‘I don’t think I’d make a very good parent.’
‘Why do you think that?’
I scoffed. ‘I am not exactly the nurturing type. Not like Jack. He wants to help people.’
‘Yes, that’s what most Healers want. It’s in our nature, you know? To take care of others.’
‘Is Jaime like that, too?’ I asked.
Mrs. Greenwood considered this for a moment. ‘It’s hard to say at his age … he is still a boy, after all.’
I left it at that. It was clear that Mrs. Greenwood did not want to answer the question. Once again, she was looking out of the window as if waiting for something.
It was getting late, and the sun had set. Mr. Greenwood and Jaime were still not home yet, though Mrs. Greenwood did not seem fazed by this. She cooked dinner but laid the table for three people.
‘Won’t your husband or son want something to eat when they get home?’ I asked.
She didn’t answer and just hummed while she served the beef stew.
‘You must be tired, Dear,’ said Mrs. Greenwood around seven o’clock that evening.
It was still early in the night, but my eyes felt very heavy. Perhaps the poor sleep from the previous night had caught up with me.
At that moment, we heard a noise from downstairs; the jingling of keys, and the sound of a door being unlocked, followed by a tinkling bell.
‘Oh!’ Mrs. Greenwood jumped up from the sofa. ‘That will be Jack! Sorry, senior, I mean.’
Mrs. Greenwood rushed to the landing and quickly descended the steps at top speed. What an unusual way to greet her husband, I thought.
I could hear their voices in the shop downstairs, whispering and muttering to one another.
It was obvious that Mrs. Greenwood was telling her husband that I was here. I cringed internally. Surely Mr. Greenwood must have seen the posters with my face on it. What would he say when he saw me? Perhaps he would throw me out.
But Mrs. Greenwood had said that it was in a Healer's nature to care for others. Perhaps this was the safest place I could be right now.
I crept across the landing and tried to listen to what the couple was saying. Their voices were muffled, but I caught a few words.
‘If we can keep her here until they arrive-’ Mrs. Greenwood was saying urgently.
‘We can’t do that, Caroline. I won’t have it.’
‘Jack, there might not be another way-’
‘I don’t care. I’ll tell her, Carol. Don’t make me-’
I heard footsteps on the staircase and quickly resumed my place on the sofa. So, by the sound of it, Mr. Greenwood was not comfortable having me in the house. It looked like he was going to ask me to leave.
I stood up as Mr. and Mrs. Greenwood entered the sitting room, smiles plastered to their faces.
‘Hello, Avalon,’ said Mr. Greenwood, crossing the threshold and kissing me on the cheek.
‘Hello, Mr. Greenwood.’
‘It’s lovely to see you again.’ His eyes narrowed on my neck, his pupils dilated. ‘Well, isn’t that a lovely necklace?’
Mr. Greenwood pointed to the locket around my neck. I’d almost forgotten I was wearing it.
‘Oh.’ I raised my hand and touched it lightly. ‘You recognize it?’
Mr. Greenwood looked puzzled. ‘No. Should I?’
‘Yes … um, Jack gave it to me,’ I said. I didn’t want to say the obvious; that it had belonged to his dead wife.
I felt guilty as Mr. Greenwood stared at the locket. ‘It looks very nice on you,’ he said, with a smile.
‘Thank you.’
I didn’t want to be a burden on the Greenwoods. Perhaps it was best if I left before they asked me to leave.
‘Carol, won’t you heat up my dinner for me?’ asked Mr. Greenwood.
Mrs. Greenwood teetered for a moment, looking as though she didn’t want to leave the two of us alone. Her eyes darted between us, and she opened her mouth to speak, yet no sound came out. Changing her mind, she closed her mouth and whisked herself away.
‘Look, I know I’ve put you in an awkward position,’ I said, wringing my hands together. ‘I’ll get out of your hair, I promise.’
Mr. Greenwood frowned. ‘Don’t be silly. You need to stay here, where it is safe.’
‘But I thought-’ I paused, slightly confused.
‘So, you think Jack will be here in a couple of days, then?’ Mr. Greenwood interrupted my train of thought.
‘Oh … yes, well … I couldn’t think of anywhere else he might go,’ I said, sheepishly.
Mr. Greenwood looked over his shoulder to make sure his wife was not eavesdropping.
‘Look, Avalon, I know you are in a spot of trouble. I’ve seen the posters in town-’
‘I know … I’m sorry.’ I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for.
‘You aren’t safe here,’ he continued, checking over his shoulder again. He bent down and whispered urgently in my ear. ‘You don’t know who you can trust.’
‘I can trust your son,’ I said. ‘Jack would never-’
‘I don’t mean Jack,’ Mr. Greenwood said, gripping my shoulder. ‘But you can’t-’