Violet - Book Two

ten

"Violet!"

A voice which belongs inevitably to Miss Peregrine snaps at me as I make for the back door. Slowly, I turn myself around and see the headmistress standing in the living room doorway, hands resting sternly in her hips.

"Good morning Miss Peregrine." I chirp, feigning complete innocence.

"Where have you been? I have had everybody searching the far corners of Pembleton for you!"

"Really? Oh my goodness!" I surprise myself with my own acting skills. "Ever so sorry, I just went out for a morning walk."

Miss Peregrine furrows her brow, clearly unsure of whether to believe my story. I watch her eyes inspect every inch of me, looking for telltale signs that I had been out. She takes one look at my untamed curls and her expression suddenly softens slightly.

"Alright. However you must always tell me if you are planning on leaving these premises. These are still dangerous times for people like us, do you understand? You have lived here long enough to understand that."

I nod, quite pleased with myself. However I do feel a slither of guilt, for I hate having to lie to the woman who has shown me love and cared for me since I was a naïve sixteen year old. Brushing the emotion aside, I walk beside her to the garden, where a few heads rear at the sound of our shoes against the path.

"Children, gather round please." The headmistress squawks, and her words are met with a mass scuttling of all her charges towards her. I cannot help but notice how drastically the mood has changed since last night. Olive sidles up next to me, giving me a slight nudge with her bony elbow. "It is Saturday, and it is chore day for many of you. However a few changes have been made for the exception of today, for I am not sure that Enoch will be happy to drag himself to the village."

She smirks fondly. I glance up to his bedroom window with a slight hope that he is there, watching. He is not.

"Horace, you are now in charge of collecting everything on this list." Miss Peregrine produces a long slip of paper from the pocket of her jacket. Plenty of items are written on the surface - rationed food. "Millard shall help you. Retrieve everything with whatever means are necessary." She winks, and ushers the two boys off towards the garden gate. "Bronwyn, Hugh, aid Fiona in the garden. Claire and the Twins can help me with the flowers - Olive and Violet shall go into the village and collect three yards of white cotton, silver buttons and some lilies, if you can find any. I would like to decorate the dining table."

The headmistress flashes a smile and shoos Olive and I from the garden, setting us following in the boys' path. There is a slight bite to the air this morning, which signifies that winter is most definitely on the way. Olive wears a lavender cloak over her shoulders and her arms are crossed over her chest for warmth.

"What does Miss Peregrine want with silver buttons?" I ask, a bleak attempt at conversation.

"Goodness knows. She might be making a blouse or something." Olive replies, her voice shivering along with her body. She falls silent for a moment, the only sound audible is the wind whipping past my ears. "I know you were in Enoch's room last night."

I jump, and I feel my eyes expand with worry.

"Olive-"

"I didn't tell anyone, don't worry." She assures me with a small laugh. "I could hear you walking past my door, opposite his."

"Oh. I think I fell asleep."

"Yes, I reckon so." She is smirking, and I know what she is thinking.

"I slept like a baby."

She continues to smirk whilst I attempt to defend my honesty, and eventually I turn away. We are approaching the village now - British flags still hang from windows and billow in the wind being channeled into the Main Street. A cat slinks it's way over the garden gate of the end terrace house and jumps out of site.

We head towards the main square, and turn off into the seamstresses. Following the usual routine of 'purchasing', Olive floats towards the counter where a middle-aged woman with a emotionless, thin mouth sits behind on a stool. My housemate begins to talk in an unusually dauntless tone to the shopkeeper, distracting her from the other girl who is creeping among the enormous rolls of fabric.

Olive's voice ripples around the shop while I snatch a pair of scissors from a display. I pull at the end of a roll of cotton and roughly measure three yards using my finger as a guide, before slipping one blade beneath the sheet. I proceed to cut the section away and quickly fold the borrowed rectangle of fabric into a tiny square. Stashing it beneath my cardigan, I replace the scissors onto the display and head towards the endless shelves of button boxes.

My fingers skim across the rims of each container, searching for something which looked close to Miss Peregrine's request. Back at the counter, I hear Olive beginning to struggle to continue conversation with the irritable shop owner. I have to hurry. After scrabbling along the shelf I eventually find a box filled to the brim with silver, embellished buttons. I scoop a handful from the box and shake them into the pocket of my skirt.

Exhaling, I stride back towards the counter and gently touch Olive's shoulder to alert her of my return. Her face relaxes in relief, and she hurries a 'goodbye' to the woman as I usher her out into the street.

"Did you get everything?"

"Yes. Now we just need to find some lilies."

This will be the easiest task, for the nearby florist keeps bunches of flowers in silver pails outside on the pavement for display. Olive and I cautiously approach the other side of the square, and I spot a pristine bunch of ivory lilies sitting patiently in one of the rusting buckets. I nudge Olive, and she lurches forward and grasps all the stems in her gloved fist. She turns her back on the shop and holds the flowers a her abdomen, hiding them from the shopkeeper who is tending to an arrangement inside.

We break into a brisk walk back up the slight hill, desperately trying to exit the town before either of the shop owners realise that a portion of their stock has disappeared. However, our worst fears are realised once we are approaching the closest side street - a shriek from back in the square causes my legs to increase their pace. Olive follows suit, clutching the lilies to her chest and running alongside me.

"Quickly!" She says breathlessly, and grabs my wrist with her free hand, pulling me down another alleyway. Olive drags me through tiny winding passages until we emerge in a meadow, covered with yellow flowers. I recognise the red-brick house which rests on the horizon whilst I double over, catching my breath. Olive places a skinny hand on her chest as she inhales with a slight smile.

"Let's go home." She says, a word between each breath.