Borrowed Time ⏱ Enoch O'Connor

~ II ~

I step out into the sunlight, it illuminating me immediately and warming my porcelain skin with each step I take away from the shadow of the cairn's embrace. Whispers drift towards my ears and fill my mind with anxious questions.

What if I don't fit in?

What if they all hate me?

What if I'm too late?

The last one left my mind spinning and my chest aching for more. You may be wondering what I mean by more. You see, it all started when my Grandpa Portman used to tell me and my cousin Jake stories about a certain bird. I know what you're thinking 'a bird?' but give this a chance.

My Grandpa Portman told us endless tales of a bird, a peregrine falcon if I remember correctly, and her 'wards' as he called them. They all had various talents or 'peculiarity's' as he so often referred to them as. Mine and Jacob's visits to poor old Grandpa Portman soon diminished and as the stories of the peculiar children on the small Welsh island of Cairnholm slowly but surely left my memory. They vanished from my life forever... or so I thought.

What I didn't know was these fables as I remember them weren't just my childhood but my history. I should have known that my Grandpa wasn't crazy, that the once a year we visited wasn't enough but how was I supposed to know. My Grandpa was in danger, he was being hunted by someone, something, worse than any story could describe and as they caught up with him or shall I say it. He knew his time was short, he knew he didn't have long but as the only family member I have visited since being a child, I didn't have a choice. He may be seen as mad but his scribbled letter that popped through my letter box couldn't be ignored. He is the only family member I have kept contact with and I have to find out if all this is true, if I can help. I hope I'm not too late...

Snapping out of my thoughts I lifted my hand to the large wooden door now presented in front of me. My hand, now slightly shaking, grazed the door as I went to knock. The door swings open and the distant whispering silences, a woman swooping into my vision like a bird. WAIT A BIRD! It can't be, CAN IT?

"Miss Alma LeFay Peregrine," she says offering her hand whilst puffing a white cloud from her pipe.

"Anastasia..."

"Anastasia Portman, yes. I've been expecting you dear."  She says stepping aside for me to enter the grand white hallway behind her.

"I do believe Abe sent you, if I am not mistaken?"

"Err... Yes but he... Well..." I stuttered not sure how to tell an old friend of his about his passing.

Grandpa Portman, or Abe depending on whom it concerns, passed shortly after his letter slid through my small letterbox one very cold summer morning. My Mother was wary at first but I insistently left next morning and began heading across Britain from the small English village I was born in, some 16 years ago, to Wales and the isolated island, known as Cairnholm.  I had believed that the difficult part of my short yet surprisingly far journey had ended, my mind forgetting the devastating news I bore. Anxiety slowly creeps through my veins as my mind tries to put eligible sentences together. My eyes fill with panic and a sense of sudden urgency. I need to tell them, want to. I just don't know how.

I must have looked like I'd seen a ghost. Well, I guess I did because Miss Peregrine's eyes filled with worry and guiding me to a vacant chair she says, "Oh, it's alright dear, here have a seat."

"Thank-you ever so much Miss Peregrine." I say gladly taking the seat. "You see it's just that my Grandfather he err..."

"He passed away," Miss Peregrine politely interrupts, laying a kind hand gently on my shoulder.

"How do you know?" I question, quietly sniffing back the salty tears that briefly escaped my eyes. Memories of poor old Grandpa Portman flooding back to me after all these years, having not been for a visit in a while. His image is blurred and distorted in my memory, his spirit being the only thing clear as the 1940's summer day I now find myself surrounded in. 

"Your Grandfather, Abe, was one of my wards. He took refuge here during the war and before I knew what was coming he left to 'do his part' as he put it. Where - well, you needn't know the rest. What you must understand is that although your visit is a blessing to us all, you mustn't mention your grandfather or at least not yet." Miss Peregrine explained withholding the information I was so eager to find but was never told.

"Why?" I ask politely looking at her with wonder, she had known my Grandpa and while this moment passed I couldn't help but wonder what secrets she knew of his life and what this information, however small, could do to help my surprisingly small understanding of his life and why he wanted me to come here, grow.

"One of my wards Emma, Emma Bloom, she was very close to dear Abe and I don't fancy her getting worked up again. After all, it'd be hard to stop her if she ever tried to float away," chuckled Miss Peregrine quietly to herself.

Emma Bloom, I thought I recognised the name, the girl who's lighter than air. There were many stories about her and her fellow 'peculiar's' floating among my newly found childhood memories. He used to speak about her most and in the highest respect, saying how he dearly missed her and how he could still remember her smile brightening even the darkest of moods. At the time I thought it cheesy but now find it surprisingly sweet; knowing my Grandpa was so smitten with a floating girl so far from his home gave me a sudden hope. Now, determined to find out more about Grandpa, I thank Miss Peregrine and promise not to speak a word about his passing until she feels she's ready.

After being dismissed by Miss Peregrine and told dinner would be ready shortly, I am guided up the grand sweeping staircase to my assigned room by Miss Peregrine, a young girl in a lovely pink dress clinging to her side warily eyeing me up and down, not uttering a single word.  Entering the small room I take in the beautiful floral design and simple furniture organised neatly in its cosy surroundings.

I thanked Miss Peregrine and set my suitcase down next to the second bed, unpacking my few belongings and placing them neatly in the wardrobe, selecting a simple ensemble from my scarce selection and putting it on.

Now changed and ready for dinner, I gaze out of the window at the children playing outside in the almost scorching sun, none of them seemed particularly peculiar, they all look pretty normal and ordinary. Like me.

An abrupt knock at the door startles me and I hear a masked chuckle, turned cough.

"Miss Peregrine told me to inform you that dinner's ready."

The tall silhouette says backing away from my view, before I could even think to fathom a reply, and starting down the stairs with loud grumpy footsteps.