Healing - Book One

seventeen

With our outfits for tomorrow hanging up and our suitcases open and organised, Emma and I escape the negative air in our room and head out into the labyrinth of the hotel. We walk down the seemingly endless maze of corridors until we spot Horace exiting one of the rooms. Emma's eyes light up and her pace increases towards the open door. I too widen my strides to keep up with her and watch as she flings herself at Jake when we reach the doorway. Deciding to leave the happy couple alone, I embark on some solo exploration - back down the corridor towards the main staircase.

I descend back into the lobby, which is empty except from a receptionist sitting behind the desk. Brass signs hang from a large pole at the base of the steps:

Dining Hall —>
Library <—
Smoking Room <—

Seeing as one particular room contains hundreds of one of my favourite things to ever exist, I choose the library to continue my expedition towards.

More signs follow, sending me on a goose chase down more steps and around a series  of hallways with crimson wallpaper and gilt-framed portraits of people I did not recognise. When I eventually reach the library, I stand in the doorway for a second with a little slither of disappointment that I will not be alone with the books. A silhouette sits bolt upright on the ornate settee in front of the blazing fireplace which leaves the remainder of the room shrouded in darkness. Although I can only see the vague shape of the person, I know who it is immediately.

"Enoch?" I say quietly, my voice competing with the crackling of the fire. His head snaps around suddenly to face me almost mechanically.

"You had me scared for a moment. I didn't know who it was." He says airily. I move around the loveseat and his eyes follow my every move. His hands hide something on the cushion beside him. In a swift movement, I bat away the cushion to reveal his hand clutching a book - Hungry Hill to be exact.

"I inspired you then?" I chuckle, taking the seat behind him. Enoch, a little embarrassed, moves the book onto his lap so both of us can see it.

"S'pose you did. I came down here for a little peace."

"Oh, sorry." I stutter, suddenly feeling guilty at invading his privacy.

"No-no, its alright. You're alright." He says quickly, returning the book to the coffee table between us and the fire. I relax onto the cushions and let the fire warm me up. From the corner of my eye I watch Enoch take sips from a gold-rimmed mug.

"It's funny, isn't it?" He pipes up.

"What?"

"A wedding. In a time of such sadness."

"I know - Aggie can't have known about your sister-"

"She wouldn't have. I'm not blaming her."

Enoch falls silent. His eyes are fixated on the large flames which flicker before him. I feel the conversation hanging precariously by a thread.

"Have you spoken to Olive since-"

"No, I don't want to either."

I'm taken aback at how blunt he is. He's damaged, and I can hardly blame him. I feel my heart and stomach leap when I let my head drop into his shoulder. It felt magnetic, like one body was drawn to another. His body tenses as soon as my hair makes contact with his clothes: but I am relieved when he loosens and his arm wraps around my shoulders.

I inexplicably feel like bursting. I am also hoping that Olive will not walk into this scene. The two of us remain still and quiet for a while in perfect comfort.