Stay-At-Home Brat

Old Friends

Sophia's POV

I rush down a peopleless corridor toward the door at the end. The door has been left ajar, and as I open it, I see a cosy little room without a human soul. Perfect! It's a living room—kind of. There's no TV. But it has a comfortable sitting place with a sofa and three armchairs, and there are plenty of books along the walls and an old gramophone as well as a smouldering fireplace. Dark velvet curtains veil the big window to the right.

I am curious to see the spectacularly lit garden from above, so I walk over there.

I pull the curtains apart and almost fall back as I recoil and yelp in shock.

A grey-haired, rather small man with a dog lying on his legs sits on the windowsill. He doesn't wear a mask, but his dog has one around his neck like a collar. He has a brown leatherbound journal and a pen in his hands and looks blankly at me. ''Did I scare you or are you afraid of dogs?'' he asks, his voice somewhat monotonous.

''I didn't expect anybody to hide behind the curtains. I'm sorry to disturb you,'' I explain awkwardly.

''Oh. This is one of my favourite places in the manor,'' he tells me. ''My name is Paul Whitehall. George's best friend since school.'' He lets go of his pen and sticks his hand out.

I extend my hand to shake his. ''Sophia. I'm Alexander's friend.''

''It's nice to meet you. If you're looking for a place to be alone, you can exit this corridor and when you're at the staircase, take a left and you will see a door at the end wall. It leads to a study that's most often empty.''

I nod. ''Thanks. I'll go have a look.''

I follow his directions and find myself in a dim, empty study. I close the door behind me. It's smaller than the other room. It has a window, and I slink through the narrow room to settle down there. I look out in the dark—at the small light points in the back garden creating a spooky shimmering. I used to spend a lot of time in a place like this in my teens. I had a window in my bedroom you could sit in and hide behind the curtains as you know. It was peaceful. I loved sitting there during the dusk evenings, and you could see the neighbours' light decorations.

''Hello!"

My heart pounds against my chest, not expecting anyone. I hold my breath, hoping to be left alone.

"...Is there someone here?''

I don't recognise the voice of the man on the other side of the curtains, but it sounds like a posh older man. So probably one of Harry's fellows.

''Paul?''

''Paul is in the small living room down the bedroom corridor! He sits in the window behind the curtains with a dog!'' I call back, staying hidden in the window.

''I'm Tim, by the way. George's friend,'' he says gaily. ''Who may you be? I don't recognise you.''

''I'm Soph. Alexander's friend.'' I listen to the scrambling on the other side of the fabric, confusing me. Is the man already drunk or what is he up to? I don't bother to peek behind the curtains. I'm not keen on interacting with people at the minute. I don't think I look too good, either. I think I've been shedding some tears. I have to go check myself out in the mirror.

''Where are you? Perhaps you don't like handshakes,'' he chuckles. "I won't force you."

This man, whoever he is, puzzles me. ''I sit in the window behind the curtains.''

''Do you write like Paul?''

I pull the curtains open to see the stranger I'm talking to, immediately noticing the white cane in his hand. ''Oh...'' I breathe out. ''Sorry, I didn't know you were blind.'' I lean toward him and reach for his hand. ''I wouldn't have let you fumble around blindly then.'' I sigh internally, my own awkwardness making me blush. ''I'm sorry,'' I mumble.