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rainbowfic2019-10-12 08:27 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2019-10-12 08:27 pm
Entry tags:
Acanthus #7 [Divide and Rule]
Name: Secrets Unlocked
Story: Divide & Rule
Colors: Acanthus #7 (skeleton key)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 1059
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of spies.
Notes: 1924, 1944, 1949: Edward Iveson, Nancy Long, Daisy Long, Julia Graves.
Summary Edward has a knack of getting into things, it’s true.
***
1924
The chest has been up in the attic of the old Long House for as long as Edward can remember. It’s large and solid, built at least a hundred years ago out of oak and iron. It looks like a treasure chest, as it perches on the planks set across the beams of the house, but it isn’t. This summer he’s feeling too old for dreams of maps and secret letters or even pirate gold. They won’t find any of that in Grandfather’s old things.
“It’s only got more books in it,” Edward says as his cousin Nancy tries to find a way to pry the lid open. “Just like the other.” He’s been up here before, with Aunt Daisy, and long before that, with Grandfather Long. Books might be interesting, but not another box full of academic journals and ancient textbooks. He remembers Grandfather telling him that they had been given to the university and they hadn’t wanted them, not then. He was keeping it for them, he said.
Nancy glares. “You can at least look.”
Edward isn’t about to have another row with Nancy. They’ve already had one fight these hols, and that’s unheard of enough in the family that if he starts a second, someone will probably send for a doctor to see if he’s sickening for something. He takes the key from the other chest and tries it in this. He’s not sure it’s the right one, but it works enough to turn the old-fashioned lock and let Nancy lift the lid at last.
“Storybooks,” she says in triumph, seizing one, causing dust to fly about and make him sneeze. She pauses, starting to read, her brow creasing as she scans the words. “This one isn’t much good.”
Edward isn’t really at the point of ignoring mysterious old volumes, and it’s a rainy day in need of something to brighten it. “But I know Grandfather said –” he begins, turning the pages, dislodging more dust. It smells musty, but the content isn’t. He shuts his hastily, causing Nancy to start at the noise.
“Ned?”
He opens it up again, beginning to laugh, as the joke of it strikes him. “I think they’re, well,” he flounders for words. He might have moved on from pirate treasure, but he hasn’t progressed to this kind of thing yet. “Nan, I think they might be rude.”
“They can’t be,” says Nancy, staring more closely at hers. “This one’s not very exciting, I can tell you. Silly, soppy stuff.”
Edward puts his back and makes a grab for hers. “Then put it back!”
“Hey!” says Nancy. “Ned! Get off!” She stops fighting and grabs at him, but not in time to save herself from poking her foot through the plaster.
They both forget the books, staring at the hole in the ceiling.
“Maybe Aunt Daisy won’t notice?” says Nancy. “It isn’t very big, after all.”
Edward pokes her, and she looks again, to see Aunt Daisy down below, staring upwards at them through the hole in question.
“You two,” says Aunt Daisy in ominous tones, “come down here right now!”
1944
Edward waits at the bus stop, a nondescript figure in a long coat, hat down and collar up against the drizzle as he reads his paper. He watches his target leave the house and walk past him. The bus arrives, but departs without Edward, who walks across the street and lets himself in through the main door with a key he’s obtained and picks the lock of the flat door. There’s one thing to be said for any branch of SIS: locks cease to be much of a problem after a while.
The place is dingy, with peeling wallpaper, and it smells of damp and drink. It doesn’t seem to have been cleaned in a week.
Edward isn’t here to do the chores. He moves through the place, rifling through drawers and under the mattress, careful not to give himself away. An untidy place is a good method of self-defence, although he’s not sure this is deliberate.
He finds the tell-tale signs that his asset has been compromised all too easily, in one of the most obvious of hiding places. There’s a document taped to the back of the chest of drawers. Edward pulls pack, takes out his camera for a picture, and continues on, determined to be thorough, but the out come is already certain. His German asset is a Russian spy.
Like a ghost, he leaves no trace behind.
December 1949
“Oh, no,” says Julia, as she searches through her pockets and handbag. “I’ve left the key at Nancy’s. I had it in my coat pocket, I know I did. It must have fallen out in the hallway. Please say you have yours?”
Edward came out in a hurry and the house key hadn’t been to hand at the time. “Sorry.”
“Damn,” Julia says, and turns on her heel towards the car, and when he doesn’t follow, swings back around to frown at him. “Ned? Hurry up. It’s raining!”
He only shakes his head and says, “Do you have a hair grip or pin on you?”
“Yes, of course,” says Julia, “but why –” She raises her eyebrows, and hands one over, but eyes him dubiously. “Darling, don’t. I’m sure there’s a knack to it. Better to call a locksmith now rather than after you’ve broken it even if you don’t want to go all the way back to Nancy’s.”
He holds up a hand, and sets to work, concentrating on the lock, while she stands by in bemusement. Some skills you just don’t lose, it seems. Like riding a bike. He hears the mechanism turn, and stands to open the door for Julia.
“Do you have a criminal past you haven’t told me about?”
Edward grins, ushering her in past him. “Something like that, yes.”
“Sometimes,” she says, as she sheds her sodden coat and headscarf, “I wonder about you.”
Edward pushes the door shut behind him with his foot and smiles at her. “Only sometimes? Clearly I ought to try harder.”
“Silly,” says Julia, before he leans over and kisses her, heedless of his wet coat and her damp curls. Julia yields to his touch, as did the lock; one a perfectly explicable technical matter, the other a mystery beyond his understanding.
***
Story: Divide & Rule
Colors: Acanthus #7 (skeleton key)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 1059
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of spies.
Notes: 1924, 1944, 1949: Edward Iveson, Nancy Long, Daisy Long, Julia Graves.
Summary Edward has a knack of getting into things, it’s true.
***
1924
The chest has been up in the attic of the old Long House for as long as Edward can remember. It’s large and solid, built at least a hundred years ago out of oak and iron. It looks like a treasure chest, as it perches on the planks set across the beams of the house, but it isn’t. This summer he’s feeling too old for dreams of maps and secret letters or even pirate gold. They won’t find any of that in Grandfather’s old things.
“It’s only got more books in it,” Edward says as his cousin Nancy tries to find a way to pry the lid open. “Just like the other.” He’s been up here before, with Aunt Daisy, and long before that, with Grandfather Long. Books might be interesting, but not another box full of academic journals and ancient textbooks. He remembers Grandfather telling him that they had been given to the university and they hadn’t wanted them, not then. He was keeping it for them, he said.
Nancy glares. “You can at least look.”
Edward isn’t about to have another row with Nancy. They’ve already had one fight these hols, and that’s unheard of enough in the family that if he starts a second, someone will probably send for a doctor to see if he’s sickening for something. He takes the key from the other chest and tries it in this. He’s not sure it’s the right one, but it works enough to turn the old-fashioned lock and let Nancy lift the lid at last.
“Storybooks,” she says in triumph, seizing one, causing dust to fly about and make him sneeze. She pauses, starting to read, her brow creasing as she scans the words. “This one isn’t much good.”
Edward isn’t really at the point of ignoring mysterious old volumes, and it’s a rainy day in need of something to brighten it. “But I know Grandfather said –” he begins, turning the pages, dislodging more dust. It smells musty, but the content isn’t. He shuts his hastily, causing Nancy to start at the noise.
“Ned?”
He opens it up again, beginning to laugh, as the joke of it strikes him. “I think they’re, well,” he flounders for words. He might have moved on from pirate treasure, but he hasn’t progressed to this kind of thing yet. “Nan, I think they might be rude.”
“They can’t be,” says Nancy, staring more closely at hers. “This one’s not very exciting, I can tell you. Silly, soppy stuff.”
Edward puts his back and makes a grab for hers. “Then put it back!”
“Hey!” says Nancy. “Ned! Get off!” She stops fighting and grabs at him, but not in time to save herself from poking her foot through the plaster.
They both forget the books, staring at the hole in the ceiling.
“Maybe Aunt Daisy won’t notice?” says Nancy. “It isn’t very big, after all.”
Edward pokes her, and she looks again, to see Aunt Daisy down below, staring upwards at them through the hole in question.
“You two,” says Aunt Daisy in ominous tones, “come down here right now!”
1944
Edward waits at the bus stop, a nondescript figure in a long coat, hat down and collar up against the drizzle as he reads his paper. He watches his target leave the house and walk past him. The bus arrives, but departs without Edward, who walks across the street and lets himself in through the main door with a key he’s obtained and picks the lock of the flat door. There’s one thing to be said for any branch of SIS: locks cease to be much of a problem after a while.
The place is dingy, with peeling wallpaper, and it smells of damp and drink. It doesn’t seem to have been cleaned in a week.
Edward isn’t here to do the chores. He moves through the place, rifling through drawers and under the mattress, careful not to give himself away. An untidy place is a good method of self-defence, although he’s not sure this is deliberate.
He finds the tell-tale signs that his asset has been compromised all too easily, in one of the most obvious of hiding places. There’s a document taped to the back of the chest of drawers. Edward pulls pack, takes out his camera for a picture, and continues on, determined to be thorough, but the out come is already certain. His German asset is a Russian spy.
Like a ghost, he leaves no trace behind.
December 1949
“Oh, no,” says Julia, as she searches through her pockets and handbag. “I’ve left the key at Nancy’s. I had it in my coat pocket, I know I did. It must have fallen out in the hallway. Please say you have yours?”
Edward came out in a hurry and the house key hadn’t been to hand at the time. “Sorry.”
“Damn,” Julia says, and turns on her heel towards the car, and when he doesn’t follow, swings back around to frown at him. “Ned? Hurry up. It’s raining!”
He only shakes his head and says, “Do you have a hair grip or pin on you?”
“Yes, of course,” says Julia, “but why –” She raises her eyebrows, and hands one over, but eyes him dubiously. “Darling, don’t. I’m sure there’s a knack to it. Better to call a locksmith now rather than after you’ve broken it even if you don’t want to go all the way back to Nancy’s.”
He holds up a hand, and sets to work, concentrating on the lock, while she stands by in bemusement. Some skills you just don’t lose, it seems. Like riding a bike. He hears the mechanism turn, and stands to open the door for Julia.
“Do you have a criminal past you haven’t told me about?”
Edward grins, ushering her in past him. “Something like that, yes.”
“Sometimes,” she says, as she sheds her sodden coat and headscarf, “I wonder about you.”
Edward pushes the door shut behind him with his foot and smiles at her. “Only sometimes? Clearly I ought to try harder.”
“Silly,” says Julia, before he leans over and kisses her, heedless of his wet coat and her damp curls. Julia yields to his touch, as did the lock; one a perfectly explicable technical matter, the other a mystery beyond his understanding.
***
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