SONG: Cannons - Fire For You
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April Levesque
During the car ride, Derek apprised the issue to, "She doesn't want to come to the hospital, Dr Levesque."
"Fuck you," I mouthed.
"She said she wanted to fuck me."
He veers a whack, his body juddering in laughter. "I did not."
"The hospital is too full," says Mum. She decided to pop in and assist due to the protests. "My shifts have been doubled. I'll have to pull an all-nighter. April, are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah."
"She looks like shit. If it is okay with you, Dr Levesque, I will treat her at my house."
"I was going to mention that. April, Nanga, Malli and you will stay at his house overnight..." Papa, Aachchie and Seeya packed up a few clothes to give to some of Marlene's workforce and will bring Rose here. She trusts Marlene enough.
I felt so bad for her. She works so much. "Mum, take care of yourself."
"I will."
"Dr Levesque," adds Derek, "thank you for your service."
The Matthews Manor is as stupendous as a castle — contemporary and centenarian, cached in the rural outskirts. Four-storey and white-walled. Blue roofs and a domed rotunda in the centre. The front yard is as immense as an acre or so: neatly-trimmed bushes, petite fountains and a larger, dominant one in the centre before the mahogany-black, heavy double doors, its golden handles engraved of a lion.
Lacking a single speck of dust, the entrance hall is sumptuous and efficiently decorated with marvellous designs printed on the pearl-polished floor. It has a bifurcated staircase and poles supporting the first platform. A glorious, diamond chandelier hangs from the vaulted ceiling.
Footsteps groans a section of oldness. Tanner descends the staircase in threes, his brows pitched in alarm. "Are you okay?" He grips my shoulders, his warm eyes enlarging as he absorbs the sight. "You look disgusting."
I mutter, "Thanks."
He stares at Derek. "A cop hit her?"
"Yes. He was about to hit her again—"
"Again?"
"—I got there just in time."
Tanner observes the bruise forming on Derek's cheek. "Good. You should be at the hospital, Ape," he adds the last part sharply.
"That's what I said. But no. She's stubborn."
"I'm not stubborn."
"You are," they say in sync.
Tanner inquires something in French, and for a while they blatantly discussed, nearly forgetting my presence.
Duke barks at an elderly, white-haired gentleman emerging from a left corridor, in a grey sweater, vintage trousers and a golden watch, emitting a delicate aroma. He observes us, stalling. "Is something the matter?"
"Gareth," says Derek, "this is April. April — this is Gareth Griffiths, our butler."
"Ah, I remember why you seem so similar. Your brother. Naughty bunch they were—always kept the house in chaos. At any rate, Madame Marlene enlightened the changes. Your room is being prepared as we speak. Is there anything you would like us to do?"
Derek enlightens the issue. Gareth's gaze glisters in frustration at the police officer's behaviour. "Appalling. I'll fetch a doctor."
The kitchen is half the size of the foyer. Domestic and standard. Electric ovens and cookers. The walls are white cupboards and fridges, either with hefty, spiral handles or none — if none, give it a push and the doors and drawers automatically open. The floor is marble-white. The counters are black. The low ceiling has a series of moss agate chandeliers. To the left is the entryway to the extravagant gardens, and from a distance it seems they are endless — extending and extending to the faraway fields.
Five people are heaping containers in the large fridges. The main door closes in a strident thud and they look over. A russet-haired lady eyes Ethan me. "Is there anything you would like us to do, Sir?"
"No, Jessie," replies Tanner. "Thank you."
The Staff proceeds their cleaning. Derek fills a kettle of water, switching it to a pleasuring boil. Tanner opens a fridge, grabbing an ice pack. I press it to my right temple, half grunting, half sighing. I feel disoriented, as if lacking iron.
The afternoon sun radiates through the garden doors, glistening on the surface of an aquamarine-tinted pool. I wonder when Malli and Nanga will arrive.
"So that was Gareth." I look at Tanner. "I remember you telling me about him. He's like a grandfather to you?"
Deek drops dark tea bags into three mugs. "To both of us."
"And Lin is the closest you have to a father," I note, recalling the incident in the park when that group of roadmen chased me. Lin scolded Derek for jogging too far like a father telling off his son. I take the mug. "Thanks." My tongue burns at the heat. "I didn't realise your, ah, Security can arrest people."
That tenses Tanner's shoulders. He sutbly shoots a glower at Derek, concealing it by cupping his mug and blowing off the steam. "They have their perks."
"Are they policemen?"
"Few," he releases cautiously.
"The rest?"
"Boxers ... the rest are criminals."
"Criminals?"
Derek turns, leaning on the counter, his feet crossed. "Yes. Criminals my family gave another chance, to which they didn't dare break."
"So ... Murderers?"
"Depends on the crime. Never rapists and whatnot."
"Derek," warns Tanner, uttering something in Spanish.
Their bickering implies I should mind my own business.
"Nice house." I admire the interior. "I get why you want to turn this to an orphanage. It has a lot of space."
"Too much, isn't it?"
"Too much. I'd hate to live in a house like this. Requires great attention. How many rooms are there?"
"Seventy-seven."
I distinguish a sort of despondency in his examination of the kitchen, as if every time he thinks of his home, he is only reminded of the horrors.
"How much are you worth again? I forgot when I was Googling you—" I freeze.
Derek amusingly smirks. "Googling us?"
"Curiosity," I say, smiling sarcastically.
"Too curious." His tone is a bit dark. "Don't you know it kills the cat?"
"How much are you worth?"
"I ..." Tanner ponders. "I don't even know. It's not even our money. More like Aunt Marlene's money."
"Our parents," adds Derek, and Tanner nods.
"Your a multi-billionaire, right?" I ask Tanner. "Your parents are, at least."
"Yeah. My dad was the richest person in Parliament. He was a businessman. My mum was born rich. She doesn't really do anything."
"Have you met your parents since ... you know."
He shakes his head. "I hope I don't."
I smile sadly, engulfing Tanner in a hug. "I'm sorry."
He pats my back. "It's fine. I moved on."
"You're incredibly curious," drawls Derek. "Diese Neugierde könnte dich umbringen, und das will ich nicht."
"If you're insulting me ..." I hunt the kitchen. "I'm going to smack you."
Derek has been doing this a lot lately. He mostly repeats this phrase — meine Liebe or simply Liebe — with a mischievous glint in his eyes that makes my own twitch in frustration.
"It's not an insult," confirms Tanner.
"What is it?"
Tanner opens his mouth, oscillating at Derek's silent warning. "I think he'll bury me six feet underground alive if I tell, so I'll be quiet."
"I'll defend you!"
"I doubt you can."
"You underestimate me too much."
"You can't hurt him without hurting yourself."
"I broke a nose. Three if you count Rhett and that roadman guy."
"You'll only break mine if I let you," says Derek.
In one of the salons, a doctor arrived and ushered a brief greeting, jumping to the work. I stupidly expected her to confirm I have brain damage or something as the hit is excruciating and blackened my vision. But no concerns. Thank God. She gave me a cream for the bruise on my neck without any inquiries. Derek paid Dr Rahman ten grand.
The Security arrived with Rose and Ethan. At first, Ethan was uncomfortable at the domineering the Manor: colossal and righteous and humbling. For dinner, the chefs made wambatu moju, egg hoppers and pol sambol, and watalappan as the dessert.
I meet Sandra Everston, a relentless elder woman, clutching a lavish cane with a pure-diamond crutch-handle. She happily bristled at the prospect of Ethan, Rose and me, and apologised that she didn't attend the memorial.
Derek took me to the Manor's library. My jaw drops into an 'O' at the immense room, high and high of archives and ancient knowledge. Like the lake house, ladders marshal the shelves, curling staircases leading to each platform of the Manor. A domed ceiling, linear sustaining alexandrite chandeliers. Lamps and electric fireplaces radiating, wax surfs the ambience.
He follows me inside. The massive doors silently close. "I read all the books in here. Twice, three times, depending on how good the stories are."
"How many books are in here?"
"Thousands. Some are in different languages. When was the last time you read?"
"I don't know. Last year, maybe?"
He halts in his tracks. "Last year?"
"I didn't have time."
He appeared gravelly appalled. "Last year," he ripples in a whisper.
"When was the last time you read?"
"Last night, when you fell asleep." He sighs. "Last year, April. God. I can't ever do that."
"It's not that bad."
"You're right. It's disgusting."
I roll my eyes.
"Not to worry. I'll get you back to it. What do you want to read?"
"Derek—"
"Unless you want me to treat you like you have a disease, April, tell me what your interests are in books."
"I ... I don't know. I like anything interesting."
He turns. "I'll pick some books for you to read, then."
He leads me deeper into the library, to the far rear where the books are altering into the modern age. Sitting down on a table, I watch him putting on classical music, rummaging through the spines, lifting the ladders to slant them against the shelves, mounting to reach the higher levels. He leaves to his room, mentioning that he has better books. I wait for fifteen minutes, enjoying the instrumental tones and exceptionally exhausted at the length of day.
He drops five of his favourites in front of me. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee, The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky, and —
He picks up The Dare by Harley Laroux. "This is pure erotica and has elements that are 'taboo', you could say. Well, it's not taboo for me. It may be for you. Read it if you feel comfortable too."
Each book is cramped of post-stick notes. The one he is holding is heavily full of red.
"You annotate your books?"
He vaults a brow. "You're missing out if you don't."
I find that strangely beguiling.
He pushes all five books to me. "Enjoy."
***
The twentieth hour struck, Marlene arrived. "Welcome!"
I expected her to dress lavishly. Instead, one would mistake her going out for shopping or for casual coffee: rich-blue jeans, a green sweater and trainers, and glitzy sapphire studs. If heels, her height is identical to her nephews. She hugs Malli and me with one arm, cheek-kissing. Unravelling her arms to Rose, my sister instantly leaps into her embrace.
"Are you settling in well?" asks Marlene, her tone sweet and gracious.
"Very well," I say.
"No need to lie," counters Sandra. "I know these boys are boring—"
Tanner smacks his chest, mocking sadness. "Ouch, Granny."
"Did you hear what that officer did to April?" asks Sandra, tightening her clutch on her cane as if wanting to smack something again.
Marlene's expression darkens. "April, dear, I am so sorry about what happened—"
"It's okay," I assure.
"It's absolutely not okay," says Sandra. "Good thing Security was there to stop it. That poor woman would have been dead."
Marlene's brows furrow in concern. "He hit your head, didn't he? Have you been checked?" She looks at her nephews, responsibility established, and they nod. "Good."
"What are you going to do to the officer?" I ask quietly.
I shouldn't be scared, but reminiscing the Security ordering the officer to obey is impossible not to. I always adored Marlene. After the incidents of today, the knowledge and first-hand experience of the Manor, she feels off.
Anger twinkles in Marlene's icy blue eyes, the same as his nephew. "He will get what he deserves."
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