Violet - Book Two

seven

At long last, all the remaining seats at the dinner table are full. Enoch sits opposite Miss Peregrine, closest to the window, and the two chairs which once belonged to Emma and Jake have been moved to the patio. Tonight's meal consists of Fiona's produce and a large leg of salted pork, which we had all contributed our ration points towards. From what I could tell, everybody was itching to chow down.

"Alright, children. You may begin now." Miss Peregrine announces from the head of the table, however she does not begin her own meal. Over my time here, I have noticed that she barely eats anything - perhaps this is why she is stick-thin.

The meat is mouth-watering, and it appears that my housemates think the same. Noises of appreciation ripple from filled mouths and the headmistress grins at her cuisine triumph.

Midway through our munching (in silence, may I add. The meal was the most glorious we had consumed in a while), Miss Peregrine rises from her seat and stands before us.

"Children," She begins once only the bone of the pig remains, taking a deep breath. What she is about to say must be important, and I have a hunch at what it may be concerning. "Many of you will remember that a very long while ago, we hosted a garden party for any available relatives of each of you-"

"It was dire." I hear Horace mutter under his breath, but thankfully the headmistress does not.

"And I have made the choice to hold a similar event on the first afternoon of November."

The room falls silent. Olive leans back in her chair and her gaze falls to her lap. Similarly, Claire's little face drops and she stares into her food.

"This is because I have the intention of creating another loop on November the second."

The quiet is cut short by Hugh groaning irritably. Miss Peregrine ensues a piercing stare at the boy, one eye twitches a little.

"Come along now, Hugh. You know how much safer it is inside a loop."

The boy makes no effort to respond, and instead slumps back into his chair. Miss Peregrine says nothing else; there is a definite lull in the usual cheer from my housemates. The headmistress appears to realise that nothing more can be said and makes for the door.

"You are all excused." She mutters on her way out, utterly defeated. I suddenly feel awful for her - for I know she thought we would be appreciative of her decision. The door shuts surprisingly quietly behind her.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Horace pushes himself up from the table and irately marches himself from the room, heading towards the conservatory.

"Horace-" Olive calls after him, and I rise from my seat and begin to follow him.

Enoch starts to get up to come with me, but I gently touch his shoulder to push him back down.

"It's alright." I utter back to him while heading towards the glass doors.

Calling the boy's name, I pass through the living room and reach the glass doors towards the conservatory. Through the lattices, I see the boy sitting on the metal bench, resting his elbows on his knees and staring through one of the glass windows. As quietly as I can, I push the door open and creep in, and his head turns to face me. He forces a smile as I sit down, not really breaking eye contact.

"Just had to come and calm myself." He says, attempting to explain himself. "I simply cannot go through another one of those blasted things."

"Tell me about it." I tell him, sitting up straight and preparing myself to listen.

"Well," He hesitates, then sighs. "My father and I did not get along whilst I lived at home. My mother ran off with a doctor, and then I ended up here. Last time I saw him, he kept telling me..." he trails off, hesitating again. "He kept saying to me that I needed to be more of a man, and that I need to stop focusing on clothes and go out to find myself a proper hobby."

"That's horrible."

"I know, he is not the most splendid of fellows. I suppose I should be grateful that he is still here - not like poor Claire."

"Oh..." I raise my hand to my mouth, for I had not realised that the little bundle-of-joy with whom we shared a house with had experienced such a loss.

"Horrendous, frankly." Horace presses his lips together, suddenly sitting up from his original position. "On the contrary, Olive's parents are a living nightmare."

"I heard. How exactly?"

"Very..." he stumbles on his words, searching for the correct wording. "...erratic. At the last house, her father went on a drunken rampage about town and told everybody that Olive was a witch. Thankfully they all forgot once the loop was made later down the line, but the poor girl was rather emotionally wounded by the whole scenario."

I could imagine Olive's plight - the man sounds rotten.

"Why on earth would Miss Peregrine want to hold another?"

"Not one slither of knowledge. Perhaps she will choose not to invite the Abroholos-Elephantas this time around."

Horace expresses a look of sudden content, and his eyes move to look out the window again. By the fall of conversation, I sense that he would like a few moments alone, and I leave for my bedroom.