Dangerous [Bradley Simpson] Sequel to On the Floor (novella)

Chapter Seven - Ship

After a few minutes of waiting, I rang the doorbell again. The sun was out, and it was shockingly warm compared to every other February day. But even in the fresh warmth, I was still shaking. Not only did I cause the death of Allison's grandfather, but I was alone in South Kensington. James hadn't left me out of his sight since he saw me, and I never noticed just how frightening being alone was until I wasn't used to it anymore

"Can I help you?" The door opened to reveal an older lady, sporting an apron with flour speckled all over. Her ebony skin was slightly wrinkled with deep folds in the skin between her eyes as she glared at me. "I don't want anything, if that's what you're here for, and I've got my won church, don't wanna go to yours!"

"No," I shook my head. "I was coming to ask if you knew what happened to the Briggs family. Their home is empty."

"Who?" She said.

"The family that used to live next door." I answered.

"The Briggses, you mean?" She asked.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Who are you?" She asked, eyeing me.

"I'm an old friend. I'm trying to find them." I said.

"You're not a cop?"

I shook my head.

She opened the door and stood aside. "Come on, I've got to finish kneading my dough."

I stepped inside, instantly catching a whiff of freshly cleaned floors and furniture polish. We walked through he living room where there were matching floral couches and useless nick knacks on every shelf. In the kitchen, there were more nick knacks, as well as pictures of her family. I could smell bread baking, and at a closer glance, I noticed she had been making bread for what seemed like an army.

"Bake sale at the church on Sunday." She informed me, then pointed to a dining chair. "Sit."

I obeyed, then watched as she poured a cup of tea and set it down on the table in front of me.

"Now I don't know if you've heard," She began, washing her hands. "But the wife's daddy was killed a few years back."

"Yes, I knew that." I cringed.

"Well, the daughter, Allison I think, did not take it very well." She said as she began to knead her dough. "She was always a little depressed, but he being killed sent her to crazy town. I can't even count how many times her screaming would wake me up at night. One day, the parents woke up and she was gone.

"Did they find her?"

She shook her head. "She doesn't want to be found, silly girl. Her parents realized that, and divorced a couple years back. Both of them left London."

"Well," I sighed. "Thank you for talking with me, and for letting me into your home. And the tea, as well. I should go."

"Yes you should," She nodded, beginning to usher me out. "Your husband is probably worried sick."

"Oh, I don't have one of those." I chuckled.

"Wife, whatever." She said. "Go on!"

I decided not to correct her, and instead thanked her once more before leaving. I trudged back into the city and grabbed a cab, shoulders hunched over in defeat.