“I came back to the city expecting to see both my parents. And now...?”
“But like you said, your mum and dad may come back.”
“Do you really think that’s possible?”
“I believe lots of thin’s are possible,” replied Charlie eagerly. “It’s not just believin’ that they can happen. It’s more unnerstandin’ there’s no good reason they can’t happen.”
“But right now, I really don’t have anyone,” said Molly.
“Well, you got me.”
Molly turned to look at him. “And you have me, Charlie. So we have each other. That means an awful lot, doesn’t it?” she said, as though to buck up her own spirits.
“It’s loads better than bein’ all by yourself. Havin’ someone to talk to, and all.”
“We will survive this. I know that we will. Don’t you feel the same?”
“I’m startin’ to,” said Charlie quite truthfully.
The next moment their hands reached out, and held firm as they both turned back to stare solemnly at the resting places of the dead.
The wind picked up and rattled the aged trees that ran along one side of the graveyard. The fragile leaves, preparing to end their existence shortly, rippled as slender, weighted branches flexed and bent. Dozens of birds on these shaken limbs lifted off as one and raced headlong into the face of the breeze, clinging to invisible thermals, seemingly unconcerned with where they might next locate a perch. It was a case of sudden independence, and truly something to behold on that drearily cold morning with both recent and aged death all around.
Behind one of these trees, a willowy maple with pointed dangling leaves, stood Ignatius Oliver. His old coat covered his lanky frame, his battered and stained hat rode on his head. He took a moment to wipe clear his specs on the sleeve of his coat. As he settled the glasses back on the bridge of his nose, he looked to the sky, where the birds still soared, looped, and dipped, living kites free of gravity’s harness.
He had gone to Charlie’s flat to check on him and learned of his gran’s passing. He had next gone to the firm of Wilkinson & Dunn because a neighbor of Charlie’s had seen that name on the hearse. That was where he had discovered the funeral date and location, and also of Molly Wakefield’s involvement. He had come to pay his respects, but to do so without intruding on Charlie’s privacy. Yet Oliver had heard all that had just transpired between the two children.
The last time he’d been at a cemetery Oliver had stood and looked at the spot where his beloved Imogen should have been laid to rest for all eternity, with him to lie right beside her when his end came. On the other side were the graves of Imogen’s parents.
While the birds artfully rambled above, Oliver walked slowly away.
He had learned something else today. Molly Wakefield was indeed being followed, because Oliver had seen the two men lurking behind some trees on the other side of the small cemetery. They were clearly there to observe the girl, and it made Oliver wonder why.
He slowly walked off, thinking that things were becoming as complicated as one of his encryptions.
All Madness Lies Therein
“Would you like another cup of tea, Charlie?”
Charlie glanced up to see Molly looking at him. They were seated in her father’s study, in front of a slowly dying fire.
“No, Miss, I’m full up.”
The swirling rain beat down outside, pelting the glass and making the chimney howl.
“I used to sit here with my father when it was cold or raining outside. We’d have a fire and he would read to me. My mother would be lying down.”
Charlie looked at her. “Did she lie down a lot?”
“It didn’t seem so at the time, but then I had nothing to compare it to. But looking back I can say that it probably was quite a lot, yes. I’ve come to learn that she is rather... fragile.”
“Will you go to Cornwall to see her?”
“It would be very difficult. You heard what Mr. Oliver said.”
“But she might do better if she can see you. She might come home even.”
“The thing is, Charlie, my mother nearly burned this place down by accident because she was a bit off in the head.”
He shrugged. “My grandfather was gettin’ forgetful like and sometimes seein’ what weren’t there. Gran just let him be and he come back right after a time.” He paused. “If you did end up goin’, how would you get to Cornwall, Miss? By train, like Mr. Oliver said?”
“I suppose so, yes. I’m just not sure how much it would cost.”
He looked around the elegant room. “But surely you got plenty of money.”
Molly looked at him uncertainly. “My father left some funds, but they’re running low.”
Charlie glanced guiltily at his teacup and set it down on the table. Then he stared at the cast-off shoes she’d bought him like they were terribly expensive things instead of costing a few odd shillings.
“My mother loved me very much. Perhaps too much.”
“You said that before, but I still don’t know what you mean by it,” said Charlie.
“Do you know the word ‘obsessive’?” she said cautiously.
Charlie shook his head.
“It’s when someone cares so deeply about another that it affects their mind. They can do things that will actually be harmful to themselves and the ones they love because of it.”
“And you think your mom is like that?”
“I think she might be. I just couldn’t see it before. But I’m much older now and I can understand things more clearly.”
“Well, even if she was this obsessed thin’, it’s still hard not to be with her. I’d give anythin’ to have my mum back.”
“I feel the same way, Charlie. My parents mean everything to me.”
Charlie looked into the flickering flames. “You’d think your father would want to be round to help you. And her.”
She shot him a glance. “Y-yes. There must have been something very important for him to go off like he did. To abandon us like that.”
“He don’t sound like that kinda bloke.”
Molly said in a strained voice, “But he just walked out, Charlie. Without a word to me.”
“I don’t want to say it, Molly, but...” He looked at her warily.
“I know he might be dead. But he wasn’t dead when he left home, obviously. He could have communicated with me, but he chose not to. That was not right!”
“What if he don’t come back?”
“Things will become... complicated. Even more so than they are now.”
They fell silent and listened to the rain as the wind continued to hurl the drops against the glass. Molly turned her head slightly to gaze at Charlie. He looked both far younger, and, in a certain way, older than she. They had both lost their parents — he permanently so, while there was no guarantee that the result for her wouldn’t be the same as the one Charlie now endured.
“My mother’s family is originally from Yorkshire,” she said abruptly.
“Yorkshire?”
“Yes. It’s in the north. Quite far away, nearly to Scotland, in fact. It’s the largest county in England. So large, in fact, that it’s divided up into all sorts of boroughs and ridings and the like. It’s quite famous. It was where the War of the Roses took place.”
Charlie gave her a confused look. “Eh? Blokes fightin’ over flowers?”
“No. The House of York versus the House of Lancaster. The red rose was part of the Lancaster coat of arms and the white rose that of the House of York. They were fighting for the throne of England.”
Charlie shook his head miserably. “Where did fightin’ get anybody, eh?”