Whiskey Tango Foxtrot: The Atticus Files

Chapter Seven

"I don't understand why I can't just drive you there," said Mr Jones.

"Dad," said Elsie, shooting him a meaningful look.

"I know! I know!" He held up his hands in submission. "You can make your own decisions."

Roza closed the boot of the car as Silas dragged out the last suitcase. Normally this was the job of the chauffeur, Mr Andle, but a sudden bout of food poisoning had left him bedridden. Roza had insisted that they could take a cab but both Silas and Elsie's father had rallied together and in the end Silas had driven them all to Kings Cross Station.

"I could drive you both there and it would be so much nicer than the train," Mr Jones continued.

"We are declaring our independence Mr Jones," said Roza.

"But why?" he asked, trying to pick up Elsie's luggage only to have it man-handled away from him.

"We're practically nineteen, Dad," said Elsie, "we can do this by ourselves. It's just a train. I've been on them loads of times."

"We have to go," Roza interrupted, pulling on her backpack and taking the suitcase that Silas held out to her. She turned and promptly began heading towards platform eleven. "Bye!" she called over her shoulder.

Elsie hurriedly checked that she had everything. Roza was never one for goodbyes.

"Have you got your laptop?" her father asked.

"Yep."

"Phone?"

"Yep."

"Ticket?"

"Yep."

"Socks?"

"Dad," said Elsie, "I have everything. And I really have to go now."

He drew her into a quick hug. "Ok. I love you."

"Love you too."

They drew apart and Elsie hurried to catch up with Roza. "Bye!" she called, waving at her father before turning her back and heading deeper into the station.

Mr Jones sighed sadly. "A whole year," he mused.

"Don't remind me," Silas whispered, turning away.

After dropping Mr Jones off at his office Silas turned the car around and headed back to Kensington. He parked the car alongside a sleek black jaguar in the garage and walked slowly up through the garden towards the house's back entrance. Padfoot bounded towards him. The big black dog, named after Roza's favourite Harry Potter character, nuzzled his nose into Silas' hand. Silas bent over and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears before continuing up the path. Mr Andle stood by the door to the old servants wing, his hands in his pockets, stomping out a cigarette with one foot. Silas' feet crunched on the gravel and Mr Andle looked up, grinning.

"I think my bout of food poisoning is over," he teased as Silas walked passed him.

Silas felt his face heat up. "Yeah yeah, Don, I get it and I've already thanked you."

Don laughed and clamped a hand on Silas' shoulder, strolling into the kitchen with him. "You know we're not supposed to be friends with the family right? It's not professional."

"It's hardly my fault there's no one else around with whom I can have an intelligent conversation," said Silas, giving him a pointed look.

"Ouch," said Don, smacking Silas once on the shoulder before taking a seat at the kitchen table.