James

Books.

What’s new?

She’s consistent…

‘Principles of Geology’ by Charles Lyell - well-thumbed, ‘The Merchant of Venice’, ‘Marvels of Pond Life’ by Henry Slack - very dog-eared… The list goes on and the only thing any of the texts have in common is that they all look well-used. A second-hand bookstore would describe them as slightly foxed, but it looks as though the bears, the boars and the badgers have been at them too.

She stacks them in a neat pile, then rummages…

Some odds and ends of jewellery; cheap stuff, yellowed with age but seeming little-handled…

A rock. “Oh!” She smiles as it weighs in her hands.

Michael gives me a ‘wtf?’ look and I shrug.

Chad sees our expressions and smiles, then moves to stand close by Michael. He murmurs, “You’d better be ready. She’ll probably get pretty emotional soon.”

Michael shoots him a glance, then nods.

The rock seems to be just that; a rock, prettily striped in green and red, polished to a smooth round..

Curiosity gets the better of me. “Charlotte?”

She almost caresses the pebble and when she looks up, her eyes are full…

“Tell me later,” I say.

She separates out a book, a heavy volume, leather-bound, old looking. Her eyes lift to Michael, then me, and she chews at her lips. Sliding a finger to the pages, she lifts, and the book falls open on…

Flowers?

Yes, pressed flowers; dainty, delicate their colours faded, but recognisable as violets.

close. “Are those what

“Yes, they’re the ones you gave me, that first day.” She lifts them free from the page, sliding a fingernail under to ease them from the paper. “Chad and I were still at school. He

Michael shifts by me…

Trouble brewing?

flowers around

them to

up a chair and sits beside her. “Jenny, sit down would

keeping them

to me, eye-pointing chairs close by. Something in his tone penetrates.

What’s coming…?

of yours I have.” He reaches for an inside

stares at the letter, eyes

she going

she drops

was trying

words were for me to give you his love when I found you again. I didn't tell him you'd not

you going to take

corner, turning her back

eyes with Michael,

a sob. Then another,

us stride forward, then Chad, flushing, backs away again, gesturing Michael to

once, that first Christmas. But no one would talk to me. They just said you'd left and Mr Kalkowski had died.

said he was a policeman, he came looking for you. He told everyone you

did that.

you. But my mother believed him, or wanted to. And she poisoned everyone against you. Except for Mrs Collier. And Mr Kalkowski of course.” He smiles, places his hand over hers. “He was so proud of you, you know. Tell me, did you make it

“I did, yes.”

“Geology? Astronomy?”

I

brought that

From your old friend… Does it say the things you

startled glance, then smiles, nods and offers

My Dearest Jenny,

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