Falcondell (The Devil's Son)

  Chapter 21

  Walking up the steps to the library I am looking forward to the peace and quiet within its musty walls. The diner is always so busy and there is never enough time to think. The library on the other hand gives me lots of thinking time. I haven’t managed to get far with my shelf sorting. One morning a week just isn’t enough.

  As I get inside I see Mr Watson sitting at his desk and my heart sinks as I take in his dishevelled and unkempt appearance. He smiles sweetly as he sees me coming. “Oh hi Grace. It’s good of you to spare me your valuable time every week.” Looking at him I can see that he is tired again, judging by the large black circles under his eyes. I wonder what is happening in his life at the moment that is obviously causing him to be so tired.

  “Hi Mr Watson, would you like me to grab you a coffee before I make a start?” Shaking his head he jumps up. “No, let me for once Grace. It’s the least I can do for you after you give up your time to help me.”

  Smiling warmly at me he shuffles off to the coffee shop across the street. As I watch him go I feel worried about him. I decide that the best way that I can help him is by sorting out the shelves so I begin my laborious task.

  No sooner than I have started I feel somebody approaching me from behind and an arm snakes around my waist pulling me back into a hard toned body. Whispering in my ear he says, “Morning little Tess. Did you miss me?” Enjoying the feeling of him against me I say quietly, “Of course I did.” I can feel his lips kissing feather light kisses on my neck and I feel my legs turn to jelly.

  He spins me around and lifting my face up to his kisses me so sweetly and gently that I forget where we are. After some time he pulls away and grins wickedly. “I love making out with you in the library little Tess. No one but us ever comes here so it is all ours.” Returning his grin I say, “And Mr Watson of course.”

  As if on cue the door opens and I see Mr Watson come in balancing the coffee cups as he tries to negotiate the door. Ash looks annoyed at the interruption and I see Mr Watson visibly pale as he sees who is here.

  Racing over to him I take the coffee from him. “Thank you Mr Watson. I have made a start on the cookery section.” Looking distracted he says quietly, “Thank you dear, you are very good to me.” Ash snorts loudly. “You got lucky when Grace came to town. Slave labour and all for a lousy cup of coffee.”

  Mr Watson colours up and I shoot Ash a venomous look. Chuckling to himself Ash says, “Point me to where the maths books are in this chaotic place.” I show him where they are and give him a stern look whispering, “Don’t be so mean to Mr Watson. I’m really worried about him, something’s wrong I can tell.”

  Ash just shrugs his shoulders and starts looking at the math’s books. Before I leave I turn back to him and say in a whisper, “Why do you come here every week Ash? It’s so out of character for you to study here.” Smirking he stares at me and his eyes flash dangerously. “Well aside from the fact that I can‘t keep away from the beautiful library assistant it is because knowledge is power little Tess. I fully intend on reading every book here and then I will know everything.”

  He puts his feet up on the table and settles back in his chair. Raising my eyes I say, “You think you will know everything from books, well think again. It takes more than the written word to learn about life and the world. Books are fine but experience counts for much more.”

  He grins at me wickedly. “And I can’t wait to experience it with you Grace. I would gladly burn all these books for one hour with you.” Blushing I quickly move away and I can hear him laughing as I go.

  I decide to see if I can learn anything from Mr Watson about his problems and go over to his desk where he is sitting. He looks at me in surprise and I say quietly. “Is everything ok Mr Watson? I mean I hope that you don’t think I’m prying but if I can help out with anything you only have to ask.” I feel bad when I see his eyes fill up with tears. “You’re very kind my dear but I’m afraid there’s nothing that you can do.” Gently I try to probe further. “You don’t have to tell me but sometimes it helps to talk. I mean I know I’m just a kid but I promise I won’t say anything.”

  He looks at me with a strange expression on his face. “You are a very special young lady that much I can tell. You need to be free of problems at your age and just enjoy life whilst you can.” Looking down he adds almost to himself, “Whilst you still have it.” I still can’t leave it and try again.

  “Mr Watson, please tell me to mind my own business if you like but are you ill?” Looking up in surprise he laughs quietly. “No my dear, I only wish I was.” Shocked I say, “Why would you wish that?” He looks at me sadly. “Come with me Grace, I want to show you something, maybe then you will understand.”

  Mystified I follow him to a room at the back of the library. Sneaking a look at Ash I see that he is engrossed in the book that he is reading and has his back to us. Mr Watson opens the door and turns on the light and I gasp in surprise as I see rows upon rows of canvases propped up against every wall and surface. There are some hanging up and as I walk around them I see that many are of a beautiful woman.

  Looking at them in wonder I can tell that whoever painted these was very talented indeed. I look at him in astonishment. “Who did these, they are amazing?” Coughing nervously he looks at me with a far away look in his eyes.

  “They are mine actually.” I look at him in surprise. “They are amazing, you are very talented. I never knew this side of you.” As I look further I wonder who the beautiful woman is in the paintings. “Who is this lady? She appears in most of them.” His face crumples and he looks haunted.

  “That is Annabelle, my wife.” I look at him in shock. “Your wife! I never knew you were married Mr Watson.”

  “Was married dear. Sadly Annabelle passed away two years ago and there is not a day that doesn’t go by that I don’t miss her.”

  I feel bad for him. I can see by the loving way that he has painted her that they must have loved each other very much. I can tell that she felt the same, given the way she was looking at him as he painted her. Softly I say, “I am sorry to hear that, what happened, if it’s not too bold to ask?” The look on his face is one of utter devastation. “She died of cancer. It was a long illness and I cared for her as much as I could. That is why the library fell apart. I didn’t have time to spend here and all of the money I earned went on her treatment and paying people to work here. Unfortunately I fell behind with everything and then when she died I was devastated. Nothing made sense anymore and it all seemed pointless. Soon I fell behind with my rent and now I owe much more than I will ever take here in a lifetime. You see the interest is building up day by day and I am afraid I can’t see a way out of it.”

  I can’t help it and tears run down my cheeks. Seeing them Mr Watson says in alarm, “Oh please don’t cry dear, like I said before, you should be enjoying life whilst you can. I’ll be fine, something will come up I’m sure of it.”

  Looking around me at the dusty room filled with paintings it strikes me that his life is locked up with them. He is obviously struggling and I worry how much longer he will be able to cope. I make up my mind that I will try and help him; I will find a way that much I am certain of.