Page 72 of Merrily Ever After
I turn, confused. “To the front—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “We’ll get to that later. I’ve other things for you to do first.”
“But—”
“But? We don’t say that word in this house.But.”
I press my lips together as she starts grumbling and wait for her to close the door, but my frustration fades into curiosity when she heads for the staircase.
I’ve never been upstairs before.
I always assumed it was off-limits, but now I follow her up, the soft red carpet leading me all the way the to the landing, where a dozen doors stand closed. She opens one halfway down, revealing what must be her bedroom.
The first thing I note is that it’s massive. Easily the size of two in my house. A giant bed takes up the space, its covers neatly made. The curtains are open, the weak sunlight streaming through, but the air is stale and musky and all I can think about is how my mother would take one look at the place and open all the windows.
Mrs Fallon aims straight for the wardrobe, opening the door to reveal a row of old-fashioned men’s clothing. Suits and shirts and woollen coats. I even spy a tuxedo, and I must not hide my apprehension very well because she takes one look at me and barks out a laugh.
“I won’t make you dress like your grandfather, if that’s what you’re worrying about.” She taps her cane on the slim shelf above. “Get that box. Be careful.”
I take it out, laying it on the bed as directed. Her arthritis seems bad today, and it takes her a second to get the lid off, but she manages it eventually, putting it to one side before unwrapping the tissue paper.
Inside is a small bottle, dark brown and chunky.
Cologne.
“Here now,” she says, uncapping the lid. “That was my husband’s.”
She thrusts it into my hands, and I balk. It’s probably the most expensive thing I’ve ever held.
“I can’t,” I begin, but she just scowls.
“Of course you can. Give it a spray. But I’m warning you now, it’s probably gone off.”
I keep waiting for her to take it back, to laugh and explain what’s happening, but she just stares at me, and I have a feeling I’ll anger her even more if I don’t put it on.
The thing is I’ve never sprayed cologne before. I have no idea what to do. So of course I do it wrong, pointing the nozzle at my chest.
“What are you doing?” she snaps, and I freeze. “Didn’t your father ever teach you anything? Hold it away from you.Away.” She grabs my arm and physically arranges my hand about five inches from my body. “Just do your neck for now. It looks like we’ll have to work up to your wrists.”
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more self-conscious in my life, but I do as she says, scrunching my eyes shut as I try not to cough at the warm, slightly spicy scent that fills the room.
I wait for the air to settle before I open them again, and when I do, I find Mrs Fallon watching me with a strange look on her face.
“There now,” she says, after a long second. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I hold it out to her wordlessly, but she just flaps her hand at me.
“It’s yours,” she says. “What use do I have for it? Take it.”
“But—”
“It’s a gift! Haven’t you ever gotten a gift before?”
“Not one this nice,” I tell her truthfully, and she doesn’t seem to know what to do with that.
“Well, you might as well go the extra mile if you’re going to risk making a fool of yourself,” she says, a little flustered as I put the bottle back in the box. “Now what?”
She eyes me warily when I turn to her.
