Awoken

Chapter 4

The smell of breakfast cooking enticed me from my bed. I dragged myself to the bathroom and forced myself to smile in the mirror in a dismal attempt to improve my mood. After I had scraped my hair into a messy ponytail and applied some concealer to hide the bags under my eyes, I picked up the clothes littering the floor and re-arranged the flowers in the vase. Guilt gnawed at my insides as I thought of the time Mrs Petrie must have spent carefully placing each flower and now they were a mess.

The little bed and breakfast looked much less foreboding in the light of day. Gone were the long shadows and with it most of my fear. It helped that I could hear other guests milling about. At least if I were to be attacked there were people to witness and hopefully help.

The breakfast room was surprisingly modern; wooden floors, a black, marble-effect breakfast bar laden with different cereals and small, round glass tables for the guests.

I sat myself at the wide window, watching as a bird frolicked in the strategically placed bird bath. Even in the midst of winter the couple had managed to maintain a pretty garden; the grass and hedgerow were neatly trimmed. I knew that in the summer the plant beds would be teaming with flowers.

Mrs Petrie appeared at my side, making me jump with her sudden presence.

“How are you this morning dear? You sleep alright?” she asked brightly.

“I’m fine thanks,” I said, testing out my smile. I doubted it looked genuine, but at least I was trying.

“Did you manage to get everything sorted? With the phone call?” she enquired politely.

“Yes, thanks. My flat got broken into,” I answered, hoping the brief explanation would be enough, “Sorry you were hassled with answering it so late,” I tagged on, remembering to be polite.

“Oh you poor thing, and don’t you worry about it, happy I could help. Now, what can I get you for breakfast petal?” She asked whilst fishing out a small notepad from her apron pocket.

I ordered a coffee, hoping it was filter rather than instant and scrambled egg and bacon.

Mr Petrie appeared in the doorway carrying a plate of cooked breakfast for another guest. His wife waddled away to hand over the order.

“You’ll never guess George, that poor lass, the one with the unusual eyes, her house was robbed!” she exclaimed eagerly.

As for the remark about my unusual eyes, I was used to it being the feature people noticed about me first. Not many people can boast about having full heterochromia, and mine was particularly striking. My left eye was a clear, light blue, the right a mix of hazel and green. It was a trait that ran on my dad’s side of the family. 

Mrs Petrie returned with a steaming mug of coffee, placing it down with a little jug of cream.

“I was wondering if you could help me?” I asked, making her turn back.

“Of course,” she smiled as she looked around to make sure no one else needed attention.

“I need to go into town, is there a local bus?” I asked.

She rattled off a list of bus times and I jotted them down in my note book.

“I was also wondering if you could tell me the whereabouts of the nearest funeral director?”

Her smile faded, making her jowls sag, “Oh, my poor dear. Have you lost someone?” she asked, placing a chubby hand on my shoulder.

“My dad. He lived not far from here. Michael Brown?”

“Oh my goodness. That poor soul. The incident has been the talk of the village. Sorry, that is incredibly insensitive of me. If there is anything we can do?”