In between

Chapter Four

'You enjoy seeing me in pain, do you?' I say to Eva. She smiles at me quite cheekily as her golden curls gleams under the morning sunlight. In her cream coloured gown, her pale skin is seemingly luminescent, effectively catching a few admiring stares as we went about the day in careless leisure.

For the last hour or so, we had been visiting stores without actually consuming the products which were  being fashionably displayed, well I have been refusing to act on my temptation whilst Eva was able to bargain whenever something shiny fancies her eye. It was Saturday and the streets of London were bustling with ongoing pedestrians and galloping horses, the day was busy and the noises were as disrupted as it could be, however some things do get easier if you eventually learn to just go along with it.

'Oh you are too harsh, Charlotte!' Eva laughs, looping her arm into mine 'have you forgotten the promise you made?'

The promise of clearing my Saturday schedule for the possibility of a social phone call from my happily married friend, very happy may I add (since she is keen on making that point whenever we approach that particular territory of conversation).

'Yes, yes' I dismiss with a magic wave of my hand 'although it did not include my permit of allowing you to barge on my door at seven in the morning.'

'What would be my given privilege of being your friend then?' she raises an eyebrow, as if that is a serious question to consider.

'Your privilege comes from having the great opportunity of entertaining my much needed whinings.' I say to her, equally serious.

'So what, am I supposed to be grateful now?'

'You better be.'

We eventually found ourselves planted in front of a clothing store, probably the fourth one we had the pleasure of visiting. The wooden sign above the door says "Mharie's gowns and apparel" adorned with floral indentions and other decorative carvings. I stared at it quite dreadfully and Eva's gasp when she saw a lavender puffy gown through the glass did not help my aching feet even the slightest bit.

'Why don't you go on ahead and I'll-' she frowns at me the same time I nodded my head at a particular shaded corner 'stay posted and note any sort of...odd activity.'

'Hmm fine' she says after a brief contemplation, not buying my reason at all 'don't go anywhere.'

'And finally escape from your clutches? I wouldn't even dream.'

When she marched off inside, I finally released the breath that I am holding.

I probably appreciate the woman the same way a painter appreciates its muse, but I can not deny her ability to drain one's energy by making her presence evident alone, which is an endearing characteristic to have if I am not the one who is suffering through its wrath.

Her husband, Mr. Finnlay, is a very loyal client to Mr. Robert and the man's arm seems to accommodate his wife wherever he went like an additional accessory he wore consciously, thus the typically drawn out meetings produced unexpected mutualities, both business related and non business related which I sometimes delight in but frequently not.

While I waited for Eva to finish pestering the shop employees, a tall man who was dressed in dark coloured clothing caught my attention. His back was broad and his posture stood oddly erect as he waited to cross the street. His tense demeanour was not the only thing that is strange about him and other people seem to notice too, sparing him probing glances when they pass by.

He is too out of place, If I can put it into wording. He has no top hat on, sporting wild brown locks and looking like he had run his hand across from it numerous times. His clothes on the other hand were really not screaming out of abnormality, however it is rather...not typical. Being too long, and too loose, making him appear taller and bigger than anyone I had ever seen.

He fished something inside his coat. A pocket watch, as I lightly crane my neck to take a glimpse. Then something winks from the ground, causing my eyes to travel down to his feet instead.

I was about to call for his attention however he bolted right away upon the absence of any possible hazardous accidents and quickly crossed the street as if it's between life and death. His lengthy strides became an attraction for everyone within the vicinity to see and the attention does not seem to faze him, shoulers set determinedly as he cut towards an alleyway and finally disappearing from everyone's line of sight.

The object which fell from his pockets was equally strange. Taking a circular shape and appearing to be made out of pure, shiny, and slightly heavy, steel. It fits idly on top of my palm as I stared at it, watching my own reflection on the object contort into confusion in the process. The surface of it was loosely shaped like the pointy tip of an egg then the back, I am only assuming, was flat and had a dull edge on each side.

'What is it this time?' Eva's voice sounded behind me. I turn to her, tucking my hands behind my back to hide the presence of the object as I give her a tight lipped smile. One can hardly spot the difference between my genuine and less genuine, so why attempt, honestly?

'Nothing.' I say dismissively 'did you find anything remotely worthy of your husband's money?'

'Well, the woman inside refuses to admit that the purple dress was not in fact worn by the great lady Amelia right before she descends to madness and then, quiet predictably, towards her death.' she says in a hushed tone, looping her arm back into mine as we resume our descent along the series of stores. 'good marketing, however make sure the previous owner's initial is not sticking out of the seams, for goodness sake.'

'Indeed, a missed opportunity to mix history and fashion.' I agreed, because it is always easier to do than the contrary.

The metal suddenly felt a lot colder in the palm of my hand. I clutched at it like a lifeline, afraid that I might lose it in a spur of unstable indecision.

•••••

When I got home later that day, a strange noise erupted the quietness of the threshold. I was up at my study, proofreading my employer's letter, correcting a few spellings here and there, as well as making it overall less demanding and more of a polite request, because the man tends to paint himself in a certain light that may...put a few people off, especially at first encounter whether on paper or in a supposedly polite exchange.

I dip the quill back to the ink bottle before standing up, my eyes fleeting across the grandfather clock. It's late in the afternoon and my mind distinctively notices the slight ache in my tummy.

The noise sounded once more when I was halfway through the staircase. A low humming sound that may have belonged to a knowable insect if I had forgotten to close a window somewhere, however I know in fact that I did not.

As I stand in the middle of my living room, confused as a rock, I try to Identity the culprit. Then it sounded again and something bright caught my eye. Below a seaside painting in the far side of the room is an oak wood cabinet and something lit up on top of it. Plain white that shun brightly against my eyes, like rays of sunlight and the darkening surroundings only highlighted the unusualness.

Peering down, now do I realise that it was the metallic object that the man had dropped from earlier, when I was out with Eva. The humming startled to a halt when I picked it up with my fingers, the light finally dying down as well. I inspected it unknowingly, shaking, pressing every inch, then flipping it numerous times. At the back I discovered a symbol. A single eye staring right back at me. Feeling it with a thumb, it was thinly carved into the circular steel.

What is the purpose of this?