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Matthew wanted to feel relieved. Death was back in its cage. Back behind the wall. But he couldn’t.
The grounds had been drained of colour. Most of the grass on the estate had withered to brittle yellow-grey, and the gardens his family had spent decades tending were dead. Maintaining the grounds had been the one thing he could still do to keep his childhood home intact. Now the wall, the house, and the gardens were all in ruin.
They would fix everything. But not today.
After he rested he could make a plan.
The house was filthy. Dust coated every surface, thick enough to dull the furniture beneath it. Hannah would deal with it eventually, but that didn’t stop the sight of it from draining him further.
He didn’t complain when Edger told him to sit down. He didn’t complain when everyone else decided to go to sleep even though the sun had just risen. He stayed alone in the lounge, staring at nothing, waiting for enough energy to return for him to move again. Or for someone else to come downstairs and give him a reason to.
To get rid of everything dead. Bring in fresh soil. Order sod. Buy more rose bushes.
He needed some help. He couldn’t deny it. Some moments he could function. Others he could barely stay standing. Olivia was 14 and everything would just be too much for Edger by himself. When he was finally able to stand again, he would ask Edger to go into town and put a notice in the paper.
Matthew didn’t realize how long he’d been staring at the floor until he heard movement in the hallway.
Hannah.
She moved slowly, one hand braced against the wall as she crossed into the lounge. Her exhaustion showed in every step, but she still carried a rag and a bucket of water.
Matthew watched her stare at the dust coating the shelves before quietly beginning to wipe them down.
“You should rest some more,” he said, though the words came out weak.
Hannah only shrugged.
“Someone needs to clean the kitchen.”
The rag dragged across the wood in slow, uneven strokes.
A while later, lighter footsteps padded down the stairs.
Olivia emerged in an orange dress, slightly too big for her. Probably one of Grace’s. She paused when she saw Hannah cleaning.
Then, without a word, she picked up another cloth from the bucket.
Olivia looked exhausted too, but there was still determination in her face. Not fear. Not defeat. Something quieter. Something steadier.
Like she believed the house could still become a home again.
Matthew felt something loosen painfully in his chest.
The thought should have comforted him.
Instead, it only made him feel more tired.
Because now rebuilding felt possible.
And at Gallant, possible meant inevitable.