I laugh at the mere suggestion, but then notice then solemn expression on William's, Doctor Hopkins's son, face.

"I'm not jesting, lad," William Hopkins says.

"But... what will my parents..." My laughter falls into a forgotten bearing; I keep looking at the vase of white and red roses on a table near the fireplace.

Now William smiles.
"Do you think my father was delighted when I said I wanted to be a police detective, rather than a doctor?"

I sink into my sofa in the Hopkins's small but comfortable parlour room.
During my summer holidays, I always seem to find my way to the this home, even though Dr Cassius Hopkins is only our family physician.
Though, they're always more welcoming to a wandering boy far too idle for his own good than most people.
But times like these make me wish I didn't come, even though William is like an elder brother to me.

William walks over to the fireplace.
"He said, 'You'll face prejudice.'
I said, 'I'll face prejudice everywhere!'
He said, 'You'll have to work on your own, no advice from me!'
I said, 'That I know and am willing nonetheless.'"
He shakes his head.
"The point: Your father will eventually understand, just like mine did. Parents always do when their children are happy."

A child or two wails from another room; both of us glance at the door.
"Your sister-in-law is at her mother's, along with my own mother. I'll have to look after the twins, so excuse me."
William takes long strides towards the door, while a vase shatters in another nearby room.
He booms in an ungodly voice that might as well have shattered the entire house,
"RONALD AND CLAUDE, I WILL COOK YOU TWO IN YOUR GRANDMOTHER'S STOVE IF YOU DON'T BEHAVE. LET ME CHECK ON YOUR SISTERS IN PEACE!"

"Oh that was me!" Doctor Hopkins shouts from another room, laughing accompanied by more giggles.

William sighs, while I muffle my grin. He looks at me from over his shoulder and says,

"But really, you only touch the stars when you try in the first place."

When another wail echoes, William stomps out of the parlour.

I wish I had your optimism, William, I wish.

"They yearn for what they dread."

Leaning back into the chair, those words and Mathilda's echo in my ears.

I suspected the worst of possibilities... and that is what Crimley gave me.

It has been more than two weeks since my talk with Crimley.
And according to Edmund's reports, he's had meetings with other people as well, leaving me with a sufficient gap to act.

William Sterling has done most of his work. Only the final act remains.

Both my hands tense at the back of my neck, while my feet are on one of the library's table.
A vase of white and red roses sits by the window. Their petals quiver upon each other in their own sort of a war of roses. A thin line of an old memory wafts with their scent.

I shake my head

This is the first note that turned into a direct warning.

Footsteps echo in the library; Mother enters and Elizabeth-- one of the housemaids-- follows suit.
"Elizabeth, please do help me here. This may be a library, but it looks like a horde of opera singers caused an earthquake here."
Mother hands Elizabeth a few books from the shelf that were not in alphabetical order.
She nods and starts placing the books to wherever Mother points her to.

Mother turns to me and sighs at my posture.
Holding my hands up, I sit in the proper position: hind straight and medical book on table instead of feet.

"Madam, where do I place this one?" Elizabeth asks, holding up a brown leathered book.

My eyes linger on the book longer, it reminding me of someone with the same eye colour.

Mother frowns and points to the upper side of the library.

Elizabeth sighs at looking at the grail staircase interconnecting the two separate floors of the same library, but steps on it without complaint.

I only keep looking at Mother, someone else's words echoing in my ears:
"Miss Estelle-- she told me to call her that-- sometimes invited me to read at the Edenfield library ... After, I once told her I loved books."

My fingers paddle on my book, elbow grazing against the edge. Mother keeps surveying the shelves.

"No... I don't think I've heard of the surname..."

"What is the matter, Angel?" Mother asks.

Making my fingers stop.

She folds her arms across her chest, her blonde hair shining in the light, the same blonde as my own.

I shake my head.
"Nothing."

Instead of nodding and going along with my answer like she usually does, Mother rubs her chin.
"Are you sure?"

I raise a brow, pushing back my chair. My feet paddle towards the shelves, them guiding me, rather than the other way around.

A scene unfolds.
Of almost a decade ago.

A boy and a girl, wondering about each other's place in the same vicinity.

"I remember it." My forehead presses against the shelves.
"I remember when Mathilda used to come here."

Mother crinkles her forehead, blinking. Her mouth opens and closes, but then she pays attention to my posture. She nods slowly.
"I was wondering why you didn't remember before... But then again, I thought perhaps you never got the chance to know her surname. All those years ago."

I glance sideways and turn about, as if the curtains have been drawn.
But I'm not letting them drop just yet.

My arms fold across my chest and back presses into the shelf.
"But why did you if you already knew..."

But then Mother shuts her eyes. Tightly. Taking a few moments as the course of the tide changes.
"There are old wounds, Angel, wounds that have taken years to heal.
I did not want to leave them bare in the scorching sun."

My eyes shut tightly.

"Your... talk of people falling off pedestals reminded me of how I felt when my father died.
Don't thank me."

Opened old wounds...

Mother walks over to the same table I left behind, sitting on the chair nearby in the same manner I was: back leaned forward and fingers on a book.
"How is she now? Tilly?"

My eyes pop open at Mother saying Tilly.
The sight of her gentle smile makes my raised brows relax and posture breathe through the pages of the books behind me.

Mother looks at the vase of red and white roses.
"It has been so long... I think she was about Isabelle's age when I last saw her."

Elizabeth steps down from the grail staircase, only making me jerk my head at the sudden addition.

"Anything else, Madam?" she asks.

Mother smiles at her.
"Only ask for two cups of tea, but do not bring it yourself. Ask someone else to do." She waves a hand.
"Your brother, I heard, is ill. Send him my regards."

"I surely will, Madam."
Elizabeth curtsies at both of us, before walking out of the library.

"How did you two meet?" Mother asks another question, joy racing in her voice.

My head tilts to the side, walking towards the chair right in front of the table.

"I shall answer all your questions, but at least let me sit." I reach that same chair, and Mother sighs playfully.

"This may take a while but..." I bite my lower lip.
"But we did meet one day at the hospital..."

"Dear Lord, everything happens in that hospital of yours. Are you sure it isn't a miniscule Rome?" Mother says.

And with that, the both of us spend the evening telling each other anecdotes and laughing into our tea cups.
I leave out Crimley, of course; even though he stays at the back of my head.
But the bright brown eyes we are talking about stay at the front.

You will not believe how busy+amazing this week has been.
I know I've said it before, but it's all because of y'all ❤️❤️❤️

And hm.............
War of the Roses imagery again ehhh. Can y'all guess who's the white rose and who's the red? 🌚🌚🌚

Also how's your day been?

I had to run around my uni because of classes, assignments and trips to the photocopiers 😂

Anyway, have a great week!
Love,
MS Zame