Matilda stands alone at the entrance of Button House. She can hear Kitty and Fanny chatting to Alison as she makes lunch. Through the doorway into the common area, she can see Robin sat at the chess table muttering to himself. She walks into the common room, watching as he stands, and walks to the opposite chair and ponders his next move.
"Interesting," he rubs his chin in thought.
Matilda's eyes scan the room, ensuring she hasn't missed another resident playing with him. The common area is empty though.
"Horse go clop – clop – clop." Robin points out the knight's movement.
He returns to the other chair, and laughs, "Basic move."
Matilda smiles, amused, "Would you like an opponent?" She asks, walking over to him.
Robin glances over at her for a moment, then shrugs, "It whatever." He mumbles but gestures to the other seat.
"I'm not very good." She admits, sitting down in the opposite chair.
"You learn," he tells her. "I best here."
"Who taught you?" Matilda asks, curious as to how this apparent caveman learnt chess.
"Edgar."
"Edgar, who's that?" She didn't recognise the name as one she had heard.
"You don't know him. People come; people go." Robin explains. "Robin always here."
"That must be sad, having to lose so many friends." Matilda sympathises.
"Not all are friends," Robin frowns.
"How many people have been here?" She asks.
Robin makes a noise that means, 'I don't know', then points to the board. "Talk too much. You go." He tells her.
"Sorry." She assumes that for a long time Robin didn't have or need language to communicate. She can understand how speaking may sometimes become overwhelming to him.
Matilda reaches out to move her pawn forward, forgetting her lack of a physical body at the moment, and her hand falls right through the chessboard. Robin finds this hilarious, leaning back and slapping his leg as he howls with laughter. Matilda can't help herself and joins him, clutching her stomach as it begins to ache.
"Not worry, you get used to it." Robin waves his hand through the chessboard too. "Need use brain, remember every place," he explains.
"I'll give it a go, Robin, but I can't promise I'll be any good." She looks down at her pieces. "Pawn to there," she points to her place.
Robin nods, "Prawn, go D5."
"D5, right," Matilda's eyes scan the board, quickly figuring out the system. "Knight to C3," Matilda continues.
Robin smiles appreciatively, "Horsey go clop, F6" his finger jumps around the chest board.
"Bishop C3?" Matilda is unsure.
Robin's brow furrows, "Not good, funny-hat-man, F5."
"I did warn you I'm not very good," Matilda defends herself. "Bishop D2." She moves her bishop back a square, hoping that would fix the mistake she had apparently made.
Robin shakes his head, moving his knight. Within the next two minutes, Matilda loses four pawns, both bishops, a knight and her queen. She crosses her arms in a huff, leaning back in the chair. She wasn't necessarily a competitive person, but after spending her entire childhood trying to prove she was just as good as her brother to her parents, some of her motivation to win must have stuck with her into adulthood.
"King E2," Matilda announces.
"No, you have prawn there," Robin tells her.
Matilda groans, glaring at the chessboard, this wasn't the first time Robin has corrected her as she keeps forgetting where her pieces are on the board. "Your knight is there, right?" She asks, and Robin nods in agreement. "My knight to C6, then." She takes Robin's knight.
Robin grins, "Queen, checkmate." He jumps up in celebration.
Matilda sighs deeply, "Well done, Robin. I told you I was terrible."
"You very bad," Robin agrees. "I will teach you." He tells her, sitting back down. "Prawn there, good move. Horse there, good, hat-man, not good, hat-man there, not good," he starts explaining.
"Okay, okay, Robin, can we go over my technique later?" Matilda stands, walks over to the couch, throwing herself down.
"Okay, okay," Robin repeats, teasingly.
"So, Robin, what do you do for fun around here?" She asks him, staring up at the crumbling plaster on the ceiling.
"Oh, yeah, lot of fun here. Hide in cupboard scare Alison, chess with Julian, throw Humphrey's head, lots of clubs, laugh at Thomas," he lists off on his fingers.
"It all seems rather repetitive, Robin," she mutters.
"You new, all fun new to you." Robin knees beside her. "Chess done, now scare Alison." His face lights up.
"I'll try most things once, let's go," she jumps to her feet, following after Robin into the hallway.
Robin peeks his head through the wall, then beckons her through into the pantry. Matilda steps through into the dark kitchen cupboard, glancing around.
"Now what?"
"Shh," Robin hisses covering her face with his hand. "Wait."
Matilda nods in agreement. They turn to face the door, listening to the conversation Alison and Mike are having while enjoying their lunch. She can hear Fanny and Kitty piping up with the odd comment.
"Guys, can you let us eat in peace, please?" Alison requests, frustrated.
"Guys," Fanny gasps, and her complaints are heard as she wanders off.
"Alison, what does 'guys' actually mean?" Kitty questions.
"It's a group of people, Kitty." Alison answers.
"Oh, thank you, Alison. I will see you guys after lunch." Kitty giggles as she skips out of the kitchen.
"They all gone?" Mike asks.
"Yeah," Alison mutter, sounding like she's chewing something as she speaks. "We should talk about Matilda." She says clear.
Matilda's ears prick up at the mention of her own name.
"What about her?" Mike asks.
"Mike, a girl died in our kitchen. Don't you find that upsetting?" Alison asks her husband.
"Of course, it's upsetting," his voice calming. "I've never seen anyone die before. I barely slept a wink last night. I wish our other kitchen was in working order so we can abandon this one." He admits. "At least we know she's alright, yeah? I mean, despite being dead. She stayed here, and she got the others, and you to help her." He adds.
The sound of a chair scraping across the floor echos in the kitchen before they hear the sound of running water at the sink.
"I wish there was more I could do for her. She thinks she's in a coma in the hospital. She's expecting to wake up, alive." Alison explains.
"What do they know of traumatic injuries?" Matilda hisses, her upset evident in her voice. "This is all a coma induced nightmare." She asserts firmly as the pantry door opens.
"BOO!" Robin shouts.
"Robin!" Alison snaps, annoyed, then notices Matilda. "Oh, Matilda, did you hear all that?" She asks awkwardly.
"Yes, I did," she storms out of the pantry through the back wall.
Robin follows after her, calling her name but she ignores him, walking through various walls until she loses him, only to walk right into the Captain and Pat sat in the television room.
"Matilda!" The Captain jumps to his feet.
"Sorry to interrupt, I'm trying to find somewhere quiet." She turns to leave.
"Are you alright, Matilda? You look upset." Pat asks, walking towards her, concern on her face.
Matilda feels uncomfortable talking about her feelings but she hadn't been lying when she'd said he was a calming presence. "I just overheard Alison and Mike talking about me, about me dying in their kitchen." She admits.
Pat and the Captain exchange knowing glances, seemingly having a conversation through their facial expressions.
"You told him, Pat." She states, upset by the lack of trust.
"I'm sorry, Matilda. I thought Cap could help." Pat explains.
"Help with what? Help convince me I'm actually dead. What's wrong with me believing I'm alive? I'm not hurting anybody but myself if I turn out to be wrong. I'm a logical person, I don't believe in ghosts or demons without sufficient evidence and I've never seen anything that would convince me the afterlife exists. To me, the most logical explanation is that I am in a medically induced coma and my knowledge of history has created this nightmare." Matilda tells them. "I appreciated you not dismissing me, Pat. I don't need you to convince me otherwise, and I don't need you telling everyone something I told you in confidence." She adds, staring pointedly at Pat before turning and walking through the nearest wall.
Matilda has worked herself up into a fit of anger. She doesn't want to take it out on anyone, whether they were a figment of their imagination or not, so she heads up the stairs to her bedroom, hoping for some quiet to calm down. As she walks down the corridor, she hears soft humming coming from the library beside her room. Pat had assured her few people come up to this floor, beside Humphrey's body, which had no head to hum with.
"Hello, who's there?" She calls, walking closer to the library door, wondering if Thomas had searched for the same quiet in the attic that she was looking for.
The humming instantly stops, yet nobody speaks. she's about to ask again when she hears them clear their throat.
"Is that Miss Matilda?"
Her breath catches. Only one person calls her that, and she recognises his voice. She and Humphrey were rarely in the same room as each other and had never found themselves alone.
"Yes, it's me," she confirms, wondering how he managed to get up here in the first place. "Do you need help?" She asks. "I can go find someone." She suggests, feeling guilty that she can't find it within herself to walk into the library and help him.
"No, I'm quite comfortable here," he admits. "Thank you though, Miss Matilda. How are you?" He asks.
Matilda scoffs, he has no reason to be thanking her. She had been nothing but rude her entire time at Button House. She knew that. Humphrey was just hard to look at, harder than Pat.
"Are you still there?" Humphrey asks, voice soft and sad.
"Yeah," she breathes deeply. "I'm sorry." She says, her own voice sincere.
"Whatever for?" He adds, sounding brighter.
"I've pretty much ignored you the whole time I've been here." She explains.
"Eh, it happens."
Matilda can imagine him shrugging, before remembering his body isn't there. She sits down on the carpeted corridor, leaning against the exterior wall. "I've noticed the others often forget to include you." She comments.
"It's easy to forget a head when it's not screwed on." He jokes.
Matilda barks out a laugh before covering her mouth with her hand. "Sorry, I shouldn't be laughing."
"Why not? I'm over it."
"How can you just get over something that traumatic?" She asks, seriously.
"It was so half a millennia ago."
Matilda finds herself chuckling sadly, "I'm afraid I don't have that long."
"Why, you going somewhere?" He asks, concerned.
"I hope so," she sighs.
"Did you say something? I couldn't hear you." Humphrey tells her, speaking louder from the library. When she doesn't reply, he continues. "I'll tell you the truth, Miss Matilda, when I arrived here, there weren't that many of us. It was frustrating. Robin spent most of his time on the land outside. Greggory, a fourteenth-century monk, was around for a couple of decades before moving on. And my body was and remains to this day, useless. I once spent five years in the exact same spot in the kitchen. At least it was entertaining."
"That sounds awful, I can't even imagine being stuck in the same place for so long," Matilda sympathises. "Actually, I might." She adds.
"You've got a couple of centuries to go first," Humphrey informs her.
Matilda doesn't bother explaining her coma theory to the Tudor nobleman when Pat and the Captain don't even understand her.
"If you don't mind me asking, Miss Matilda, you sounded rather upset when you first came up here. How are you?" He asks.
"I'm feeling quite down at the moment." She admits without thinking. There was something about Humphrey that she found trusting, and she decides to tell him the truth. "I'm not entirely convinced I'm dead."
"Oh, I've heard about your theory," Humphrey tells her.
"Pat?" She sighs.
"I was under a couch when he was telling the Captain. He didn't know I was there." He clarifies. "He was asking the Captain how best to support you as you come to terms with your future."
"Oh," she mutters, feeling guilty for her outburst when Pat just wanted to support her. "What do you think?" She asks. "About my theory."
"I find it very compelling. My knowledge of modern medicine is limited, but Alison has explained her medically induced coma, and how the doctors weren't too worried when she admitted she was imagining people after her traumatic injuries." Humphrey explains. "I do wonder what sense of autonomy we have if we are figments of your imagination."
"I assume everyone acts as to be expected from their time period. Thomas acts like a regency poet, the Captain is very much a war captain, and Fanny is a Lady, isn't she? Twice she's told me off for mumbling." Matilda chuckles.
"What about me?" Humphrey questions her.
Matilda feels guilty, "I haven't exactly spent much time with you. I'll admit I've been avoiding you."
"Why do you find my being to be so repulsive?" He asks.
"Repulsive?" Matilda repeats. "I don't find you repulsive, just terrifying. You're a head, Humphrey." She clarifies. The resounding silence from the library worries her that she's said something wrong. "I'm sorry, was that too blunt?" She asks.
"No, no," he assures her. "It's silly, but you've never said my name before, it caught me off guard, Miss Matilda." He admits.
Matilda's mind quickly thinks back through her time at Button House as she remembers every interaction she's had with the man and realises he's correct. She hasn't said his name. Not to the man himself, or any of the other housemates.
"It's not silly at all," Matilda tells him softly. "It's rude of me not to have used it sooner." She adds. "You know, Humphrey," she smiles, liking the sound of his name. "You can call me Matilda."
"Oh, no, that would be improper of me, Miss Matilda," he explains.
She smiles, it doesn't bother her all that much, in fact, she rather enjoys the moniker Humphrey had placed upon her. "Is that a Tudor thing?" She asks him.
"Perhaps, it would support your coma theory," he says. "Or it's just a me thing."
"You don't call Mary or Kitty, Miss," she points out.
"I suppose I don't, although I have known them both for centuries," he defends himself.
Matilda laughs, "I don't mind what you call me, Humphrey. I just wanted to offer you the option, if it was a Tudor thing." He explains.
"Thank you," says Humphrey. "Matilda." He adds, his voice shifting into an almost flirtatious tone, making her name sound all the more scandalous.
"Stop!" Matilda bursts into a fit of laughter, lying down on the rug. She can hear Humphrey stifled chuckles from the other room. She sighs loudly, placing her hands on her stomach, cramping from the laughter.
"Matilda," Pat's voice calls as he walks upstairs.
She scrambles to her feet, awkwardly fixing her hair and brushing her clothes free of dirt and dust, forgetting she needn't be bothering.
"You sound happier," Pat mentions with a wide grin as he steps onto the landing. "I wanted to apologise for breaking your trust. I mentioned before that Cap is there for us whenever we need him. I needed his advice on how we can make your presence here' more comforting. He suggested not bring up the whole 'dead' thing, so we've been telling everyone not to mention it until you're ready to discuss it." He explains.
"Thank you, Pat. I'm sorry for my outburst. I was upset and took it out on you, but I'm feeling much better," Matilda returns his contagious smile. "My dad always said 'laughter is the best medicine."
"I agree," Pat nods. "What were you laughing at up here?" He scans the corridor, not finding anything particularly funny.
Matilda starts laughing again, "I was just talking to Humphrey," she explains.
"Really!" Pat's eyes brighten, knowing how difficult she has found the notion of Humphrey.
"Yeah, he's actually quite funny, for a head." She adds.
"Hey, I can still hear you," Humphrey calls from the library, catching Pat's attention.
"This is a private conversation, mind your own business," she jokes, feeling increasingly more confident being in his presence, albeit, a wall between them.
Pat chuckles along with them, feeling a little intrusive. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling better, Matilda," he starts to back away, wanting to leave them to their previous jovial mood.
"Actually, I think I'm in need of a nap," Matilda states, widening her eyes and nodding at the library. "I've emotionally exhausted myself and would like to be well-rested for film club tonight."
"Oh, okay," Pat nods his head in full understanding. "Humphrey, why don't you join the rest of us for 'What I would wear today' today?" He cheerily asks, walking through the library door to fetch his head. "Give Matilda some quiet to rest," he adds.
Humphrey groans in complaint, "I hate this club, my answer's always the same, a body."
"Maybe we can bring him in too, so you can see for yourself what you would like to change," Pat suggests, walking back out of the room, Humphrey's head in his hands.
Humphrey glances up nervously at Matilda, not wanting to see her flinch at his appearance after their lovely conversation. Her eyes do appear a little shifty, but when they lock, she gives him a soft smile, sending his dead heart inside his body aflutter.
"I bid you adieu, Miss Matilda," he returns her smile.
"Ooh, French!" Pat exclaims.
"I picked up a thing or two from my wife," he explains.
Matilda exaggerates a curtsey, "Well, farewell, good sir," she retorts, turning and walking straight through her bedroom wall.
She can hear Humphrey's laughter as Pat carries him downstairs, giving her the peace to nap. That hadn't been a lie, she's exhausted, and as she lays down on her bed, a small smile playing on her lips, she sighs in content as she drifts off.