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

a fingernail under to ease them from the paper.

Michael shifts by me…

Trouble brewing?

of flowers around

given them to

up a chair and sits beside her.

fine. Thank you, Chad, so much, for bringing these. For keeping them so long.” She’s smiling, radiating almost, as she combs through

to Michael, then to me, eye-pointing chairs close by. Something in his tone penetrates. Her smile fades. Michael

What’s coming…?

only things of yours I have.” He reaches for an inside pocket, plucking

the

she going

drops into the

never reached you. I was trying to find you.

words were for me to give you his love when I found you again. I didn't tell him you'd not received his letter, but I kept it so I could give it to you if

to take it?” I

takes it, then stands, retreating to a corner, turning her back to all of us. The envelope rips, and she stands head bowed, soundless, as she

meet eyes with Michael,

sob. Then

flushing, backs away again, gesturing Michael to her. He tries to take her

streaming down her face, “I went back to the farm once, that first Christmas. But no one would talk to

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

never did

everyone against you. Except for Mrs Collier. And Mr Kalkowski of course.” He smiles, places his

“I did, yes.”

“Geology? Astronomy?”

I

What brought that

the letter… From your old friend… Does it say the things you

smiles, nods and offers it to me. I read it

My Dearest Jenny,

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