Looking Glass

Chapter 3

It's a stop of a heartbeat, shocking revelations. It doesn't really sink in until the woman is up in her face, panting from the run. She almost drops her purse in surprise.

Mary Allen.

"Maeve!" Mary Allen halts in front of her, hands on her knees, looking up to her.

"Mary Allen." She doesn't know quite how to react, numb somewhat. "I-"

Mary Allen waves her hand, shaking her head. "I was going to go see you, and I saw you right outside, walking away."

She can't speak, not really; her mind is still reeling. Words are barely registered, a sound in the background, muffled, hazy.

And when Mary Allen tells her to come along, drags her by the hand, she allows her to do so.

. . .

She's sitting in the same dining room, the same room where she saw the horror's outcome. It's the image that reigns in her mind, imprinted, unforgotten. All she sees is a bloodied face as Mary Allen speaks to her, there's no saying that she will ever get over it now that Mary Allen is alive and well.

A shake jolts her, her eyes flashing back immediately, swallowing. "I apologise."

A shaky chuckle, a smile not entirely there. "Truth be told, Mary Allen, I'm still surprised and most likely mildly shocked." She's not fully lying.

Mary Allen sighs, looks behind her for her children, forlorn, speaking. "I'd be having a larger more explosive reaction."

It's all silent as she stares down into her teacup, Mary Allen watching Daisy and Edmund. Mary Allen's voice is a whisper, she almost doesn't catch the soft words. "It could have been us."

She looks up to face Mary Allen, who clasps shaky fingers onto the table, voice prominently louder, trembling. "It could have been us."

Wobbly voice, welled-up tears.

She doesn't know what to do when Mary Allen's tears began to shed. Her hand goes up, a mess. Nervousness takes it place for a while before reason prompts her to reach for a handkerchief from her purse, offered.

Sniffles accompanied the hand accepting, and it retreats to silence again, bar the children's laughter she can hear from the living room ahead her. Daisy squeals in laughter, giggles erupting as her brother chases her around.

Lucky they are, to be naïve in a world so wicked.

Her first words to break the silence are short. "But it wasn't you all." She looks straight at Mary Allen. "And that is what matters."

It was all that mattered.

The conviction in her voice surprises, she supposes, finger teeming at porcelain. She may know what the future foretold for a person, but not the emotions of another; she isn't quite sure if Mary Allen is surprised, suspicious. Likely a combination of both.

"That is true."

She is quite certain, Mary Allen holds the tips of the story, not much, but something. Enough to warrant suspicion. She wonders when Mary Allen will choose to broach the subject. If she will be called a madwoman filled with delusions.

"I'd like to ask you of something, Maeve."

A nod, continues.

"With the events of yesterday," tears fill again, halting barely from falling. "the police are asking for alibis. You were with me almost entirely till night, could you-"

Still staring at the teacup, air filled so heavily with fear and guilt, she speaks. "Of course, Mary Allen. That's not even an issue."

Both their smiles are shaky.

. . .

Seeds of doubt are planted, the way she reacted to Mary Allen; there is no way Mary Allen doesn't know something lurks beneath the surface. She gnaws her lip as she waits for Mary Allen to come back with a police officer.

She isn't sure what to say if Mary Allen asks her questions she doesn't want to answer.

Lifted head at footsteps, dark blue uniform enters; she recognises him from the encounter before. Teacup set down, her head tilted up to look at him in greeting. "Officer."

A vague scene in the corner of her eye is Mary Allen making her way in, heading to her children. A nod, he pulls the chair out from opposite her, book in hand, flipping open. "Your name, miss?"

"Maeve Coldwell."

He looks up from writing, narrowed eyes. "I trust you do understand the questions to be asked should be in upmost truth."

A blink. "Most definitely, officer?"

Narrowed eyes are still present, silent for a moment; a sigh. "Officer Jack Blakesville."

It starts then, the questions. Where they were, where she was, where Mary Allen was; a long flow of doubts and holes to suspect.

"You claim that all four of you, Mrs. Allen, her children and yourself were nowhere near the vicinity of the house still night, yes?"

"Yes."

"Is there anyone to corroborate this?"

A moment it takes, to recall the smell of sweets and the colour. "I believe the store owner of the candy store should be able to validify our attendance."

Another nod, no use of words nor voice. She lifts the teacup again, thinking.

"Where were you after splitting with Mrs. Allen?"

Her head shoots up, it's her turn for narrowed eyes, questions. "Excuse me?"

When he stares back at her she barely escapes eye contact, almost falling into yet another tangle of webs, eyes averted. "No one is barred from suspicion, Miss Coldwell."

Gritted teeth, she can understand the reasoning behind the questions, but still can't help but feel annoyance despite it. Furrowed brows, teacup set down on the porcelain saucer. A hand drops to her side to curl around the side of the chair as always.

"I left immediately for home." She raises her hand as Jack begins to speak, cutting him off. "I don't know who can affirm my presence at what time," a sigh. "and neither do I know when exactly I arrived at my home."

"But the maids or butler might know. You may speak to them." Glare is directed at her for interruption, features obvious in annoyance as scribbles appear on the paper. "Your address, Miss Coldwell?"

"Wicker Street, Coldwell residence."

The pen stops once the address is recorded, flipping pages, eyes scanning. Jack looks back up, standing up. "There will be someone sent to the Coldwell residence to confirm this."

She sighs, mouth set in a thin line; suspicion was never a feeling she liked directed at her. She stands up too, following him to the door; shuffling alerts her of Mary Allen's presence, stopping behind her. "I hope we are done, officer."

Jack tips his head at her. "For now."

They watch him leave, walking down to the streets, disappearing back once the distance extends.

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Author's Note

This is my first author's note, haha. So I'd like thank everyone for reading the story to this point and I'm glad to say that Looking Glass qualified Round 1 of the Open Novella Contest 2021!!! Yayyy!!! :D

Regarding the update schedule however, it's still going to be very erratic, considering that I'm still very much swamped with art school. 

But, I'm still very thankful to everyone who's read this far and followed the story!! I will be updating the next chapter soon later today, and I hope you all will enjoy that too.