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Flo Bones didn't like people and, the way her life had turned out, who could blame her. There was only a handful of people she tolerated, only one she would call a friend.
And she didn't think she was going to have him for much longer.
Anthony Lockwood’s downward spiral had straightened out into a nosedive and there was nothing Flo could do. Should she tell him the world would get brighter? That his family still watched over him? He would not believe her - her world was as dark as his.
But Flo couldn’t bury him. She wouldn’t be able to bear it. Lockwood was her oldest friend. He was her only friend. She couldn’t watch them lower his coffin into the family plot, couldn’t see his name carved into the stone below Jessica’s.
But if she wasn’t there, there would be no one to bear witness to him finally being laid to rest.
As Flo headed toward 35 Portland Row, she couldn’t help but think their situation was almost laughable. The fears she had for Lockwood were best shared with a friend, a friend who would be able to support her in trying to handle the situation, and yet the only friend she had was the one she was scared of. And Lockwood couldn’t know. To him it would just be further proof that he was a burden, that he was not capable of doing anything good.
Lockwood was heading down the street just as Flo reached the end. He looked exhausted as he often did, face drawn and gaunt. He wasn’t eating. Again.
Flo thought about calling DEPRAC but what would they do? Lockwood wasn’t an agent. He’d not been part of an agency since Nigel’s death. He’d been offered a job by Fittes. He’d torn up the form they’d passed him and Flo had cheered him on for that. Best to leave the agent game.
She’d not realised that being an agent was the only reason Lockwood had kept going. It gave his life meaning. It would give his death meaning.
Flo prepared to go up to him, get herself invited inside. She was not a good cook but she knew enough to make a sandwich. She’d get him to give her some change so that she could buy him that pulpy orange juice he so loved. Vitamins. That was what Lockwood needed, to stop him from looking like he was already dead.
And if able to sense eyes on him, Lockwood turned. Flo instinctively ducked into hiding, wanting to reveal herself in her own time, when she had worked out what to say to him. But Lockwood’s eyes never passed over where she was. His gaze moved down the street to where a boy in a Fittes uniform was hurrying toward him.
Flo’s eyes played over him suspiciously. Lockwood and Fittes had never gotten along and it had only gotten worse when Lockwood had humiliated their fencing champion at a tournament. They made a point of going after him whenever they could.
“I’m not inviting you in,” Lockwood called down the street.
“From the state of you, I’d get tetanus from stepping inside,” the Fittes boy remarked.
Flo couldn’t help but grin at the deadpan comment. Lockwood glowered.
“Just leave me alone,” he grumbled, turning back to let himself in the house.
He immediately dropped his keys and tangled his rapier up in his great coat as he knelt down to pick them up.
“You’re clearly not part of an agency,” the Fittes boy said, coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps. “And I looked you up. You’re not a registered freelancer. It means you’re operating without a licence. Illegally.”
That gave Lockwood pause.
He turned, staring down at the Fittes boy. Flo prepared to… do something. She wasn’t about to let some stuck-up Fittes brat blackmail Locky. Lockwood didn’t deserve it.
“What do you want, Karim?” Lockwood snarled.
His hand settled on his rapier, threateningly. Flo couldn’t help but be reminded of a cornered stray dog bearing its teeth at anyone who came close.
“Modern Treatises on Psychic Phenomena.”
“What?”
“It’s a book,” the Fittes boy, Karim, answered, unperturbed by the venom in Lockwood’s tone. “Your mother referenced it in her final book and I have been told your parents had a very extensive library. I just need to look at a chapter.”
“You did all this for a book?” Lockwood said.
Anger had melted away into incredulity. Flo was glad. Lockwood didn’t talk about his parents. If she so much as referenced the people he had lost he shut down all discussion, put up walls. Even if he was going to argue about his parents, it was progress.
Lockwood sighed.
“I probably have it,” he said. “But the library is…”
He trailed off.
Karim nodded. He moved up the steps.
“I am an expert in libraries.”
Flo watched the house intensely. She couldn’t see the library from the front of the house and she considered letting herself in, hiding away somewhere where she could monitor the situation. But a few hours later, Lockwood was at the curtains of the sitting room, opening them for what might have been the first time in weeks. He coughed at the dust that the movement stirred up, blinking rapidly. A moment later Karim was beside him, holding a stack of books. He seemed to be asking Lockwood a question, one Lockwood didn’t know the answer to. Unsatisfied, Karim turned away, disappearing from view. But Flo’s eyes were fixed onto Lockwood. He stared after the Fittes boy, as if he had no idea of what to make of him, no idea about what he was even doing letting the young man into his house.
And then he disappeared from view.
Flo lingered. She didn’t know why. Karim just didn’t seem the type to rob anyone, let alone Lockwood. An hour passed and Flo wondered if she should just let herself into the house anyway. And then Karim emerged. She couldn’t help but notice though that he had shed his rapier belt and was holding a small piece of paper. He walked over to Arif’s shop, disappearing inside.
When he returned, he carried two bags of shopping. Flo studied them, seeing that they were groceries - simple stuff that anyone could cook. He hurried back up to Lockwood’s door, knocking loudly. The door opened mere seconds later, Lockwood standing there. Karim pulled something from the top of one of the bags.
Lockwood arched an eyebrow.
“Biscuits for that cup of tea you promised me two hours ago,” he said. “And some meals because I’m worried you’re about to keel over.”
“You’d better be careful, George, people might actually think we’re friends.”
“They wouldn’t if they saw the state of this place,” Karim remarked as Lockwood moved out of the way to let him in.
And as the Fittes boy disappeared down the hallway, Flo saw a smile, a genuine happy smile, play over Lockwood’s face. It seemed to take him a moment to notice what he was doing and soon the happiness was replaced with shock.
But it had been there.
Flo grinned.
“George Karim, you miracle worker.”