by P. L. Kurup
Turning another corner, her eyes widened as the olive walls stopped at a closed door. Though she moved forward, the only thought on her mind was to get away from that place. Within seconds she stood before a wooden barrier almost twice her height.
“There is nothing to be afraid of,” she told herself.
Amelia thrust open the door and stumbled into a dining room the size of half a football pitch. The walls here were a deep red, and the ceiling adorned with crystal chandeliers. On one end of a long table was a glass of red wine, and a plate of peas, carrots, potatoes and a salmon fillet. She sat at the table and was on the verge of tucking in...
“Are you better now?” someone asked her.
Startled, she knocked over the glass and the wine spilt on the table and dripped on the floor. Amelia looked up and noticed Samuel sitting on the other side. She was certain she didn’t see him when she walked in and quivered at his presence.
“I’m sorry about the wine,” she said softly.
“Don’t worry about it. I can pour you another if you wish,” he said.
“Maybe later... I didn’t see you come in,” she remarked.
“I walk in so slowly I’m often unnoticed.”
She stared at the plate of food with suspicious eyes.
“I promise you it isn’t poisoned,” Samuel joked.
“Aren’t you eating?” Amelia asked.
“I already ate.”
She placed a large portion of fish in her mouth and her tastebuds exploded with many sumptuous flavours.
“This salmon is delicious,” Amelia exclaimed. “Thank you so much, Mr d’Orleans.”
“You may call me Samuel.”
“And you may call me Amelia. So is this your family home?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Then you must be very wealthy. And those men who attacked me. Who were they?”
“They were criminals roaming the streets of this great city. Sadly, that’s one of the downsides of living here,” explained Samuel.
“You remind me of someone,” she said, gawking at him. “It might be a memory of someone.”
“Please eat your food. It took me a while to prepare it.”
She did so and with every bite relished the splendour of the meal. By the end of dinner she felt more at ease with the strange man with an unfathomable European accent.
“It’s French. My accent is French,” he said.
“I went to Paris on a school trip once,” she divulged. “We visited the Eiffel tower, the Louvre, and Notre dame.”
She noticed he shifted at the mention of Notre Dame which suggested he was traumatised by it.
“So how long have you lived in England?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Five years in January,” he answered.
“That would mean you came here when you were nineteen,” she said abruptly.
Before she could pry further she remembered the meeting with the finance secretary the following day.
“I think you should stay here a few more days until you’re fully recovered,” he advised.
“I’m a medical student and I have to go to my lectures,” Amelia insisted.
“It’s not safe for you to leave yet. I would feel a lot better if stayed a while longer,” Samuel said firmly.
“I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me, but I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.”
An uneasy silence followed after which Samuel stood up and said, “Then I wish you a pleasant rest of the day.”
He strode out the room and Amelia shoved her plate away. The meeting with the finance secretary bothered her more than Samuel’s departure as it was certain to end in disaster.
Chapter 8
It was a brusque winter’s day and a bitter wind swirled through the manor forecourt. The ground was covered in a sheath of frost and the manor house sparkled in the early morning sun. Samuel left the manor at dawn and wandered to the side. He knew that Amelia watched him from her bedroom window, but he didn’t acknowledge her as he was still unhappy with her for wanting to leave. When he was sure she couldn’t see him he vanished from sight and reappeared at the top of the mound, a trick all vampires possessed. Hunger tormented him and he required a more substantial meal than the creatures occupying the manor. His senses detected a wild boar a half a mile ahead and he ran its way.
Amelia, meanwhile, changed into her blood-soaked clothes and brushed her long hair using the hairbrush she gave him. She had no idea when he would return and waited for him to come back. All the while her mind entertained the consequences of her meeting with Mrs Baker. Her mind raced through solution after solution until she settled on the most ludicrous idea yet; eliciting Samuel’s help in paying off her debt. It took less than three seconds for her to realise what a ridiculous notion that was.
“I don’t need his permission to leave either.” She giggled.
Not wasting another moment, she took out her mobile phone and dialled a London taxi company.
“Hello, I’m at... I’m at a manor house near London,” she told the dispatcher. “I was wondering if you could pick me up.”
“We can’t send a taxi without the correct address,” the dispatcher stated.
“Actually, I don’t know where I am.” Amelia heard the line disconnect.
She put on her coat, hooked her handbag on her shoulder, walked out of her room, and darted downstairs to reach the giant manor doors. Carefully opening the doors, she stepped out onto the freezing cold courtyard. The two days she spent at the manor made her regain her strength and she no longer felt ill. If anything she felt better than she’d been in months. She brimmed with confidence as she walked out of the manor and gave no thought as to how she’d get home. It was a dingy day without any hint of a sun. The grey atmosphere didn’t dampen her spirits and she walked the quickest pace possible without it turning into a run. She had been marching for half an hour when she heard a car speeding her way. It came from the direction of the manor and she knew that it was him. Her enthusiasm waned and she stopped walking, while her face turned ashen. Soon she saw a grey Mercedes travelling down to her.
“Wonderful,” she grumbled.
The car stopped beside her and Samuel looked out an open car window.
“I was going to give you a lift home,” he said.
“If it’s not too far I’m sure I can walk,” she replied.
“It’s thirty miles from the city and there are no buses nearby,” he informed.
Amelia looked ahead and seeing no signs of life, opened the back door and sat behind him. Samuel said nothing and drove on. She gazed round and noticed the interior had leather seats and was spotless. Her eyes drifted over the car until it reached the part where the rear view mirror should’ve been, but she noticed it was absent. She looked on either side of the car and realised the side mirrors was also missing.
“Do you live all by yourself in that mansion?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“So you don’t have any friends or family?” she pressed again.
“I’m sure there are a few stragglers here and there but nothing more.”
“I want to thank you for taking care of me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I suppose I won’t see you again,” she presumed.
“Probably not,” he answered. “Although I wish you would stay at the manor another week.”
“If I did that I’ll fail my course,” Amelia replied.
The car surged forward and she looked out the window to see the landscape zip by. Samuel manoeuvred the vehicle round tight bends at an absurd pace and she grabbed her seat for safety. I don’t want to die at twenty two, she thought. The car suddenly moved at a more acceptable pace and she mentally thanked him.
“You’re welcome,” he uttered.
Amelia frowned then settled back in her seat and closed her eyes. It seemed she’d only shut her eyes a moment but when she reopened them she saw the familiar front door of her London home. Her body jerke
d at the revelation and she stared at Samuel who sat in the driver’s seat with the engine running.
“You mustn’t exert yourself too much. You’re not well yet,” he said.
“Thanks for the lift, Mr d’Orleans.”
She got out of the car and closed the door. The vehicle zoomed out of sight, and she pouted knowing it was unlikely she’d see him again. Amelia unlocked her front door, burst indoors, and closed it behind her. Her euphoria at being home vanished when she realised she never told Samuel her address.
The flat reeked of bad milk and mouldy bread and her eyes watered in response. Holding her breath, she raced to the kitchen and placed the rotting food into a plastic bag and hurled it into a silver rubbish container.
xxx
As soon as she was settled she did an internet search for Samuel d’Orleans. She found nothing resembling his name and turned off her laptop in disappointment. No sooner had she done so than another thought crossed her mind. That she hadn’t checked her voicemail messages in three days. The very idea made her heart race. Amelia removed her phone from her pocket and retrieved her voicemail. Only one message was on it and when she played it she heard a familiar voice say, “This is a message from Mrs Baker. I have taken the liberty of scheduling a meeting tomorrow at 3pm in my office. I urge you not to miss it.”
She showed no emotion as she’d been expecting the outcome for days. Amelia meandered to her room and looked in the mirror. Her eyes fell on her neck and she saw the stitched up wound for the first time. She grabbed a pair of scissors from her dressing table and snipped the twisting bits of cotton, then carefully removed the bits of thread. When all the stitches were removed she noticed the scars resembled human teeth.
Chapter 9
Amelia walked the narrow corridors of her university thinking about the bizarre few days she spent in Samuel’s company. Despite saying her goodbyes, she felt an inexplicable feeling she would see him again. She arrived late at university meaning she had to walk amongst the hundreds of students making their way to the lecture. She entered the lecture hall which was warmer than usual. Being the last lecture before Christmas break, the students were full of laughter and joviality. Many wore Santa caps and tinsel in their hair and Adrian gave out heaps of mince pies. Amelia made her way up the tall set of stairs, but her favourite seat was taken by a couple she’d spoken to once in her five years of study. She wanted to sit there desperately, but knew the seat was by no means her solemn right. So she took a seat three rows down and in the corner. Professor Stevens came in shortly after and she opened her notebook ready to write down everything the wise teacher said. The Professor wore his customary shabby suit covered in chalk, and unlike his students, he appeared grim and preoccupied. His grey eyes moved to Amelia’s customary seat.
“Has anyone seen Amelia Thorpe?” he asked not finding her there.
“I’m over here,” Amelia yelled out with a grin.
Professor Stevens found her in the third row and gave her a worried look.
“I haven’t seen you in days. Are you well?” he enquired.
“I had a cold but I’m alright,” Amelia answered.
“Amelia, I’m afraid I some bad news,” he said. The room shuffled at the statement and Amelia braced herself for the worst piece of news she could receive. “Mrs Baker has informed me that since your last two fee instalments haven’t been paid you’re not permitted to attend anymore lectures or tutorials.”
His words cut through her like a blunt knife and she saw Priti Patel smirking at her misfortune while Adrian faced the front. Amelia was desperate for him to give her some comfort but he said nothing. She rose from her seat and trudged down the stairs with her head bowed. On her way out she heard several snide comments but ignored them.
Reaching the corridor, she leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths. A group of doctors in white coats passed by and she watched them knowing that would never be her destiny. She checked her watch and saw it had gone ten am. The three o’ clock meeting with Caroline Baker was too far away as she needed a solution at once. Amelia regained her confidence and strolled into the university car park. The finance building was a quarter mile away and she walked the short distance to the dull grey door. She barged in without knocking and saw Mrs Baker sitting at her desk.
“When I said three pm I expect you to turn up at a few minutes before three not five hours before,” said Mrs Baker.
“I came to ask if I can have a three month extension,” Amelia asked boldly.
“No. The plain fact is you are two months in arrears and need to pay the full amount forthwith,” Mrs Baker stated.
“Can I pay in instalments?” Amelia begged again. “If I can somehow pay a small amount every month.”
“The only way you can regain your student status is by paying the outstanding £9000 you owe us. Now stop wasting my time,” Mrs Baker said.
Amelia stepped out of the room and marched back into the university building. Sidestepping the hordes of people heading her way, she reached a large notice board with part time jobs on it. She searched every inch of board space and came across everything from waitressing to babysitting jobs but none that paid £9000 per month.
“Damn it,” she yelled.
She strode out of the university and stood on the pavement where her dilemma appeared three times worse than it was ten minutes ago.
“What am I going to do?” she voiced aloud.
The traffic passed in front of her and while gaping at the other side of the road she spotted a young woman smiling at her. An entourage of buses and cars streamed by and the woman vanished from sight. Amelia dismissed the incident and wandered down the pavement. Her walk was stilted and her face had paled since her meeting with Mrs Baker. She ambled for miles and came to a part of London lined with shops displaying clothes too expensive for her purse. She was in an unfamiliar precinct where millionaires resided. Her drab coat and unkempt hair made her a target for local onlookers. She was too preoccupied to notice them and negotiated junctions as if she’d lived there for years. The last turning brought her to a fashionable street flanked with sweeping willow trees and five storey Edwardian villas. Her footsteps faltering she headed toward the most expansive dwelling there; a mansion three quarters the size of Samuel’s property.
She threw open the wooden gate, trudged to the front door and rang the doorbell. Not getting a reply right away, she rang it three more times in quick succession. The door opened and her face frowned at a well-dressed butler stood before her.
“My name is Amelia Thorpe and I would like to speak to Adrian,” she said fearlessly.
“The family are at dinner, Miss. But you may wait in the foyer until they’re finished,” the butler replied.
Amelia walked into a foyer with shiny marble floors and expensive paintings on the walls. The butler shut the door and walked through an arched entranceway. Her body ached with tiredness but there was nowhere to sit. The grandfather clock struck six pm, leading her to guess she had to wait at least an hour to see Adrian.
Time passed and she leaned against the beige walls arms and yawned a few times a minute. Seventy five minutes later Adrian entered the foyer through the arched entranceway and approached her.
“My butler told me you wanted to see me,” Adrian said with no regard to how long she’d been waiting.
“Didn’t he tell you I was waiting?” Amelia asked.
“Yes, but I was at dinner,” answered Adrian. “Why are you here?”
“I was wondering if you could loan me some money for the fees and I’ll pay you back in the summer,” she mumbled.
“Don’t you have family who can lend you the money?” he enquired.
“I don’t have any family.”
“Then what about taking a loan from your bank?” he suggested.
“I don’t have a job and I don’t have any collateral. If there was anyone else I could ask I wouldn’t be here,” Amelia divulged.
A lengthy silence followed where s
he noticed Adrian thinking about what she asked for and her eyes lit up with expectation.
“I can’t loan you any money,” Adrian told her. “There’s a good chance you won’t pay me back.”
“I thought you liked me,” Amelia said. “I thought you...”
“I like you very much, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to pay for you to stay at university. You have to find a solution on you own.”
Amelia crossed the foyer, opened the front door, and stepped into the bitter cold street. Before long, she heard Adrian slamming the door behind her eliminating every last shred of hope.
Chapter 10
Amelia walked home with Adrian’s words ringing in her ears. It had been a hellish day and all she wanted was to return to her flat make herself a cup of hot chocolate and climb into bed. She would pay her hefty university bill over the Christmas holidays, a season she hated for the loneliness it offered her year upon year. Christmas at the orphanage was no less depressing as the establishment lacked presents, palatable food and general good cheer.
As she trudged down the pavement a smattering of snow cascaded from above and settled in her hair and clothes. The weather was not threatening enough for her to seek shelter and she pressed on. By the time she approached Euston tube station the benign snowfall transformed into a full blown blizzard that threw down sheets of snow onto an unsuspecting city. A group of commuters gathered near a locked tube entrance and Amelia huddled between a man in a suit and a woman carrying a Dachshund under her arm.