Page 25 of The Society of Unknowable Objects
As the light dimmed, she turned her mind to happier things, to Magda’s smile and good meals with friends and even an amazing sunset she had seen once from a trail through the mountains.
At some point in the night, after her consciousness had deserted her, the wrongness of Imelda’s existence was fixed once again.
Part Two
Nothing Gold Can Stay
An Intruder at Home
As Magda arrived home from Hong Kong, after what had felt like an interminable journey, she yearned for the comfort of familiar surroundings. She had travelled halfway around the world certain that the man with the gun was hot on her heels, one step behind and ready to shoot her. Even on the flight her heart had been pounding so fast that she had been unable to sleep. When she wasn’t worrying about the killer, she was torturing herself with doubts and questions about what she had done and not done. Could she have saved James if she’d spoken up sooner? Should she have gone to the police to tell them what she knew? And how did the man with the gun know where she was? How did he even know about the existence of the chess piece?
Magda’s mind had remained unfocussed and restless, and at some point she had realised that she was experiencing the same sort of psychological shock she had endured after the death of her mother a decade earlier—existing in a strange, dreamlike state where everything was just washing over her. She knew she was full of emotions, but they were stuck, like soda in a shaken bottle, waiting to explode.
As she climbed out of the taxi she had taken from Heathrow Airport, her whole body sagged with exhaustion and her bag felt heavier than it had any right being. She lugged it through the dark evening and up to her front door, dreaming of her clean, fresh sheets, her soft mattress,craving the comfort of sleep. Once she was finally—blessedly—inside, she dropped her suitcase to the floor, kicked off her shoes, and hung her coat over the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.
She stood there for a moment, leaning against the banister, her eyes closed and her body desperate to collapse into bed.
Then: a noise.
It was just a creak, like an old floorboard settling, but Magda knew her house. She knew the atmosphere and sounds, and she knew something was wrong. Someone had been there... orwasthere.It’s him! It’s the man with the gun!
Her eyes shot open and a jolt of wakefulness coursed through her.
She took a cautious step along the hall, straining to make no noise, and then another step until she could peer into the living room to see the person sitting in one of the armchairs.
“Flying suits you, dear.”
Magda yelped and flinched and stumbled backwards against the banister at the sight of Henrietta Wiseman, her legs crossed at the knee and one foot bouncing casually, her head resting on her hand.
“Henry!” Magda exclaimed, her heart thumping as if she had just run up a flight of stairs.
Henrietta smiled back at her and immediately it was all too much for Magda. She felt herself crumpling, her knees collapsing beneath her. She slid down to the cold floor as tears erupted from her eyes and sobs wracked her body.
“Oh Magda!” Henry cried. She sprung up and dashed over to crouch down next to Magda, holding her close, like a mother with an upset child.
Magda wept uncontrollably for what felt like an age, draining herself of the fear and the shock and feeling the raw edge of grief over the murder of James Wei, a man she hardly knew but whom she had liked immensely.
***
Sometime later, after Magda had stopped crying and Henry had finished clattering about clumsily in the kitchen as she made them both tea, they sat opposite each other on the couches. Soft light splashed acrossthe room from the table lamp in the corner, and Magda listened to the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock from the hall as she cupped her mug between her hands, savouring the warmth. The crying had left her feeling hollowed out, like a dead tree, nothing but old skin and emptiness.
“I must say,” Henry said. “I know I’ve been away for a few years, but I didn’t expect you to have missed me quite so much.”
Magda mustered a feeble smile, aware that Henry was watching her closely.
“It’s not you. It’s...” She tried to find the words but didn’t have the energy. “It’s a lot.”
Henry nodded back at her, her mouth pulling down at the edges with worry. Magda swallowed a big mouthful of tea and tried to get a grip on her thoughts and emotions; they were like birds scattered into the air by a gunshot, flapping and panicked. She turned her attention to Henrietta, studying her in silence for a moment. Henry looked great, fabulous even. She was dressed in an expensive-looking suit and blouse beneath a tan-coloured wool coat. Her brown hair was in a pixie cut and her hazel eyes were full of life and humour. Thin silver hoops dangled from her ears, and she wore silver rings on several of her fingers and silver bangles on both arms.
“What did you mean about me flying?” Magda asked, as the memory of Henry’s words came back to her.
“Hmm?” Henry queried, fiddling with the earring in her right ear.
“When I first came in...” Magda frowned at the memory. “You said I looked good flying. What on earth did you mean?”
Henrietta uncrossed her legs and sat forward, her eyes sparkling with delight. “It’s all over social media, dear. Someone flying through the Hong Kong sky. Someone short and red-haired who looks an awful lot like you.”
Magda digested that for a moment. “I lost my phone,” she said. “Show me.”
