Healing - Book One

twenty two

The guests are forced to walk the mile to my parent's house. Reluctantly, I walk with my family while my parents chatted away as if everything is perfectly fine. During the walk I am praised once or twice for my 'powerful' and 'moving' tribute to Aggie, mostly by those who I have never seen before in my life.

The jamboree squeezes through the small streets of another village which I had not known before this point. As I walk, I turn my head behind and stand on the balls of my feet. Meeting Enoch's eyes, I push myself up against the wall of a bakery to step away from the crowd, rejoining where he walked.

"How do you think it went?" I says quietly, scratching my brow.

"Amazing." He replies, looking at me rather than where he's walking. "If you'd gone on any longer you'd have had me near tears." He chuckles, rubbing his nose.

"Do you think she would have been proud of me, Enoch?"

"Of course. Even when she used to visit all those years ago, she would gush about you from morning 'til night."

"You can remember that?"

"Of course. I was only young, but Agatha was pretty hard to miss with that hair. As are you." Enoch looks down at the floor, you could have been correct to say he was blushing.

"You are ever so sweet, do you know that?" I stumble across my words, not quite believing what I was saying. Enoch bows his head lower so his hair flops over his face, yet his obvious, shy smile still shines through.

Enoch and I walk together for the remainder of the trip, when I see the terracotta rooftiles knitted into the rich evergreen vegetation, I am overcome with mixed emotions of happiness and also dread. The latter because I know there will be a final attempt to bring me back to Oxford - something which I simply cannot entertain. The boy senses my apprehension and gives me a mildly reassuring nudge.

"Nobody is goin' to make you stay." When I do not answer, he abandons his statement entirely. "It's quite a house."

"Yes. Rosie said mother chose it, it was a little modern for father's liking."

"Must be something about fathers. Mine was the most old-fashioned man you'll meet. Stuck in 1910."

I muffle a giggle with my hand, pushing my fingers against my lips. I catch him watching me again, but choose to ignore it.

The fence has been woven with a coloured paper chain - why would anybody want to decorate for a funeral? It takes all my might to push the petty thought from my mind as I stroll through the gate once more, smelling the familiar stench of freshly-mowed grass which I would always love as a child. Enoch remains at my side the whole walk up to the front door, providing comfort as my stomach clenches more and more.

"Look who decided to come back." Mary snarls as Enoch and I enter the house.

"Hello Mary." I mutter, desperately trying to escape.

"How are those 'healing hands' of yours? Not very effective are they?" She growls as I walk away. I feel my hands roll into fists. However my nails' path into my palm is obstructed when some more fingers slide into my hand. Looking down, I see that the boy has knitted his fingers through mine. When I go to meet his eyes, his expression tightens and he lets go again.

"Don't listen to the cow." He mumbles, letting his hair fall over his eyes again. I tremble at the events, this time out of excitement which I am unwilling to explain to myself.

The guests gather around the all-too-familiar dining table and munch on canapés and drink minute glasses of champagne. I stay close to my housemates, not wanting to get collared by a distant family member and dragged into conversation.

"Um.. Violet?"

The word follows a soft tap on my shoulder. I see Olive standing behind me rather sheepishly when I spin around.

"Can I talk to you? Somewhere else?"

She nibbles at her bottom lip nervously. I nod and push past her to lead the way to the living room, which I assume will be quieter.

Sure enough, there is not one person in the living room. I beckon a shy Olive inside and sink into the armchair; she sits bolt upright on the one perpendicular to mine.

"What did you want to say?" I say gently, setting my glass down on the coffee table. The girl hesitated for a second, before blurting our apparently everything which has ever resided in her soul.

"Well... I have really missed being friends with you and, yes, of course I am upset about Enoch and I am so sorry I took it out on you because I know it was never your fault and-" she takes a deep breath, quite clearly fatigued after spitting out her words at such a speed.

"Olive! It's alright." I interrupt her, beginning loudly to halt her from continuing. "It really is."

She does not say anything for a few moments. Her lips have curled into a tiny smile.

"I think he really likes you..." she whispers.

"No, Olive. Even if he did I would not do that to you." I say forcefully.

"Believe me Violet, I would be the happiest if you were happy with him."

Confused, I furrow my brow and retrieve my glass from the table, throwing the carbonated substance back in one gulp.