23
“Number Seven, hey,” said Mrs Careen as she laid a bowl of mushroom soup before the boy with three thick slices of bread on the side of the plate the bowl stood on. Calum had never been in Mrs Careen’s house before, but it was beautiful, and the food smelt incredible. He dipped a corner of his bread in it. His head leant back as he swallowed it. His mind immediately raced ahead to whether he’d be allowed to ask for seconds.
“Been a long while since I’ve seen Mr Armitage speak to our neighbour,” she continued, “did he mention why?”
“No,” replied Calum - “he just told me to help myself to some dinner and head to bed. Thanks for calling out to us, and offering me food - this is delicious!” Calum was quietly pleased with that line. Laying the groundwork for seconds. Then his curiosity reached its hand through his oncoming satiety and asked -
“Why do you think he went to Number Seven?”
Mrs Careen had no answer for the boy. The obvious reason, and the one she offered, was that it must have been simply to check in, inform their neighbour of what happened yesterday and to let them know if he needs anything. You know - community sticking together in a crisis - that sort of thing. But she knew something of the history that the two of them shared. Though it angered and sickened her, it wasn’t she that Mr Armitage would call on in a crisis, it was him.
Calum could tell she was not telling him what she knew, and that she had suspicions about their meeting. He had to choose between finding out what he could and pushing for seconds. He slowed down his last few mouthfuls to savour it as he asked -
“Why do we never see the neighbour at Number Seven?”
“I don’t think you want to know too much about our neighbour, Calum.”
“I do, I do want to know, Mrs Careen - why does he never leave?”
“Calum, I don’t want to speak out of turn - it’s very much between the two of them. But I’ll tell you this before you get ready to sleep, it's as with most things around here, many things changed when Mr Armitage’s girls went missing.”
“Number Seven changed?” the boy replied.
“Yes,” she continued - “very much so.”
He pushed - “changed how?”
The boy was earnest, not prying. He had intuited what she already knew, that the girl's hands were marking all their lives, still, that they lingered even as overseers of the terror in the bloody diamond. She prized the earnest above all virtues. It was what she loved most in Mr Armitage. He was rubbing off on the boy more than even she’d realised.
He finished his last spoon of soup, supposing he’d not get anything more from Mrs Careen, and was about to stand up and get ready to sleep. But she had stood and turned to the kettle, deeming the lad deserving of a little more of what she knew.
“Tea before bed, lad?” She asked.
Calum knew he’d won her over and prayed he’d learn more from his chosen second guardian - one that could actually cook. He followed her outstretched hand and moved to the armchair behind him that it pointed to. He sat down.
“The three sisters weren’t born to Mr Armitage,” she said as the kettle began whistling.