Chapter Text
Illustration by @skemcesisetlt on Instagram
This is not the weekend Izzy Hands would wish for himself –not even for his worst enemies. But he knew that a man’s worth was measured by his ability to deal with difficult situations. So he showed up with a steely determination to get this done, beating life at its silly little games.
The man parked his vintage motorbike in front of a house in this residential area in London. Before he got off, he took off his helmet and spit on the ground –the bitter taste in his mouth must be due to stress. But he did not think he was stressing out over this matter. Or even if he did … well, who would not?
When he rang the bell near the door, he immediately heard the voice of a woman from the inside of the house, followed by dragging footsteps. It took a moment until the door was finally opened, and when it did, he instantly recognised the old lady standing before him.
“Israel,” she greeted him. Her smile was akin to someone who had not seen a beloved nephew or grandson for a while. “Welcome.”
“Good morning, Mrs Gundry.”
“Please, come in.”
The old lady used a cane to help her walk; no wonder it took her forever to welcome her guest. Izzy followed her patiently as she hobbled into the dining room at the back of the house. After allowing him to sit at the dining table, she tried to prepare tea for him, but Izzy stopped her. He got up and asked her to point where the teabags were and turned on the stove to prepare the hot water.
While doing all this, Izzy glanced at the nearby refrigerator and noticed the drawings pinned on it. They were drawn using crayons, obviously the work of a child. But the composition and the colour coordination indicated a child who was very talented in drawing. However, despite his momentary fixation, Izzy said nothing of them. Especially since the tea was ready to be served.
“It’s been a long time since I last saw you,” Mrs Gundry said after receiving her cup.
“Indeed.” Izzy returned to his seat. “Anyway, I … I’m so sorry about Karen. I wish I had known about it sooner.”
Mrs Gundry muttered her gratitude, but it seemed like she did not wish to talk about those who had departed. “I remember you planned to attend art school when we last met. That must be close to 30 years ago! Did you manage to go?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Excellent. So are you an artist now?”
The enthusiasm in her green eyes made Izzy think of the past –she and Karen were so similar. Unfortunately, he was not here to get all nostalgic, so the man cleared his throat and forced a polite smile. “I’d like to think so. But I believe we have a more urgent matter to discuss.”
If Mrs Gundry was offended by his interruption, she did not show it. Instead, the old lady laid her hand on an envelope on the table and pushed it towards him. When Izzy tore the envelope open, the first thing he noticed was certainly the letter. Then came the ring –an antique one with a tiny green stone on it– that he recognised instantly.
With the ring on his palm, the man read the letter carefully, going through some parts more than once. There were points where his eyes widened at the mention of something in the letter, but he continued reading in silence. Until he got to the end of it and was no longer able to contain his emotion.
His face was so red with anger that he might as well flip the table in front of him. Luckily, Mrs Gundry had anticipated this reaction. “Do you have any questions?”
“Plenty of them.” Izzy tried to force a smile. “But first, I need to make it clear to you. I need all the information I can get regarding this matter. Before I can make any decision.”
Mrs Gundry nodded. “I understand.”
“And that includes evidence.”
“I know.”
Izzy slapped the table. “How come no one has ever told me about this?”
For a moment, Mrs Gundry looked as if she would join him in ranting about the whole situation. But instead, the old lady shut her mouth and came up with a completely different proposition. “Would you like to see her?”
Izzy was taken aback. “She’s here?”
“Where else would she be?”
There were no more words said as the two got up from the table –Mrs Gundry did it with so much difficulty that Izzy had to hold her hands for a moment. As soon as she was ready, she brought him to a small corridor that led to different rooms in the house. Stopping at the one nearest to them, the old lady nodded at Izzy before she pushed it open. With the door half-opened, Mrs Gundry peeked into the room and started to talk to the person inside. Izzy was not able to see what was going on, but he was able to listen to the conversation (“Darling, there’s someone here who’d like to see you.”). Meanwhile, he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts, distracting from the feelings that were growing stronger by the moment …
“Israel.”
“Oh?”
“She’s ready for you.” Mrs Gundry stepped away from the door to allow Izzy to walk in. With a nod, Izzy muttered his gratitude and entered the room, facing the person who had been in his mind for the past few days.
The little girl could not possibly be older than seven. She wore a yellow summer dress that was quite typical of children of her age, but she let her dark hair loose on her shoulders without any colourful pins or bands to adorn it.
She was sitting comfortably on the bed; there was a storybook laid open on her lap. She had been reading when Mrs Gundry interrupted her, but she showed no signs of annoyance. She remained calm as she stared at the man in the doorway, waiting for him to say something and break the silence.
When their eyes met, Izzy felt captivated by the two dark-coloured orbs gazing back at him with no sign of hesitation –let alone fear.
And that was how he knew.
He may not have the evidence yet. But deep in his heart, the man just knew.