said to her, ‘what do we do?’
‘There is no point trying to break up a fight between healers,’ she said, her eyes round with fear. ‘It could last for hours.’
‘Not if I can help it,’ I said and before I was aware of what I was doing, I had jumped into the fray. I wrestled Jack and though I was not stronger than him I hoped that my presence in the fight might make him come to his senses.
‘Avalon,’ Jack said through gritted teeth, trying to get me off his back. ‘Get off! Get off!’
I had Jack’s head in a vice and he flailed, trying to remove me.
We grappled furiously for a few minutes, which gave Mr. Greenwood enough time to disentangle himself and stand beside his wife, panting. Of course, Jack did not wish to hurt me, so he was forced to succumb. In the end, I sat on his chest and he lay flat on the ground. Jack was unharmed, but I had a few bruises on my arms and legs from the tussle.
‘All right, all right,’ said Jack. ‘I’m calm! I’m calm!’
I glared at him for a moment before releasing him and standing.
Jack got to his feet, very pink in the face. He stood, staring at his father with utter dislike.
‘Jack,’ Mr Greenwood breathed. ‘Please, Jack.’
‘There is nothing you can say to me,’ Jack spat. ‘Nothing!’
‘Dad? What’s going on?’ A small voice came from behind us.
Jack and I whipped around and saw a small boy no older than eight standing on the landing. His hair was black and his eyes were blue.
‘Go to your room, Jamie.’ Mr. Greenwood said thickly. ‘Now.’
The boy, Jamie, crossed the room and ran to Mr. Greenwood. ‘I saw you fighting, Dad. Are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Please, Caroline, will you take Jamie to his room?’
‘Come on dear,’ Mrs. Greenwood took the boy’s hand and hurried him down the hall.
‘What’s going on, Mum? Is Dad hurt?’ Jaime was saying as he was taken to his room.
When we heard the door close, Jack rounded on his father.
‘I see how it is,’ said Jack, anger blazing in his eyes.
‘Jack,’ I said, placing my hand upon his arm.
‘Quiet,’ he snapped before turning to his father. ‘Thought you would start over? Leave your son, remarry and start a new family, right?’
‘Please, son. You don’t understand.’ Mr. Greenwood said pleadingly. I could see tears glistening in his eyes. I didn’t think I could handle watching a fully-grown man cry.
‘How dare you,’ Jack growled. I had never heard him talk like this before. ‘How dare you look at me and call me your son.’