Sun streamed in through the window, illuminating my desk and partially blinding my left eye from how bright it was. I scribbled away on my slate, the sound of the chalk scratching across the surface joining everyone else. Dust from the chalk swirled up into the air and lingered in the sunbeam, catching my attention until it settled and I had to return to my mathematics problems.

It had been just over a week since Grandfather died and I still expected him to walk through the door back home, even though I knew he wouldn't. My concentration had started to falter and I found myself struggling to complete even the basic tasks during the school day, even listening had become a struggle. No matter how hard I tried to focus, my mind always drifted elsewhere.

I glanced over to the clock that ticked away on the wall. With very little time in the day, I hastily scribbled down some answers to the questions seconds before Miss Reid bought the school day to an end.

"Please hold up your slates so I can check your work," she said.

Everyone held up their slates and I watched her eyes move from board to board. Every now and then, she would furrow her eyebrows, no doubt trying to decipher someone's handwriting, before nodding her head. Miss Reid paused at mine a little longer than everyone else's, but I tried not to think anything of it. Once she had read everyone's slates, she nodded to us as a signal that we could put them down.

"Very good work. We may go over some of the problems you have struggled with at a later date, but very well done class." A loud bell rang out. "You may go. Miss Ealing, please stay."

"Yes, Miss Reid," I said. I wiped my slate clean with the cloth and wrapped up my pieces of chalk. After placing my books on top of the slate to place into my satchel later.

"I was sorry to hear about your grandfather, Isabel. The sinking was such a shock to everyone, but I can't imagine how it feels to lose someone you were so close to." Miss Reid wiped off the last of the mathematics problems from the board.

"Thank you."

She put the board wiper down. "What I don't want you to do is lose your focus because of this. You're a smart girl with so much potential and I know you can go far in a world that has yet to show young ladies much favour. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I think so."

"Good. I am sure your grandfather would be proud of you for not letting such a senseless tragedy get in the way of your ambitions." She paused. "Is there any profession, in particular, you've been looking into?"

"Not really, Miss Reid. I haven't really thought about it."

"Well take some time and think it through, when you have an answer, let me know." She smiled. "You're dismissed."

I nodded and gathered up my slate and books, my footsteps echoing across the wooden floor as I crossed to the coatroom. Miss Reid's heels slapped against the floor as she moved around to clean up any mess left behind by the students. Everyone else had already left so I hurried to pack my things away, grabbing my hat from the peg and jamming it on my head. I threw my satchel over my shoulder and hurried out of the classroom.

The other girls in my class stood in groups around the school gate, chatting to one another and sharing stories about what they planned to get up to for the remainder of the day. I smiled and muttered a goodbye to a few of them before hurrying away from school with my bag slapping against my hip.

People moved throughout the city, with schoolboys running down the road screaming and adults peering into shop windows and chatting aimlessly about the nice weather. I moved around people, dodged the younger boys swinging their satchels around in hopes of smacking someone with them, and moved further into the city. With Father working until later that evening, I had to find a way to amuse myself until he finished.

I pushed open the door to the shop, listening out to the slight ding of the bell when I walked in. Since the weather had started to shift, and with the fashions continuously changing, Uncle James' shop always looked packed full of people and I knew I wouldn't be able to stay very long. He stood towards the back of the room and thumbed through several drawers in search of something. With his back turned, I crept up behind him.

"Hello, Uncle James," I said.

Uncle James jumped and spun around. "Izzy! Are you going to do that every time?"

"Yes."

"Just like your mother, you are. She loved to scare me."

"Maybe because it's so easy," Aunt Kitty said, sweeping past with a tray of teas and a plate of biscuits. I reached out and took a biscuit before she could do anything.

"Are you staying for long?"

I thought for a second, part of me wanting to ask him about my grandmother and why there had been so much animosity. Although I had asked almost everyone else, no one would give me a straight answer with both Mother and Father looking reluctant to even mention her after she had appeared at the house. One look around the room told me I wouldn't get an answer out of him either, there were too many people.

"No, you're too busy. I just wanted to come in and say hello."

"Ah, spending the afternoon with Christopher?" I nodded. "Well, give your parents our love and let them know we'll be coming to visit when things quieten down here. I haven't seen them since the memorial."

"I will."

Uncle James smiled and tugged on one of my curls before returning to the drawer and pulling out a large needle. He closed the drawer and walked across the room to the customers he had been attending to before I walked in. I nibbled on the biscuit I stole and looked around the room, watching Aunt Kitty hand out biscuits and tea to those waiting as Uncle James and Miss Atkinson moved through the room to help people.

I finished the biscuit, brushing the crumbs from my school dress. From across the room, Miss Atkinson offered me a smile which I returned before I readjusted my bag and manoeuvred my way through the shop. The small bell above the door rang when I snuck outside and back into the sunlight, double-checking to make sure I didn't have crumbs down my front. With my school dress clear of any biscuit residue, I walked away from the shop and back through the city.

The sun beat down on me and I made my way through the busy streets and towards Uncle Christopher's office where I intended to remain until Father finished work later in the day. His office sat amongst a row of identical buildings, all of them had a small porch with several steps leading up to it. On the wall beside the door sat a bronze plaque that read 'Christopher Greyson - Solicitor'. I traced the letters with the pad of my finger before twisting open the door and stepping inside.

Electric lights hummed from above, the hallway bathed in a strange yellow light from the bulbs. I moved down the hallway and poked my head around the door to Uncle Christopher's main office. He sat at the back of the room with his desk staring directly at the large window that faced the street, dark blue curtains hung down either side of the window. Uncle Christopher scribbled away on a piece of paper and looked up before I stepped into the room. He was far harder to scare.

"I saw you walk past the window," he said. Uncle Christopher dropped his pen onto his desk and stood up.

"One day I'll scare you."

"Hm, of course, you will." He laughed and stood up, walking towards me and pulling me into a hug where he ended up tangling his hand up in my hair. "How are you?"

I shrugged. "Alright, I suppose."

He nodded in understanding. "I take it James' shop is busy?"

I nodded and smoothed my curls down a little, well, as best I could. "There were a lot of people in there."

"Well, I could do with some help. Miss Keyes is unwell so couldn't make it in. Perhaps you could help."

"I can try my best."

"Could you go through the files on that table and sort them into piles? Separate petty theft from assault and so on. I can't keep track of them all in their current state."

"Sure."

Uncle Christopher smiled and returned to his desk, picking up his pen and continuing to scribble away on the sheet of paper. I walked over to the small table where a collection of files had been spread out but there didn't appear to be any organisation to them. After dropping my bag beside the wall, I stood in front of the table and started to sort the files apart from one another, not reading beyond the scribble of information about the case.

I appreciated the task and found myself enjoying the task a little more than I thought, especially finding out about all the different crimes and even the more minor elements of working in law. In amongst the files of criminal cases were copies of wills and documents, some of which had been made invalid by the lack of witnesses. Although I had visited Uncle Christopher multiple times over the year, I never had the opportunity to thumb through his files until now.

Within half an hour, I had managed to sort through every single file that had been left out, each one sorted into different piles as requested. I sat down on the floor, on the corner of the patterned rug that sat in the middle of the room and watched Uncle Christopher. On the wall behind him, he had hung up a family photograph of him, Uncle James, Uncle Matthew and Mother. It appeared to be several years old as Mother was around my age, or perhaps a little older.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to pluck up the courage to ask Uncle Christopher about Grandmother and how much he knew about the situation. Part of me didn't expect an answer about it since no one else would tell me the truth, but I had to at least try. There had to be an explanation for why everyone had acted so coldly towards each other during that first visit. They had ruined Grandfather's memorial, and I wanted to know why.

"Can I ask you something," I said, looking at him.

"You can, but I can't guarantee I'll have any answers."

"What happened between my parents and my grandmother?"

Uncle Christopher's pen clattered against the desk and he looked up. "Why do you ask?"

"Grandmother and my aunt appeared at the house after the memorial and everyone started acting odd. No one will tell me why, not even Mrs Smith."

"I don't think it's my place to say, Izzy."

I sighed. "No one will tell me anything. They ruined Grandfather's memorial because they were arguing but no one will tell me why. They're just treating me like a child." I dropped my head.

Uncle Christopher sighed softly and I heard the sound of his chair scraping against the floor of the office. His footsteps echoed across the floor. The floorboard next to me creaked and so did his knees as he sat down on the ground beside me, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable.

"They're not treating you like a child, they're trying to protect you from a story you should never have to hear. The relationship between your parents and your grandmother and aunt fell apart twenty-four years ago and neither of them thought it would ever reappear in their lifetime, or yours. Tensions will always be high between them, but I doubt your mother and father ever set out to intentionally ruin the memorial. Grief coupled with past events can make a dangerous conversation."

I knew he was right. Father would never have wanted to deliberately ruin Grandfather's memorial and neither would Mother. Both of them had tried to keep the peace, but it was Grandmother's comments that pushed them over the edge. Still, I wanted to know the truth about what happened between them all and I felt like it was my right to know. This was my family and my parents' past even if they didn't want to admit it, but I had a right to know about it.

The front door opened and I listened to the sound of footsteps on the wood flooring. When they stopped, I looked up and saw Father standing in the doorway to the office with a confused look on his face. Uncle Christopher stood up and walked over to him, leaning forward and muttering something in his ear that I couldn't hear. From his pocket, Father produced a letter which he handed over for Uncle Christopher to read.

"What are you going to do?" Uncle Christopher asked.

"We can hardly say no, she's pretty much invited herself."

"What's going on?" I asked, scrambling to my feet and smoothing down my dress.

"Your grandmother. She's invited herself to supper. Tomorrow."

Maybe I'll finally be able to get the answers to my questions. If no one else will tell me, perhaps she will.

~~~

A/N- Welcome back to Chapter Four! Even though I only started this story a few weeks ago, I'm close to the end and am about to start chapter Twenty-Eight which is bizarre to me xD You guys are not ready for what is to come!

Question time! What profession do you think Isabel will choose? Do you think someone should tell her the truth about her grandmother? Is the supper going to be a disaster?

Comment below!

Dedication - Comment below for a chance to have a chapter dedicated to you!

First Published - June 1st, 2021