Chapter Text
Lucy found herself quite content with her new job. Her boss from the mill had shouted and pushed like a drill sergeant breaking in fresh meat. Arif was kind-hearted and quiet-spoken. She had not heard him raise his voice once in the two days since her interview.
Though she had been hired as the new delivery-girl, Arif wanted her to understand the store first. She spent her whole first day sweating through her favourite jumper while filling, then emptying the large pastry ovens. Her second day was much more pleasant. She spent her time with Laura in the front, learning the register and how to find customer information.
“It’s a good thing to get in the habit of doing,” explained Laura, “If you know how to find where the deliveries are going, you can plan what order you go to each drop-off. That way, you won’t end up having to travel back and forth multiple times when you don’t actually need to.”
It was good advice, so she paid as much attention as she could. By the end of the day, Lucy was proud to say that she could navigate the system well enough to find everything she needed on her own. She’d even started planning delivery routes. Mind you, it had been at Laura’s prompting, and with her guidance.
All this meant that – since she also lived in the building – she hadn’t stepped outside since before her interview. But she found she did not mind staying cooped up in the building. She was kept busy all day, so she was not idle and did not end up feeling board. Her fingers tingled almost non-stop, but it hadn’t once been as bad as it was on her interview day. She hadn’t seen the same customer from then though, either.
Her one complaint was that she really did not enjoy the early start required to help Arif with the baked-goods. The first day, she stumbled down the stairs into the industrial kitchen with her hair still mussed and her jaw threatening to crack with a large yawn.
“Oh dear,” laughed Arif when he saw her, “Not much of a morning person then, are we?”
Afraid that this might be some point against her that could lose her the job, Lucy quickly shook off her morning grouchiness. “It won’t be a problem. It’s just I’m not used to the routine yet. I’ll get it though.”
Arif had waved her off good-naturedly and they moved on through the morning as if nothing had happened. The next day though, there was a freshly brewed cup of coffee and a small egg-and-cheese sandwich waiting for her in the kitchen. It was such a thoughtful gesture; she had almost burst into tears upon seeing it and had spent the entire morning helping Arif letting him know how much she appreciated the breakfast.
…
“This one’s set to go now,” called Laura from the counter.
Lucy waved good morning as she came up to grab the next box of pastries set out for delivery. It was her first morning actually running deliveries. She’d needed to hop to it the second the first batch of pastries came out of the oven. Apparently, there was a small coffee shop that had opened in the area using Arif’s to cater. They’d needed their pastries for before they opened to the public; as a coffee shop, that meant an extra early start for Lucy.
The speedwalk to the coffee shop had been nice enough. As mid-summer, the sun was already up and the air was cool and dewy from the night. Only her fingers tingled with that unsettling feeling. Strangely enough, at one point during her walk, she’d felt the tingling go away completely – something that hadn’t happened since coming to London. It did not last long, and she dismissed it as nothing of real note.
“Where’s this one going then?” asked Lucy as she grabbed the box of doughnuts and squinted at the handwritten label.
Laura laughed her trilling laugh. “Oh! That one’s going to our favourites; those two boys over on Portland Row. I’ll warn you; George can be a little cutting when you first meet him. But I think he’s really a sweetie underneath it all, if a bit eccentric. He’s the one in glasses. You don’t usually see much of his friend.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, curiosity peaked.
A dulled look passed over Laura’s face. “Oh, poor lad. I don’t know any specifics. Just strikes me as a private person. Don’t think he has good relations with his family; at least, it seems like he’s lived a hard life. You can see it in his eyes. But he’s well-spoken and charming enough, I suppose. The two of them are both barely old enough to be on their own, but that’s not my place to say.”
“Hmm,” mused Lucy, “Well, maybe the shut-in friend will be the one to answer the door and I can get you some answers today. Don’t charmers usually like to talk?”
Laura laughed, her pensive look from before disappearing. “I suppose they do. Be sure not to get too distracted talking though; you’ve still got other deliveries for today!”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
…
Oddly enough when Lucy set out to the address written on her delivery box, she found herself in the exact spot where the tingling in her fingers had stopped before. It was a nice part of town, with neat little row-houses all arrayed around a fenced park. Her fingers stopped tingling a house and a half before the door of 35 Portland Row.
Lucy rang the clamouring doorbell and waited on the step for it to open. She marvelled at how her fingers had stopped tingling, wondering what the cause was. Since she did not know what had originally caused the sensation in the first place, she found she did not have any good answers.
The door opened to reveal an older boy with glasses and a pockmarked face. “Oh good, donuts. You must be Arif’s new girl then.”
“Yes,” she answered, “I’m Lucy. You must be George. Laura from the shop mentioned you. Here they are then. And I think you owe me some money for that.”
George made no more conversation as he dug around in a pocket for the required notes. Lucy’s eyes skipped past him into the house. She saw an assortment of exotic and old-world items that looked to span the last few centuries at least. Clearly whoever owned it was either a collector, a world traveler, or both. She was not sure if it made sense to think that the elusive friend seemed more likely to be the owner of it all.
George handed over the money as movement sounded from deeper in the house. “George?” called a new voice. It was lilting and sounded like the perfect fit for some posh London boy to go with the fancy house. “Who’s at the door?”
“Donuts!” yelled George in answer over his shoulder. “Why are you asking?”
Lucy thought he suddenly looked tense. Why would he be put off by his housemate asking who was at the door?
From the shadows of the house emerged a tall youth, maybe one or two years older than George. He was rail-thin and pale as a ghost, but there was a sharpness to his eyes and a grace to his movements that belied both wit and surprising strength. George was ogling him like he had suddenly grown a second head. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.
The other boy’s nostrils flared as he breathed out a deep sigh. He shot a meaningful look to George before giving her a thin-lipped smile that was kind-of more creepy than anything else. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mis,” the trailed off, clearly looking for her to give her name.
George however, beat her to it. “She said her name was Lucy.” The bespectacled youth was now gazing at her with calculated intensity.
Nothing else happened for long enough that Lucy felt it becoming awkward. “Right,” she mumbled as the intense scrutiny continued. “Well, I’ve got other deliveries to make today, so I’ll just…” She backed away rather awkwardly. Nobody else moved.
“Of course,” answered the other boy, “I’m sure you want to be finished well before the sun goes down. London can be a dangerous place, especially after dark. Stay safe then, Lucy.”
She shot a confused look over her shoulder as she scampered away. “Yeah, thanks. I will.”
Arif and Laura’s favourites or not, those two boys were weird. Like, really, really weird.