Page 111 of The Toymaker's Son

I choked on a renewed sob, then stifled it with a sip of tea. “That will change. I just…” I set the tea down and grasped the chair’s arms. “I just need a little time to find myself, I think. Find what was taken from me.”

She stared on with concern.

“I’ll be all right. You’re very kind. Thank you.”

She nodded and collected her basket. “I’ve lit the fire. Keep it stoked and feed it logs, and it’ll warm this house right up. May I drop in tomorrow, perhaps? See how you’re doing?”

I swallowed and nodded. “I’d like that, thank you.”

“Good. And Val, you will be all right.” She left and gently closed the door behind her.

The fire crackled. No ticking clocks. No chugging trains.

I picked up my tea and sipped it through the strands of my ungainly beard. Miss Couper had tidied the chaos, and some clear spots did peek through the grime. I’d been living like this—sleepwalking through life, and now I was awake.

This world felt different, harsher, meaner, chaotic, but I’d acquaint myself with it. This was the beginning of a new day, a new life. A new me.

And first, the beard had to go.

* * *

It was easier to throw myself into cleaning the house and myself than it was to wonder at the future and the past. I cut my hair, as best as was reasonable with a pair of scissors, then shaved the beard off. My face resembled a hollow imitation of the man I’d been.

Exhaustion quickly set in. My body was not yet used to exertion. But it would be. This was one step of many.

When Miss Couper knocked in the afternoon of the following day, the house resembled something far more hospitable.

“Valentine! Oh my,” she gasped. “The beard has gone, and look at that, you have a handsome face!”

I stepped back and welcomed her in.

“Good lord,” she said, admiring the small lounge, the blazing fireplace, and chairs free of all the detritus I had no recollection of letting clutter the house over the years. “I don’t know what to say.” She turned and beamed. “This is quite remarkable.”

Pride bloomed around my ragged heart. “This is a fresh start. A fresh me. Tea?”

She waited in the lounge as I bustled around the kitchen, then returned with a tray of tea. “No biscuits, I’m afraid. I’m sure there’s some money around here somewhere, but I’ve yet to find it.”

“Tea is fine. Thank you.”

We drank while sitting in the chairs beside the fireplace, and Miss Couper’s surreptitious glances did not go unnoticed. “I have to ask, what happened to make you so… present, Valentine? You’ve always been so distant, for as long as I can recall.”

“I woke up,” I said and left it at that. “Forgive me, but I have some questions that may seem strange. Would you mind humoring me?”

“Of course. I admit, I’m rather enjoying this sudden transformation.”

“Well, my parents, where are they?”

“Oh, they died. You don’t remember?”

“No, but I think it will come back to me. It’s as though I’ve lived another life up until yesterday. I’m relearning this one. The memories are there, I think. I just need to unearth them.”

“I see. Well, yes, it was a carriage accident, almost ten years ago now. You withdrew even more after that.”

“I see. And I’ve lived alone here this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Goodness.”

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