Hunted

Eight: A Chided Child

The halls of Daphne Haskins' house smelt of Matt's childhood, of coal-fires and old books, of wood-polish and sweet cakes. It was cluttered with objects gathered over centuries, each one a separate memory of his youth, memories of playing games with Freddie, memories of his mother and his grandparents. The building itself seemed to open its arms to him, embracing him on his return, glad to have him back, reassuring him that everything would be alright. His only worry know was that of his grandmother's welcome.  He knew she didn't approve of what he had done. He could only hope that he could convince her to see reason.

Matt took a deep breath, trying his best to hold his nerve. His grandmother was stubborn, but he knew it was just because she was trying to protect them. She had always tried to protect them. He knocked gently on the door before easing it open.

Daphne Haskins was sitting at her desk, among her many books and papers, her small reading glasses balanced precariously on the end of her nose. The curtains had been drawn behind her, the only light illuminating the room was from the lamp on her large desk and from another sitting on the corner of the mantelpiece. A glowing fire cast shadows around the cluttered study, crackling noisily.

"Matt," she sighed not looking up. "You took your time". Matt smiled gently at her words, her voice a comforting sound, though her tone was a little tight, as he had expected.

"I wanted to see Freddie," he muttered, his tone slightly bashful.

"And? Do you approve?" she asked, fixing him with a questioning stare. Matt wandered to the mantelpiece picking up a framed picture of his mother. Her eyes glinted, the same deep brown as his own. She was grinning a wide-toothed, contented smile, her dark hair falling about her oval face. A spasm of loss echoed through his chest, before he placed it back turning away from her captured happiness.

"He is on a different path than the one he was on when I left," he said guardedly. "But, he has quite a bit to go before..." he trailed off, already wanting to return to his brother. Daphne fixed him with a stern stare and he felt his resolve crumbling beneath it. He knew only too well what was to come next.

"Okay Matt, we need to talk," she said, obviously not wanting to continue with their awkward words. "She is here I take it?"

"Yes," he complied. It was all he could manage to reply.

"Your father has called again," she continued. Matt glanced up uneasily. "Why do you think he has called again?" she pressed, though it was obvious from her tone that she already had her own answer. Matt hated when she spoke to him like this, as if he was a child in need of scolding.

"I don't know Daphne," he groaned. "Probably because he is pissed that I left the island".

"Watch your tone, Matthew," she snapped. "I did not raise you to speak to me like that".

Matt took another steadying breath. "I'm sorry, grandmother," he said in a forced tone. He moved towards her, pulling a seat up to the desk.

"You're sorry?" she asked. "You will be. Do you seriously think he is ringing to reprimand you?" she said in a harsh tone, her chubby, ringed fingers, folded beneath her chin.

"To reprimand? No, I mean..." Matt frowned.

"No? No, of course not - he is looking for you, Matthew. You have left the island, failed him - you know too much now. And it was not like you even returned to him - his darling protégé," she replied.

"His darling protégé? Daphne are you serious? You know the man - I am not a son to him. I am just a means to an end. He wanted rid of Elmhirst," Matt groaned.