Mrs. Lyttles death came as no shock to the small village as the nearest undertakers came to take away her corpse away. A small crowd gathered outside of the B&B as she was taken away to the nearest funeral home but I could spy no tears being shed for her. No questions were raised when I reported her death to the doctor and he ruled it as either having a heart attack or just passing away in her sleep. He did, however notice the small bruising on her chest, wrists and stomach. I explained to him though she did slip down the stairs the night previous as I had helped her back to her room. He shook his head in sorrow, as he gazed back down at her lifeless body, her eyes still filled with the horrific realization that death was fast approaching her and there was no way of stopping it. Her scratches still stung slightly though underneath the sleeves that I made sure were buttoned tightly at the wrists. I rubbed them occasionally, wincing at the vivid memory of her frantic clawing, the kicking against the mattress, her body squirming underneath like a snake trying to escape. But if I were to tell you that i felt guilty it would be a lie. I did what was necessary and i couldn't wait and skulk around Mrs. Lyttle and the village like a preying vulture waiting for the frail to die. I did what I had to for love. For Leonora....

Arranging the funeral for the late Mrs. Leonora proved simple enough as most of her acquaintances remained in the village and even some of them came even came around to the B&B to help me sort through her contacts to send out invites, sort through her documents, find out what she left to people in her will. Unfortunately, though, the latter proved most difficult to procure. It seemed all the time Mrs. Lyttle spent lurking inside the B&B she never cared to sort out what were to happen to it once she had passed on. Though the gossips of the locals who came to speak with as i remained in the house it was brought to light that Mrs Lyttle was rather a recluse and hardly ever spoke to anyone out of the village and her only source of contact were the delivery men who gave her groceries and the very few guests who came to stay. As soon as she lost her husband ten years ago after the death of her four sons, it seemed she lost the will to live and imprisoned herself within the walls of her home, only fashioning it into a bed and breakfast so that she could financially afford it. But it seemed, in the evidence of her finances, that she struggled with this aspect of keeping a business. It was after the many hours of laboring through every piece of paper that i could find with the older women of the village who were apparently the closest she had to friends that i finally made the call to my grandparents in Scotland, and told them of my desire to stay in the village and purchase the house.

"What do you mean you're not coming back!" Barked my Grandfather down the speaker, causing a mild ringing sensation in my ear

"You don't understand Grandpa," I said back to him, softening my tone to make it sound more like pleading "I'm getting to know her family, the villagers and plus the kind old lady who i was staying with just passed and i want to stay to help sort her funeral. Plus, maybe stay and upkeep her home till I feel ready to come back home if I wish too"

"But what about your studying, you were so keen and you practically begged us to keep you in that university even though I don't see the point"

"I can't explain, Grandpa, I'm just drawn to this place...." He sighed with a heavy breath, signaling he was about to cave into my demands but with much irritation.

"I suppose it can't do much harm you staying down there. It just means having you are out of our sight. You must understand why we are reluctant to do so? "

Bitter vexation filled me in the pits of my stomach, leaving a sour aftertaste in the back of my mouth; my hands grasping even tighter on the telephone.

"I'll be fine Grandpa, I can't stay with you and grandmama forever, you know" I said, trying my best to iron out the irate tone in my voice. Ever since the death of my parents my grandparents have had me labelled the majority of my life as "Vulnerable", it didn't help either that I was mostly a recluse, barely uttering a word and hardly ever leaving my room or the library; I rarely ever played outside and preferred the company of my books and the many pets that my grandparents possessed.

"I know you will be, it was a traumatic thing to happen to you though, all that you went through, on your own in that house...."

In a desperate attempt to not be reminded I cut him off quicker than a knife slicing through the air

"I'll be fine Grandpa. You must remember i was very young and it was also a very long time ago"

"I know, I know, just......no your right, we had to let you go at some point I suppose. Just give us all the information we need and we'll set it up so you don't run out of any money"

"Thank you Grandpa and I truly mean it, remember I'll be up to visit you both regularly as well"

"I know you will be, just let us know how you are getting on and do keep in touch"

Satisfaction filled me like a scrumptious dessert at the end of the meal, the sweetness leaving me in a pleasant mood for the rest of the day. It was easy to establish myself amongst the humble villagers as the poor, unfortunate lad who had to discover the past Mrs. Lyttle in the early hours of the morning and have gained a favorable reputation, helping sort out all planning needed for her house, her processions and her funeral costs which I announced to everyone who asked that I'll pay for. I thought I may as well owe it to her, after all it weren't her choice to die so sudden.

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In the middle of sorting out her various possession, trying to figure with her close circle of acquaintances what should go to who and whether we should have a little sale on her various Knick knacks. I was surprised by the arrival of Mr. Wanes standing in the hallway, no longer hunched over on his cane and was wearing a rather pleasant smile on his face deeply ridge face.

"Mr. Wane! " I uttered in cheer, walking in quick steps to shake his hand with much enthusiasm. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here!"

"Well I heard of the passing of the late Mrs. Lyttle and also that a kind, young gentleman was helping with funeral costs and all sorts and i had a feeling it may have been you"

I chuckled but it was out of discomfort. For the brief few seconds of being seeing Mr Wanes i had forgotten about Mrs. Lyttles passing and worried I may have let my guard down within those few seconds.

"Yes, it is a shame." I said, trying my best to regain the melancholy tone I had managed to upkeep since the early hours of the morning. Its rather tiresome work to try and be grief-stricken for the passing of someone you lack any empathy for. Mr Wane patted my back, a gesture he seemed to be rather fond of doing; a gesture that filled me reassurance and comfort, lighting a small, flame of familiarity of what a father is to me.

"It's Ok son, must have been one heck of a shock to the system to be confronted with another death in such a short amount of time" He said, leading me into the drawing room of the B&B where a gaggle of faces peered up to the arrival of us and Mr Wane.

Agatha Marble came up stomping up to us. She was a large, fair headed, middle aged woman who wore a yellow apron with red roses, stained with egg yolk and bread dough and flour, the strings stretched and taut against her round, protruding stomach. It made me thing of a rather large egg for some reason. She had established herself – to me anyway – as the lead gossiper in the village, being the first to introduce herself to me as soon as Mrs Lyttle was carried out of the door. She immediately dedicated herself to the kitchen, making tea and snacks for everyone and rummaging the kitchen cupboards for biscuits and sweet things to serve to anyone who wished to help out. I found her manner though a tad informal and aggressive even if she only meant to be kind.

"Mr. Wane, what a surprise to see you here" She cried, mimicking me just a few second before and taking Mr. Wanes small hands into her large, clammy ones, shaking them with such powerful vigor I worried she might tear them off from his shoulders. Mr Wane winced but managed to conserve his smile, though it waned in pain.

"Thank you Mrs. Marple" He Said, his voice quivering slightly as his hand still remained in her iron clasp.

"Oh, my lord!" She cried with the same pitch and volume of a choirboy, though lacking the melody of one. "I'm surprised you have remembered my name since our last encounter"

"How could I forget your sublime cakes that you had served at the last fun fair, in fact i took some home to my daughters. They found them most agreeable"

Her face bloomed a ruddy red allover and a wet sheen surfaced her forehead.

"Oh, Mr. Wane you are too kind" She lowered her voice and moved in closer, as if she were about to share some scandalous gossip "I'm sorry for the loss of your daughter by the way, she was such a beautiful girl" Me and Mr. Wane both flinched at this, it seemed for a moment a spell had been place on both of us that had made us forget of the passing of Leonora, that we had stepped into a world varnished in color but now were shrouded in black and white again. The smile on Mr. Wane vanished in an instant and that dark cloud that I had seen hovering and consuming over him yesterday began to form again.

"Thank you, Mrs. Marple" He said, trying his best to remain polite but a stern hardness now outlined his tone. Her large doughy arm wrapped itself over his shoulders as she leaned into him. "Would you two both like a cup of tea, I've managed to find some biscuits in one of the cupboards that I think you'd both like"

The smile returned to him "Thank you Mrs. Marple, that'll be most kind" He said and with that she hurried in heavy, loud footsteps to the kitchen, a cabinet full of china plates rattled against the class as she went past to the back. Me and Mr. Wane sat down on the plump sofas, our movements still being watched by the other neighbors as we struggled to try and find a topic to regain our conversation after its sudden interruption in the hallway. His fingers drummed on the steel top of his cane, shaped like an eagle's head. Its narrowed, wary eyes watching me as I tried my best to resurrect the dead conversation.

"I'm thinking of staying behind in the village, at least till I feel ready to return home" I said with earnest desperation to break the silence.

He turned to look at me, his face brightening as the cloud dissipating around him, breaking him out of the spell again.

"That’s wonderful to hear Ruben" He cheered. "I was hoping you would stay around a tad longer, I don't know why but you were only one who made the wake bearable yesterday"

Pride – a feeling I was rather unaccustomed too - flowered inside of my chest and flourished up to my cheeks and staining them red; a flossy chill rose in me, rushing down my arms and stomach, raising the goosebumps on my skin.

"Thank you, sir, that means a lot for me to hear" I said, trying my best to disguise the childish furor I could feel stirring around in the pits of my stomach.

"And listen" He said, his hand returning to the middle of my back "If you need anything, anything at all whilst you are settling in, you let me know straight away, I don't want you struggling to try and find your feet. I'll even happily try and get you a maid if you are needing"

The blushing in my cheeks was becoming unbearable, I dread to think of the hue of red it has become. But a sad little seed began to sprout as well. If me and Mr. Wanes got on so well just imagine what it could have been like with Leonora alive. But she will soon be with me, in this house, with her own room, a shrine dedicated to her, a perfect mausoleum with her only. Me and her, forever alone.