Will
I stood stock-still, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. This was it. I had been personally invited to a meeting of the League of Iron.
Now, surely, there would be answers.
Charlie
The room Rosa showed me into was cold – far cooler than the rest of the house – but to my relief it was decorated in a simple style. The walls were plain white and
the curtains a dark, silky red. Matching cushions were strewn across the bed, which was made up with a white duvet and pillowcases. A fitted wardrobe ran the length of one wall, a small table stood
in the far corner.
‘You can use that as a dressing table, for all your, er, makeup and er, stuff . . .’ Rosa tailed off, presumably having noticed that I wasn’t wearing any make-up. I shrugged. I
did sometimes put on a little mascara and I used serum to control my curls, but I never applied eyeliner or eyeshadow anymore and I didn’t own a single lipstick. Back when Mum was alive, I
used to love all that stuff, just as I used to want a tattoo. Now make-up and fashion seemed like toys to me: childish and pointless and belonging to a long-distant past.
‘This is a spare room, where the au pair used to live,’ Rosa went on. ‘Mum made me leave everything plain so you could choose what paint you wanted, get a new duvet set if you
like.’
‘White’s fine,’ I said. I was starting to feel exhausted.
‘Right.’ Again, Rosa sounded injured. Again, I had no idea what I might have done to offend her.
We stood in awkward silence for a moment, then Rosa walked across the landing and into her own room.
I took off my jacket and sat down on the bed. It was a double – far bigger than any bed I’d ever slept in before. But then the whole room was bigger. The whole house.
I glanced around again. I was grateful that Gail hadn’t let Rosa loose on the room. It was bland and bare, ready for me to make it my own. And yet as I sat on the bed, I couldn’t
help but think back to my old room at Mum’s. That had been painted pale green, with an entire wall of shelves groaning under the weight of all the children’s books Mum had bought for
me. Thinking I was too old for them, I’d left them all with Aunt Karen. Now, suddenly, I felt horribly homesick for the books – and for Mum.
My heart seemed to shrink in my chest, tears bubbling up into my eyes. In Karen’s flat there were pictures of her everywhere. Here, it was like she had never existed. I closed my eyes,
intending to summon up Mum’s smiling face, but all I could see was that look of disappointment from the last time we were together.
I wandered over to the window and peered out. The sun was low in the sky, an orange disc setting behind the trees of what was presumably the local park. Up here, on the second floor, I could see
over the rooftops and back gardens of north London, all brick walls and tiled roofs. I touched the red silk of the curtains. The fabric was soft and smooth. Beautiful. It was
all
beautiful: the house, the view . . . everything. But it wasn’t me. I didn’t belong here any more than I’d belonged with Aunt Karen.
A sense of desolation swamped me. I was used to missing Mum. I carried her absence with me like a dead weight wherever I went, but right now it felt too hard to bear. All I wanted was to go back
to my old life, to be with Mum again. And instead I was here, facing the future without her.
Outside, a police siren screeched into the silence. ‘There you are.’ Gail bustled into the room, my holdall in her hand. ‘Oh, I’m sorry it’s so cold in here.’
She set down my bag, then hurried over to the radiator opposite and fiddled with the knob. ‘I told Mercy, that’s our cleaner, to turn it on but she must have forgotten. Is everything
okay?’
I nodded.
‘I hope Rosa explained that you’re free to do what you like with the room,’ Gail gabbled on. ‘I can take those curtains down if you like. You can paint it yourself or we
can get the decorators
I stood stock-still, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. This was it. I had been personally invited to a meeting of the League of Iron.
Now, surely, there would be answers.
Charlie
The room Rosa showed me into was cold – far cooler than the rest of the house – but to my relief it was decorated in a simple style. The walls were plain white and
the curtains a dark, silky red. Matching cushions were strewn across the bed, which was made up with a white duvet and pillowcases. A fitted wardrobe ran the length of one wall, a small table stood
in the far corner.
‘You can use that as a dressing table, for all your, er, makeup and er, stuff . . .’ Rosa tailed off, presumably having noticed that I wasn’t wearing any make-up. I shrugged. I
did sometimes put on a little mascara and I used serum to control my curls, but I never applied eyeliner or eyeshadow anymore and I didn’t own a single lipstick. Back when Mum was alive, I
used to love all that stuff, just as I used to want a tattoo. Now make-up and fashion seemed like toys to me: childish and pointless and belonging to a long-distant past.
‘This is a spare room, where the au pair used to live,’ Rosa went on. ‘Mum made me leave everything plain so you could choose what paint you wanted, get a new duvet set if you
like.’
‘White’s fine,’ I said. I was starting to feel exhausted.
‘Right.’ Again, Rosa sounded injured. Again, I had no idea what I might have done to offend her.
We stood in awkward silence for a moment, then Rosa walked across the landing and into her own room.
I took off my jacket and sat down on the bed. It was a double – far bigger than any bed I’d ever slept in before. But then the whole room was bigger. The whole house.
I glanced around again. I was grateful that Gail hadn’t let Rosa loose on the room. It was bland and bare, ready for me to make it my own. And yet as I sat on the bed, I couldn’t
help but think back to my old room at Mum’s. That had been painted pale green, with an entire wall of shelves groaning under the weight of all the children’s books Mum had bought for
me. Thinking I was too old for them, I’d left them all with Aunt Karen. Now, suddenly, I felt horribly homesick for the books – and for Mum.
My heart seemed to shrink in my chest, tears bubbling up into my eyes. In Karen’s flat there were pictures of her everywhere. Here, it was like she had never existed. I closed my eyes,
intending to summon up Mum’s smiling face, but all I could see was that look of disappointment from the last time we were together.
I wandered over to the window and peered out. The sun was low in the sky, an orange disc setting behind the trees of what was presumably the local park. Up here, on the second floor, I could see
over the rooftops and back gardens of north London, all brick walls and tiled roofs. I touched the red silk of the curtains. The fabric was soft and smooth. Beautiful. It was
all
beautiful: the house, the view . . . everything. But it wasn’t me. I didn’t belong here any more than I’d belonged with Aunt Karen.
A sense of desolation swamped me. I was used to missing Mum. I carried her absence with me like a dead weight wherever I went, but right now it felt too hard to bear. All I wanted was to go back
to my old life, to be with Mum again. And instead I was here, facing the future without her.
Outside, a police siren screeched into the silence. ‘There you are.’ Gail bustled into the room, my holdall in her hand. ‘Oh, I’m sorry it’s so cold in here.’
She set down my bag, then hurried over to the radiator opposite and fiddled with the knob. ‘I told Mercy, that’s our cleaner, to turn it on but she must have forgotten. Is everything
okay?’
I nodded.
‘I hope Rosa explained that you’re free to do what you like with the room,’ Gail gabbled on. ‘I can take those curtains down if you like. You can paint it yourself or we
can get the decorators
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