The Book of Winshire

Chapter Nine

Jeremy had noticed the changing in Edith’s hairstyle since dinner. It was neat, and she looked wonderful, but yet younger than her age. He admitted: Edith was not one predictable person. She had kept her waist-length tresses for 6 years, and then snipped them to her shoulders for a few months, and then now . . .

He had told her that he liked her new look, and she moaned that it was just the haircut. He indeed had tried to tell her as casual as possible, but she wasn’t just the type that accepts compliments straightforwardly. But then again, who does?

In the kitchen, when Edith was in turn to do the dish cleaning, Jeremy stayed by her side and took a few pictures of her with his camera. She wasn’t a fan of being photographed, so right when she was done with her duty, she stood with her arms akimbo, and frowned at her brother.

‘Do I look like a sink model?’ she said.

‘No. Like a sunflower.’ Jeremy snickered. ‘You’re looking really stunning with the hair. These are the next to be in the album.’ He pressed the button a few more times, and then grinned at the collections of different static emotions.

‘First of all, I think I’m the prettiest. Like gypsophila paniculata.’ She crossed her arms. ‘And before I skin and make you the casing of the album, you should stop now.’

Jeremy tittered quietly. He couldn’t tell if it was going to happen for real, but he knew Edith would write it down. Thus, the possibility of it befalling was, on the other hand, there. He then found himself not fond enough of the thought. 

By the time he was making an attempt to touch her hair from behind, Edith warned, ‘Don’t do it or else I’ll chase you out of my life.’ He made a face and kept following her up the stairs. ‘Get a girlfriend, Jeremy. Stop pestering me. Go out and give me a nephew or niece.’

Without taking his eyes off, his hand snaked its way to her fringe and flicked it. ‘I’m gonna do that, grant, but not for the moment. Marriage is not my main concern,’ he said. ‘You are.’

Edith grimaced. ‘I’m your sibling. I don’t think my responsibility is to burden you in discovering who your future spouse is.’ She pushed him down the first step of stairs to the loft. ‘But I have met a few lassies at The House, and I will give you their descriptions that I have profiled.’

‘Have you, too, watched a lot of crime shows?’ Jeremy frowned. He wanted to laugh, but he reminisced that she actually wanted him to find those women she practically had only seen. ‘I’m not interested,’ he said.

‘You sound like Dr Brennan. Ugh,’ she said, ‘accept Agent Booth before you regret it.’

‘No regret.’

‘Jeremy.’

‘Meredith.’

‘It’s Edith.’

‘It’s Jamie.’

‘I’m ignoring you, good-bye.’

‘Go rest, Meredith. Your eye-bags should’ve weighted a few stones by now. And stop waking up at the naked of the dawn, too. Go sleep.’

She gaped. ‘You go to sleep. I’m always in either bed, reading myself to sleep—unless you tell me to go out and see your mates or eat,’ she said. ‘The books are adding up because a lot of things had happened. And in order to be aware of the basic things before I leave the house, I need to spend a few hours on them. Waking up early saves time.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Jeremy pouted. ‘I’ll go to sleep.’

‘Happy Monday, bro,’ she said, slapping the back of his head.

‘Ow,’ he raised his hand to the back of the spot. ‘What did I do to deserve that?’

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Start moving now.’