Missing

This carries on from Unwanted.


“We didn’t treat your aunt well,” Bartlett told his daughter Taren, “We were too caught up in ourselves to spare a thought for her.  That’s why we support your marriage plans and those of your sisters – we don’t want any of you to wind up in our position or hers.”

“But why is Grandma Clare so het up about it?”  Taren was genuinely puzzled, “You’d think that of all the grandmothers she’d have least interest in our marriages, after all, she has no blood investment in us.”

“Ah,” Bartlett sighed sadly, ”I think she feels that if she agrees to the plans you three have for your weddings, then she’ll be admitting she was wrong about us and your Aunt Soraise.  Grandma Clare doesn’t like to be wrong.”

“Whatever happened to Aunt Soraise?”  Taren looked around quickly, “I mean, I know she’s an uncomfortable subject but no-one ever talks about her.”

“We don’t know,” Bartlett admitted sadly.  “When we came home and found the annulment notice on the kitchen table we assumed she’d gone back to your grandparents’ house.    She didn’t take anything with her, we thought that meant she planned to come back.  But when we went round there, it was the first they’d heard of it.  Next we thought she might have gone to friends, we were still upset that she’d embarrassed us with an annulment at that stage, then we realised that none of us knew who her friends might be.”  He sighed, “One of the rules we’d imposed on her was that she couldn’t bring people into ‘our’ house so we hadn’t even met people she’d invited to our parties.  At least her work would tell us they’d given her a transfer but because she’d taken everyone off her next of kin list, they wouldn’t tell us where to.”

“So the grands really don’t know where she is?”  Taren was surprised, “I mean I can imagine Grandmother Shasta or Grandad Charlie keeping it quiet if they were sworn to secrecy and thought they were protecting someone, although he’s the wrong side of the family.  Or even Grandmother Gwellen.  She really just...disappeared?”

“Yes,” he reached out and ruffled her hair, “I remember your Grandmother Gwellen crying when she realised that your aunt had run away from them as well as us.  That’s about when Grandma Clare started saying she should have toughed it out and waited for things to get better.  She never says how long she thinks your aunt should have waited though and as one of the,” his voice caught, “Perpetrators, I don’t think it was going to get better.  A year was enough to tell her that.  It took your Grandmother Shasta less than half an hour in the house to work out how your aunt had been living – she was so angry she slapped Ebony.”  Taren goggled at the thought.

“So how did your parents react?”  Taren wanted to hear the whole story while someone was prepared to tell it.

“They were disappointed in us,” Bartlett admitted, “Your Grandad Charlie asked if we had some hormone deficiency.  ‘The three of you were married to her for a year, lived in the same house all that time and not one of you drove her round the block to find out how she handled?’”  His imitation was spot on.

Taren laughed.  “That would be Grandad Charlie too.  Crass and a car analogy.”

Beth, one of Taren’s mothers came slowly into the room with a strange expression on her face.  “Bartlett, I’ve just taken the oddest call from my cousin Saffron.”  She looked, in fact, slightly stunned.  “She’s working today.  Her boss is giving some news conference at the State Art Gallery.  She thinks she’s just seen Soraise in one of the ground floor galleries.”

Missing

This carries on from Unwanted.


“We didn’t treat your aunt well,” Bartlett told his daughter Taren, “We were too caught up in ourselves to spare a thought for her.  That’s why we support your marriage plans and those of your sisters – we don’t want any of you to wind up in our position or hers.”

“But why is Grandma Clare so het up about it?”  Taren was genuinely puzzled, “You’d think that of all the grandmothers she’d have least interest in our marriages, after all, she has no blood investment in us.”

“Ah,” Bartlett sighed sadly, ”I think she feels that if she agrees to the plans you three have for your weddings, then she’ll be admitting she was wrong about us and your Aunt Soraise.  Grandma Clare doesn’t like to be wrong.”

“Whatever happened to Aunt Soraise?”  Taren looked around quickly, “I mean, I know she’s an uncomfortable subject but no-one ever talks about her.”

“We don’t know,” Bartlett admitted sadly.  “When we came home and found the annulment notice on the kitchen table we assumed she’d gone back to your grandparents’ house.    She didn’t take anything with her, we thought that meant she planned to come back.  But when we went round there, it was the first they’d heard of it.  Next we thought she might have gone to friends, we were still upset that she’d embarrassed us with an annulment at that stage, then we realised that none of us knew who her friends might be.”  He sighed, “One of the rules we’d imposed on her was that she couldn’t bring people into ‘our’ house so we hadn’t even met people she’d invited to our parties.  At least her work would tell us they’d given her a transfer but because she’d taken everyone off her next of kin list, they wouldn’t tell us where to.”

“So the grands really don’t know where she is?”  Taren was surprised, “I mean I can imagine Grandmother Shasta or Grandad Charlie keeping it quiet if they were sworn to secrecy and thought they were protecting someone, although he’s the wrong side of the family.  Or even Grandmother Gwellen.  She really just...disappeared?”

“Yes,” he reached out and ruffled her hair, “I remember your Grandmother Gwellen crying when she realised that your aunt had run away from them as well as us.  That’s about when Grandma Clare started saying she should have toughed it out and waited for things to get better.  She never says how long she thinks your aunt should have waited though and as one of the,” his voice caught, “Perpetrators, I don’t think it was going to get better.  A year was enough to tell her that.  It took your Grandmother Shasta less than half an hour in the house to work out how your aunt had been living – she was so angry she slapped Ebony.”  Taren goggled at the thought.

“So how did your parents react?”  Taren wanted to hear the whole story while someone was prepared to tell it.

“They were disappointed in us,” Bartlett admitted, “Your Grandad Charlie asked if we had some hormone deficiency.  ‘The three of you were married to her for a year, lived in the same house all that time and not one of you drove her round the block to find out how she handled?’”  His imitation was spot on.

Taren laughed.  “That would be Grandad Charlie too.  Crass and a car analogy.”

Beth, one of Taren’s mothers came slowly into the room with a strange expression on her face.  “Bartlett, I’ve just taken the oddest call from my cousin Saffron.”  She looked, in fact, slightly stunned.  “She’s working today.  Her boss is giving some news conference at the State Art Gallery.  She thinks she’s just seen Soraise in one of the ground floor galleries.”

He's Leaving

It’s after three in the morning when a key turns in the lock of the front door of a flat in Oswinford.  The young man with black nail polish who opens the door is surprised to find not one but two young women waiting for him.  “Arleen,” he tiredly, perhaps cautiously, acknowledged the taller, thinner, angry looking, black haired and black lipped one who stood in the middle of the room tapping the black boot on the end of her black clad right leg.  “Gwedd,” this affectionately to the curvier girl with black dyed hair who sat on the end of the lounge screwing up a handkerchief between her hands, “My note said not wait up.”

“You expected her to go to sleep with you out after curfew?”  Arleen attacked with what was clearly pent up frustration.  “And there was fighting in the streets tonight – we could hear the explosions from here, of course she was worried!  And what on earth are you wearing?”  Her eyes were taking in the detail of the military issue camouflage he was wearing now and the Heroghast rifle slung over his shoulder and her mouth widened in a silent “Oh.”

“You left me all your money,” Gwedd’s voice sounded small and distant as she turned to face him, “I know how much you get, and you left me everything.”

He scratched his head, a sign of either embarrassment or avoidance, “Well, I was here to run up the utility bills and you’ll need to pay the rent before you can get someone in to help you with it.”  He went on, “I just have to pick up a bag from the back of the wardrobe.  If things don’t go the way we hope you don’t want the Margasans to find its contents in your possession.”  He went through into the bedroom and re-emerged a few moments later with a nondescript brown gym bag.

“What would have happened about that if you’d been killed tonight?” asked Arleen snarkily.

“Someone else would have come to get it,” was the calm reply, “And if the Margasans do come to question you about me, both of you, tell them the truth.  The absolute truth – you knew nothing about what I was up to until I came back here tonight.”

“So, what were you doing for the last ten months?”  Arleen continued in the same tone, “Besides propping up in the bar in our favourite pub?”

“Picking up useful snippets of information from Margasans on leave who were intelligent and sensible enough to fancy witch girls,” he shrugged, “It’s amazing how much men will tell you if they think you can give them an in with a girl they fancy.”

“With me?”  Gwedd’s voice held a different hurt tone now.

“No,” he was firm, “You’re my girlfriend.  Arleen, Fenna and Renne were my stalking horses.”

“Next, you’ll tell us you were killing Margasans in your spare time,” Arleen gave a nasty little laugh, “Something useful to the war effort.”

“What I was doing was potentially useful,” it was a quiet reply, “Or I wouldn’t have been ordered to do it.  And before tonight, I killed three Margasans in the last ten months.  All of them had identified people doing more dangerous jobs than mine for what they really were.  So I got rid of them before they could report in and made it look like a one person accident each time.  Happy, Arleen?”  He turned to Gwedd and went down on one knee to bring his face level with hers, “Love, if I don’t come back, it’ll be because I can’t, not because I don’t want to.”  He glanced at his watch, “I’m sorry, I have to go.”  He stood, “Take care of each other, you two.”  He walked out the door and pulled it closed behind him.  After a few minutes the girls could hear, through the early morning silence, a vehicle pulling away from the bottom of the building.

“Well,” said Arleen as she sat down beside her friend, “I knew he was keeping secrets from you but I never expected any of that.”  Her arm went around Gwedd’s shoulders as the other girl silently began to sob.  “I suppose if we get questioned, he expects us to tell the Margasans everything he just told us?”

“I think so,” Gwedd was trying to swallow her tears, “But he doesn’t think he’s coming back!  He left me all his money.”  And she began to cry again.

He's Leaving

It’s after three in the morning when a key turns in the lock of the front door of a flat in Oswinford.  The young man with black nail polish who opens the door is surprised to find not one but two young women waiting for him.  “Arleen,” he tiredly, perhaps cautiously, acknowledged the taller, thinner, angry looking, black haired and black lipped one who stood in the middle of the room tapping the black boot on the end of her black clad right leg.  “Gwedd,” this affectionately to the curvier girl with black dyed hair who sat on the end of the lounge screwing up a handkerchief between her hands, “My note said not wait up.”

“You expected her to go to sleep with you out after curfew?”  Arleen attacked with what was clearly pent up frustration.  “And there was fighting in the streets tonight – we could hear the explosions from here, of course she was worried!  And what on earth are you wearing?”  Her eyes were taking in the detail of the military issue camouflage he was wearing now and the Heroghast rifle slung over his shoulder and her mouth widened in a silent “Oh.”

“You left me all your money,” Gwedd’s voice sounded small and distant as she turned to face him, “I know how much you get, and you left me everything.”

He scratched his head, a sign of either embarrassment or avoidance, “Well, I was here to run up the utility bills and you’ll need to pay the rent before you can get someone in to help you with it.”  He went on, “I just have to pick up a bag from the back of the wardrobe.  If things don’t go the way we hope you don’t want the Margasans to find its contents in your possession.”  He went through into the bedroom and re-emerged a few moments later with a nondescript brown gym bag.

“What would have happened about that if you’d been killed tonight?” asked Arleen snarkily.

“Someone else would have come to get it,” was the calm reply, “And if the Margasans do come to question you about me, both of you, tell them the truth.  The absolute truth – you knew nothing about what I was up to until I came back here tonight.”

“So, what were you doing for the last ten months?”  Arleen continued in the same tone, “Besides propping up in the bar in our favourite pub?”

“Picking up useful snippets of information from Margasans on leave who were intelligent and sensible enough to fancy witch girls,” he shrugged, “It’s amazing how much men will tell you if they think you can give them an in with a girl they fancy.”

“With me?”  Gwedd’s voice held a different hurt tone now.

“No,” he was firm, “You’re my girlfriend.  Arleen, Fenna and Renne were my stalking horses.”

“Next, you’ll tell us you were killing Margasans in your spare time,” Arleen gave a nasty little laugh, “Something useful to the war effort.”

“What I was doing was potentially useful,” it was a quiet reply, “Or I wouldn’t have been ordered to do it.  And before tonight, I killed three Margasans in the last ten months.  All of them had identified people doing more dangerous jobs than mine for what they really were.  So I got rid of them before they could report in and made it look like a one person accident each time.  Happy, Arleen?”  He turned to Gwedd and went down on one knee to bring his face level with hers, “Love, if I don’t come back, it’ll be because I can’t, not because I don’t want to.”  He glanced at his watch, “I’m sorry, I have to go.”  He stood, “Take care of each other, you two.”  He walked out the door and pulled it closed behind him.  After a few minutes the girls could hear, through the early morning silence, a vehicle pulling away from the bottom of the building.

“Well,” said Arleen as she sat down beside her friend, “I knew he was keeping secrets from you but I never expected any of that.”  Her arm went around Gwedd’s shoulders as the other girl silently began to sob.  “I suppose if we get questioned, he expects us to tell the Margasans everything he just told us?”

“I think so,” Gwedd was trying to swallow her tears, “But he doesn’t think he’s coming back!  He left me all his money.”  And she began to cry again.