blinding; an e. o'connor short story

chapter vii; the killing of a. e. portman

Tuesday, 7th June 2011

I shifted on the sofa. Grandpa Portman had said he wanted me to meet someone. A friend of his apparently. So that's what we were waiting for. The friend. He said she had a long way to come, she lived somewhere in Canada for all I knew. Grandpa Portman shuffled around the house, getting our old tea cups out of a cupboard, boiling hot water. He'd told me the lady was one of the former inhabitants of the home he stayed at when he was younger, although they didn't stay there at the same time. The doorbell rung and Grandpa rushed to get it. Just when I was expecting him to walk into the living room with an old lady about his age the actual visitor turned out to be a young girl not much older than me. She wore old-fashioned clothes like you sometimes see in those black and white films.

"You must be Jacob! I've heard a lot about you. I'm Robyn," the girl, Robyn, said with a British accent .

I nodded and shook her outstretched hand, raising an eyebrow at Grandpa Portman. He just smiled and motioned for Robyn to take a seat beside me.

"How have you been? Well, I hope."

"Oh yes, just fine. I very recently received a letter from Enoch, Emma and Miss Peregrine. They've all been well, too. Well, you know how they are, nothing ever changes for them as much any more as it does for us."

They laughed together and he offered her a cup of tea, which she gladly accepted. I took the opportunity to ask something as well, "So, you're from Britain, right? An exchange student? Or are you an intern at my Grandpa's old people meet up place?"

"'Old people meet up place'? I'm assuming you're reffering to his bingo evenings? If so, terribly sorry to disappoint but I'm not. I've known Abe for quite a while now," she answered solemnly, although it was almost impossible that it was actually true. Who in the world befriends people eighty years older than them? Grandpa Portman returned with a cup of tea for her and set it down on the table.

"So tell me, has Enoch proposed?", Grandpa asked her, an excited, almost childish look on his face.

"Abe! You know very well we can't do that. I've not been home in the last forty years of our relationship! Also, imagine telling that to Miss Peregrine. She would be out of her mind."

Forty years? She was sixteen or seventeen at best. And proposing? Wasn't she a little young to get married? Not that I was judging, but this was actually insane. She was insane. And Grandpa seemed to actually believe the things she was saying. Which was only adding to the continuously growing list of why my Grandpa was officially getting old.

"Jacob, I hear you don't believe in any of Abraham's stories any more? How very sad. Well, you'll know better in no time," Robyn stated and gave Grandpa a nod while smiling into her tea cup.

The madness and rambling continued for a while and eventually she left again, never to be heard of afterwards. It wasn't until a few months after that I discovered Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children and met her again, only this time I believed her.

author's note: short short short first new chapter but i'm slowly but surely getting to it!