"Come a long way
Just to say
Doesn't matter when it mattered yesterday,
And tomorrow ain't too far.
Come a long way
From small beginnings
Come big endings."
"Pilgrim" –Fink
Chapter Eight:
The unmarked black car returned twice the next week. The second time, not only the detective stepped out of the vehicle, but a familiar girl. Margot recognized her almost immediately as the girl that she'd caught prowling the grounds before.
Cat.
She asked Mr. Harrison about it, hoping he'd know, since he lived at the manor and actually had real conversations with Alfred, who seemed to know all the goings on.
The man simply shrugged when she asked and told her to hand him the spade.
She did so, watching as he dug a hole for one of the new birch trees they were going to plant over the weekend.
Finally, the man glanced up at her, wiped his brow, and handed her the spade. "Why don't you do the next one?"
She took the spade and began to dig.
"I hear that girl saw the Waynes' killer," he said.
"I thought they solved that case," Margot responded with a frown.
"I guess not. Alfred wants us to be nice to her if we happen to see her. I suppose he doesn't want us scaring her off."
Margot snorted. "Because we're so scary."
Mr. Harrison laughed, "I don't know, Margot. With that spade and that limp, you kind of look like a gravedigger."
She let out an offended exclamation, but laughed as well. "All right, all right. Here," she said, handing the spade back to the man. "I need a drink. Do you want anything?"
The man shook his head. "I'll just be out here, slaving away while my assistant sits on her ass, having a cold drink."
"I'll bring you back a Coke."
"Thank you."
Margot went around the back of the house, noticing Alfred and Bruce in the distance. It looked like they were boxing. She watched curiously for a few moments before she turned and disappeared inside.
The kitchen, she found, was already occupied.
Cat looked up abruptly as Margot entered, crouching as if she were preparing to run. Of course, when she saw who it was, she loosened up a bit and smiled.
"You're the gimpy gardener."
"Yeah, that's me," Margot replied calmly as she went to the fridge. "And you're that creepy skulking kid." She pulled a can of Coke from the fridge and popped it open, taking a long swig. "I heard you were staying here," she added, plinking the can down on the table.
"Yeah. So?"
"How do you like it?"
Cat shrugged. "It's all right, but I'm hungry."
Margot opened the fridge again. "I can make you something if you want."
The girl regarded her curiously. "Do you live here?"
"No, but it's not like anybody's going to notice if I help myself now and then."
"The kid's butler might."
Margot snorted, imagining Alfred doing an inventory of the food in the kitchen. It was almost too easy to picture. "I'm sure he does."
"Does he always have a stick up his butt?" Cat inquired with a frown.
Margot laughed loudly. "You get used to him. How about some eggs and toast? A sandwich?"
"Pancakes," replied Cat. "And a big glass of milk."
She looked at the girl for a few moments before nodding. "All right, then. Help me find everything." She rifled through the refrigerator and pulled out the butter, milk, and eggs.
Cat found a bowl and a whisk for her, as well as a pan to put on the stove.
"I have to warn you, I haven't made pancakes in a long time," Margot said as she rummaged through the cupboards and the pantry for the rest of the ingredients. Flour and sugar and salt were all neatly kept in bins that were labeled clearly. She had to admit that she appreciated Alfred's sense of tidiness.
"I haven't had them in a long time," replied Cat with a shrug. "Just don't make them lumpy."
"I'll do my best," said Margot, reaching for the apron that hung on a hook in the corner and slipping it over her head on a whim.
She didn't use a recipe, trying to do it for memory and eyeball all of the measurements. She knew it would probably be a disaster, but it wasn't as if she were cooking for somebody discerning like Bruce. It was just Cat, who for some reason reminded Margot a little of herself as a kid.
"So," she commented absently as she mixed. "What are you doing here?"
Cat leaned on the counter and watched quietly. "I don't know," she responded. "I thought it would be a nice place to stay."
"And?" asked Margot with a raised brow.
The girl sighed. "It's kind of like a museum. And the kid's weird."
Margot laughed softly. "He grows on you."
"I guess."
Glancing at the girl, she asked, "Where's your family? Why aren't you with them?"
Cat avoided her gaze, pushing off of the counter and wandering slowly around the kitchen. "My mom's not around right now." She looked up quickly and added emphatically, "But she's coming back for me when she can."
Margot nodded understandingly, though she got the feeling that things were as simple as Cat made them sound. "Cool."
"Yeah," agreed Cat with a nod. "What about you? Do you have family?"
"My mom," said Margot. "She used to be a bartender," she added reminiscently. "I'd go hang out with her at work after school."
"Did she let you taste anything?"
"Yeah," Margot replied. "The peanuts."
She poured a dollop of batter into the pan and waited impatiently for it to cook, absently dusting the flour from the apron, frowning when all she succeeded in doing was to spread it around.
"Who wears a black apron?" she grumbled quietly to herself.
"Hey!" Cat exclaimed, pointing at the pan. "Flip it before it burns!"
Margot grabbed the spatula and jammed it under the pancake, only to realize that she'd forgotten to spray the pan first. She ended up with a half-cooked glob of batter and broken pancake pieces.
"I'm not eating that," said Cat with disgust.
"Calm down, I'm throwing it away," Margot retorted, scraping it into the garbage. "The first pancake is always bad anyway," she added.
This time, she remembered to spray the pan. It wasn't very long before she'd accumulated a small stack of semi-round pancakes on a plate.
"Go find some syrup," Margot said as she poured the last pancake.
The girl climbed up onto the counter, rummaging through the cupboards, leaving a disordered clutter in her wake. Finally, she turned and looked down at Margot with a grimace. "All I found was this."
Margot reached for the bottle the girl handed her and cursed. Maple extract. "Of course," she growled. "It can never be easy, can it?"
She flipped the pancake, then searched for a pot. Brown sugar and water went into it, as well as a pat of butter.
"What are you doing?"
"Making you some syrup," Margot explained.
"I don't need syrup," Cat said with a shrug, grabbing the pan and sliding the last pancake onto her plate, which she took to the table.
"Now you tell me." Margot frowned and irritably turned off the stove.
The girl pulled off a bit of pancake and chewed on it thoughtfully before nodding approvingly. "It's good."
Rifling through the cupboards, Margot pulled down a jar of peanut butter and sent it sliding across the table towards Cat. "Try them with this." She recalled her own mother spreading peanut butter on her pancakes for her, and topping them with syrup. It was one of the few ways Margot could stand to eat peanut butter.
Cat tore off another piece of pancake and dipped it straight into the jar, leaving crumbs in the peanut butter.
Margot smiled a little, wondering what Alfred would think of that.
Speaking of Alfred, she felt a little twinge of panic as she gazed at the kitchen, realizing the mess she and Cat had left behind. Cat was busy eating her pancakes, so Margot hurriedly began to clean up after herself, wiping down the counters, washing and drying the dishes, trying to remember where everything went.
She had just swept up the last of the flour on the floor when the kitchen door swung open and Alfred stepped through, probably with the intent of preparing lunch. He stopped and surveyed the room, immediately spotting Cat at the table and Margot by the counter, dustpan in hand. His hands went behind his back, his brow rising, and his feet clicking together.
For a moment, everything seemed frozen, and nobody said a word.
Cat suddenly rose, muttering, "I'm out" as she slipped past Margot and disappeared through the back door.
Alfred slowly entered, passing by the table, eyeing the half-eaten pancakes, the jar of peanut butter with the crumbs in it, the empty glass of milk. "So you're the girl's personal chef now, are you?" he inquired softly, glancing up at Margot.
"I came for a drink," she explained. "She said she was hungry and she wanted pancakes."
The man's eyes flickered over the counters, the sink, the table. "Well, at least you clean up after yourself," he murmured. His gaze finally landed on the apron she was wearing, noticing the streaks of flour on it. "Though I shudder to think what I would have seen had I been here fifteen minutes ago."
"Trust me," replied Margot, thinking of the footprints she'd had to wipe off the counter, "be glad you weren't." She emptied the dustpan and returned it to its place in the closet with all the other cleaning supplies. "Sorry about the apron," she added remorsefully as she removed it.
Alfred took it from her. "It's about time to wash the bloody thing anyway," he responded with a sigh.
Margot smiled and reached for her Coke, taking a sip. "So," she began conversationally, "What are you going to do now that you have two kids to look after? Maybe you should just turn Wayne Manor into an orphanage," she joked. "Bring all the inner city kids out here."
The man looked up at her. "You can leave now," he told her firmly, indicating the door with a nod of his head.
Margot was almost intimidated, but she thought she saw a faint glimmer of amusement in the man's eyes. She turned away, pulling another Coke from the fridge, well aware that Alfred was watching her as she strolled from the kitchen.
It was dark by the time Margot left, her boots quietly clomping on the cobblestone of the driveway. She jammed her helmet on and climbed onto her bike, making it to the gate before she stopped, catching sight of a figure crouching on top of the wall. She shut the engine off and removed her helmet.
"Thanks for the pancakes," Cat called down from her perch.
Margot approached the wall, running the last few feet and using her momentum to jump up and grab the ledge at the top. She pulled herself up and joined the girl.
"Not bad for an old lady," Cat commented with a sly smile.
"This old lady's still big enough to push you off this wall," Margot retorted.
"Try it," the girl challenged her.
Margot shook her head with a grin, giving the girl an amicable shove. She didn't even flinch.
"What are you doing out here?" Margot asked after a moment, swinging her legs lazily.
Cat shrugged. "It's so…peopley in there."
Margot laughed, "It's just Bruce and Alfred."
"Yeah, but they're always around." She sighed, "I don't know. Maybe I just like being outside, on my own."
"Sure," Margot agreed. "I go riding when I want to be alone. I don't have to be around people—it's just me, the bike, and the road." She glanced at the girl and had a curious idea. "How would you like to go on a ride with me?"
Cat perked up a little. "Really? I mean…I guess that would be cool."
Margot nodded and dropped down off the wall, careful not to land too heavily on her lame leg. The girl followed, landing almost silently.
She led her to the bike, handing her the helmet. "Put this on."
Cat slipped it over her head, looking around curiously. Margot straddled the bike and patted the space behind her. The girl jumped on, and Margot warned her over her shoulder, "Hold on tight."
The bike revved to life, and Margot sped through the gate, heading out to the main road, which was practically deserted. She urged the bike to go faster, grinning as she listened to Cat's muffled exclamations of wonder.
The moon peeked through the clouds, nearly full, and the city's lights glowed in the near distance, making the sky glow in a strange combination of orange and silver. It was otherworldly. Margot drove down by the river, where the city was reflected in the water—a city of lights and mystery: perfect, but slightly blurry if one looked too close.
They looped back and returned to the manor a different way, taking the long way around. Margot stopped at the front door and shut the motor off.
Cat leapt off and pulled the helmet from her head, shaking her hair out. "That was so—! It was—! I can't even—!" Finally, the girl just dropped the helmet and fell into Margot, squeezing her in a tight, brief embrace.
Margot smiled. "If you ever want another ride, come find me."
The girl retreated towards the house, nodding eagerly. "Thanks, gimpy!"
"Don't cause too much trouble!" she responded.
"'Night!"
And with that, the girl disappeared inside, entering not through the door, but through a window that had been left unlocked.