Separation
The flame flickered a second longer, as if gasping for its last breath, before reaching the end of the wick. It snuffed into smoke, leaving the room in complete darkness. Mary was inconvenienced, to say the least.
It was unlike her to struggle with sleep, staying awake until the early hours of the morning. Nevertheless, a thought had struck her earlier in the day and had refused to leave her in peace. Mary had politely asked for it to leave her alone, but her mind showed little respect for her wishes.
Photograph in hand, it was obscured by the sudden darkness, the candle being her only hope. Its timely death informed her of how long she had lain there, no need to look at the clock on the bedside table. How terrible, she thought, to be caught in such a muddle.
Mary believed in efficiency and she knew what must be done.
Climbing out of bed, pulling her clothes back on, she worked in absolute silence, considering the speed of her task. She was done within minutes. Mary stepped onto the windowsill, not seeming to notice how high she was, and took a graceful leap from the wooden pane. The open umbrella caught her, despite being a windless night.
It sensed her urgency and it carried her with surprising speed to where she needed to be. Her heeled boot barely landing on the front steps, its exterior revealed it to be a London house. She hurriedly pulled the key from her coat pocket and opened the door. It closed thoughtfully behind her.
The umbrella pulled her up the stairs too. Whether it was doing her a favour or she had asked it to was unclear, yet she came to a stop outside one of the bedrooms. Closing the umbrella and propping it against the wall, she entered the room, her hesitant footsteps making no sound against the floorboards.
Mary felt her breath hitch, clutching the silver locket that hung from her neck. She stopped beside the bed, watching the way the bedsheet rose and fell with each soft breath. Her grip released the necklace and spread flat across her chest, calming the ache that formed below. Leaning across, she kissed their forehead.
"Goodnight, my love."
The little girl sensed her presence, despite Mary's care, and her eyes blinked open. Dark brown staring drowsily into light blue. Her hand appeared from underneath the covers, reaching up for Mary's cheek.
In her hurry, she had taken less care than she thought- her hair was still undone, spilling down to brush against the cotton sheet. Her hat was long forgotten, left unceremoniously in her room. The girl lifted a finger from Mary's cheek, letting it brush against the raven hair.
"Goodnight, Mommy."
Mary stayed until the dawn, whispering her goodbyes, and leaving a kiss full of love and promises on her daughter's forehead. On the way down the stairs, she left another kiss on the mouth of her husband, who was startled and delighted to see her. He told her that he was selling kites today and if he was lucky, he could buy the dollhouse they'd been saving for.
That was all Mary needed to know, leaving for her ward's house before they had even noticed she was gone. And as she pulled the blinds apart in Brenda and Gillian's room, hearing their loud protestations at having been woken up, Mary had never been happier.