Violet - Book Two

eleven

Miss Peregrine rewards our efforts with a rare slice of Victoria sponge cake - it tastes, as with the majority of her baked goods, divine. The headmistress watches on as we both devour the delicious segments on our plates: each mouthful better than the last. A smile spreads across Miss Peregrine's hollowed cheeks at her culinary triumph.

"I thought you could both replicate this cake for the garden party."

"But Miss Peregrine, last time that enormous chocolate cake ended up in Mrs Somnusson's lap." Olive protests with a sigh. I stay silent, feeling as if I am missing out on an otherwise well-known fact. The headmistress exhales deeply, resting her talons on her hips.

"If all goes to plan, this event will be delightful." Her remark is met with silence from the both of us. "I promise. And I never break promises, now do I?"

She does not, and both Olive and I shake our heads. Miss Peregrine smiles, and announces that she is going to check on how Claire is doing in the flowerbed. She waltzes from the doorway, and we are left alone.

"What was that you mentioned about the chocolate cake?" I enquire through a mouthful of crumbs, intrigued.

"Well," Olive lays her fork down on the edge of her plate and rests her hands on the table. "you see, Emma and I had helped prepare the most beautiful chocolate cake for the last garden party. It turned out lovely, we were ever so proud of it. Emma carried it out to the table, and the adults appeared very impressed."

Olive begins to nibble her lip. She appears unsure in continuing her story. I lean forward slightly, giving her an unspoken prompt to carry on.

"My father enjoys daytime drinking, especially at special events such as this. He happened to be sitting opposite Horace's father and his stepmother."

Olive need not say more, for I can work out the turn of events for myself. I try to give her a reassuring smile, but her gaze has returned to a few remaining morsels of cake left on her saucer.

Several abrupt 'clunking' sounds find their way from the pantry behind us. Upon turning around, I notice that the door has now opened, and I nudge Olive in order to alert her. However, I needn't have, for Enoch emerges from inside - two jars filled with the all-too-familiar green solution in each hand, balancing precariously on his fingers.

"Need some help?" I chirp, twisting my body around in my seat.

"I've got it covered, don't fret." He assures me, flashing the tiniest of smiles, before disappearing into the hallway.

I sigh, and turn back around. Olive is looking at me, a slight grin on her lips.

"What?" I enquire with a whining tone to my voice - she raises her eyebrows, still smiling. "Olive!"

"Are you sure you were just sleeping last night?"

"Yes!" I exclaim, on the verge of exasperation, although it would be difficult to become angry at Olive for long.

"Alright, alright." She says, almost convinced, before poking the remaining cube of cake with her fork and popping it into her mouth.

"Aren't you supposed to wait until you're married anyway?"

"I don't know. I think that is if you're religious." Olive rises from her seat and takes her plate to the sink and drops it into the warm water sitting in the basin. She stands close to the unit for a moment, adjusting her fringe with a gloved finger. "I'll see you later, I've got some things to do." With that, she glides out of the kitchen and heads towards the back door, and I am left alone.

I consider following her out, but decide against it, and finish of my slice of cake. After the final mouthful, the plate is slipped beneath the foam of the washing up water and I grasp a rogue sugar tin from the unit with the intention of returning it to the pantry. The container is slightly cold to touch, suggesting it had been there for some time. Gripping it in my right hand, I enter the pantry and stand on the balls of my feet in order to reach the shelf on which it belongs.

I hear some footsteps behind me and a definite presence at my back, then hands on my waist. I feel what can only be Enoch brush his face up against mine and gently press his lips against my cheek. In response, I place my hands atop his and knit our fingers together.

"Where are you off to then?" I murmur, turning my face slightly more towards where his warm breath is flowing across my face.

"I was about to ask Miss Peregrine if she could catch some rabbits for me, but I got distracted." His thumbs explore the seam of my dress, running up and down the ridges which find their way up my sides.

"You're back up to your old tricks then?" I ask, referring to his homunculi. I allow my head to tilt back onto his shoulder.

"It's the only thing I'm good at." He replies with a small, forced laugh. I furrow my brow and roll my head to face him.

"Don't say that. You're good at plenty of things."

"Name a few, Violet." His self-deprecation makes my heart ache.

"Well, you're ever so good to me. To me that's all that matters." I tell him, my voice almost a whisper. I look on as a shy smile creeps across his cheeks, and I give him one tender kiss on his mouth. "Go and ask for those rabbits."

Enoch continues his grin as his hands slide from my body and retreat into his trouser pockets. He strides from the kitchen and slips out the back door. I watch him go, while what feel to be butterflies erupt into my stomach.