Lost Souls

42

Back in the kitchen everyone had gathered to examine the various items Mr. Rusk had brought down to show them.

    Grace Rusk was tenderly rubbing a small, dirty pink, cardigan between the fingers of both hands. There were so many holes in the garment, it looked like the last wearer had been standing in front of a firing squad.

    Amber was trying to attach a dolls arm to the rest of it’s body, while Alex tried to pull the pages apart in a very sticky boys annual.

    “This is totally gross,” he pointed out, as two pages separated with a low squishing sound. “It’s like whoever had this collected bugs between the pages.”

    “It’s just the dampness son,” Mr. Rusk volunteered. “That and age.”

    “Will I make squishy sounds when I’m older?” Amber asked innocently, causing most of the room to smile for the first time in hours.

    “No, darling. You’re not made of paper are you?” Mrs. Rusk asked, as she continued to rub the soft material she was holding.

    Amber pinched her forearm, and then her cheek. “No paper here,” she joked.

    “You’ll fart a lot when you’re older though. And probably poop in your pants,” Alex teased.

    “Thanks for sharing that,” Katie scolded. “You’ll be doing it a few years before Amber does anyway.”

    Alex grinned. “You first big sis,” he said happily.

    “Do we really have to speak that way about old people children?” MacBlaine, who’d been sitting with his eyes shut so quietly, everyone thought he’d fallen asleep, asked in a disgusted tone. “Some older folks have very good control of their bowels.”

    “Like you maybe?” Amber suggested uncertainly.

    MacBlaine coughed awkwardly. “I don’t consider myself as that old yet Amber.”

    “Yeah, but it must be a close call?” Alex added sarcastically.

    “Alex Rusk! That is most definitely enough,” Mr. Rusk scolded. “Now, apologise to the vicar at once.”

    MacBlaine held up a hand to say it didn’t really matter, but Alex knew he had no choice. He’d pushed it a little further than he could get away with. “I’m sorry your getting old,” he said, trying to still win a few points in his own head.

    “We all get older Alex. You should remember that. One day it might be you having to change underwear more often than you’d like too.”

    Alex glanced at the vicar, trying to find a hint of humour in his features. When he saw they were set in stone, the penny dropped. He would be an old man one day, and that thought actually scared him quite a bit.

    “I’m very tired,” Mrs. Rusk muttered, as she replaced the cardigan gently beside some of the other clothing her husband had carried down from the attic. “It’s been a long and stressful day. I suggest we all retire for the night, and start the hunt again at first light.”

    “Sounds like a plan honey,” Michael Rusk said, as he lovingly stroked his wife’s cheeks. “There’s room for everyone.  Jimmy, there’s a small bedroom next to ours. The beds not huge, but it’ll be better than the floor.”

    “I’ve slept on floors quite a few times anyway,” Jimmy replied, saddened by the memories that brought.

    Katie looked at him, and for the first time, she saw how lonely he was. She felt hot tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and quickly looked away before he saw them.