Chapter Text
There was a sharp clatter followed by a thundering crash that had Phil and Five dug their heads as he guided her to his office. Now the shop was suspiciously quiet.
“We bought a new steam powered printing press to increase the number of papers we can print in a day. It’s a great machine really, but it seems to be a bit – let’s call it temperamental. It’s the fourth time this has happened today. I’ll be with you in a second – just gotta take care of this monstrosity first.”
“Wouldn’t be the first one you took down.” Phil gave her a pat on the back and disappeared between the rows and rows of paper, machines and ink the warehouse walls were lined with.
Five reached Phil’s small office over a set of wooden stairs and hung her coat over a chair. Issues of the evening’s newspapers were spread out all over his desk. Always on the lookout for a new angle, she realised with a smile. Five picked up one of the papers and browsed through the headlines. She enjoyed visiting The Inquirer’s office and the way it was abuzz with words and stories. She had Sam and Zoe to thank for that. Now wherever she went, there were new stories to discover and they had granted her the power to decipher them – it was almost magical.
Following the news of the day were the society pages. She smirked at the sight of a very familiar face. Sam had left quite the impression on England’s high society with his kind heart and boyish charm. It made his quite modern – some might even have called it socialist- ideas about welfare and education a lot easier digestible for more than one Lord or Lady.
The paper speculated whether they would finally receive word of an engagement announcement between him and a certain Alice Dempsey on the night of a charity collection they were supposed to open next week. News like these had become quite a regular occurrence – it wouldn’t even have been the first marriage proposal Sam had gotten. Afterall, it was a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of wife. So far however, Sam had been much too busy with improving people’s lives that he would even have paid attention to any such offer.
Five shook her head, closed the paper and opened another one. In the background she heard Phil argue with one of his foremen who had run out of ideas on how to fix the machine. The foreman had come to the conclusion that the new machine must be possessed to break down this many times in a single day and refused to touch it.
Five found two more articles in two different newspapers, both marvelling at the prospect of Sam finally settling down and tying the knot. She folded her arms in front of her chest and walked towards the editorial office. The layout for The Inquirer’s morning issue had already been prepared and was ready to go to print over night. She furrowed her brows at the sight of one of the headlines. Even The Inquirer had joined the speculation.
As the editor, Phil paid meticulous attention to printing only articles they had solid proof for. Had Sam talked to Phil? Did he mention something to him, he’d deem unfit to tell her? Over the past 6 years they had spend together there was nothing he hadn’t shared with her. Well, as far as she knew. Now that she thought about it, Sam had been on several outings with Ms. Dempsey. They had been seen at galleries, dances, even just walking through Hyde Park set the newspapers bustling. Five had to admit that they would make a great match. Alice was beautiful and like Sam very determined to use her father’s money to do the right thing. Sam would have to be positively mad to not accept such an offer.
A burning sensation bubbled up in her stomach as she walked back into Phil’s office, skimming through the last couple of papers she hadn’t checked. They all had similar stories. If it had been just one article, she would’ve let it slide as gossip. No. Even if all of them had a feature about Sam and Alice she still would have ignored them. With The Inquirer among them, that became a lot more difficult.
It felt like the floor had been pulled out from under her feet. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t her place to judge what Sam could or could not do. They were friends. Best friends. Well, some considered her more of a charity project after he took her in and made her his associate but their opinions never mattered. Neither to her nor to him. Especially not to him.
Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, so she closed them to collect herself. The words she had just read seemed engraved onto her eyelids and echoed in her head despite the noise coming from the freshly restarted printing press. Closing her eyes made her feel more nauseous than before so, she opened her eyes again. Without thinking she fished the page containing Sam’s photograph out of the stack of paper, folded it and stuffed it into one of the inner pockets of her waistcoat. She mumbled a quick apology when she bumped into Phil on the stairs and hurried towards the door.
Phil watched her for a moment and entered his office. His glance fell upon Five’s coat which he picked up and hurried back out, but the worker was already gone.
She leaned against the heavy wooden entrance doors to catch her breath. The thought of Sam marrying anybody else had never occurred to her. Part of her had simply assumed it would be the two of them forever. She raised her head, thinking. Part of the phrasing sounded odd. Anybody else? Her heart stumbled over the realisation. Oh no. Oh no no no no. That could not be happening. She would ruin everything! Ruin their friendship and his new relationship!
Behind her the door opened. It was shift change at the office and most of the workers looked at her with certain disgruntlement when she almost fell backwards into their arms. Five pulled her cap deep into her face and disappeared into the still busy Fleet Street. Her ears were ringing with the articles words so she picked up the pace in the hopes of leaving their words behind her. She almost knocked over people left and right in her desperate attempt to get away from all of this. The people churning up other peoples lifes for a quick penny, the words in her head and most of all her feelings.
She fell into a jog, then a sprint, further and further into Central London until even St. Paul’s Cathedral was barely distinguishable in the muddy London dusk. Her thighs and lungs began to burn. She opened her mouth in a desperate attempt to fill them with air but all that came out was a sob. She pressed her hand over her mouth and continued to run. Outrun her mind that kept replaying the last hour over and over again: Had there been something in Phil’s manner that could have given her a hint? Did she miss something? Sam had been the same as always when they took their breakfast this morning, hadn’t he?! She shook her head, angry at herself. If only she could breathe!
The streets around Covent Garden were sp crowded with theatre visitors, she had to slow down eventually. Again, she felt tears sting in her eyes and pushed her way through the crowds. She hated this side of London! Why did London have to be so full of people?! She mustn’t stand still. She had to keep going! A roar of thunder and a sudden downpour finally brought her the relief she needed as the people around her hurried into the closest buildings.
By the time she had reached the upper-class townhouses of Mayfair, barely anyone was outside. The few people that did dare to go out in this weather hurried past her, acting like they didn’t even see her. And why would they?! They probably saw little more than a stable boy in her – completely soaked and not even wearing a coat. In an area like this someone like her meant nothing but trouble.
Only once she disappeared into Hyde Park, she slowed down to a walk again, then stopped, unsure what to do next. Without thinking, she had almost made it back towards their beautiful Kensington home. Would she even have a home after Sam’s engagement? Sam was much to kind to tell her to leave. He had assured her time and time again that her place was by his side. She had reached a cast-iron bridge, leaned her arms on the balustrade and buried her head in them.
She was convinced she could live with the fact that Sam didn’t see her the way she saw him. What she couldn’t live with was losing her closest friend. So she would have to bloody pull herself together.
She remembered the first time she had held his hand. They had only known each other for little more than the blink of an eye and yet she knew in that moment, that she never wanted to let go.
But maybe that time had come.
At the realisation, her fingers clawed into the tweet fabric of her cap and an icy fist held her heart captive. There was no going back, only one way forward. If she had the strength to take it to the end, she did not know, but what else could she do other than to run. In the distance a bell tolled 9.
Five thought she’d stayed out long enough, snuck in quietly enough. She had even made sure to leave her boots at the back door and walk in on her bare feet, but she had made her calculation without their stout housekeeper, Mrs. Smith.
“And who’d you think is going to clean up this mess?! Look at you! You’re leaving puddles everywhere!”, the resolute woman remarked.
“I’ll take care of it in the morning”, Five answered in a quiet voice and wanted to move along.
“You turn around and look me in the eyes when you speak to me! And take off that cap! Only a lady gets to wear her hat inside. Are you finally planning on becoming one?”
Five winced visibly. That woman had a way with words - each of them a direct hit. Anybody else would have let this slide. Anybody else she could have lied to. But not Mrs. Smith. That woman had a seventh sense for this kind of things. Or maybe it was just the instinct that came with being a mother - not that Five would know anything about that. Five did as she was told and took of her cap. She took a long glance at the ceiling, hoping it would prevent any tears from falling. With very little success as it turned out. While still forming the thought, the first tears had started to roll down her cheek.
Mrs. Smith took in the whole picture: Despite wearing a man’s clothing what was standing in front of her was a young woman of four and twenty, her right sleeve bloody and torn, her left side slightly caked in mud when she took a corner to rashly. No, what was in front of her was a scared girl, looking up at her with trembling lips and tears streaming down her face. Whether her fists were balled together in anger or fear, she did not know yet.
“Did someone hurt you?” Mrs. Smith’s voice was completely different now. Warm and calm. Full of concern. Five slowly shook her head.
“Were you robbed?”
Again, she shook her head no, but the tears just wouldn’t stop.
“Then, what happened?”
Five opened her mouth, but instead of an answer, all that came out were sobs. Five wrapped her arms around her body tightly as a violent shiver ran through her body. That aching sensation from earlier had gripped her heart so tightly it almost made her stomach turn. Mrs. Smith took a step closer and rested her hands on Five’s. Five looked down to them. They were almost scorching against her cool, damp closing. She was surprised that the woman’s strong and weathered hands were able to hold her so gently. Mrs. Smith’s voice sounded so far away when she told her that she was safe and nobody would hurt her here.
“But I’ll need you to talk to me, if I’m supposed to help you.”
Five swallowed hard before making a second attempt at an answer. Her throat was dry, reducing her voice to little more than a raspy whisper: “He’s going to marry her, isn’t he?”
There it was. The thought she had been scared to fully form over the last couple of hours finally came out. Five forced herself to smile when she looked up from Mrs. Smith’s hands. It was what a friend should do she reasoned to herself, but her tears and the unbearable pain in her chest that threatened to choke her betrayed her.
“You poor, foolish thing…”, Mrs. Smith said in a calm voice and pulled Five to her chest. At first, Five wanted to protest, push the older woman away. She wanted to be fine. She had to be fine! If she gave into it, she would admit everything. Admit that Sam meant so much more to her and it would destroy everything. And yet, she held onto Mrs. Smith for dear life and the woman let her wail and weep until her sobs were nothing but hiccups.
“Go upstairs and change. I’ll get you a bowl of hot soup.”, Mrs. Smith said finally.
“But what about the mess?”, Five asked, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.
“I’ll take care of it.”, she answered and turned around, “You better not be standing there when I get back.”
Five turned towards the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could. For the second time this evening, with very little success. As soon as she’d made it to the top and turned towards her room a door behind her swung open.
“Five! Where have you been?!”
Her shoulders sank at the sound of the voice she knew so well. So soft and full of concern, it let all of her convictions crumble in a matter of seconds.
“Phil was here more than 2 hours ago to bring back your coat! I- I was worried about you”, he took a closer look, “And you’re soaked!”
“I apologise,” Five started without turning around. The moment he knew she had been crying he would beg her to confide in him. She could hardly do that now, could she?!
“I got caught in the rain and had to wait it out. Not very successfully, I recon”, she quipped but her voice sounded hollow, “If you will excuse me, I’d like to change”, she added opened the door to her room and disappeared.
Inside, she slowly sank down to cower on the thick carpet. She didn’t hear any steps hasten towards her door, which was good. She didn’t hear Sam’s door close either, which was not. Of course, he had worried about her. The thought made her feel even worse. She didn’t want to worry him. She didn’t want him to think of her at all. If he would just forget about her - that would make everything so much easier!
Sniffling she opened the buttons of her waistecoat again and fished out the page she took earlier. She got up walked towards her dresser and flattened the piece of paper out. She only dared to take a last quick glance at Sam’s likeness before she let it disappear into the upmost drawer of her wardrobe.
“Mrs. Smith! What happened?”, she heard an agitated Sam through her doors. She had changed out of her wet clothes and into a nightgown and wrapped herself up into a cosy dressing gown, she’d usually wear during the winter months. Sam had given it to her for Christmas. Their first Christmas – they’d stayed up almost all night as Sam read A Christmas Carol to her. It was the night they had decided to collect books and build their own library. It turned out to be a successful venture like so many of Sam’s plans. Almost all the wall high shelves in the reading room were filled. Another memory that stung.
And there were the steps in front of her door she had expected. Sam had followed their housekeeper, bombarding her with questions.
“Nothing a bowl of soup and a strong cuppa wouldn’t cure.”
“So she’s alright?”
“She will be. Just needs some rest”, the woman answered, “And so do you! You have an early day tomorrow, Master Yao. Personally, I wouldn’t mind to turn in for the night as well so I bid you good night.” With those words she opened the door and closed it right behind her without giving Sam a chance to protest.
The two women stood there in silence, waiting for the sound of Sam’s door being shut.
“I apologise”, Five whispered.
“Nothing to apologise for. Get into bed and drink this”, she said, placing a tray in front of the young woman.
Five followed her order and took the cup from her. Mrs. Smith rested her hand on her forehead, then cupped the workers cheek in her hand.
“You’re not running a fever. Maybe you’ll get away with it – you’re young and strong.”
She stood there unusually quiet for a moment and watched as Five started eating her soup.
“So, what are you going to do?”
Five thought for a moment, then put the spoon down.
“There’s not a lot I can do, can I? Should he decide to marry Alice, then I will be a good friend and be happy for him. We just started renovating a new school in the country side. Maybe I’ll move there for the time being – it’s definitely more practical than going back and forth. Onwards and upwards, right?”
She gave Mrs. Smith the same smile she had tried and failed at earlier. It was more to convince herself rather than the housekeeper, who probably saw through her façade anyways. At least her tears had dried up. Mrs. Smith gave her a long look and nodded slowly as she got up.
“Finish your soup.”, she said before closing the door behind her.