Chapter 8: Marigold

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I looked back at the person I assumed was Caroline. It sure didn't look like Caroline, but it seemed like her. I brushed that off and raced out to the garage for my bicycle. I jumped on and started my ride to the shop.

"I can't wait to see what Billy has to teach me today!" I thought excitedly. I hadn't thought of anything else the past days. It was exciting and thrilling to think that I would be making myself useful.

"Miss Marigold!" Billy said, slightly surprised. "I didn't think you'd actually come." I smiled and propped my bike against the wall.

"Well then, you underestimated me," I said teasingly. "What are we doing today?" Billy went to the corner of the garage and pulled out a small windup toy. It was a small bear with a drum around his neck.

"We are fixing this," he told me. "It's simple and will help you get some of the basics down." He set it down on the table.

"What do I do first?" I asked him. He showed me a small can of oil and a pair of tweezers.

"All you have to do is move the gears around until the key fits into the keyhole again. Then oil it up so it will move again," he explained. 

"That seems easy enough," I said. "Now give me some space so I can work." He took a step back and sat on a shelf behind me.

"Good luck," he said and I got to work, using the tweezers to move the tiny gears around.

"Where are you from?" I asked.

"What?" Billy asked. I looked back at him.

"Where are you from?" I asked again. "I'm curious to know more about this young man who offered to teach me to fix things."

"Well, I'm actually from around here," he said. "I lived at Yew Tree Farm just down the road here. We moved when I was around six years old. How about you, Miss Marigold?"

"Please just call me Marigold and I'll just call you Billy. Deal?"

"Deal."

"I actually lived here until I was around five years old and then I moved to Northumberland with my mother and step father," I explained.

"What happened to your dad?" He asked. 

"He was killed in a fight with some of the people invading Poland before I was born. My mum says that he was a good man. What about your parents?"

"They're both still alive," he said. "They live in Manchester with my brother and sisters, but they're coming out tomorrow. They'll be here for a while."

"And why have you come back?" I asked him.

"I wanted to get out of the city. I liked the country life and wanted to life out here again."

"That sound wonderful," I said and finished the toy. "There we go." Billy came over and fit the key into the keyhole. I twisted it around and the bear started beating on his drum. I clapped my hands excitedly.

"Excellent job, Marigold!" Billy said. "It's wonderful." He picked up the little toy and looked at it.

"Who's it for?" I asked. 

"I've always had it lying around and never had any reason to fix it. I think I'll give it to you, as a memento of your first fix."

"Really?" I asked. "For me?"

"Of course," he said and handed it to me. As I took it from his hand, our fingers touched and I felt an electric shock run through my body.

"Thank you," I said, getting back onto my bike. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Of course," he said and I drove off. I thought about the shock I'd felt when I touched his hand.

"Was it an actual static shock?" I thought. "Or was there something more?" I parked the bike and went looking for Mama to ask her a question. I found her in the library, reading a book.

"Marigold, how was your ride?" She asked.

"It was lovely," I answered. "Could I talk to you about something?"

"Of course, darling. What is it?" I sat down across from her and fiddled with the toy in my jacket pocket.

"Have you ever been in love before Papa?" I asked.

"I was," she answered. "I loved your father and I love Bertie and I loved a man named Anthony Strallan and a man named Patrick. Why?"

"I was just thinking if I was maybe in love," I told her, blushing.

"Oh really?" 

"I think so," I said. "I think about him all the time and he makes me feel so special."

"Is he the reason you went on a bike ride today and yesterday?" Mama asked. I nodded.

"He is. Oh Mama, he's wonderful. Kind and smart and funny and incredibly helpful. When I fell off of my bike yesterday, he came and helped me up and then he offered to fix my bike for me." Mama laughed and smiled at me.

"My little girl is all grown up," she said, choking up a little. 

"Oh Mama," I said. "I may be grown up, but I'll always be your little girl." I sat in her seat with her and leaned my head against her shoulder.

"You haven't told me what his name is," Mama told me.

"Oh right," I said excitedly. "His name is William Drewe, but he prefers Billy." Mama looked at me suddenly.

"What?" She asked. "What did you say?" I looked at her confused.

"I said his name is Billy Drewe," I repeated. All color left her face and she stared at me, slightly angered.

"His last name is Drewe?" She asked, her voice shaking. I nodded and gave Mama a weird look. I was so confused. 

"Why does Mama care that his last name is Drewe?" I thought. "Does name have any meaning to us?"

"Do his parents live here?" Mama asked me. I shook my head and she sighed.

"But they are coming here to visit and are going to stay for a little while," I explained after thinking about our conversations.

"When are they coming?" She asked, nervously.

"Tomorrow." Mama sat and thought for a moment.

"Listen to me Marigold," she said. "I don't want you to see that boy anymore."

"What?! Why?"

"I can't explain, but just don't."

"But Mama..." I protested, but she cut me off, angrily.

"I told you not to see him and you will listen to what I told you," she said and stormed out of the room. I sat there, a million questions racing around my head. I buried my face into my hands, crying silently.

"Marigold, are you alright?" Sybbie asked as she walked in.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her.

"I came looking for a book about Ireland and looking for Nora," she said. "But you look like you need me more."

"I'm fine Sybbie," I said. "I just need a moment to breath." Sybbie sat down next to me and rubbed my back.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but if it's something that will make you really really sad, don't do it," she said. I looked at her and smiled.

"I will, Sybbie. I will."

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