Attic

His father was angry. He had been playing in the music room, the snow outside making it far too cold to run around outside so he resorted to the second biggest room in the manor. While running around, playing with his imagination, his foot caught on the leg of the grand piano causing him to tumble forward and fall into the violin set in the corner of the room, often being cleaned by the maids as his father denied anyone from touching it. It was his mother's old violin and now it had been broken. His father heard the noise and when he saw the mess, his eyes told Alan to run, which he did.

He didn't know if his father was still looking for him as he hid in the attic of their manor, but he didn't want to chance it. If anything, he wanted William to come and tell him everything was alright, that his father calmed down.

Wiping his tears on his sleeve, he crawled further back in the attic, trying to be quiet so no one heard him from below. The first time he hid up here, he found no one at come to check inside and found this to be his special hiding place as not even William had come to look for him up here yet.

He sat down beside an old black trunk, knees pulled to his chest, eyes trained on the trunk. He always saw when he came up but not once opened it, perhaps he should do so. Making sure to move quietly again, he knelt at the front of the truck and unlatching the lock before pushing up the lid. Inside, he found dusty books, letters, a folded dress and a doll he picked up from the bottom of the truck. The doll's brown string hair was nearly black, a few strands gone, a button eye missing, the dress worn, but he didn't put it back in. Instead, he set the doll on his lap, continuing to search the trunk until plucking out a male doll that almost looked like his father and in the same condition as the female doll. He sat back, holding out the two dolls side by side a question frown forming. "Momma?" he asked looking at the female doll. He set them back on his lap to pull out the dress which matched perfectly to the doll.

Thinking he found the greatest treasure in the world, he placed the dress and male doll back in the trunk then ran to the entrance of the attic. "Papa!" he called climbing down the letter. "Daddy?!"

Alan flinched as he names was called, his father still angry over the mess he created. "Do you have any idea how priceless that was?!"

"Look!" he held up the doll he kept close to his chest. "I founded her in the attic."

His father paused, staring at the doll with disbelieving eyes. "Alan." He knelt to his son's height, taking the doll into his hands. "Where did you find this?"

"In the attic. There's a boy doll and a dress."

"Show me."

So Alan reentered the attic, his father following. He led the man to the trunk and pulled out the male doll. "See."

"Alan." He took the male doll, a tear forming in the man's eyes. "Where the dress?"

"Here." He pulled it out, handing it to his father. "Was this mummy's?"

The man knelt, placing the dolls down to take the dress. "Yes. This was your mothers. She wore it on our wedding day and these dolls were made for us."

"Why didn't daddy know about them?"

"Because your mother told me she'd place them somewhere safe. She…left before telling me where that safe place was." He dug through the rest of the chest, taking out a few letters that he sent her when they were younger. "She kept all of this."

Alan took a box form the bottom of the trunk and opened that to pull out a picture of a newborn Alan, sitting on his mother's lap, his father standing proudly behind them. "Why did she hide all this?"

"I'm sure she never meant too. Her passing was sudden for all of us." He took out another photo of his late wife and William. "They were close. Almost siblings."

"Mummy's safe now, right?"

"Yes." He put his arm around his son, pulling Alan close, all anger forgotten. "Your mother's safe now."

"William told me she was here." Alan put his hand over his heart.

"She is, Alan. Your mothers there and will always look out for you."

As the snow fell outside, Alan and his father spent the rest of the day in the attic, looking through the old trunk, Alan enjoying the stories his father told about his mother. It was rare to see his father smile since her passing, but today was the perfect day to stay indoors.