by Amelia Grace
Chapter Eight
4.27pm.
I stood outside the drawing room. My stomach rolled and churned while my gut instinct told me to run from my fearscape. But I was tired of running. I placed my hands together, held them in front of my mouth and took a deep breath, then stepped inside Gran’s drawing room.
The room with the secret.
Nothing had changed since I had been in there the months before Gran had died. The black baby grand piano commanded the room from the doorway. To the right of it was an ornate wooden bookshelf with Gran’s old books and pieces of personal items.
In the far corner was Gran’s wing chair, which had always had a brown burmese cat sitting on it. Then there was the Georgian fireplace.
I reminisced about drinking hot chocolates, sharing stories, laughter and memories with Gran in front of that very fireplace during the bitterly cold winters. They were good memories. So good.
I walked towards the sofa that faced the fireplace and sat on it. I ran my hand over the pale turquoise linen fabric, and recalled when I would sit with my two brothers and sister, all squished together on the sofa, listening to Gran read our favourite stories with a capturing expressiveness.
I moved my hand over the top of the sofa and touched the timber table behind it. There was a white table runner and precious family photos there. The last item of furniture in the room was a rustic square timber coffee table. It sat in the middle of a floor rug, which had an image of Katie’s Gate woven into it. The coffee table and the floor rug were located between the fireplace and the sofa.
I focused on the monstrosity that sat in the middle of the timber coffee table and frowned. It was an unusual sort of rock, or a gemstone perhaps, about the size of a football, but not a regular shape. It was coloured a beautiful teal with what looked like glitter scattered throughout it. Crystal like violet blue spears jutted out here and there. It was highly unusual, and so unlike Gran’s taste. I had absolutely no memory of seeing that bizarre rock in Gran’s house before. Ever. She had always had a beautiful bouquet of light pink roses sitting in a clear bulbous vase on the coffee table.
My focused gaze was interrupted by a gentle breeze that flowed in through the open windows, blowing the light organza curtains. Gran’s drawing room smelled fresh now, thanks to Nic. All mustiness from being closed up had gone.
I turned and looked around the drawing room again and relaxed. It housed a multitude of happy memories. So many treasured stories and laughter. So much love.
What had I been afraid of? Gran’s drawing room was beautiful. It was a gift.
I walked over to the baby grand piano and sat down to play like I had, during all those years of learning to master the eighty-eight black and white keys. I placed my fingers under the lip of the cover of the keys to lift it up, but it was locked.
Strange.
Gran had never locked it when she was alive. I stood and searched for the key in the piano seat. I found it and unlocked the cover.
My breath caught when I discovered an envelope resting on the keys. It was addressed to “Cate” in Gran’s handwriting.
I sucked in a sharp breath, dropped the key of the piano and left the drawing room in a rush. I stopped at a chair at the wooden table in the breakfast room and leaned forward on it.
My hands trembled. I closed my eyes and tried to quell my panic.
‘Nooo,’ I breathed, and shook my head in denial. Confusion and dread filled my mind. I straightened up, shook my hands, and paced to and fro to drain the adrenalin that surged through my veins, then, in an impulsive moment, I hurried back to the drawing room, grabbed the envelope, closed the oak door, and dragged myself outside to the backyard I had recreated with Ben while he was here with me for two days.
I tapped the letter against my hand, over and over and over again, while I dealt with the anxiety that released a flood of stress hormones through me like a poison.
I was no longer the confident Cate I presented to people.
I started to walk about the yard and ran my hand along the trimmed hedges. I knocked off a flower or two—accidently. But I didn’t care.
I stilled. Butterflies ran rampant in my stomach so I looked about the garden to distract my mind. Everything I looked at was thriving—except for Gran’s Magnificent Tree. Every plant had varying shades of green foliage. The flowering varieties were in bloom and emitted sweet fragrances to attract the bees and birdlife. Everything in the garden was alive—the complete opposite to the suffocation I was feeling right now.
I was like Gran’s Magnificent Tree; no foliage, no flowers, no fruit. Dormant. The only thing it had going for it was the swing: a simple plank of wood that hung on two long ropes. It was the swing I had loved since I was three.
And that was where I went to sit now, with a light pink rose in my hand. I sat as still as a sculpture while swinging gently back and forth. The motion of the swing calmed the feeling of dread inside, but loneliness haunted me.
A large part of me wished I had never been given Gran’s old house. It was too painful for me to be here. I didn’t like the feelings the drawing room had evoked. And yet, at the same time, I felt challenged, and … excited.
I drew in a deep breath and wished that Ben was here with me. I needed him here with me. My lavender rose heart awakened but couldn’t find its sun.
Second option was Nic, but I knew deep in my primrose heart that I would never see him again.
If Ben was here with me now, this encounter with the mysterious letter would be easier. He always made me feel safe and protected. He always knew what to do in every possible situation.
I stilled the movement of the swing, placed my hands on top of my head and squeezed my eyes shut.
I had to open the envelope. I had no choice.
What could Gran possibly say to me that was worse than her death itself?
I focused on her handwriting on the front of the envelope and a profound sadness stirred from deep within. I brushed my hand over Gran’s calligraphy, wanting to make a connection to it as though she were still here, alive.
I traced over each letter with my finger, imagining the fountain pen being held in her hand, and pictured the smile on her face as she wrote.
Then, I turned over the envelope and opened the back flap. It had been sealed down with rose scented wax. It smelled glorious—a fruity fragrance with berry notes and a honey-like sweetness.
I removed the folded letter with care so as not to damage the paper. It was embellished with the faintest pictures of light pink roses; Gran’s favourite. I looked over the folded paper before I positioned my fingers to open it to reveal the black ink crafted with intent on the page.
Gran’s handwriting started beautifully, flowing like a meandering river ending calmly, but distinctly. All of the letter shapes were formed with meticulous care.
I reminisced about how I would watch Gran write when I was little. Her handwriting fascinated me, as she effortlessly made it look so easy and elegant and enjoyable.
I held the letter to my face and inhaled the scent; an oriental spicy fragrance—Opium: her favorite perfume. I closed my eyes for a moment in time and revisited my childhood before I opened them again and focused on the letter.
To My Dearest Grand-Daughter Cate,
I can picture you now, sitting on the swing under my Magnificent Tree reading my letter. I know you well don’t I? Only because you are so much like me! I knew where to place the letter for you to find, because I knew you would sit down at my beautiful baby grand piano to play.
I have chosen you to be the guardian of my house. Particularly the drawing room. It holds some secrets, some decorations, and some unusual things that I trust with no one else in the world but you.
And, I have one last wish that I want you to do for me. This wish will become obvious to you as you return again and again to my drawing room, as I know you will. You will find the room too compelling to stay away from.
As a child, you co
uld be so fanatical about solving a problem, sometimes it was to the annoyance of your family. But you always persisted until you found the answer. You have a sharp mind! You showed signs of your brilliance at a young age, easily outshining your dear brothers and sister.
And so, there is a problem to be solved in the drawing room. Solving it will lead to the secret that you can feel, and to fulfilling my final wish.
And Cate, do not be worried, or afraid, even though at times strange things will happen. You will have to be brave and show courage. But I can assure you, that you will not be hurt in any way, or shape, or form.
Dearest Cate, I love you. I miss you. Please give my love to all the family.
Until we meet again.
Gran
x x x x x x x
A warm tear trickled down my cheek and dropped onto the letter. The fragrance of Gran’s favourite perfume wafted in the light breeze before an overwhelming sense of peace enveloped my mind.
But, disappointingly, the overwhelming sense of peace vanished, replaced by distress, frustration and confusion. I left the swing and walked back into the house, my seemingly outer calmness contrasting to my tumultuous emotions inside.
I was tormented.
Gran’s letter had resolved nothing. It had only caused more questions and turmoil. I wanted to flee from the whole series of events that had unfolded. I wanted to lock and seal the drawing room and label it as “dangerous and toxic—never to be entered”. I wanted to yell and scream until my throat hurt, and beat the ground with my fists.
But it was not in my nature.
I would not be able to turn my back on Gran’s house.
And ... I would not be able to turn my back on Gran’s final wish.
