Bloody, Brawling Business CH2

 

Newton spent the night in the hospital’s foyer. He lay across a row of seats, replaying memories in his head over and over. He grasped at every moment with her, every moment that still existed. The day he met her at their grandmothers, every minute they had during his stay, the day they reunited years later, the nights out, the schooldays skipped, the moments beside her hospital bed. He fell asleep to these memories.

  When Newt was awoken his mind instantly went back to scarlet. The memories were now able to bring tears to his eyes, something they failed to do during the shock. He didn't know why he was crying. A voice crept into his ears, overlapping with Scarlet’s voice in his head and disrupting the memory that he’d been occupying. 

  Newt looked up and noticed that Scarlet's old Nurse was standing in front of him. He looked at her cluelessly. The sun was now shining through the glass doors of the hospital, illuminating her consoling face. 

  “Are you with me now?” the nurse asked.

  Newt partially inclined his head. The nurse took the slight reaction as an affirming one. 

  “Did you hear what I was saying before?”

  “N-n-” Newton failed.

  “That’s ok. These are Scarlet’s things. Would you like to take them?” She asked, holding out a cardboard box. 

  Newt reached out slowly and the nurse put the box in his hands. He took a look inside the box. Scarlet’s clothes were neatly folded at the bottom. On top of them lay her water bottle, keys and phone. Why did the nurse have this stuff?

  They were Scarlet’s things for sure. Newt remembered filling the water bottle with orange juice and milk, and he remembered watching Scarlet throw it up, he remembered the feeling he had after he’d drunk the concoction himself so she wouldn’t have to be sick alone. More vivid was his body's memory of the sensation. He had to fight it as it tried to relive the event.

  “I tried to reach out to you many times last night but you weren’t responding,” the Nurse started “How are you feeling? I’m sorry about your-” but her voice was denied recognition as Newton was lost again in thought. 

  ‘Why is she apologising? Why does she want to know how I-’ The events of last night rushed his vision like a passing train, a recognisable blur. He’d finally realised why he was crying and broke into an uncontrollable sob. Turning away from the nurse he buried himself in the row of seats again, curling around the box which crumpled in. ‘How?’ Newt thought. ‘How will I ever move on from this?’

Newt left the hospital at noon. The nurse had given him something to eat from the fridge in the staff room and carried his things for him out the door. 

  “All injuries heal with rest, grief included,” she said, handing him Scarlet's things. “There will be scarring, but it's not the type to diminish your looks, so don’t worry.”

  “Will they stay forever?” He said, gazing into the fresh box.

  “They usually fade over time.”

  Newton nodded slowly.

  “I don’t think they’ll ever completely disappear,” the nurse continued.

  Newton took comfort in those words.

  Newton didn’t notice the trip home. It had become a mindless trek having done it a hundred times, so it gave him a lot of time to think about Scarlet.

  His mother rushed to the front door as soon as he opened it. 

  “How dare you! Not answer! My calls! Your! Moth-” The sight of the box in his hands shut her up.

  Newton walked past her, not having said a word, not caring. He walked right up to his room. locking the door behind him, he lay right down on his bed and fell asleep, the box of Scarlet’s things still in his arms, safe.

Newton woke up to a buzzing, coming from the inside of the box, and sat up to take a look inside. He was instantly energised by the bright screen of Scarlet’s ringing phone. Paul, that was the name displayed on her screen, no picture to the name. Was Newt going to have to be the one to break the news of his sister’s death to this man?

  Newt separated the phone from the rest of Scarlet’s items and answered it, putting it to his ear. The proceeding moments were silent. Newt didn’t want to be the first to speak.

  “Hello, is this Newton (last name to be decided)?” 

  “How did you know I’d answer the phone?” He asked after a short pause of confusion. “How did you know my name?”

  “After all you two have done together do you not think Scarlet would in the least mention your name to those acquainted to her? She spoke of you to the point of annoyance.”

  “Why’re you calling?” Newt asked, putting the box to rest on the bed and standing. He noticed himself holding tight to the phone and softened his grip.

  “I went to the hospital today after I caught wind of what happened, tried to catch you there in the afternoon, but you’d already departed. I was told you had her things so I decided to call her phone in hope that you would pick up.”

  “So what do you want from me?”

  “I would like you to meet me in my office for a chat, say eleven tomorrow morning? There we can comfortably discuss Scarlet’s will.”

  “You’re her lawyer?”

  “To scrub our relationship of all substance, yes.”

  Paul left Newt with the address of his office before hanging up. Reminiscence filled the ensuing quiet like air rushing to fill a vacuum.

  Newt didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. When he saw the sunrise through his window, he decided to get changed and head to Paul’s office early, so he grabbed the box and left. He knew it wouldn’t be good for him to stay in his room alone all day. He could feel the wounds of grief stinging just as painfully as they had done previously, though they were now dry.

Paul's office, much like the hospital Scarlet was admitted to, was within the northern, coastal region of Sydney where much of the city’s wealth lay. It was tucked away in the corner of a shopping street, a faded sign out the front reading ‘Paul and Harris, Lawyers’.

  Newt sat out the front for a while, then out of fear that his mind would be dragged back into the events of Scarlet’s death, he started walking up and down the street trying to take in the sights. His attempts to occupy himself fell short as just minutes later, he was mindlessly strolling as if on auto pilot, thinking about Scarlet.

  Was there going to be a funeral for her? Who’d organise it? His parents? No, definitely not. Him? He didn’t know how and it’d require money he didn’t have. What was going to happen to Scarlet? Where was she going to be buried? 

  Newt found himself at the corner again, but this time someone was at the door fumbling with a set of keys. Newton expected a balding middle aged man, fat and clean shaven with a suit and tie. Paul, however, Had a suit, fitted around his muscular arms, a short, but full head of hair, and a round bushy beard. 

  Paul undid the lock and glanced over his shoulder. He seemed surprised. 

  “You actually look like her,” he said. “Your eyes are wrong and your jaw is definitely bigger, but if I just.” He held his out in front of him and closed one eye, presumably covering Newt’s chin. “Hoho. Yes, alright come one in.”

  Paul sounded warmer in person, friendly. Newt never would’ve expected it due to how formal he was on the phone just hours ago.

  Newton followed him inside. It was one big room with stairs at the back leading up. There was a single desk in the middle and the room was lined with filled book cases and filling cabinets along the far two walls. The wall that led on to the stairs had a desk with a computer and to Newt's right was a little kitchen setup with a stove, basin, kettle and toaster.

  “You sound better than you did last night,” Newt said, hinting at Paul’s tone.

  “Well, I was in grief, was I not? A bit of sleep and to see your face has certainly done wonders,” said Paul, as he moved to the small kitchen. He filled the kettle with water, clicked the lid shut and flicked it on. 

  “Toast?” he asked, glancing back at Newt and pointing at a loaf of white bread next to the sink.

  “No thanks," Newt replied. “Did you really care about my sister? She’s never mentioned you before.”

  “We had a very professional relationship, your sister and I,” Paul replied as he loaded some bread into the toaster for himself. “She helped me out of a very difficult spot, but I don’t think it or I would’ve made a topic of much interest, so it would make sense if she never mentioned me. ”

  “What kind of spot?”

  Paul retrieved two mugs from a cupboard under the stove. “Not one I would be willing to discuss. If it wasn’t for her though, I’d either be dead or somewhere I wouldn't be able to live with myself. She was a kind soul.” He dropped a tea bag in each mug. “So, yes I did care for her safety and well being. Hearing of her loss was dreadful, and even more so for you, I’d believe.”

  The kettle beeped and he poured the steaming water into each mug. 

  “Sugar?” He asked Newt.

  “Lots,” Newt replied.

  “Take a seat at the desk.” 

  Newt moved over to the desk and sat down. Paul came over carrying the mugs. He put one down in front of Newt and sat with his own in his hand.

  “Did you both work for Scarlet?”

  Paul shot a confused look at Newt. “What?”

  “Did Harris know Scarlet as well? His name’s on your sign.”

  “Oh, yeah, he was here for a while.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Harris went back.”

  “Where?”

  Paul took a sip of his tea. “It’s still something I wish not to discuss.” 

  Newt wondered if he’d meet Harris, maybe he'd come to Scarlet’s funeral if there was going to be one. 

  “Will Scarlet have a funeral?” Newt asked Paul.

  “That was one of the things I wanted to discuss today. Me and a few others have organised a burial. I thought it right to invite you along. I’ll take you right after our meeting if you wish.”

  “Of course.” Newt couldn't imagine how angry he'd be if he wasn't able to attend Scarlet’s burial.

  The room was silent for a moment. Paul opened one of the desk compartments on his side and took out a file. He opened it and read out loud. “The last will and testament of Scarlet.” 

  Scarlet had no legal last name. Newt knew that. She’d probably gotten it removed as soon as she could. It’s probably one of the things she did to make their parents hate her.

  “To Suzane, my mother, I leave my house. To Robert, my father, I leave everything else, except for this envelope which I have addressed to my little brother Newton. that goes to him.”

  Paul handed Newton the envelope.

  “Why aren’t my parents here if they’re in the will?”

  “Open the letter, I’ve already seen its contents.”

  Confused, Newton carefully opened the envelope and read the letter.

 

  The true, final will and testament of Scarlet.

  Everything goes to Newton (last name to be decided). This includes my massive fortune, mansion of a house, beauty of a car and everything in between. Suck it!

-Scarlet

  Reading the note, it was like Scarlet was still there, speaking the words herself.

  “My thoughts are that she did intend for your parents to be in the room. I don't think it would've been comfortable for you under current circumstances. I’m sure the idea of the joke will amuse you all the same.”

  It was the first time since Scarlet's death that Newt looked into somebody's eyes “Thank you, Paul.