Dollhouse
Chapter 5: Dollhouse
14th July 1935, London
The spare bed in Cordelia's room, formerly Katie's bed, was made for the first time in months. Lucy punched her old patched up duvet and laid it down on her temporary bed while occasionally glancing at Cordelia. She was still concerned about her friend.
With her back to Lucy, Cordelia fixated on a dollhouse in front of her. Jane's parting gift to Lucy, a replica of Wool's. Though Lucy was thankful, Cordelia knew she didn't exactly like the gift.
Wool's itself was a gloomy place without the loud chatter of children from every corner of the place. The dark gothic architecture from the Victorian era certainly didn't help. The grey-blue arches and spires made the large house look quite intimidating.
And Cordelia was sure the stone gargoyles removed a few years before she came certainly added to the frightening factor. The custom dollhouse had managed to capture the eeriness of the Wool's exterior even without those removed gargoyles.
As a result, Lucy had asked, no, begged Cordelia to take the dollhouse, not as a present but something to keep, a way to keep it out of her sight. Lucy would never give Cordelia something so eerie as a gift.
Being the good friend she was, Cordelia obliged. She wasn't scared of the dollhouse; if anything she found it fascinating. When Robbie brought it in, she asked him to put it in the centre of the room, he found it odd but didn't question it much.
Whenever she was alone in her room, she liked to pretend the dollhouse was actually Wool's and she could see where everyone was or what they were doing. Obviously she couldn't but she did like to pretend.
"Amy's so…vile!" Lucy let out a silent scream with her hands in the air. "How could she ruin your birthday dinner like that?"
Eying the ticking clock above the window, Cordelia shrugged. It was past midnight and her birthday was over and a new day had already begun. She'd already shed enough tears for her birthday because of Amy's fit of jealousy.
Her hair was dangerously damp and coiled up as she ran her fingers through them, trying to untangle them. She flinched a little, not in pain or because of Lucy's unmoving gaze on her. In her ears, Cordelia could still hear Amy's haunting shrieks as she rolled around in the dining hall while her face turned blue.
"And then she started throwing that fit." Lucy carried on, jumping down from her bed and pulling the moth-eaten blue curtains on Cordelia's window. "I bet she, Dennis and Eric did something again. I bet she stole Fran's inks again. She must've done something."
"I don't think so." Amy's shrieks of pain looked too real to be false. The sudden blue spots appeared too real to be simply ink or paint and Cordelia knew Amy wouldn't scratch her face that aggressively over a lie. "It was real, I don't think Amy or Dennis would go that far for a simple joke or to cause trouble. No, I think it was real. You heard those screams. Amy's not that good of an actress."
Lucy shrugged, she didn't really care. She was more concerned about the ruined dinner party. "Well, she did say she wanted to be a star and wanted to go to America." Lucy shifted in her seat on the bed and leaned closer to Cordelia who was on the floor. "Remember that time she pretended her mother was an actress that had to leave her behind."
Vaguely recalling the memory, Cordelia nodded. It was embarrassing to recall because everyone knew Amy was lying. She was always desperately trying to gain some attention in a large place like Wool's among the many children.
Her need for attention only grew when she once overheard Mrs Cole say how she allows Amy to go out during the evening because she's too plain-faced to be in real danger. Even the older girls were always let out with an escort except Beatrice who didn't really care about her plain face. She had higher aspirations than marrying well.
The dollhouse stood out boldly against the peeling faded powder blue wallpaper and old ash mouldings. The floor was less rotten than other room's and was regularly mopped by Cordelia when she had time. Her room was cleaner than other rooms at Wool's, much to Lucy's envy.
"Lucy, let's not talk about Amy." Cordelia opened the model-front door on the dollhouse and the two girls froze when she heard a knock on the door.
Mrs Cole was here.
And she wasn't alone.
Fran and Beatrice had both come around alongside the old matron to see Cordelia, checking if she had a fever or not. After they were done Mrs Cole sternly said. "Straight to bed you two, I don't want to catch you whispering about—Cordelia might catch a cold then."
"Yes, Mrs Cole." Cordelia and Lucy chorused, tucking into their beds. The two waited for the sound of footsteps to fade away before Lucy turned to Cordelia.
"Right, what do you think of Tom's gift?" Asked Lucy, sitting up and hugging her knees. "He never gives anyone anything but he gave you his mother's bracelet."
Cordelia didn't want it. Around her small wrist, she could feel the weight of the heavy metal band. Though its intricate serpent designs seemed pretty, for Cordelia it felt stifling like it was a shackle around her wrist.
"I don't understand…" Cordelia breathed out. Tom was never like this. "Why me?" She didn't really expect Lucy to answer.
"You're the only one who is kind to Tom and the only one he actually pays any attention to."
"It's only because we're very similar." There was only one thing linking the two together; the strangeness that only Cordelia and Tom seemed to possess in the entirety of Wool's. "Still, I'm not that close to him, I hardly ever speak to him."
Lucy giggled softly. "I don't know, Delia, I reckon you two are more closer than you'd like to think, especially since he got ill all of a sudden—he's been everywhere where you were."
Thinking about Lucy's words, Cordelia couldn't refute it. After Tom woke up, the two had spoken and seen each other more than they had in all the years Cordelia had been at Wool's. She didn't know how to feel, it was odd and she was caught off-guard by his changed attitude towards her.
Her wrist felt heavy and cold, so cold that it almost burned her as if the band was made of ice. Her lungs felt constricted, she couldn't breathe. "Delia?" Lucy jumped out from her bed, thinking her friend caught a cold or something.
It wasn't a cold, no, she just felt stifled or trapped.
Without a word, Cordelia ripped off the heavy band around her wrist and threw it across the small room. The bracelet hit the floor with a loud thud and rolled away, stopping just at the closed entrance of the dollhouse.
Her wrist free, Cordelia felt lighter and she could finally breathe again. "I'm returning it—it's Tom's not mine to keep."
"Tom's not going to be happy, are you sure you want to return it?" Cordelia wasn't sure at all and she stared at the band on the floor. She could've sworn she saw those etched serpents move and she shuddered at the mere thought of it being alive. "Delia?"
Throwing her duvet off her, she hopped out of bed, much to her friend's surprise. Lucy sat up and leaned over the edge of her own bed. "I'm giving it back, I'm not keeping it. I can't." She felt as if small ants were crawling all over, the longer she stared at the ornate band on the floor.
"At this time?" Lucy's eyes were wide and she couldn't help how strange Cordelia's behaviour was. It was like she was afraid of Tom. Odd. Cordelia was the only one who wasn't afraid of Tom, the rest of them were. "I think you should go to bed. Give it back to him in the morning—though it's rude to give back gifts—"
"It's not a gift!" The doors of the dollhouse all opened suddenly and Lucy hugged her duvet tightly against her chest. Cordelia calmly breathed in and out. When she opened her eyes, the doors of the dollhouse were closed. "It's not a gift, Lu. I can't explain it but it's not…"
"I don't understand."
"I can't explain it."
"Why not?"
"I don't know." She just had this peculiar indescribable feeling that the bracelet was more than a gift. Its heaviness coupled with the burning cold just gave her a bad feeling that she shouldn't take anything from Tom, not if unless she was ready to give him something back in equal weight and meaning.
"Just keep it, he went through a lot of trouble to get it back, only to give it to you."
"I can't. Did you not see what happened to Amy?"
Lucy furrowed her brows with a hint of confusion. "Delia, what are you talking about? You don't really—no—I think you might be ill or something because Tom didn't do anything. He was sat next to you."
Cordelia opened her mouth but she didn't speak. It was as if the words were stuck in her throat. Instead, she could only mutter. "He wasn't like this before…"
From the corner of her eye, Cordelia could see her friend hesitating whether or not to say or approach her. "I didn't catch that—what'd you say?"
"I didn't say anything." And Cordelia appeared genuinely confused. The sudden switch scared Lucy and she covered herself with the old ratty duvet but didn't hide herself away completely. "I think you're just tired, it's past midnight." She said, looking out the curtained window that only let little light through. "You should go to sleep, Lu."
"Please tell me you're not going to give it back now of all time?"
"Go to sleep." Cordelia repeated, choosing not to answer Lucy.
Lucy's eyes felt heavy and she slumped back before she could stop herself, she was fast asleep and Cordelia was surprised. She went over to Lucy's bed and tucked her in before heading out the door. She had to be quiet, even if all the lights were out, it didn't mean everyone was asleep.
The floorboards creaked and moaned as she tiptoed around them going towards the stairs to the third floor where Tom's room was. She had to give his gift back quickly and get out before he awoke.
From the end of the long hallway, Cordelia could hear Amy's soft cries coming from her room. She felt bad for the poor girl but at the same time, she only had herself to blame.
If Amy was smart, she wouldn't pick on her just because she was afraid to pick on Tom. Of course, Amy wasn't smart. She was, in Cordelia's eyes, a dull and stupid girl who was too insecure with herself to think straight.
Ignoring her cries, Cordelia wished Amy would be fine by the morning. What happened to her was still terrible. Quietly, she climbed up the stairs to the nearly empty third floor. Only Tom and Robbie's rooms were up there.
She went past Robbie's room and went straight to Tom's, knocking once. She didn't get a response so she tried again before pushing his door and it opened without a sound. "Tom?" She called out, walking in. "Tom?" She called out again.
His bed was empty and there was not a single soul in his room apart from her. Where did Tom go? She wondered as she sat down on the empty bed that didn't belong to anyone.
Well, she didn't come this far to go back empty-handed. Carefully, she placed the bracelet on the nightstand with the note she had written, an empty apology. No doubt Tom would not be appeased by her silly note but she didn't care enough.
She quickly went back to her room and closed the door behind her. Lucy's soft snores could be heard, indicating she was still asleep.
Breathing out, she was about to go to bed when the sudden sound of footsteps made her jump. She hurriedly jumped under her covers and pretended to sleep but from the small gap of her vision she could see the terrifying shadows cast by the dollhouse in the pale moonlight and street lights of London.
Now, she could see why Lucy didn't want the dollhouse as the menacing shadows swayed side to side. The shadows of the gargoyle scared her and she shut her eyes tight, hoping sleep would come to her.
"I know you're in here." Cordelia heard a somewhat familiar voice call out to her.
Strange, she wasn't in bed anymore. No, she was back in the halls of the second floor. Somehow it looked worse than before.
The wallpaper was ripped off exposing the brick and wood walls while the floor was missing many boards. Even the newly installed light fixtures done at the behest of Dr Wool before his departure were falling apart.
Everything around her was falling apart.
Cordelia shut her eyes and counted, thinking when she'd open her eyes she'd be back in her damp bed. Much to her horror, when she did open her eyes, she found herself staring at a man.
The man was not looking at her. Pale faced with black hair and eyes that made him appear much paler despite it all, even she had to admit he was somewhat handsome.
"Don't ignore me! I know you're in here." The man hissed, going past Cordelia and marching straight into what was supposed to be Cordelia's room.
At first, she didn't mean to follow him but her curiosity got the best of her and she happened to find herself following the strange but attractive man. She couldn't help but laugh.
The morning earlier, she spent re-reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and like always, she thought Alice was the most foolish girl for following a white rabbit down the rabbit role yet here she was, following a strange man into what was meant to be her own bedroom.
Inside the room, Cordelia expected to find it ruined just as the outside but it was just as she remembered it. The faded wallpaper, barely peeling at the edges and stained wooden floor. Even the beds seemed just as she had left them in her reality.
The room wasn't empty. The dollhouse was also there, still the same as she had left in her reality, still menacingly haunting. Crouched in front of it, however, was a familiarly unfamiliar woman.
She had seen her before but she just couldn't remember where.
Brown hair pinned into curls, pale freckled skin and when the woman looked up, she appeared to have bright blue eyes—much like Cordelia's. "You followed me." The woman sounded lifeless as she spoke. There was a dull spark in her eyes as if she was expecting him but once her gaze landed on his, she deflated.
The man calmed himself and crouched down. "It's dangerous, let me take you home."
"But we are home." The woman retorted, looking away and playing with the dollhouse. "Though, it's much different from what I remember but you kept my room the same—even this ugly dollhouse. Did you keep your room the same as well?"
"If you know the answer, you shouldn't ask silly questions."
The woman's jaw tightened and she looked away. "Of course, you hate silly questions. I don't even know how we became friends." She mumbled, getting up but not taking his hand. "I'm so tired of this. Why can't you just let me leave?"
"I'm not holding you back—C—d—a—pl—try to understand what—doing for you—" Like an old record, the man's speech was being cut off and Cordelia couldn't make out what he was saying.
"But you are!" The woman looked around and motioned to the room. "Look around you—this is like a dollhouse."
"I thought you liked dollhouses."
"When I was a ch—T—plea—" The woman's speech also started to get cut off.
Every time Cordelia tried to focus, a sharp pain would shoot up her head, making her sway. Too busy trying to focus on their attentions, Cordelia didn't even notice the argument between the two escalate before the woman in anger threw the old dollhouse across the room, finally breaking it into pieces.
Cordelia gasped awake to meet Lucy's bright eyes. "Finally! I was about to leave you to starve without breakfast. You know it's not like you to wake up late—aren't you a morning person?"
Lucy carried on talking but Cordelia wasn't listening. She kept glancing around her room. Was there someone else that lived here before her? She didn't know. "Lucy."
"You weren't listening, were you?"
No, she wasn't and she still wasn't. "You were right. We should get rid of the dollhouse."
"I thought you liked dollhouses, especially that ugly one." Lucy glared at the dollhouse across the room that Jane had left them. "I'm telling you we should've left it to those street children but Dr Wool gave it to Jane and you know Mrs Cole would never let us—"
Again, Cordelia wasn't really listening. Her attention was caught by one of the gargoyles on the roof of the ugly dollhouse. "Lucy, the gargoyle—it moved from last night."
Lucy froze and she examined the roof of the dollhouse. "Well, Jane did say those could be removed, maybe you played with them too much."
But Cordelia didn't touch the gargoyles at all. She didn't like them and she didn't voice out her complaints in fear Lucy might make fun of her. "If you say so." She decided to drop it and get changed.
"Ugh. What is this?" Lucy held a strange white piece of something that looked like a torn piece of lace but quite lace. "It's rough and then soft and stretchy and it stinks."
Cordelia grabbed it from Lucy's hand and held it up to the sunlight. Under the sunlight, she could see the pattern of the scales. Without a single word, she crumpled up the lace-like object and threw it out the window before rushing to wash her hands but stopped when her eyes found something shiny near the dollhouse.
On top of the spires of the dollhouse was the bracelet of Tom's mother, the one Cordelia would swear she left in his room. Her heart dropped and her face paled. Lucy and her were not the only ones in her room last night.