His Captured Curiosity

Chapter 9 - House or Home

After a rough night in a barely above-board hotel room, I find myself blearily paying a taxicab as I rub my drooping eyes. Stepping out into the crisp air and facing the address that I've been hunting down, I find myself overwhelmed by the property in front of me.

Strong brick fences attempt to cover the impressive estate but the large second-story building that's painted white looms over the barricade and I tilt my head back and squint at the multiple windows all covered with heavy curtains in order for nobody to peek inside.

It's nine am and the street is quiet as I approach the fence. I suppose most people would be at work by now. I vaguely notice and hope that I haven't missed the mystery homeowners as I finally reach the gate. Just as I'm about to unlatch the intricately woven metal my eyes stray to the mailbox and my dark brows furrow as I notice the metal box to be overflowing with mail.

Glancing over my shoulder cautiously I bend down and scoop up a handful of letters, feeling a flush sense of intrusiveness as I scan the addressed titles eagerly.

'Mr Colin Wears' is neatly printed on the vast majority of envelopes and as I begin flicking through them I notice that most of them have been affected by the rain, proving that a significant amount of time has passed since the mail was collected.

Maybe this Colin fellow has been on a holiday and failed to tell someone to collect his mail for him. I don't blame him for wanting to get away from this miserable weather but this still doesn't tell me why Wendy wanted someone to come here on her behalf.

Just as those questions began spinning in my mind, a letter catches my attention. It's soggy and the ink is smudged horribly but with a gut feeling too strong to ignore I rip open the envelope and scan the letter, noticing it to be a congratulatory letter for donating blood for the first time. My eyes scan down the form and finally latch onto the name Wendy Wears and my shoulders slump with relief.

This is the right place, this is Wendy's home.

Or was.

"Are you aware that you're breaking the law or are you just nosey and stupid?" A gruff voice calls out next to me and I jump with a gasp, dropping the letter into a puddle and stomping on it accidentally as I spin on my heel and face a very pissed off older man.

He is short and stout, his ashen mustache hangs limply over his full lips and his bald skull gleams in the brief flickers of sunlight that fights its way through the dreary clouds. He's leaning heavily on a walking frame and I notice his hands are clenching the bars tightly as he glares at me over his wide-brimmed glasses.

"Well?!" He prompts aggressively and I redden under his angry gaze.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm visiting the owner of this house." I stutter out and pathetically wave my hands in the direction of the house before shoving my hands deep in my pockets and fighting the urge to apologize further as the man grunts.

"Well, that was a funny looking doorbell you had in your hands." He gestures to the letter mushed under my foot and I shuffle awkwardly, barely meeting his brown eyes.

"Do you know when Mr Wears will be back? He's expecting me." I lie to try and smoothen over our interaction by pretending to be familiar with the family but the stranger sees right through me.

"I've been Colin's neighbor for over twenty years. His family was few and his friends were fewer and those that do know him, know exactly where he is." I swallow my frustration at this man's cryptic response and wrack my brain for a solution.

"I'm actually a friend of Wendy's. I'm here on her behalf." I finally admit seeing as this man has a knack for cracking straight through a liar. Calling Wendy a friend may be an exaggeration on my part but I can't deny the sense of connection I have formed with the girl.