The Years of Riddle

Chapter Thirty-Seven | London, February 1967

Chapter Thirty-Seven

London, February 1967

          There was a heavy sense of gloom in this area of London, one that Silas was not familiar with. He and Inesa had a little cottage in the country, not far from Molly and Arthur's own pig-pen-turned-home, and he had not missed the smog and bustle of London. Silas enjoyed quiet, and peace, empty fields and serene forests.

The houses were low and long, with grubby yards and wobbly fences. The residence of Marian Cole was like all the others, with a walk not cleared of the sparse, dirty snow, and a doorbell hanging from its wires. Silas knocked with purpose, and he heard a muffled voice before the door was opened by a tiny, wiry woman.

"Mrs. Cole?" he asked, lowering his hand.

"Yes?" she peered at him through crooked glasses. "Do I know you?"

"No, my name is Silas Lacroix –"

"You sure?" Mrs. Cole tilted her head up at Silas, pursing her lips. "You look awfully familiar. Were you one of my kids at Wools?"

"I wasn't, no ma'am, but my mother was." He hoped this information would be received well. "Do you remember Gwyn Phi?"

Mrs. Cole's pinched face softened at Gwyn's name, and she opened the door wider. "Gwyn." She sighed heavily. "A lovely girl, I always wondered what happened to her. Come in boy, come in. I'll make tea."

Silas followed Mrs. Cole into her home. It was small and cramped, but clean, with well cared for plants and furniture. He settled on a pink settee, and watched as Mrs. Cole brought out the tea, offering him a few biscuits from a tin. "Now, tell me about your mother, how is she?" asked Mrs. Cole, lowering herself gently into an armchair, patting her lap so a fluffy black cat would jump up and curl into her.

It had gotten easier over the years, but Silas was still not used to telling people that his mother was dead. "She passed away, January 1960." He said softly, giving her a pained smile. "Her heart."

Another deep sigh escaped Mrs. Cole, and she closed her eyes for a moment. "Oh my, I always wondered...her heart was never very strong, the doctors were surprised she lasted so long. And with her volunteering during the war, I'm surprised she got out of her teens – nothing could stop her though, not a thing." She chuckled. "I raised her see, and if she set her mind to something, no one, not a heart condition or anything else, would stop her from doing what she thought was best."

"I was wondering," said Silas slowly, leaning forward, "If you could tell me about Tom Riddle."

"Tom?" she went still, hands pausing on the cat's head. "He was...odd."

"Odd how?"

Mrs. Cole hesitated. "I don't know, he – well, the other children didn't like him, I was never sure why exactly, but your mother...she was devoted to him."

"Devoted." Silas was surprised by the strong word.

She nodded. "Oh yes, would never stand to hear a bad word spoken of him, waited in earnest for every letter he sent – not that there were many, I honestly don't know why she cared for him so. But I suppose he did have a way about him, when he got older that charmed people. Gwyn especially." She looked at Silas carefully, frowning. "You know, you sure do look like him. I see now why you looked so familiar, your Mother's eyes, lips – that's Tom's jaw there though, the nose and cheekbones. You didn't mention he was your father."

"He's not." Silas said softly. "I mean – I'm not sure who my biological father is."

Mrs. Cole became flustered. "Well, that's none of my business. I must be mistaken. You're not looking for him, are you? I have no clue where he could be, I haven't seen him since he left for that school of his for his final year."

"No, I'm not looking for him." Standing, Silas nodded respectfully. "You've been very helpful Mrs. Cole, thank you very much."

She followed him to the door, cat in her arms. "I am truly sorry to hear of Gwyn, she was one of the sweetest children I ever had the pleasure of raising." She wiped a tear from her eyes, sniffing. "Was she happy, in the end?"

Silas paused in the doorway, new snow catching in his hair. "I believe so Mrs. Cole. I always thought her to be one of the happiest people I knew."

"That's good," Mrs. Cole nodded, looking relieved. "She deserved a good, happy life. I always hoped...I wanted her to experience love."

"She was very loved," Silas whispered. "She still is."

Not far from Mrs. Cole's home was Wools orphanage. Standing outside the gates, Silas stared up at the square, foreboding building. He couldn't imagine anyone growing up there, not when he had been raised in such a sunny, loving way – how had Gwyn come from a place like this?

"May I help you?" a young woman was passing by, and her smile was kind. "Are you looking for someone from Wools?"

"Oh, no." Silas smiled, stepped away from the gates. "I was just looking. It looks empty though, why is that?"

"All the orphans have been moved to other organizations," the woman explained. "They're demolishing the whole block. Office buildings you know, very important."

"Hm," he nodded. "Yes. Office buildings."

The woman moved on, and Silas looked back up at the orphanage. He could imagine his young mother peering out one of the narrow windows, watching people pass by, waiting for an owl to deliver one of Tom's vague letters. Turning away, he was glad that the place his mother had been so unhappy would soon no longer exist. He wondered if she would be content with it, whether she would have ever taken him here when he was older.

Silas did not look back, as he liked to think Gwyn had not either. He was right –Gwyn had walked away, head high, walking into what she had hoped would be a bright future. She was right, too.

A/N: Woooooow. Silas is really going far, far back.

Where will he head next?

Rose