The morning arrived, a chill in the air outside that crept within the walls of the house - through the thin window panes and down the chimneys of the various fireplaces.

Verity was up and dressed before dawn had even called, her few amount of things she had collated together - bound to leave.

She had not slept much; the thought of breaking Henry's heart on her mind but more so the evident fact she had to once again, destroy the happiness of the little boy, Charlie Shelby.

In some ways Verity thought herself cruel, continually coming back here by whatever silly means - that Boy's heart had been on a rollercoaster ride and each time she had been there, the cart had derailed from the track somehow.

The psychologist was downstairs, her rather full handbag waiting at the side of the dogtooth armchair she now sat in, sipping a cup of tea she had made in the kitchen herself. It was before Francis' working hours, she didn't need to get the maid up to cater for her - that was the least convenient thing she could do.

Lord knows where Tommy was. That was always a thought with Verity - right from the start of their relationship (through the various renditions of it) - he had always been elusive. She could lay awake at night under the soft sheets and not even feel his presence for days in that house. He often scarpered, so free to do so - with his substantial monies and attentive maid to care for his forlorn son.

The tea in Verity's mouth was the only sweet breaker for the otherwise sour note in her mouth, derived from the sickly anxious feeling in her tummy. She so badly wanted to leave, but she could not. Not until she had faced the music one last time, although it never seemed to get any less painful - watching the tears fall from that little boy's eyes.

Rather fortunately, Verity did not have to wait too long for the encounter to fall right at her feet - as some time in the early morning, she could hear the thunder of rushed footsteps down the stairs and braced herself.

The padding of bare feet rounded the corner, and suddenly she set eyes on the Shelby son, who stood rubbing his eyes - still in his pyjamas.

"Good morning, Verity." He said politely, and she wordlessly smiled - the pain growing in her heart.

"Good morning, Charlie." Verity replied back after a few moments, deciding to bite the bullet and be done with it.

"I will be leaving shortly, I actually just wanted to see you before I left." She felt her words restrict on a tight breath, witnessing the slight scrunching of the boy's expression.

"You're... going again?" He sounded deeply hurt, and in disbelief. "But I thought... I thought you and daddy..."

Verity set down her empty tea cup, making her way over to Charlie in the doorway as she limped down onto her knees, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Charlie, that can't and won't happen." She whispered, aware of what he was trying to get at. The boy had been most happy around the time of his most recent birthday party - and not for the lavish gifts and the big celebration bash. He had been happy because there was the clearest indication that Verity and his father were something more than friends.

"I have to go, I'm so sorry." She apologised, pulling away. "If you want, we can still keep writing. But I would understand if you would prefer not to."

The little boy nodded despondently, his lashes spiked with tears as Verity kissed the top of his head softly, returning to stand.

"You are a wonderful boy, Charlie." Verity added, the child's head lifting at her words. "Don't ever let anyone treat you less than that."

She gathered up what little there was of her things, the sickness never leaving her stomach as she did.

It wasn't as if saying goodbye to Charlie gave her any relief. In fact if anything it worsened her mood entirely, but she knew she couldn't just disappear on that little boy.

At least Tommy withheld lying about the driver, as indeed the chauffeur was waiting on the driveway at the other side of the fountain - the black car's engine chugging away steadily in the bitterly cold morning air.

The psychologist approached the car, the driver stepping out to assist with her bag and help her to the car when he saw her hobbled steps.

She glanced back at the image of the house, it's strikingly dark exterior in juxtaposition to the grey-white of the morning sky. The pain and the memories she was once again leaving behind.

Hopefully, for good this time.

-

Several car and train journeys later, towns and cities rolled into green fields and tall trees; the towering cityscrapers nowhere to be seen as Verity arrived in Castle Combe's quaint station. The platform was painted cutely in rose red and white, several coordinated hanging baskets positioned around the platform. It was a far cry from the heavily industrial feel of the stations within the cities.

Verity was mentally preparing herself for her second difficult encounter of the day, as she tried her best to walk through the pain that still thrummed in her ankle. She had taken her pain medication as prescribed, but still felt some background aching in the damaged tendon. Especially in her stupid shoes.

Before she headed to the surgery, she headed to her rented home with Ms Montgomery.

Walking through the door, she was welcomed with open arms and warmed surprise. The elder woman had bounced back well from the intrusion in her home, and thankfully didn't think to ask Verity too many questions about it.

The psychologist explained the change in situation, and that she would be leaving today. Verity promised the month's rent in a complete packet before she headed home to London, and was met with disappointment from the older woman who had enjoyed the psychologist's company in her quaint house - but was happy for Verity never the less.

The small upstairs guest bedroom was soon emptied of Verity's signs of life. The various books and trinkets around the room all packed away into her two large travel bags. Whilst she was packing, she at last got a change of clothes from the same repeatedly washed set following her tragic fall at Arrow House - welcoming the pair of soft leather ballet flats and her brown tweed shirt dress.

It was strange how so much of her 'life' could be packed into those bags. Books Henry had gifted her, sweet thank you messages from clients and some pressed flowers Ms Montgomery had made in the prior summer. They all went into the two travel bags, in hopes that Verity could at least carry the sweet memories with her once Castle Combe became the next ghost of her past.

She felt her gut knot as she headed up to the surgery with her bags, intending to call a car to collect her from there once she said goodbye to Henry.

Where would she even start? The last contact she had had with her colleague was hazy and he seemed quite rightly infuriated with her vague words and actions. She just hoped this could be an amicable goodbye, and not one filled with animosity.

Although she would understand perfectly if Henry chose to be furious with her, she had messed him around a lot the last few days- and she certainly was not proud of that fact.

Heading through the GP surgery and up the quiet stairwell, Verity could almost hear her heart beating the blood through her system as she reached the summit of the stairs. The waiting room on the landing area was pooled in afternoon sunlight, as the psychologist set her bags down and waited anxiously - seeing Henry was currently busy with a patient.

Whilst she was standing around, she figured she could collect the few small personal things from her own office next door to his. Luckily, she only had to prise her certificates off the wall and that was that - putting them inside a spare canvas bag she found her in her desk drawer.

"-and we will revisit that in two weeks time," the office door next door opened with a noisy squeak, and Verity froze hearing Henry's voice. "Take care, Mr Allan. And do let me know if you have any problems with that medication."

Verity felt a small glow in her chest, Henry's voice - it had often been the comfort after a stressful day, the single lantern on a dark night. She had missed him.

"Thank you, Dr Gunthorne." The patient replied as he left, passing Verity's office and noting the open door. The older gentleman's face lit up as he saw Verity, waving animatedly.

"Oh, and lovely to see you, Dr Grant! Cheerio!" He cried, treading down the stairs as Verity heard the confused Scottish muttering of her colleague.

"Dr Grant...?" Henry mused, voice getting closer as he soon appeared in the office doorway, a look of total shock and surprise drawn over his expression seeing his colleague standing there.

There was a moment of staring, Henry's mouth agape slightly as he fumbled over what to say. The psychiatrist strode into the office, bumbling over his words as his feet planted the other side of Verity's desk.

"I- you.... You didn't say you were coming home? I wasn't expecting you." He said, sounding relieved none the less. Verity smiled softly, glad at least he didn't seem frustrated with her.

Henry looked at her soft yet distant smile, reading into it as easily as a book. He could see the lack of Verity's usual vivacious flare, and knew something was up.

He then noted the framed certificates she was carefully slotting into her canvas tote style bag.

"Are... are you not staying?" His smile dropped completely, as he shifted on the spot apprehensively.

There went the knot in Verity's stomach, cinching just that bit tighter - feeling as if the bile was about to start burning in her throat from the nerves she felt.

"Yes, I'm... leaving." She uttered, somewhat confused as how easily the words had inked from her lips like a red wine spill, their stain evident by the disappointed look building on Henry's expression. "I wish I had been able to give more notice, but it all happened so quick. I made amends with my sister, a-and I feel it's important to be with my family." She justified, feeling her colleague was owed that at least.

Henry let his head bow, folding his arms across his chest as he stood silently before her.

"Henry, I'm sorry. I've been a nightmare to you these last few days, where you have always been patient with me." Verity began, filling the silence where she expected his great frustration. "I don't expect you to be happy with my decision, but ultimately I have to do what is right for me."

There was a drawn out pause, one that felt about as painful as slowly driving a knife into her flesh for Verity.

When Henry eventually looked up, his eyes seemed stormy.

"You never really told me why it is that you went?" He began, "you've been so secretive. I feel you're keeping something from me."

His presentation was admittedly alarmingly, and Verity slowly began to slip the handles of her canvas bag over her shoulder.

"What has happened is nothing of your concern, Henry. It is done, and I'm moving home to be with my family. I'm sorry, but... I really must go." She insisted, picking up her things - brushing past her colleague as she collected her bags from the waiting area.

She was pursued somewhat, halfway down the stairs.

"I thought we trusted one another?" He called after her, "what possibly could have happened over the space of a few days to make you make such a big decision?"

"Family, Henry." She replied plainly, stopping in her tracks momentarily as she blinked up at the image of him - stood some steps above her, his frown a stark contrast to those once kind eyes.

"You're making a big mistake, Verity!" He challenged.

Verity sighed, keeping walking as she fell numb to the pleas of her colleague - their content more threatening and saddening the further she made it towards the exit.

It proved even Henry could be vicious when provoked, although she of course hadn't expected him to be milk and roses about such a haste decision she had made.

All she knew now as she turned her back on Castle Combe, was that her safe haven was finally back in the one place she had fled so hastily from. London.

Sure, it contained some poisonous little rats - but Verity would quite surely walk through miles of sewers just be with her sister and nephew again.

━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━

END OF PART FIVE