Healing - Book One

sixteen

Raindrops travel in little streams down the window. The sky above is dark and foreboding: not the perfect wedding weather. My head vibrates against the train window as I lean against it. Beside me, Horace and Jake are engaged in a game of cards. On the seat opposite, Emma is the only barrier separating the snoozing Enoch and the scorned Olive. She draws in a sketchbook, her hands float across the paper in airy curves as she sketches.

In my hands I clutch October's Vogue magazine which I purchased from the railway station's newsagents. Intently, I read every word of each article to pass the time, however I cannot shake off Olive's obviously angry stare. Her piercing orbs squint at me aggressively from across the passenger car. However, I try to bury my nose back into the magazine whenever I happen to catch her eye.

Nobody is quite awake yet, but by approximately 10 o'clock - after almost four hours of travelling - conversation begins to trickle into the confined air of the room. With the exclusion of a very irritable Olive, we enthusiastically discuss the wedding for the remainder of the long journey into Oxford. Between contributing to the conversation, I gradually begin to recognise my surroundings as we get closer and closer to the city. At the very end of the journey, pulling into Oxford station, I stare out of the train window with a sense of pride at arriving back in my hometown.

It's only when the group congregates outside that I truly get a sense of what is happening tomorrow. Three automobiles adorned with white ribbon are parked outside. From the leading vehicle emerges two familiar faces. One is Oliver, in the daylight I can see more wrinkles wiggling their way across his features. The other is, to my joy, Aggie. Her hair is admittedly in rollers and not a scrap of makeup is present on her face, yet she still looks like my beautiful aunt I know and love.

"Violet!" She exclaims, trotting towards me and enveloping me in her arms. She smells like what can only be described as fresh linen and her cheeks are rosy and glowing. "How are you my darling. I'm so glad you're here!" Her eyes sparkle as she pulls away and holds me near - until her attention turns to the others.

Aggie and Miss Peregrine embrace each other tightly, then each of my housemates in turn. I look on from behind; Oliver sidles past me and smirks - a look which I find odd.

All of us are piled into the cars with all of our luggage. Needless to say, it's a bit of a squeeze. Miss Peregrine and I are invited into the rear of the leading car in order to catch up with Aggie. Despite this, I feel bad for leaving Enoch alone with Olive and the younger ones.

The drive seems shorter back to the village than when we drove to the train station what feels like years ago, when it's actually less than one month later. Oliver and his possé drop us off at the smart hotel on the outskirts of town which I had always heard my mother enthuse about when I lived at home.

The gravel crunches underneath the wheels as the automobile pulls up before the enormous oak doors. A red velvet cord tied between brass poles mark the entryway up the stone steps. I look up at the magnificent piece of architecture in awe: I watch as my housemates react similarly while they exit their particular vehicles with their belongings. As I suspected, in pure coincidence, the two feuding parties get out of the same car, not once looking at each other.

Aggie takes my arm while we lead the way into the hotel. A doorman opens up the entrance and we are presented with a lush, marble-clad reception room, the centrepiece being an enormous crystal chandelier which hangs low above crimson velour sofas.

While I admire the beauty of the place I feel a tiny hand slip into mine. Bronwyn has appeared by my side, her tiny mouth hangs open at all this luxury which none of us appear to have been exposed to before.

"Oliver paid for our rooms here." Aggie addresses the group, her voice bubbling with excitement.

"I think three or so to a suite would be sufficient." Miss Peregrine finishes, dropping her suitcase to the floor, where a porter snaffles it up and hauls it onto a brass trolley which matches the poles at the entrance.

Miss Peregrine selects Emma, Olive and I to be in the same bedroom. Emma and me exchange warm smiles, however when I attempt the same gesture with Olive, all I receive in return is a cold, emotionless stare. We are quickly ushered away to our homes for the next couple of nights. To my surprise, our luggage has suddenly appeared outside the door, as well as the porter who holds a large key in front of him like a pendulum. He hands it to Emma who unlocks the door ceremoniously.

Looking behind me, I see that Olive is still a few meters behind. However, I let her be and continue into the hotel room with Emma.