There’s the sound of a ‘mwah’ as lips smack against a cheek. ‘Don’t call me that and do not kiss me until I tell you that you can,’ Sadie says gruffly in an admonishing tone.
A scuffling sound occurs, and then Sadie pokes her head into the lounge. ‘We’re going upstairs. He’ll be back down shortly to say hello.’
When she’s gone, I look at Hester and pull a face.
‘He wants to become a vampire one day, and we need him,’ she says matter-of-factly.
‘Doesn’t make it right.’
Elliott is bound to Sadie’s will. She feeds from him and gives him enough of her venom to keep him hooked and ageless but won’t turn him—even though he’s been begging her to for nearly forty years.
‘I know, it’s fucked up, but Elliott is the only thing standing between us and feeding from humans. Do you want to start doing that again?’ asks Hester.
Damian’s fearful face flashes into my mind, and the Bloody Mary gurgles guiltily in my stomach.
‘No, definitely not.’
Chapter 8
Florence | London, 1888
Dr Dryden’s son is called Charlie, and he suffers from several debilitating conditions: an aversion to sunlight so he can’t go outside, chronic anaemia, and insomnia. Since he has trouble sleeping at night, he naps for most of the day.
I learn this surprising, and somewhat distressing, information in Dr Dryden’s study a week later when I start my governess position. ‘So when am I to give him lessons if he’s napping all day, sir?’
Dr Dryden leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers. He surveys me intensely over the tips. ‘He’s up around dusk. You’ll need to work with him in the evening and nap during the day yourself.’
I’m confused by this reply. ‘Like a night shift?’
‘Exactly,’ he clarifies. ‘Think of everything as being in reverse. For instance, you’d read to him just before dawn.’
I blink at that. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, that sounds a little strange.’
Dr Dryden’s thick eyebrows draw together. ‘Strange, but something you think you can adapt to? Or too strange to even consider?’
I’m tempted to say the latter, but then I know that I’ll be shown the door, and I’ll have to explain to Aunty Ivy why I’m back. I can hear her voice now:Just try it, Floss. Think of the child’s needs ... and the money.
‘I suppose I could adapt,’ I say slowly. ‘I am a bit of a night owl, and your son can’t help being ill. It must be difficult for him.’
Dr Dryden’s demeanour visibly softens, and he smiles at me, but his eyes hold a tinge of sadness.
‘It is difficult for him ... and for me. Thank you for being so accommodating, Florence. Would you like to meet Charlie now?’
I glance at the clock on the mantel, which is coming up on noon. ‘Yes, but isn’t he asleep?’
‘I’ll wake him briefly, and then you can settle in. I had some food delivered yesterday, so you can see to your lunch.’
‘All right. Thank you, sir.’ He doesn’t seem to want me to prepare any lunch for him. And I am highly curious to meet his son. I think it’s mostly Dr Dryden’s impromptu health examination last time that has been worrying me. But now I understand why it was necessary: Charlie is sickly,and his father doesn’t want me passing on an illness that he can’t fight off.
As we’re ascending the stairs, me clutching my battered suitcase of meagre belongings, I feel more confident about broaching the subject. ‘Excuse me for asking, sir, but has Charlie been like this for a while?’
‘Yes, his symptoms started a few years ago. His mother was similarly afflicted. Sleeping during the day is the only way that Charlie can function, which is why I encourage it. But his mother insisted on “living normally”, so to speak. Her system gradually weakened until she ... succumbed.’
Two steps ahead of me, he grips the banister tightly for a moment, then continues on up the carpeted stairs.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss, sir.’ How awful.Did something happen because she tried to go outside?I wonder.
‘Thank you, Florence. As it happens, I am working on a cure for Charlie.’
