Free Heller's Regret by J.D. Nixon Page B

peeking around once
more. It quickly withdrew when he saw me looking at him. A few
minutes later, the head appeared again, this time a body following.
He stood shyly in the doorway, regarding me solemnly with enormous
black eyes. He was small and thin, with a mop of dark blond hair
and a sweet, serious face.
    He was dressed in a very conservative,
unfashionable manner in a long-sleeved buttoned white shirt and
grey shorts reaching to his knees, black shoes and long white
socks. His clothes probably reflected Mrs Grimsley’s elderly
fashion taste. He came into the room hesitantly, standing beside
Mrs Grimsley, and staring at me the entire time.
    “Samuel, this is Miss Chalmers. She’ll be
staying with you while I’m in the hospital. Remember I told you?”
He continued to keep his eyes fixed on me.
    “Hello, Samuel,” I said in the gentlest tone
I could manage. “You can call me Tilly, if you like. I hope we’re
going to have a lot of fun together over the next week.”
    The barest hint of a smile creased his mouth.
He was too shy to even speak to me.
    “Samuel, would you like to take Miss Chalmers
upstairs so she can choose a bedroom? That will give me a chance to
finish my packing and to call a taxi.”
    He nodded and came over to me, slipping his
little hand into mine, looking up trustingly at me with those big
eyes. I’ll admit it, he pulled on my heartstrings.
    He led me upstairs and meticulously took me
to each of the seven vacant bedrooms, three of which faced the
front, each with a gabled window. They were all nearly identical
with the same heavy, dark furniture, stiff yellowing lace curtains
and musty, unused smell.
    I made my choice from the front-facing rooms
based solely on the artwork. The room I chose had a slightly less
ferocious relative glaring down from a portrait on the wall. At
least this one was a woman, although her hard eyes and thin lips
were never going to lull me to sleep. Samuel regarded the painting
with intense dislike. Perhaps he thought I should have chosen the
saggy-jowled, mutton-chopped, scowling bald man in the room next
door instead?
    “Where’s your bedroom, Samuel?”
    He pointed to another front-facing room at
the end of the hall and led me to it. I expected his room to be
messy and disorganised, like my little nieces’ bedrooms, but it
wasn’t. His room was spotless, the bed made neatly, his clothes
stowed tidily in drawers, his small collection of books
painstakingly aligned on the bookshelf.
    “You’re a very tidy boy,” I noted
approvingly. He allowed himself a small smile. “Where are all of
your toys?”
    He opened up a chest at the foot of his bed
and showed me the contents, an assortment of antiquated wooden
toys, including some soldiers dressed in a very old-fashioned
uniform, a spinning top and a miniature train set. They’d probably
been in the Grimsley family for generations. Not a piece of Lego to
be seen anywhere. That made me feel sorry for him for some unknown
reason.
    “You don’t have any electronic toys? No
computer or PlayStation? No Lego?”
    “No,” he said in a soft voice.
    “What do you like to do during the day?”
    He didn’t answer, instead talking hold of my
hand again and leading me back down the stairs to a grand room
containing an elderly upright piano. He climbed onto the seat and
started playing. I sat down in the nearest armchair, enchanted by
the beautiful music he produced. He was very talented, his little
face earnest and intense as he read the sheet music. When he
finished the piece, I clapped him enthusiastically.
    “You’re very good, Samuel. That was lovely.
Thank you so much for your performance,” I gushed.
    He smiled broadly at me. I heard Mrs Grimsley
calling my name and searched for a while through the many rooms
before I found her. She had packed a small bag and called a taxi.
She handed me a piece of paper with the details of the hospital
she’d be staying at recorded in her formal, old-fashioned writing.
She