The Music Box: Chapter Eight

Emily took stock. By now she had lost track of how long it had been since she had left home, but figured it must be close to two hours. She had been hoping this could have all been over with by now, but still figured she had a little while before anyone would notice she was missing. She might have to change her plan and simply head straight home, as though she had been at Tabitha’s all this time, but that gave her another hour or so before it got too risky.

While she was working all this out her eye had been drifting across the room, not really taking anything in. But now she had her attention caught by the open book on the workbench. It was only a few steps away and her curiosity had always got the better of her. With a glance towards the stairs to make sure Mr Crouch was still off making the tea, Emily sidled up to the book. Peering into it, trying to make out the inky symbols in the low light, Emily was struck by the sudden sensation that she was being watched. She wheeled quickly around but there was nobody there.

A short sharp clap behind her made Emily jump. She turned around to find the book had closed.

“I see you are interested by my work.”

Emily spun again, her heart leaping as she saw Mr Crouch standing a few steps away from her, a cup of tea balancing on saucers in each hand.

“I, I , I didn’t touch,” she stammered.

She couldn’t comprehend how he had passed down the creaky stairs without her hearing, or been able to cover the distance so suddenly.

“I wasn’t looking, I just, I just...”

“It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with a little curiosity,” Mr Crouch said in what he must have thought a soothing tone. “We all have things we want to know, long to learn, desire to discover. The difference is, most people are afraid of what they want and how badly they want it, so teach themselves not to go after it. I’ve never been one of those people, and I don’t think you are either Emily Button.”

She blushed, not because she was flattered but because she felt so transparent, that he could know so much about her so easily.

“Here, take your tea, before it gets cold.”

Emily took the cup of tea and its saucer from Mr Crouch, glad for the distraction it offered. But as she took it she realised she was shaking quite badly and the cup chattered against the saucer, tea spilling out onto it, running around and around the bottom of the cup. Mr Crouch simply smiled.

Emily thought if she could just sit down and rest a moment, she could recompose. But the only chair she could see was the one beneath the frame, over near the glass chamber, and unsurprisingly was little tempted to get too near to that one.

“How is it?”

“Oh it’s ever so lovely Mr Crouch, ever so nice.”

Emily’s voice was up and down, cracking near the end, but she was surprised she could talk at all.

“You know I don’t have a lot of visitors by these days,” Mr Crouch said, as much to the room as to Emily.

“I’m not surprised!” Emily thought, though she immediately regretted it, disconcerted by the smile that played across Mr Crouch’s lips as she thought it. Perhaps it was a trick of the shadows and her imagination, but she was left unsettled nevertheless.

She had been waiting all this time for Mr Crouch to ask her what had brought her here, aching for him to broach the subject. Why wasn’t he asking? Surely that’s what you do when somebody comes to you this way? She was dreading having to explain the purpose of her visit, but the delay was making it worse – making it harder to bring it up. She wanted this all over with, wanted to be out of this strange place, away from this uncomfortable situation.

Tipping the last of her tea up to her lips, she looked over the rim of the cup at Mr Crouch. His teacup and saucer were gone, though she hadn’t seen him put them down. In fact she hadn’t seen him even take a sip. He smiled at her widening eyes.

“So Emily Button, now that you’re finished your tea, how about we discuss why you are here?”