Page 32 of One Last Regret

When the meal is finished, Amelia asks, “Can we have the day off of school, Mary? I don’t feel well.”

I don’t know if Amelia is telling the truth or if she’s being manipulative again, but frankly I don’t care. “Sure. I think that’s best.”

Josephine and Etienne make no protest to my decision. Etienne stands and says, “Keep the children inside today, Mary. Maybe you can watch movies again. Anything to take their mind off of… anything to help them feel…”

He sighs and leaves the room, giving up on finding an explanation that doesn’t involve acknowledging as reality what we dealt with the night before.

Josephine speaks next. “I’ve asked Dr. Yarrow to visit today, Etienne.”

Etienne shrugs at the door. “Sure. Fine. Whatever you feel is best.”

I frown. “Who is Dr. Yarrow?”

“He is a psychologist. He worked with Marcel for years. I think… I think the children need professional help. To overcome their grief.”

My frown deepens. I explain earlier that I have no love for psychologists. Perhaps a few of them are genuinely caring people, but most only exploit people at their most vulnerable. A reprehensible lot. “Ma’am, in my experience—”

“I wasn’t asking for your input, Mary.”

She's not angry when she says that, but it's clear that she's firm in her decision. My lips are thin, but what can I do? The last time Ididanger this woman, she assaulted me. And it won’t help the children to get myself fired. “Very well, ma’am.”

Gabriel pushes his plate forward. Seeing him do this, Amelia follows suit and asks, “May we please be excused?”

Josephine’s lip curls. “Why don’t we let Gabriel speak for himself?”

Gabriel turns slowly to his grandmother. “Do you hear it, Grandma?”

Amelia squeaks. I pale. Josephine only allows her sneer to turn into a bitter smile. “I’ve been hearing it every day for years, Gabriel.”

We all sit in silence for a long moment. Finally, Gabriel averts his gaze. He stands and heads slowly from the room. Amelia and I follow. I risk a glance back at Josephine as we leave and see the same cold sneer follow us outside.

Amelia and I keep a safe distance from Gabriel as we head upstairs. I don’t feel good about this, but I’m too overwhelmed by everything that’s happened recently to feel much guilt.

It can’t be demons. It can’t.

But then, how did Philippa know Annie's name?

She didn’t, I tell the mocking voice of my conscience. She heard me say Annie’s name aloud when I was sleepwalking. As for claiming to have seen me play the piano, that’s just not true. She must have been mistaken. Or perhaps she mistook my talentless fumbling as one of the discordant elements of one of the later movements of Marcel Lacroix’s macabre magnum opus.

We reach Amelia’s room, and Amelia asks me, “Can you bring us some snacks? I’ll put on a movie.”

Under ordinary circumstances, I would chide her for waiting to ask until we’ve already reached the room. Today, I don’t have the energy.

I head downstairs and retrieve some snacks: cookies, chips, sodas, and popcorn. All of the essentials for a day of watching movies with children. On my way back upstairs, I catch a glimpse of the foyer out of the corner of the eye. Josephine stands in front of the grandfather clock, her lips moving soundlessly, her eyes swaying back and forth with the movement of the pendulum.

I sigh. Damn it, I don’t have time for this. There are too many demons in this house.

I walk to the foyer, my arm full of snacks, to confront this latest messenger from Hell. “Ma’am?”

“I’m fine, Mary,” Josephine replies. “I just need a moment.”

She says this without changing the movement of her eyes. She’s clearly not fine, but I’m too tired to deal with whatever’s happening to her. We’reallgoing insane, and as long as I’m not in the middle of an episode myself, I should focus my attention on the children.

I return to the room and place the snacks on the table. This movie is a new one, rented from a streaming service. It depicts a robot who crash lands on an island and ends up raising a gosling as her own. It’s a testament to the insanity surrounding this house that I find her story not in the least bit odd.

Gabriel sits close to the tv, his eyes riveted on the screen. I wonder if he remembers last night, or if it was all only a dream to him.

“I’m worried about him, Mary.”

---