Healing - Book One

twenty seven

In the time after the announcement, the entire mood of the house was low, sad and reclusive. A few, including myself, began to eat in their bedrooms. Perhaps the combination of the loss of Aggie and the departure of Enoch has affected all of the house members more than anybody could have predicted. Enoch did not come to the evening meal in the final hours of his birthday. When I did see briefly him the next morning, when we crossed paths in the kitchen, it was as if we had gone backwards. He was acting like his grumpy, defensive persona which I had known through those first few weeks in Miss Peregrine's care. I tried to speak to him - his answers were short and blunt. He hurried away to his room, empty jars stacked underneath his chin. I never saw him again for the remainder of the day.

Disappointed, I sit on my bed with a bowl of soup in my lap. It's long cold, but I slowly sip a spoonful every once in a while. The clock above the small fireplace reads 10:16; the other children must have gone to bed around one hour ago. My eyes are tired, but I refuse to let myself sleep. A nagging thought in the back of my mind is commanding me to stay awake. For once, I do not feel like reading.

A soft knock at my door makes me jump - it sounds loud against the general silence of the house. For a moment, I wonder if I had imagined the noise. However, my suspicions are proved wrong when another sound vibrates through the wood.

Shivering, I place the bowl on the nightstand and push myself to stand. I creep across the floor and cautiously twist the brass doorknob clockwise.

My heart leaps into my throat when I see the long-lost Enoch O'Connor outside in the hallway.

"Well, look who decided to turn up." I say, resisting the urge to smile. He needs to be taught a lesson for making me feel awful all day.

"I know - I'm sorry." He says, holding his hands up at chest level. There is a pause while I stand before him, arms folded in an attempt to seem stern.

"What is it then?" However valiant my attempt is, my voice continues to sound ever so slightly cheerful through my act.

"Well, seeing as it is my final night and I would love it to be a little different," He folds his arms too, almost imitating me. "I was thinking about sneaking out somewhere. And there is nobody who I'd rather spend it with than my favourite bookworm."

I can no longer be angry with him. Instead, I feel myself turning shy. My cheeks burn as I look to the floor to mask my expression.

"Do you accept my invitation, madam?" Enoch adds, impersonating a voice which could be comparable to that of Horace - the most 'un-Scottish' thing I have ever heard from him.

"I suppose I do." I reply coyly. He waits in the doorway while I quickly slip some shoes on and trot out to meet him. He subtly slips his hand into mine and leads me down the dark corridor and down the stairs, walking on the balls of our feet in order to stay quiet.

"Have you done this before?" I whisper as we approach the ground floor.

"A couple of times, but I was too scared to stay out for long." He replies, focusing on the door a few metres ahead.

"Enoch it will be locked!" I protest while he marches towards it. However, I am surprised when he turns the handle and, with a click, the door opens.

"She doesn't lock it at night - in case we need a quick exit."

He pulls me out of the house with such force I have to use his body to prevent myself from falling. Chuckling at my misfortune, the scot lets go of my hand, reaches back and shuts the door behind us.

"Follow me." He orders, setting off down the front garden at such a pace I have to break into a jog to keep up with him.

"Where are we going?" I ask airily, a little short of breath from our dramatic escape.