3. Something Dead Still Ticks #3
he’d shit himself if he knew what we’re doing this thursday. same goes for dad
lol, that’s if they invite us back this week
Francesca
fuck, forgot about that
what are we gonna do?
Percy
dunno
*farts cutely *
A soft knock on the door interrupts our conversation, and I lock my phone.
Right on time. The door opens quietly, and my grandfather steps inside.
He wears his usual cardigan with the suede patches on his elbows and loose-fitted slacks.
There’s a mischievous smile on his face as he glances from my face to the half-empty mug on the table.
Percy always said Grandad carries himself like a man who didn’t know how important he was.
His presence is easy, as though the title Lord Frank Sheffolk is something that happened to him accidentally.
“Bad day?” he asks.
“You saw the news, then.”
He chuckles, raising a hand to ruffle the silvery curls on his head.
“Ah, yes. Your gran’s been… moved , by recent events.
But I’m here on other business. Can I expect your presence at the supper table tonight?
She asked very nicely.” I raise a brow, prompting him to laugh.
“Alright, she asked. But will I see you there? The young Charles Henderson will be in attendance.”
I wrap my arms around my legs, mumbling, “Am I seated next to him, then? Goodness, I can barely contain my excitement. Remind him not to hold my hand; we might just set off sparks at the supper table.”
My grandfather gives me one of his small smiles, the one that tells me he feels sorry for me but genuinely doesn’t know how to make things better. I receive it whenever he visits me in this place. “Don’t be cruel, dear girl. Charlie is a lovely, handsome , young man?—”
“ Lovely , you say? He cornered me at the mall last week and vaped a heart at my face, like I was meant to faint into his arm at the romance of it. And his mum? Still listed as ‘consultant to nobility’ even though she takes more selfies in her clinic than patients through the doors. Nobody trusts her, not after that confidentiality slip. Let’s not forget how the entire Lanorythe station hates his dad. ”
I turn away when I see his mouth twisting into a grin. “Of course a marriage into the Sheffolk line would look like a way out. Should I lose what little freedom I have left just so that Chief Inspector Henderson can have teeth at Assembly meetings again?”
His chuckle floats through the air, carrying the warmth of my childhood. “You sound like your gran when she was your age. And that woman was terrifying. How will Charlie ever recover from this?”
“He’ll survive. Didn’t you hear? He has a cider-scented cologne range launching this spring.”
That pulls a bark of laughter from him, and I allow myself a smile. It only widens when he steps closer, leans down and presses an obnoxiously loud kiss to the side of my head. “I adore you; do you know that?”
“It’s always good to be reminded.”
“Hm, you should consider supper, then. Both to remind your grandmother how much she adores you and to earn forgiveness for your lateness to the Stitching.”
I can’t help but cackle at that. “Coming from the man who skipped it entirely because he faked a gout flare?” He merely winks. “But maybe I’ll promise to behave if you promise not to ask Charlie weird questions.”
“Ach, if he’s yapping to you about it, then he’s a wuss!”
“Grandpa, you asked him if he ever feels the statues watching him when he visits,” I deadpan.
“Wouldn’t you want to know if he spooks easily? Better to find out now, else this place’ll eat him alive.” He smacks his lips against my hair again, and a small laugh slips from my mouth. “But it doesn’t matter how frightened Charlie gets; he makes our future king look like a saint.”
I snort, glancing towards my laptop. “I’m not marrying somebody just because they’re better behaved than the Crown’s problem child.”
“You’re right, the bar’s too low.” I laugh at that, shaking my head.
His shoes scuff against the carpet as he backtracks, raising his hands in a sign of surrender.
“I won’t push the subject again, I promise.
You’re not marrying anyone. Not today, not tomorrow.
Just know that people will notice, and they’ll start asking questions. ”
There it is again, the prickle of mothballs curling around my senses; Tommy’s watching. “You speak of what other people would think,” I begin softly, “but I only care about this family. The people within these walls. What would you have me do?”
He gives me a look. “I wouldn’t have you do anything, because I know you’ll outwit them all.”
Then he’s gone, and I sit there for a long while, tea cold and my throat tighter than I realised. All these desires swirl around in the air before me, and I dissect them, wondering when wanting something genuine became disobedience.
I know you’ll outwit them all.
It sounds sweet, yet there’s something folded between the words that has the hair on my nape rising.
There could be grief, maybe even fear, but I’m more focused on who ‘them’ could be.
Does he speak of these bachelors or the rumours floating around about me?
My stomach churns at the thought that he references something I haven’t lived yet.
I don’t want to outwit anything—I want rest.
The house, as always, has its own ideas.
As I shift to fold one leg beneath me, something hard digs into the side of my thigh.
The hair across my arms rises as though each strand has been summoned by some otherworldly creation.
Somehow, my body knows before I do. Slipping two fingers between the cushions, they close around a small, cold oval of silver.
GF stares back at me. Gabriel’s cufflink.
The same one I tossed into the river the night the soil closed over him. There’s no rust nor signs of any wear.
I run my thumb over the engraving on the back of the toggle: Luxuria II .
Probably one of many expensive brands he once wore; I never really paid much attention the older we got, but the word bites.
Lust—the very sin he tried to drag me under with.
A strange peace settles over me, one that stinks of decay.
On the table before me, the broken cuckoo chokes out another call, still trying to sing the hour. A dry click, then a mangled cuck-ghhh-koo .
For a long beat, I’m uncertain as to whether the sound came from the bird or my own heart. It’s uglier than before, and I lean forward to place the cufflink beside it. Two dead things side by side. I finish my tea whilst pretending not to listen as Tommy’s message settles in.
Nothing in Sheffolk ever truly stays dead.
Outside, the wind sighs mournfully, witness to the birth of another omen.