"Isabel, what are you doing?" Jack shook his head at me and I dipped a long, white quill into a pot of ink.
"Leaving a note for George," I replied, not looking up until he snatched the quill from my hand. I sighed. "Give it back!"
"No!" he said stubbornly, putting it behind his back. "I shan't!"
"Jack!" I rolled my eyes as he dangled it above my head. I eyed it like a cat watching a bird, but I refused to swipe for it. I was not a cat and the situation would end up with my ungraceful falling over and landing in a heap at Jack's feet. I watched it swing above me. "He deserves an explanation."
"There are a lot of things that man deserves, but an explanation is not one of them!" Jack said fiercely. "He doesn't deserve anything to do with you." He shoved me out of the way. He began furiously scribbling away on the parchment which I had previously got as far as writing 'Dear Geor-'. I took a hesitant step towards Jack. "Erm… Jack what are you doing?"
"Leaving a note for George," he echoed, but somehow it sounded a lot more sinister when he said it.
"Erm…" I said again, wondering how to voice my discomfort without forcing him to turn his clear annoyance on me. He was scratching the quill so hard on the parchment I thought that he might rip it. This would probably be for the best. I was doubtful that George's letter would be anything he wanted to read. Or even anything I wanted him to read. He didn't even look up, he was in full flow. "Get something more practical on," was all he said. I wasn't sure that he was even blinking.
I raised my eyebrows at him, not that he was looking. "Oh yes, my life is full of practical clothing (!) George loves it when I wear my pirate clothes (!)." I doubt he noticed how much sarcasm was dripping from my voice.
All he said was, "Shut up, Belle."
I pulled the simplest and most comfortable dress out and slipped in on over my nightdress. It would do until I could find something aboard the Pearl. What would we do? Could we even go back to the Pearl? What about Barbossa? What we do? Where would we go? I hadn't thought any further than getting out of Port Royale. I hadn't thought past getting out of this room.
"There," said Jack brightly, interrupting my thoughts. His bad move had evaporated, which was good for me, but bad for whatever was in his note. His smile offered me little comfort. I plucked it out of his hands and scanned his words. He leaned back and watched me with satisfaction. Halfway through the first sentence I glanced up at him.
"Jack! We can't leave this!"
"Why not?" He looked genuinely disappointed by my verdict. "I though I was being considerably polite, given the circumstances."
"Well you're not!" I carried on with the rest of the note. It was all downhill from there. "I'm not even sure that's a word!"
He leaned over to see which of his hastily scrawled words was the one confusing me. He looked unashamedly pleased with himself. "Everything's a word once you've said it and that one cleans him up quite nicely."
I shook my head at the mischievous light in his eyes. It did make me smile though. I tried my best to hide it from him. It was hard to be believably angry if you were grinning at the one you were supposed to be angry with. "We're not leaving this for George."
"We are."
"No, we're not. There are no valid reasons for it." I tired to be as reasonable as I could. There was a reason for it of course, but not one that deserved something as harsh as this.
"There is, I wrote them on the back," he said I should have known he'd have an answer for anything! I flipped the sheet of paper over and raised my eyebrows at him.
"You wrote them under 'Reasons I Hate You'?"
"Yup," his smile widened. "Good title, eh?"
I masked my obvious urge to laugh by sighing as I read his list. I rolled my eyes at him as I got to number twelve. "I refuse to leave this, Jack!" I pulled out another piece of parchment and started afresh. Jack grumbled in a disgruntled fashion in the background. Then he stopped.
"Is this yours?" he held up a few piece of jewellery. I shrugged.
"Probably." I glanced up and smiled at the look in his eyes. "Feel free to steal what you want, I don't care."
"It's not stealing if you feel free when you do said stealing," he pointed out. Then he laughed, "Ha! George will not be happy. I'm stealing you too."
I looked back up from the blank page. I still hadn't written anything down yet. My eyes met his, "Taking what is already yours is not stealing either."
I looked back down as he rifled through my possessions. The page stared back at me. After a while it began to taunt me with its clean, white emptiness. I lifted the quill several times and put it back down again. It seemed to me to be unusually heavy. There were no words I could think of to write. I went over and over what I wanted to say in my head. I didn't want him to know that I was with Jack or that my disappearance had anything to do with him, because then he would know where to find me. If he found the Pearl he would surely find Jack and I. And if we weren't there then he would find my friends and I didn't want anyone to come to any harm on my part. So I settled for,
Dear George,
I would say that I am sorry, but the truth is I'm not.
I don't belong here like I used to. I need to be free to do my own thing and I can't do that here. I need to be happy and that will never happen if I stay in Port Royale. I wish you all the best for you have been a good friend over the years.
Yours truly,
Isabel
X
"You didn't use my word," Jack sounded disappointed as he read over my shoulder. "And I may not have been all that polite, but I think you are running the risk of being a bit too polite."
I smiled at him, reaching up to touch his cheek, "Can we just go, please?"
He nodded and took my hand as we walked out of my room. By now the household was in darkness. We had to feel our was down the stairs and along to the front door. I reached out for the handle. Jack's grip on me tightened.
"Bugger," he whispered by my ear. I turned to look at him.
"What have we here?" George's cold tones floated out of the darkness.
Bugger.