Page 27 of The Society of Unknowable Objects
Magda watched Henry wrap the chess piece in the tissue and push it back across the table towards her.
“Where have you been?” Magda asked, and the question came out as a pained whine, her voice croaking. “These last few years, where have you been? Why didn’t you get in touch?”
Henrietta smiled to herself, dropping her eyes to her drink.
“Frank kept the place open for you,” Magda continued, when Henry didn’t answer. “He didn’t replace you.”
Henry’s eyebrows lifted, eyes widening in surprise. “Really?” she asked. “He should have. I told him I didn’t want any part of it anymore.”
“Why?” Magda pleaded. “I don’t understand what happened, and Frank refuses to talk about it.”
Henry sighed, shaking her head at herself. “I’m not sure I should have come, maybe it was a mistake.”
“No,” Magda snapped. “You’re here now. I’m sick of not knowing what’s going on. Tell me.”
“I know how close you are to Frank,” Henrietta said. “And I am not here trying to suggest he is a bad man. He’s not, not at all. I love Frank too.”
Magda waited, saying nothing, finger tapping the side of her mug.
“But I left for a reason,” Henry explained. “Because he lies. He tells lots of lies, little lies all the time, but who doesn’t?” She shrugged. “But there are big lies. Big lies about everything you think you know.”
“What lies, Henrietta?” Magda pressed. “Can you please spit it out?”
Henry fixed her with a level stare. “Are you sure you want to know, Magda? Because if I tell you, everything changes.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, there are two big lies, really, I think, two lies that matter. Just everything you’ve ever been told about the Society. And the Clockwork Cabinet, that’s a lie too.”
Magda frowned, not understanding. “The Clockwork Cabinet?”
“It’s empty, Magda. There’s nothing in it. There is no archive.” Henrietta waved a hand. “No collection of unknowable objects.”
Two Lies
Magda stood up, feeling the need to put distance between herself and Henry’s words. It was impossible, what Henry had claimed. It was too big for her jet-lagged mind and shattered emotions.
“I’m going to make some coffee,” she said, her mind spinning. “Need more caffeine than a cup of tea.”
She drifted through to the kitchen in a daze and steadied herself on the counter for a moment. The kitchen was a long, narrow room at the back of the house, stretching the full width of the property. Large windows looked out onto the garden; in the dark evening the illuminated bedrooms in the surrounding houses were little lighthouses in the sky. Magda spotted someone pulling curtains shut as if trying to keep the light inside, and in another window a woman was brushing her hair before bed. People going about everyday lives. Right then, as tired and devastated as she was, a small part of her yearned for such simplicity. No threats, no danger. No magic.
Come on. You’re being self-indulgent.
She walked over to the coffee machine and stared at it dumbly for a moment, trying to remember what she had to do to make it produce a cup of coffee.
You are so tired. Everything is falling apart. Nothing makes sense.
She retrieved a coffee pod from the drawer and switched the machine on, wincing at the harsh groaning noise it made.
“Thought I’d join you.”
Henry took a seat on one of the stools at the counter, placing her mug of tea down in front of her. Magda only nodded. They said nothing while the coffee machine worked, grinding and dripping and frothing. Finally Magda took the latte and sniffed it, breathing in the scent of the caffeine.
“Go on, then,” she said, making no move to approach the counter. “Tell me about the lies.”
Henry pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe I should come back when you are not so tired.”
“Henry, I can absorb information even when I’m tired. I have a first-class honours degree in law, for god’s sake. Get on with it.”
