✔ Mrs Mandray

36. Crushing Hope

Isabella

Oliver had been eyeing her curiously all morning. She knew it was because of the extra bounce in her step but she paid the young boy no mind. He was happier today as well- even if he was content to just stay in his room all morning with the wooden soldiers.

She found herself humming jovially, munching on the left over berry pie Cassian made while making a pot of stew to simmer until Tomas' arrival in the evening. It was wonderful last night. Isabella had almost thought it a dream until she had spied the decoration hanging before her window.

Four ceramics hung from the small kitchen window (Isabella had winced at that number) there was a star painted blue with Oliver's name adorning the centre; a love heart in shades of purple with an elegant 'i' that mimicked the fancy title letters from the start of fantasy tales; a green circle hung with a questionably half hearted T that she tried to ignore; but it was the small bat that hung next to Oliver's star.

Her husband would pass it off as Ollie's batbat but Isabella's heart had clenched at the sight. At the little red details following the wing's trim. For a moment it had guilt gnawing at her stomach, as if Tomas would walk in and know who she had allowed into her home.

But it had brought her comfort. She stared at it even now, hours after she had woken up. It was like a promise, a reminder of hope. Isabella knew her gaze would no doubt be drifting to the bat all day. It was such a sweet temptation, the memories of Cassian making decorations with her son too sweet and happy for her to pass up on.

When the house was tidied up and the stew on Isabella called for her son. She had just finished lacing her boots when he came stumbling into her, giggling in delight as wisp buzzed around his head.

"What are you two up to?" She teased, a grin tugging at her lips.

"Nothing." Far too innocent. Not believable with those round eyes and little pout staring up at her. "We were just playing."

"MmHmm." She agreed, narrowing her eyes and he nibbled on his lip.

Thankfully his apparent guilt meant that Ollie had no complaints about putting on his boots and wrapping the cloak Nesta gifted him around his small shoulders. It was only when he tottered to his feet that Isabella stepped forward. He had forgotten his shoelaces.

"Thanks Mummy." He trilled sweetly hugging her where she remained crouched at his height.

"You're welcome, Ollie."

Ushering Oliver out the door Isabella quickly grabbed her bag laden with books from the kitchen table, hastily remembering to grab her home key. She knew no one would break into the Mandray's everyone in the village knows that no one around here has anything of worth but-

But the thought of leaving Grandfather Mandray open access to her home grated on her nerves. He had stopped coming over, choosing to do the accounts from his son's home instead of grandson's. Isabella swore she could still feel his gaze burning into her back at night.

He had been part of the Witch Trial some 60 years ago and never lost that bitter suspicious rage.

Isabella's gaze darted to where the man in question was slowly shovelling snow away from the drive. He still had some strength in his frail body for sure. Isabella hastily stumbled forward when she realised his gaze was pinned to Oliver's back as he poked at the icicles dangling from their broken garden fence.

She shuffled her son away from the fence, feeling the man's attention burning against the back of her head as the sound of shifting snow cut out.

"Nice wreath." He mumbles and she froze in place, tightening her grip on Oliver's hand. "Didn't see you collecting any twigs on your last walk."