Cora shouldn't wonder how dust ended up caked into the corners of the office. She shouldn't wonder how cobwebs ended up hanging from the edges of the walls by the cottony, sticky masses. She also shouldn't wonder why it looks as if it's been months since anyone even bothered to mop the unfinished wooden floor.
She swore this was a busy office. The signs, however, clearly tell her it's gone unused for quite some time. Perhaps it's never been used at all, she muses. In any case, she views it as a crypt and wonders what secrets the walls hide.
The cleaning is hard work, but it's not as if she hates it. She likes cleaning—most of the time—though she isn't sure she should be doing this to the office. While Mr Holmes told her he expects the best, and the room definitely wasn't, she wonders if she out of line by doing what the janitorial staff should be.
The only thing she's seen them do so far is a sweep of the exact middle of the floor. God forbid they try to touch the chairs—although to be fair the things would probably fall apart they're in such a horrendous condition. Now that she's in gloves and scrubbing the stone floor, though, Cora wonders when the last time it truly shined like wood. She imagines this should be part of the cleaners' routine.
By the time the midnight hour rolls around, she stands near the exit and looks around. Everything is finally spotless and seems more welcoming than the dusty dungeon she's worked in for the past three days. Smiling, she grabs her supplies and leaves.
When she arrives at work the next morning, part of her wonders why she even went home. It's only been six hours since she left, and Cora begins to strongly consider adding a cot to the supply list. After starting a brew, she puts out the biscuits she bought and makes sure the rickety chairs are straight.
"What's this?"
Cora turns towards the doorway and sees Mr Holmes slowly eyeing the room. "What?"
His brow quirks, and he approaches the biscuits. Taking one, he turns to her. "You do understand this is a governmental office."
"Yes, I vaguely remember sitting in a training room about that," she quips.
Ignoring her jest, he takes a bite of biscuit and looks at it. "How late were you here?"
Cora shrugs. She didn't clean so he could make a fuss over it. She just wanted it to look inviting. Besides, if this is going to be a second home it might as well look presentable—not somewhere with dust bunnies hiding in the corners.
"Ms Merriman, I am asking you a question."
"Not sure it needs an answer, sir." She settles in front of his desk and pulls a screen from her bag. She's been told it's a fantastic piece of technology called a Surface Pro, but she hates the touchscreen—which is also why she hates the mobile she's forced to use. Both are reminders of why she loves her flip phone.
Finishing the biscuit, Mr Holmes pours himself a cup of coffee. "Do not try my patience. How long were you here last night?"
Her lips press together. Cora's irritated he doesn't just accept she did such a thing and doesn't need to be paid for it. Truth be told, she is getting something out of having a clean office. The fresh, inviting scent is much better than the stale, musty odour it previously held.
"You're in charge of security cameras, aren't you? Check those," she merely replies and works on dragging the green button across the screen to answer the ringing mobile.
Her shoulders straighten, and Cora's thankful to be saved by the call. She honestly isn't looking to get anything out of staying late and fails to understand why he's inquiring. His persistent questioning leaves her feeling as if she's done something wrong.
When a recording comes on the line about Aid-Call, however, she hesitates. Cora doesn't want to listen to information about a nurse call system, especially since she doesn't need one. On the other hand, should she hang up, she'll probably be disciplined for her attitude. I should have thought this through, she realises. With this in mind, she pretends as if she's listening to a live person.
Cora refuses to make eye contact with Mr Holmes as he passes her and seats himself at his desk.
"The next time you wish to extend your hours, I expect you to inform me," he says, and she continues pretending as if she can't hear him. "Also, Ms Merriman, please get the name of the company whose automated message you're talking to. By law, it's illegal."
The phone drops into her lap as her eyes widen.
R҉͕̣e̢̙̦̗̮̮͈̞p̶͕̞͚̻̣͉̜e̟͙͇͎͚͞a̗̻̝͎̗t̤͚̖̙̪̫ ̲̥̪A̝̩̟͖̣̬f͕̭t̥̼͍̬̀e̹r̪͍̮͎͟ ̳̪Me̫̹͚͕̜͠
Stifling a yawn, Cora heads out of the dry cleaners with Mr Holmes clothes in hand. She heads to the waiting sedan when a bark catches her attention. Turning, Cora sees a beautiful black and brown long-haired dog looking at her, tail whipping side to side. Her gaze passes the adorable mutt to a man and she gives him a quick look over.
His greatcoat has been patched in several places and the edges are frayed. The grey knit cap on his head helps keep his unruly dark hair slightly tamed, but does nothing for his disorderly beard. Without a second thought, she identifies him as a rough sleeper.
Digging through her bag, Cora pulls out a fiver and walks to the man. Holding it out, she meets his gaze. "I know it's not much, sir, but I hope this can help you and your handsome friend with dinner today."
"Oh no, Miss, I couldn't," the man says and pats the head of his furry companion.
Cora keeps her arm extended because while she's never been a rough sleeper, she does know what it's like to be in need. "I insist."
The corners of his eyes display crow's feet which become more prominent as he looks at the money she offers. When he finally takes it, his hazel eyes gloss for a moment. "Thank you, Miss. Hank and I are very humbled by your kindness."
Giving him a nod, Cora turns and makes her way into the car. Shutting the door, she can feel the smile on her face as she slouches in the seat.
"That was kind of you," Henry says as he pulls away from the curb.
"Everyone needs to eat." Cora takes a deep breath and lets out a yawn knowing she has thirty-six minutes before she's at the office. She doesn't mind being exhausted since she thoroughly enjoys the meaningless errands, the emailing, and other various few tasks Mr Holmes trusts her with. She may not be the brightest, but it's logical to her he wouldn't trust someone new with anything too important—which she's just fine with.
Another wide yawn escapes her as she shifts into a comfortable position against the backseat. It isn't long before she's dozed off.
The landscape that appears before her is something she's unfamiliar with. Something tells her she should know the place, and a bubble of some foreign emotion fills her insides. It's an odd feeling, one that's been gone so long she isn't quite sure if it's happiness or apprehension.
Taking off her shoes, Cora likes the feeling of the soft grass under her feet. The field around her is only halted by grey fog in the distance. Falling backward, she lets out a sigh as the grass catches her and creates a cushioned bed. When was the last time she had a good night's sleep?
The silvery clouds above her keep her cool but don't seem to hold rain. Not that she cares. Rain or sun wouldn't move her from the comfort of the soft grass.
Her hands rest by her head. One gently twirls a lock of her blonde hair while the other gently weaves through the grass. Her breathing is slowing, and she knows sleep is beginning to wash over her.
"Peaceful?"
The chill that overtakes her at those words sends her into an upright position. Standing above her is what she believes to be a man. His gleaming, red-eyed gaze stares down at her as a sly grin spreads across his lips. Long fingers with jagged nails stretch towards her.
She jolts up in the back of the car as they come to a stop. Looking in the rearview mirror, she takes a deep breath as she sees her mud-coloured hair.
Just like always, she thinks as she regains her composure. Every time she sleeps it's always the same. That man, or what passes for a man, appears. The only difference is sometimes the dreams aren't so peaceful. She'd rather those than the illusion of safety.
When her heart doesn't stop thumping against her chest, Cora wonders if she's on the edge of an anxiety attack. She knows the dreams tend to bring those on. Digging through her bag, she pulls out a bottle of pills and takes one.
By the time Cora returns to the office, she's relaxed and the dream long forgotten. Walking into the room, Cora sees a woman standing near the desk. She catches a few words like Belfaust, terrorist and exchange before making a break for the hallway. The fewer conversations she can be involved with, the better.
"Ms Merriman."
Pausing, she spins on the ball of her foot and straightens up—drying cleaning in hand. "Sir?"
"You are free to come into this office," Mr Holmes says, dark eyes glancing over her quickly. "The door has not been shut on you."
With a nod, Cora walks towards the desk and glances to the woman there. Her light blonde hair is drawn back with loose wisps and fringes framing her face. White pearls circle her neck and are a vivid contrast to the black, knee-length dress she's wearing. Her coat is a beautiful shade of juniper. There are soft lines on her face which speak to the daily stress she encounters. Despite these, Cora immediately recognises the woman from the picture she's seen.
"Lady Smallwood," Cora greets with a respectful nod. She holds still as she's studied with a scruntinising eye. It's very different than the one Mr Holmes gives her. While he seems to pay attention to details, this woman seems to silently question: Do you hold your tongue?
At last, Lady Smallwood gives a nod as if approving a dog at a kennel show. "Hello, Ms Merriman. A pleasure to finally meet you."
"Pleasure's all mine." Cora releases the breath she's been holding and has an odd suspicion she's just passed a test of sorts.
"If Mycroft ever gives you any issues, come see me," Lady Smallwood says with a soft smile.
"Alicia," he warns, but Cora doesn't think he sounds serious about it.
Lady Smallwood turns to Mr Holmes. "It's a pleasure to see someone new. It's about time you started updating this dusty cell. Honestly, Mycroft I wish you'd take the other office."
"Have a good day, Lady Smallwood," he tells her and looks back at his laptop.
She gives a smirk and looks at Cora with a wink. "Have a good day to both of you."
Cora remains still until the sound of clicking heels have receded into the distance. She then hangs the dry cleaning by the door and moves to take a seat in front of the desk. Looking at him, those dark eyes have a smile in them she hasn't seen prior.
"Do you know what Lady Smallwood does?"
"Member of the Cabinet."
She's caught off guard when he continues to observe her. A new light comes into his eyes and trickles into a slight shift of muscles in his forehead. "Well, what deductions do you make?"
Cora's heard "What do you think" or "What is your opinion", but never deductions. It's an odd way to ask… Just odd enough that she can feign ignorance—because she doesn't want to assess the woman. She purses her lips before replying, "I'm not sure what you're asking for."
"Come now, Ms Merriman, you certainly know exactly what I'm looking for."
She shakes her head.
"You're a smart girl," he comments as he looks at his computer. "You certainly understand, and you're merely avoiding the topic."
Girl isn't the exact term I would use, Cora thinks because she knows she's pushing thirty-two. However, it's probably not something she should argue since there's already a debate about his current words. Crossing her legs, she pulls out the tablet-thing as she titled it and pecks at the screen. One battle at a time.
"Ms Merriman," he says sternly, grabbing her attention. "There is no consequence for the answer you provide."
Giving a sigh, she leans back in the rickety chair. "That a promise?"
"Yes."
Swallowing back a smile, she pecks at the screen. "Yeah, then, I still haven't the slightest what you're asking."
"You prefer to be difficult, don't you?"
Cora opens her mouth to answer when she sees a news flash pop in the corner of the screen. Clicking on the link, she reads:
The government Chief Whip Daniel Belfaust and his two daughters have been reported missing early this morning. Sources state he was taking the girls to Stone Hedge for a school project while Mrs Belfaust remained with her ailing mother. This comes on the heels of swirling rumours that Mr Belfaust and his wife are expected to announce a divorce in upcoming days. Sources close to Mrs Belfaust say she is expected to fight for full custody of her daughters leaving many to speculate he has abducted the girls. Scotland Yard is exhausting all available resources.
"Are you listening, Ms Merriman?"
Cora bites her lip. Could the conversation she walked in on earlier be referring to the breaking news in her hands? If so, then the article would be wrong. He didn't abduct his girls; they were all taken.
"What are you reading?" Mr Holmes inquires.
With a breath, she holds up the tablet-thing. As his gaze scans the article, she figures if she's going to answer the question now is a good time. He's distracted enough that he won't hear her whisper. "It seems that you admire Lady Smallwood. It's the first time I've seen your eyes light up."
"Feigning ignorance is not appreciated nor desired," he states and his gaze flicks to hers. Again, those dark eyes remind her of a predator's. "I assume this article is of importance based on what you might have heard when you entered."
Cora's brow furrows and she bites her lip. How can someone play stupid and yet not? "Look, sir, I didn't hear or see anything you didn't want me to."
"Refusing to eat the cake, Alice?"
Cake? She glances around quickly to clarify a real cake wasn't brought in. Satisfied she won't put her foot in her mouth, she responds, "I'm afraid I don't follow. Look, I'm rubbish when it comes to magic tricks like the one you play. Expecting that of me is not entirely fair."
He leans back in his chair. "Is that what you make of my observations?"
A gimmick? Yes, she thinks and gives him a slight nod. It's not exactly a topic she wants to dive into, so she takes a breath. "Why did you call me Alice?"
"If you simply think of what I do as a parlour trick, Ms Merriman, I'm not sure you're ready for the cake," he replies and looks back at his laptop, effectively ending their conversation.
ReadingBlueWolf is greatly appreciative of the comments left.
Thank you so much for the encouragement.
Should you catch something, please let her know.
Critique is welcome.