Verdict

Ivy begins to get to know her Uncle, suspicion and fascination growing within her.

I retreated to my room and sat at my table. I lifted a sheet of paper from the drawer and sharpened my pencil. I looked down from my window to see the pond and began to draw the bench he had sat on. I thought of the image of it from my mind: the grass that sprung up around it, the fading varnish and exposed wood; the thickly coated green of the iron frame and the imperfections in the paint. I sketched it quickly with my pencil, watching the tiny shavings of lead fly when the pencil touched the page. My room got darker slowly and just as I was finishing an area of grass at the far corner of the image my door opened.

“Your mother has asked me to tell you that dinner is ready.” His voice called from behind me. I finished what I was doing and set down my pencil. “Homework?” he asked. I turned around on the stool and faced him directly.

“No.”

“May I?” He walked in slowly, the click of his shoes loud against the cleanly polished wood of my bedroom floor. I nodded as he approached. He reached down behind me and lifted the page, the firing heat radiating from his body as he leaned around me.

“You are quite the artist. Such detail and accuracy. Do you have more?” I paused.

“Yes.”

“Darling? Come on down here or dinner will get cold!” Mother shouted from downstairs.

“I shall have to see them another time it seems. Our boss is calling us.” He laughed, and I smiled, standing slowly and walking in front of him down the spiral staircase. I entered the dining room to find mother sitting ready at the head of the table. She tilted her head and her eyes widened. She was smiling, but in that way that says “explain yourself”. I sat directly on her left and Nicolas sat on her right. Marie brought out our dinner and we all began to eat. Mother discussed the people at the funeral. Nicolas said minimal amounts to keep her entertained, taking glances at me as I picked at the food and ate lethargically, not really listening. Instead I stared at the piano through the double doors behind Nicolas. A champagne glass sat on it along with a half-eaten tray bake. I stared at it. How little care was taken with such an item. I found myself getting angry and becoming less and less interested in my food, until I ended up sitting holding my knife and fork and not really moving.

“Ivy. Eat your dinner.” Mother said. I turned to her.

“Why?” Mother slammed down her knife and fork.

“Ivy, you will do as I say.” I said nothing and did not move.

“We have all had a difficult day. I'm sure your just not much up to eating, eh Ivy?” I met eyes with him and nodded. Mother sighed.

“Well all right.” The matter was settled after this. When mother had finished eating she cleared the plates, as Marie had gone home by now. Nicolas drank red wine. He drank it slowly and stared at me. He set his glass down and fumbled in his trouser pocket, taking out his wallet and lifting a tiny photograph from there. He handed it to me. With caution I took it.

It was a woman. She was quite beautiful really, she smiled and looked down away from the camera. She was sitting on a wall overlooking a river.

“My father took that not long after he and my mother were married. Don’t you think she looks like you?”

I studied it. I suppose there was a certain resemblance. I nodded. I went to hand back the photo but he held up his hand.

“Keep it.  I have other copies.” I smiled and tucked the photo into the pockets of my dress. When mother came in again I got up and went upstairs once more. It was getting late. I lay on the bed and closed my eyes, remembering the feeling of the sun on my skin. I fell asleep and awoke the next morning to that same sunlight casting colour on the dust that hung in the air of my room. With every breath I took the dust swirled. I opened my eyes a little wider as they adjusted to the sunlight and got up, lifting a towel from my wardrobe and heading over to the bathroom. I locked the door and took off my dress, peeling it like a skin and turning on the shower. I opened the window to let out the steam and stepped inside running shampoo through my hair and rinsing it off again with my hands. Then I washed my face and my body, running my hands over each inch of skin, searching for a trace of dirt. When I was content that I found none I turned off the shower and took deep breathes as the room was now steamy, regardless of the open window. I stepped out and onto the cold of the tiled floor. I lifted the towel and began to pat my skin dry. I wrapped it around myself and tied it at my breasts before opening the door to go back to my room. When I did, Nicolas was standing across the hall, in the doorway to the guest room, smiling. He wore a pair of loose pyjama bottoms and nothing else. They hung on his hips as he leaned against the door frame. I stared as he did for a moment, before walking into my room and closing the door, the water dripping from my hair leaving a trail behind me on the wooden floor. I took off the towel and tied it around my hair before getting changed into a short sleeved white blouse and a light blue skirt that mother had left out for me to wear on my first day back. I pulled on my brogues and took my hair from the towel. I ran a brush through it and blow dried it quickly before making my way downstairs. I stopped midway down, though and sat on the window seat. I still had a while before I should need to leave for school. After a few moments, how long I could never be sure, I heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Hello again.” I said nothing, but looked around to see my uncle smiling at me from the top of the stairs. “Do you want to know why you feel at a disadvantage?”

“Because I have only just learned of your existence.”

“No.” He began, with a smile curling at his lips. “It’s because you are beneath me… on the stairs.” We stared for a short while, his coy smile never leaving his mouth. Without expression I stood and walked slowly up the stairs to stand on the same step as him. He turned to face me. Finding I was still much shorter than him I went up another step. He chuckled.

“This morning your mother will tell you that I am going to be staying here for a while, to look after you while she goes away to New York, with work. But I want your opinion first.”

“Why?” He sighed and moved his head from side to side before turning away.

“Because it’s important to me.” He walked downstairs slowly his back rippling as he moved down each step. When he reached the bottom he turned to me and held out his hand.

“Care for some breakfast, Miss Ivy?” I smiled and followed him down, sort of skipping down the steps. He held out his hand, oddly I thought, but I took it and he walked with me behind him into the kitchen. He led me down to a stool at the island and I sat there, he spun around dramatically.

“Bacon and eggs, old sport?” he put on an English accent. “Nothing better to keep that brain ticking over when one sets out for a long day at school, what do you say?” I laughed at his ridiculousness and he smiled. He searched for the fridge and I pointed it out. He started fiddling about and began cooking. “now then, would the mistress be wanting a glass of juice or a delightful cup of tea.” I laughed again and got up, lifting the cranberry juice and a glass from the cupboard.

“Interesting choice.” He was suddenly himself. “Why cranberry juice?”

“It’s my favourite.” I said calmly. He smiled again and tilted his head to the side.

“Well, I know that now. I should have to get to know you quite well, seeing as I’ll be, I would say babysitting but… you are certainly no baby.” I stopped pouring and set the bottle down, screwing on the top and then turning to face him. He was staring intently. He swiftly turned his attention to breakfast and I went and sat down. He set a plate in front of me with two rashers of back bacon and a fried egg, easy over, just how I liked it. He then set a piece of toast on the plate and set the butter dish in the middle of the island. He sat beside me. I buttered my toast and ate it, not taking my eyes off of him.

“I never asked, what is it you are studying in school?” he asked, taking a bite of his own toast.

“English, Art and Music.”

“The perfect trio. What books are you reading?”

“At the moment, l’Etranger.” I answered him without much thought, drawn in by the rich smoke like texture of his voice.

“Spoken beautifully.” He slammed the table dramatically, I jumped a little. “You see, there is some French in you to be sure. A personal favourite. Have you read it all yet?”

“Twice.”

“Verdict?” I smiled.

“Wonderful. But cruel.”

“Parfet.” Ah that French again.

“Are you fluent in French?”

“Oui,” he leaned back on his stool a little. “We shall have to teach you some French.”

“I would rather hear you speak it.” He laughed a little and paused, taking a bite of his toast and setting it on his plate. He wiped his hands together.

“Well, I should like to read you something in French.” He leaned in and whispered, “Perhaps when your mother goes we could read the real l’Etranger in the garden, feet stuck in the pond and everything.” We both chuckled as Mother appeared at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes red and swollen.

“Oh, you are both up. Darling you should hurry along or you’ll be late for the school bus.”

“I can run her in…”

“Not at all, Nicolas, she will take the bus.” I smiled at him and took one final bite of toast as I walked slowly upstairs. I got into my room and thrust my books in my satchel, slung on my grey cardigan, not that I would likely need it, before setting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. I made my way downstairs again and Uncle Nicolas was still in the kitchen with my mother. I could hear her cackling laughter and peered around the corner as I was about to leave. Nicolas’s fingertips grazed my mother’s hand on the counter-top. He met eyes with me smiling with furrowed eyebrows and a tilted head, before quickly turning his eyes back to my mother. I turned around swiftly and closed the door, still uncertain of the mystery figure now living in my house. A lot of this new confused me, and I was somewhat reluctant to leave it for the numbing world that awaited me in school. Oh the enigma of the wandering man. Nicolas.

Author's Note

Still considering some additions/ changes. I am open to any and all ideas/ criticisms or responses. What do you think of the atmosphere so far? Or the themes that are developing?