Violet - Book Two

nine

I awake to the faint sound of birdsong. My eyelids peel open, and I suddenly sit up upon a moment of panic, for I am not in my own room. However, the sensation is dashed once I notice the boy in the bed beside me, still sleeping soundly. I lower my body back down and rest my head on the pillow beside him.

I cannot help but smile to myself; he looks so peaceful. One of his arms is strung across the pillow above my head, the other across his chest. My attention is suddenly drawn back to the gash beneath his eye - and it appears more inflamed than before; perhaps he lay on that side during the night and aggravated it. Cautiously, trying my best not to wake him, I slide my thumb over the cut and, bit by bit, it is sealed into a neat line with a slight fizzing sound. Soon, it is absorbed into his ivory skin without a trace and without him waking.

My forefinger then finds its way to the expanse of his cheek, kneading the skin with my knuckle in an effort to rise him. Sure enough, his eyelids begin to flicker open.

"Good morning." I whisper, gently massaging the back of his head with my fingernails.

It takes him a little while to open his eyes properly. His fingers climb to his eyes and wipe across his eyelids.

"Morning." He eventually replies, his voice cracks in it's half-asleep stage. I watch on as his fingers drag down his face and pass over the spot where the gash once sat, and I witness the moment when he becomes conscious that it is no longer there. He returns a quizzical gaze towards me.

"It looked painful." I say quietly. "So I got rid of it."

"Well then," He replies with a small laugh of disbelief. "You're quite magic, aren't you?"

"You've turned soft, O'Connor." I tease, pulling the covers over my shoulder.

"I have not." He protests, sitting up in bed. His arms stretch far above his head. "I've just toughened you up to my level."

"I beg to differ." I roll onto my back and look up at him, a smirk plastered onto my mouth. "I've never seen you smiling so much."

"Stop it Doré, or I might have to piss off downstairs and leave you up here by yourself." Enoch retorts.

"Oh no, I'm so frightened." I snap playfully, my voice thick with sarcasm, however I squeal when the boy tosses the sheets from my body and curls his hands around each side of my waist. With all his force, he hauls my top half up into a sitting position and slides an arm underneath my knees, and raises me onto his lap with a grunt. I half-heartedly fight against him, squirming in his arms and eventually begin chortling to myself once I realise that I am well and truly captured.

"Give up yet?" He asks, bringing his face close to mine.

Before I can answer, there is a knock on the bedroom door. Both of us freeze. My insides jump, making me slightly nauseous. Somebody must have heard us - I will be in so much trouble.

"Shit." Enoch whispers, untangling me from his arms. He pulls his robe from the hook and throws it over his shoulders; another series of thumps vibrate through the wood. The scot turns to me and mouths "stay in the bed" before taking hold of the door handle.

"Who is it?"

"It's Hugh. Enoch open the door."

Enoch obeys (a rarity!) and pulls open the door a crack. I cannot see Hugh and, presumably, he cannot see me. I cautiously pull the duvet around my shoulders as the two converse.

"What is it?"

"Violet wasn't at breakfast. Miss Peregrine was wondering if you'd heard from her."

"Uh," Enoch glances back at me, his face the picture of guilt. Hopefully Hugh will not notice. "Not a clue. I overslept. Have you checked the bathroom?"

"Yes. It was empty."

"What about her bedroom?"

"Of course. Her bed looked untouched."

"Well, maybe she went for a..." another anxious glance. My heart is sinking, while I rack my brain for an excuse to use later. "...walk. An early morning walk. Perhaps she needed to clear her head."

"I suppose that is a possibility." Hugh sounds skeptical, however does not elaborate on what his tone is voicing. "Well, I'll go and tell Miss Peregrine. See you later."

Enoch gives a courteous nod and shuts the door. The two of us wait in silence as Hugh's footsteps get further and further away until the sound disappears from earshot.

"I've got to go." I say quietly, still worried that somebody might hear me.

"Yes. Put some proper clothes on and say you went for a stroll or something." Enoch nibbles at his lip - his hand still rests on the door handle. "I'll see you downstairs."

I scramble from his bed and make my way towards the door, arms folded across my chest. The boy pushes the handle down and pulls it open a crack, and I slip out without a word.

Thankfully, the corridor is empty, and I tiptoe across the floorboards to my bedroom door. It is open very slightly - a sure sign that somebody went in to check on me. I enter silently and shut the door behind me. As Hugh had said, my bedspread is creaseless and the decorative cushions are arranged neatly at the head of the mattress. In a hurry, I lunge for my wardrobe, flinging the doors open and grasp at a red and white dress which hangs close to the centre.

In a matter of minutes, I look presentable. A cream cardigan is draped around my shoulders and I made sure to only fix my hair a little bit to make myself look windswept, and therefore my story will be more convincing. I stand close to the window and see that almost everybody is situated in the garden. Many of the boys are throwing and catching a battered ball, Fiona is submerged in vegetation and Olive sits underneath the tree with Bronwyn and Claire. Now is an opportunity to make a swift exit.