The Dark Dyad (Tom Riddle & ofc)

Chapter 10. Barefoot in Puddles

August 10, 1938

Wednesday

I sat patiently in the chair by the door. The square of tile sitting firmly on the wall opposite was cracked. I scrutinized it carefully. It looked very much like the river depicted on the map: here was the mouth, and here it looked like several tributaries. I wonder if Irene knows how to draw landscapes, or just people's faces.

"Tom, come in," Mrs. Cole sounded stern, as usual. I obediently got up from my chair and followed her through the open door. Her office was simple, but very bright. There was a huge window exactly behind the desk. "What did you want?"

"Mrs. Cole, I'd like to ask you to let me and Irene go for a walk today," I tried to sound peaceful and even a little pathetic.

"Tom, I'm still convinced that the dress your friend showed up in was stolen."

"No," I objected sharply. "That's not true, Mrs. Cole!" I realized at once that it was a cruel mistake to exclaim so loudly, and I tried to switch to a softer tone and, without hesitation, generated another lie right on the go: "The good woman herself gave that dress, because it had been made to order for her granddaughter and, unfortunately, it was too tight, you see? The money had already been paid... So, she decided to make Irene happy. Besides... Don't we look like children in need?"

Mrs. Cole's gaze was stern and inquisitive. No muscle twitched on my face under the onslaught of the desire to catch the thief and liar that she had long ago labeled me as.

"All right," she answered with a deep sigh. "But come back before dinner."

I nodded obediently, and headed quickly toward the small hall on the first floor. Irene, dressed in a black dress with a starched white collar, was standing at the door. She was leaning against the jamb with her arms crossed over her chest, staring intently at the kids playing some silly games right on the floor. As soon as she saw me, her whole face was transformed: the coolness dissipated behind a sly smile. I winked, grabbed her warm hand and pushed the door open.

"I hope you're not planning on falling off the bridge into the cold water," I skeptically blurted out as I walked, looking up warily at the protruding "A."

"Of course not," Irene snorted. All we're going to do is cross that Millennium."

I clicked my tongue loudly and showed with my whole appearance that I didn't support the idea. But in any case, it was better than sitting in a stuffy orphanage and looking at the kids whose mental abilities were in great doubt. It was windy outside, but very hot. In spite of that, we reached the bridge pretty soon. The Millennium was crossed at the speed of light, because its swaying due to the wind caused panic, of which I did not, of course, notify Irene. As I hurried across the bridge, holding her hand tightly, all I could think about was how the sway of each step was about to topple me down and I would be drowned in the muddy water like a miserable bug. In an attempt to distract myself, I grumbled:

"Don't tell me we're going..."

"Yes," Irene interrupted me, "that's where we're going."

"Well, what for?" I rolled my eyes involuntarily, slowing my pace.

"I might remember something, Tom."

The area around seemed flat, but in fact St. Paul's Cathedral was at the top of Ludgate Hill. Irene followed the thin thread of memory, and soon we were both in front of a huge, white building. Its bulk and majesty were pressing me to the ground, and I felt too small at once.

Irene's movements had been sluggish, and she looked more like a thorn in my side. But then she perked up, and her movements became shark-like, quick and sharp. Two raven-colored braids fluttered before my eyes, dragging me deep into the cathedral. I wanted to grab them with both hands at once, as if they were inviting me to do it in their teasing dance. The impulse was so strong that I automatically pulled one of them.