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Golden Butterfly – Part 06

Late that night…

In the afternoon, Avril and Frannie participated in Red Cross activities at the makeshift munitions factory in the town hall, crafting supplies for the battlefield, before returning home exhausted. While Frannie went off somewhere, Avril sat in the living room on the Bradley family’s second floor, writing a letter.

As usual, her grandmother was sitting in the cozy armchair by the window, absorbed in her embroidery. Every now and then, she would sneak a quick peek at her little granddaughter through her glasses.

Avril groaned, struggling with the letter.

“A letter to your boyfriend?”

“What?!” Avril’s head jerked up.

Her grandmother was smiling brightly. “Did he go to war or something? It’s not like you to look so serious. You’ve always been known for your vivacious spirit. Well, young men are all being taken by war these days.”

“Oh, no…”

“After the last Great War, London was teeming with young folks wrapped in bandages from their injuries. Some were missing eyes, hands, or even limbs. The tutor is a living example. We’ll probably see the same thing again. So distressing…”

“Hmm…” Avril set down her pen. “But this letter isn’t for a young man. It’s, um… actually, I’ve been exchanging letters with my homeroom teacher from Saint Marguerite Academy in Sauville.”

Taken aback, her grandmother adjusted her glasses. “Really now?”

“Yes. I was planning to return immediately as soon as winter break ended, but the academy was closed down all of a sudden. So I wrote letters to my teacher and friends. While everyone else left, the teacher was still at the academy and replied to me. She said she didn’t know how much longer she’d be there. Um… I’m curious how my friends are doing.”

Avril’s gaze drifted to the partially composed letter. Addressed to Miss Cecile Lafitte, it described life in London, mentioned the tutor, the munitions factory, disrupted supplies of food and daily essentials, and the constant presence of police on the streets. Being in London, she wasn’t sure how the war would affect their lives.

Ms. Cecile’s first letter contained information about Kazuya Kujou’s repatriation and Victorique’s absence from the library tower. The second letter stated that Kazuya had safely reached a small island nation in the Far East, as communicated through the embassy.

The letters also conveyed the teacher’s relief in Avril having a tutor. She emphasized the importance of dedicated studying during these times. Additionally, she shared that when she was Avril’s age, she used to study for ten hours a day.

Avril had been debating whether to write about feeling sad that she couldn’t see Kujou or Victorique anymore.

Ms. Cecile must be eager to see everyone again. To greet us every morning with a smile…

Her grandmother sneaked another peek at her granddaughter’s face. Groaning, Avril picked her pen back up.

I will do my best. Please take good care of yourself. Wishing for the day we can reunite in a peaceful Sauville. Au revoir!

After allowing it to dry, she placed the letter inside the envelope and sealed it shut.

Noticing that she had completed writing the letter, Avril’s grandmother lifted her head again. “Avril?”

“Yes?”

“Could you go to the attic and grab some bags of flour and sugar? I hate to ask since they’re quite heavy, but we’re short on help, especially without any guys around. I can’t climb that ladder up and down like I used to.”

“Sure thing!”

With a nod, Avril bounced to her feet and pranced out of the living room, then went up the stairs.

Entering their fourth-floor bedroom to find it empty, she lifted her skirt all the way up, revealing her long, graceful legs. She placed her hands on the ladder and started climbing.

Moonlight faintly shone through the round window of the small attic. The triangular ceiling was barely a meter high, and the space was filled with half-opened antique suitcases, an enigmatic oak dresser, Christmas decorations, old-fashioned dresses, and overblown hats, the kind wizards wore. Captivated by these items, Avril got down and crawled on all fours.

She cocked her head, wondering where the flour was, when she heard the bitter cry of a woman.

“A ghost?!”

Avril’s eyes glimmered as she surveyed her surroundings with excitement, homing in on the source of the sobbing. Straining her eyes, she prepared to let out a shriek of delight, when she found a girl leaning against the huge bag of flour, crying.

Avril suppressed the scream that had been about to escape her lips. Instead, she frowned worriedly.

“Frannie?”

The girl shifted and looked in her direction. Moonlight revealed tear tracks on the girl’s cheeks.

Avril sidled up to her. “I was wondering where you went. What happened?”

“Why do you care? Just leave me alone!” Frannie shot her cousin a sharp glare. Avril blinked, taken by surprise. “I hate you, Avril. You always flinch when war planes fly over. I’m sure you’re sad that you can’t see your friends and teachers in Sauville anymore.”

“I’m not sad,” Avril denied, hesitantly.

“Still you wake up early, singing, tossing windows open. You eat breakfast like a horse. You’re so thick-skinned.”

Avril pursed her lips. “Oh, come on. I don’t mean to…”

“I know what you’re gonna say. As the granddaughter of the famous adventurer, Sir Bradley.”

“As the granddaughter of the famous adventurer, Sir Bradley, I must never do anything that would tarnish his good name,” Avril said with dignity.

Frannie’s gaze turned sharper. “See? I knew it. That’s all you ever say.”

“What was that?!”

“You wouldn’t understand. You’re fearless. You have this inherent love for adventure, and you’re not afraid of failing or things not going well. Our grandfather’s pride. That’s why he gave the Penny Black to you alone. It’s obvious.” Frannie wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “My male friends might die on the battlefield. The thought is unbearable.”

Caught off guard, Avril went silent for a while, her face blank. Frannie’s anguished cries filled the narrow attic.

“Frannie,” Avril finally said, dejectedly.

“What?”

Avril closed her mouth, hesitating. And then, deciding to be upfront, she began to speak. Her expression shifted slightly from a bright and cheerful one.

She placed a hand on Frannie’s shoulder. “Um… I know we’ve been together all this time, but I haven’t been honest. I’m scared too, honestly. I really don’t want to deal with this anymore… *sniff*… Uwaaah!”

Avril’s voice cracked, and tears trickled down her cheeks. Startled, Frannie sat up and blinked.

“Are you crying? No way. You’re so full of energy, like an overwound toy. Please, just stop.”

“An overwound toy? Sniff.”

“Did you sneak a drink or something?” Frannie asked suspiciously.

“I did not!”

Avril wiped her tears and plopped herself down beside Frannie. She hugged her knees, rested her chin on them, and let out a resigned sigh. Finally, she mustered the courage to voice the worries she hadn’t been able to express in her letter to Ms. Cecile.

“I’m scared, too. Every single day. I don’t really understand what’s going on anymore. London seems okay for now, but when I read the newspapers, I see how other cities around the world are going through tough times. It just makes me think, who knows what might happen to London?”

“No way.” Frannie rolled her eyes. “Huh? Seeing you cry cleared my head. It’s like the fog has lifted.”

“Good for you, then.” Avril turned her face away.

The moon outside the window seemed to watch them with concern.

Avril propped her chin on her hand. “I acted all upbeat ’cause I was scared. If I didn’t, I’d start feeling all anxious… I bet Grandpa felt the same way.”

“The number one adventurer from England, Sir Bradley…”

“Yeah.”

They exchanged looks.

“I’m sure before setting off on those adventures, he must have been really anxious, maybe even felt like running away. But instead, he put on a brave face, headed out to the Dark Continent, dove into the Amazon, sailed across vast oceans… Well, that’s just my theory.”

Frannie blinked. “Really? Well, if you’re saying it, then it’s probably true,” she said delightfully. “Ugh, would you stop crying already? You’re such a baby. Here.” She scrubbed the tears off her cousin’s face.

The summer night slowly deepened. A breeze brought with it dark clouds, veiling the moon, and fog rolled in. It was quiet. Wings fluttered in the distance.

In the living room on the second floor…

Engrossed in her embroidery, Granny—widow of the adventurer Sir Bradley—paused, lifting her face. She glanced at the ceiling and smiled, as if aware of the happening in the attic. A moment later, she resumed her precise needlework.