Rescue
Sibyl was not having a good time.
Her life, since the morning she left Lacybourne, (not unusually but still upsettingly) descended into a mess. The only shining good fortune she seemed to have was Mrs. Byrne, who she now had a standing date to have breakfast with every Monday morning. They’d met last Monday nearly a week since their first encounter on the steps of Lacybourne and decided to make it a ritual. Sibyl had enjoyed the woman’s company and was thrilled to have a new friend.
Social Services was very understanding about Annie and the sad state of her house but their hands were tied regarding the minibus driver. Therefore, Sibyl decided to have a few choice words with him. Her choice words, and the hold on her calm, deteriorated to the point where Kyle had to pull her back as she began to shout into the driver’s pitted, sneering face.
“You’ll make it worse for them, luv, if you upset him,” Kyle explained, gently pushing her toward the door to the Day Centre. She didn’t have to ride the minibus, Kyle reminded her, the pensioners did. And angering the driver would only make matters worse.
Kyle was right, of course and after her minibus driver tirade, Sibyl sought out Jemma and collapsed in a chair in her office, sipping at a fortifying cup of coffee that Tina made her to calm her down (something Tina had become adept at doing in the past year).
“I’m out-of-control,” Sibyl admitted to her friend.
Days before, when Jemma had asked at the bandage at her temple, she’d told her friend everything about Lacybourne. She had not told her mother or her sister, especially considering her premonitory dream and Colin Morgan’s part in that. Both women would have been in fits (especially if she described him in every luscious detail) and likely would have wanted her to go back and explore her options, crazy man or not, especially if she’d relayed the information that he’d told her he was “tempted”.
Tempted! Insane!
Jemma’s response to the story was odd.
“You say he covered you up at night when you were cold?” Jemma asked.
Sibyl stared at her but didn’t answer.
“And watched you playing with Mallory?” Jemma went on.
“Yes,” Sibyl drew out the word warningly, feeling the need to focus on the deviant parts of Colin Morgan’s personality, not the contradictorily kind ones that seemed to underlie them.
“And made sure you had something to eat and even… wine?” Jemma continued.
“What are you driving at, Jem?”
“Well, his behaviour is very bizarre, I’ll grant you that.”
“Why, thank you,” Sibyl voice was laced with disgruntled sarcasm.
“However, he did keep you in his home to watch over you after you banged your head.”
“He didn’t ‘keep me’, he imprisoned me and he only did it because he didn’t want my parents to sue,” Sibyl contradicted because she thought it was important to keep the facts straight.
Jemma ignored her. “He also fed you, looked in on you in the night, gave you something comfortable to wear and made sure you were warm.”
Sibyl let out an exasperated explosion of breath.
“I’m just saying,” Jemma placated with a shrug.
Sibyl abruptly changed the subject.
Now, days later, in Jemma’s office after the minibus debacle, Jemma watched her with her usual kindly reserve.
“Perhaps that bang on your head shook something loose,” Jem suggested unhelpfully.
“I don’t think I’m going to come to you for reassurance anymore,” Sibyl grumbled.
Jemma laughed. “I’m a mother. We tend, in certain situations, to lean more toward honesty than reassurance.”
“I’d say now was one of those ‘reassuring times’,” Sibyl countered.
Jem just shook her head wisely.