Last night, my house had been broken into. My house is impossible to break into. The gates had been locked at eight pm, just like every other night. Watch dogs patrol the expansive grounds restlessly. Trip wires and cameras are set all around the house. He had managed to bypass all of these, to arrive at the balcony to my house, unlock it, avoid all of the pressure sensors around the doorway and came in. Why go to all that trouble… and not even steal anything?
My father had his fair share of priceless things. As an avid collector of anything and everything, this mansion was more a vault than anything. Endlessly paranoid, our security system had given the family more than their fair share of trouble. Like that time I was climbing a tree, and had set off one of the trip wires, ending up with screaming alarms all over the house, security swarming over to my location, only to see me clamping my hands over my ears in a tree. We were very much kept at bay by the system as any outsiders were. No one was hardheaded enough to try and rob the Lister family. But last night, someone had the nerve to take a tour of the house, uninvited.
This morning, everyone just went about their business as usual. Father rose as usual at six thirty, the live in maid having already prepared a fresh pot of hot coffee, the aroma permeating the air and drifting lazily towards my room. Father’s deep voice had disturbed me from my uneasy slumber as I woke with a start. Mothers gentle voice sung through the air, as she gently hummed a tune whilst frying a traditional breakfast. The culinary revolution sweeping through the UK had not yet touched this family. Jamie Oliver was a stranger to her. My brother was no doubt still snoring in bed. Primary school students did not have to attend classes until 8:30, and he milked this to his full advantage. Everything seemed normal. I hoped what I saw was just a dream, just a bad dream. My hopes were shattered when the glitter of the kitchen knife wedged between my mattress and the bedside table caught my eye in the morning sun. I didn’t usually sleep with knives, only yesterday. I felt drained, and it was only morning.
*****
“Heya”
I turned to see two girls, one tall, with long flowing hair, and the other, shorter, in bouncy pigtails, trotting to catch up with me. My shoulders relaxed, but who was I expecting to see, the robber from last night? Well he wasn’t technically a robber. He didn’t steal anything. The intruder then, that will do nicely. They finally caught up.
We were walking to school, like we did every other morning. The weather was average, cloudy, gloomy and slightly chilly. Our skirts clung to us in front as we walked against the wind, and then billowed out like sails as the wind changed direction. We kept one hand on our straw hats, redundant in this weather. But rules were rules. We passed the same shops. There was a café with business men sitting by themselves at small, round, metallic tables meant for two, buried into their news papers. Then, we passed the newsagent, with people bustling in and out with papers. Some sort of office followed, with glass paneled walls and burly security standing beside the neat woman behind the marbled reception. A tall vase of withering flowers stood at the corner. Past that, there was a small alleyway, and then a small posh restaurant with an unpronounceable French name. Clarence street junction. We crossed with the tens of other business people in black, always black, carrying square suitcases that were probably heavier than what they carried by far. Normal, normal, normal.
An out-of-place candy heaven, a toy store, a MacDonald’s and around ten minutes later, we arrived at the iron wrought gate marking private property of my high school just as it was about to swing shut. Students were already milling into the dark brick buildings, reluctant to be late to class. Such action was not an expression of studious habits, but rather a way to avoid harsh punishment. We joined the throng, and let ourselves be swept away into the river, joining the current and occasionally shoving this way and that to alter our course. It was just like every other day.
*****
As the history teacher droned his way through another chapter in the textbook that we had all read an hour ago, I let my mind drift to last night again. I had been a light sleeper ever since I had started high school. I had very good hearing. Even then, it was just pure chance that I happened to have been awake at the exact moment he chose to enter through the balcony. The door had squeaked minutely. I heard, but thought naught of it. Not even a mosquito could enter the house if they hadn’t been invited. My brother must’ve been inviting mosquitoes into my room. I lay in bed, gazing at the blank ceiling, trying to congeal an image from the millions of dots that floated freely before my eyes, with no such luck. Then I heard something brush against my door. Stiffening, I slowly closed my eyes, leaving a crack, turned to my side, and watched behind thick lashes as my door eased open…
He was not conventionally handsome. Those eyes were set a bit too deep, the brows a bit too thick, the nose a bit too aristocratic and the jaw a bit too strong. Thick curly tresses drooped over a high forehead, sparkling eyes glinted with mischief. He was… striking. He looked too young to have the amount of quiet confidence only someone in their middle decades had. He looked old enough not to be brash, and walked with silent grace. His footsteps made no sound as the door swung open and he entered the door frame. His lips contorted into a grimacing smile, but there was no evil in that expression. His dark cloak hid everything but heavy boots. Heavy boots that made no sound? Him, him, him…intruder. The vase room had been to the left of the corridor, the way he had left, so why were the precious gold vases not taken? A thief with any ounce of common sense would’ve seen that they were worth more than a few pounds. But no, everything was perfectly in place, not a single smug of dirt on the carpets suggested anyone had trod upon them from when everyone had retired to their beds to this morning… what was he after then? My family? But everyone seemed fine…
“MISS Lister, I insist you share with us your opinion on who murdered JFK”
My teacher was staring at me with warning in his gaze.
“What? The intruder?”
The class collectively lifted their eyebrows. I mentally sighed. Let’s see how I can bullshit myself out of this one.
Just another typical day really.
*****
AN// should I continue the story =O
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