Page 18 of Unlikable

The hard rain is not what wakes me up from my frightening dream. Nor is it the clap of thunder and the subsequent flash of light that wake me up.

It is the face of Junior R. Not his full face, but his grin shrouded in darkness, his teeth formed like knives.

It was just a dream, Eleonora, I try to reassure myself.

One that seemed lifelike.

I imagine his fingers pressing into my neck. How his dirty, chipped nails pierce my skin.

A chambermaid starts pulling the curtains closed in the library. She hums a melody I can’t immediately place. It is akin to a lullaby. When she sees me looking at her, she greets me briefly by nodding at me. I do my best to smile and quickly rub my eyes to chase sleep.

In front of me is the newspaper article of November 7. The drawing of the battered woman was the last thing I saw before falling asleep. I hadn’t realised I was so tired. Perhaps that is why I dreamt so horribly.

Under the newspaper is the list of people I want to invite to the banquet, although there are only a few names on it, as I had fallen asleep when writing it.

Everett

Father

Cecile

Elizabeth?

Penelope

Charlotte

Florence

Chri

I had not even managed to write Christina’s name because Cecile came to bring me the paper, hidden under her clothes. She had congratulated me on my engagement and looked cheerful. “I can’t believe you are getting married to Mr Clifton. He is so incredibly handsome! Oh, sorry. Does it bother you when I talk like this about your husband-to-be? I can’t help it. I’m just so…” I hadn’t understood the rest of her words because my attention was immediately caught by the gruesome drawing of Junior R’s new victim, flagrantly flaunted on the front cover of the Daily Telegraph their clothes are soaked from top to bottom.

When Jonathan notices us, he suddenly falls silent and widens the distance between him and Everett. Everett looks at Jonathan in surprise at first, but when he catches sight of us too, the expression on his face hardens and he immediately straightens his back.

“Where did you guys hang out?” Felix wants to know.

“Where you left me because you wanted to get in on time so badly.” Jonathan laughs. He has such a beautiful and full smile. His eyes twinkle when he does. “Not everyone is made of sugar.” Then he sees me standing behind Felix, and he nods at me briefly but firmly. “Miss Prime, good evening.”

I smile in greeting.

“Very funny,” Felix responds. “Hey, you weren’t still in the garden by any chance, were you?”

“Yep, that’s where we just came from.” Jonathan gestures to his sodden clothes.

“Have you been playing hide-and-seek in the maze?”

Jonathan snorted. “How old do you think I am?” He laughs. “We were at the front of the house, not the back.”

Felix gets moving again, and as he passes Jonathan, he whispers something in his ear. Then he looks at his friend piercingly. Jonathan looks at me, over my shoulder to the garden doors and then back at Felix. His lips tighten into a thin line.

“See you soon,” Felix greets him and then he walks around the corner and disappears from sight.

Silence falls.

“Would you like us to escort you to your room?” Jonathan then asks me.

I shake my head. “No, thank you kindly. I know the way.”

When I have left the men behind me, I can still hear them talking softly. They start laughing again. The laughter ebbs away as I turn the corner, and a new corridor stretches out before me. The corridor is poorly lit, but I am starting to find my way here in the house by now. I walk on slowly. To my right are doors and to my left are tall windows that almost take up the whole wall, just like they do in the library. The curtains are closed except for a few windows. Those still let in a little light from outside, where the moon shines high and bright in the sky.

I look straight ahead. My head is pounding with every step I take, and I think about what it would be like if Junior R was walking around here. Behind me…or hidden behind one of the doors.

I hear voices as I pass a door, and I stop to prick up my ears.

The door I don’t recognise. It is a bit bigger than the others but otherwise looks dead normal.

I hesitate. Do I walk on or…

“Come on now, Philip. You know that house can’t remain standing if we don’t change it.” It is Theodor Clifton’s voice.

Then I hear my father’s voice. It sounds like he is on the verge of collapse. “I don’t want it to be demolished, only to be rebuilt.”

My heart breaks into a thousand pieces upon hearing the emotion in my father’s words. Then those pieces break into a thousand pieces again as I realise what he just said.

I walk to the door and press my ear against it.

“The drawings I got from my men don’t lie, Mr Clifton.” Felix’s voice. “We thought we could save it with pillars, but the house is sinking further into the ground by the hour.”

“My son knows what he’s doing, Philip. You have to trust me. I only want the best for you.”

A loud sound is heard. It seems as if something heavy falls to the ground.

“Philip, don’t be so unreasonable!” echoes Theodor’s voice. He sounds irritated.

“She wouldn’t have wanted this!” Father sounds helpless. I’ve never heard him sound like that before. Everything inside me screams to open the door, run inside and lock my father in a firm embrace, but I probably won’t be thanked for that. He would only be embarrassed. “My dearest would turn over in her grave if she knew I was tearing down her house. Perhaps it’s better if it sinks into the ground with her.”

“That will happen if we do nothing,” Theodor says. “Philip, please. She wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“You have no idea what she would have wanted!”

I only realise there are tears running down my cheeks when one slips down the collar of my dress.

“Philip…” Theodor seems to have regained control of his voice; he sounds calmer and less compelling this time. A few footsteps are audible. “I’m doing this to help you. I would hate to see your beloved home fall through the floor before your eyes. Think of your children.”

“My children know how important the house was to their mother. They would be horrified.”

Would I be? It is hard to imagine the house actually disappearing into the ground or falling over. I just can’t imagine it. If I am to believe Theodor, it is better to rebuild the house from the ground up, but will it be the same as it was? As it is? A knot forms in my stomach. This is a hugely difficult decision for my father to make. He is so emotional when it comes to my mother and the house.

“I thought marrying Eleonora off would solve everything,” Father continues. “You promised me.”

“I said it would make everything easier. Financially, we can then help you better. Felix’s fortune thereby becomes Eleonora’s fortune. As a result, it’s immediately yours too. That way, we won’t have to justify ourselves to the debt collectors every time and…”

“So then we will have enough money to study this better, won’t we?” my father interrupts Theodor. “Get another architect to study the house. Maybe Felix has overlooked something.”

“I can guarantee you that is not the case.” Felix sounds offended and, like his father, irritated. I had forgotten he was in the room with them. “I put my best men on the project, and they don’t make mistakes. You won’t be able to find better architects in London and the surrounding area.”

“Then we’ll look outside London.”

A sigh is audible, and I guess it comes from Theodor. “We’ll continue this conversation another evening. I think you need to rest and think for a while, Philip. You are beyond reason at the moment.”

“Don’t you dare belittle me, Theodor. I’m not your son.”

“No, that’s right. You are my friend. A friend who makes it quite difficult for me to help him.”

“You promised.”

“I promised to do my best.”

“Your son gets my daughter.”

“Your daughter gets wealth. Thanks to her, you can afford this project, and now you are throwing your weight around.”

They fall silent again. Feet shuffle across the floor, as if someone is pacing around the room. Then the footsteps stop, and my father clears his throat. I know this because that typical sound is unmistakably his. “It will be exactly as it is again?” He sounds calmer, controlled.

“I promise you that, dear friend.”

“Even the crack by the stairs will be there?”

“If that makes you happy, I’ll make sure the crack is in the stairs.”

“She loved that crack. I was always worried that the stairs would collapse, but she told me that the one crack gave the house character.”

“Mr Clifton,” Felix’s voice sounds reassuring, causing something to start tingling in my stomach. “My father and I promise the house will look exactly as you left it. Only this time, it will be sure to stay put.”

Footsteps come closer, walking towards the door. I hold my breath and take a step backwards. I turn on my heels and sneak back to the middle of the corridor. With a pounding heart, I look around, disoriented. My head is spinning from the conversation I just heard, from the sadness in my father’s voice, from the despair in his words. I come to realise that I should not have turned down this corridor at all to get back to my room. I needed to go the other way. I put one foot in front of the other. The carpet thankfully cushions my steps.

When I get to my room, I light the candle on the dressing table, allowing a soft and warm light to fill the room. Then I drop myself on the bed and pull my legs towards me, then wrap my arms around them. I look at the newspaper I threw on the duvet. I stand up again, grab the paper from the sheets and tear it into pieces. I ritually deposit these in the wastebasket next to the door.

I want to walk back to bed and then realise I don’t see the list of names. I rush myself to the wastebasket, knock it over and search among the pieces of paper. The list of names is gone.

I still had it when I turned into the corridor where I stood eavesdropping on the conversation between Father, Theodor and Felix.

Silly goose that you are, Eleonora. When they find the list, they’ll know you’ve been listening. What will they think of you?

I slap a hand in front of my mouth and utter a muffled cry of frustration. Then I graze my hair with my hands. What am I so worried about anyway? I can just say I lost it, then I can blame a maid for finding it and losing it again on the way to her task and…

No, you are not going to blame someone else.

Wearily, I walk to the sofa that is just big enough for one person. I sit down, put my hands on my lap and stare at the lit candle on the dressing table. Then I start crying. I cry loudly and uncontrollably. All the while, I stare at the candle. Memories of my mother, of the olden days, shoot by. Memories of the alley where Junior R chased me. Felix’s face looms in my mind, and I curse myself for thinking of him because my love for him will never be reciprocated as I so desperately want.

I think about Everett and Jonathan, the way they look at each other, how happy that makes me, and how much I resent my brother for not telling me about it.

The crying slowly subsides, and I only stop sobbing when the candle is almost extinguished and I fall into a restless sleep on the sofa.