The Singular Story of Silas' Sibling (Part Two)

Still amazed, I took the lady’s hand - as much out of admiration as of courtesy - and kissed it. She wore a large emerald ring.

‘Oh dear, are getting married, Marina?’

‘No, it was a… gift from the King of Scandinavia. We were ever so good chums.’

I was already entranced by this Marina. She held herself like no other woman I had ever encountered, somewhere between nonchalance and grace. All I could think was: lucky old King of Scandinavia.

‘So how are our brother and sisters?’

‘All fine. Apart from Claudius, but then he never is. Oh, Theodore has finally created that rocket he always talked about.’ She frowned. ‘No one’s seen him in a while actually.’

‘How’s Father?’

‘Still lost at sea.’

‘And how’s Mother?’

‘Still dead.’

I was enthralled to hear so much about my friend’s home life. I was ready to burst with questions but I controlled myself. Bursting of any kind is never acceptable in front of a lady.

‘So what has brought you to my humble abode on this merry day, dear sister?’ Silas gave her a suspicious look.

‘Don’t be so distrusting, brother. This is but a harmless social call; there’s no ulterior motive. I'm merely dropping off an early birthday present.’

‘My birthday was six months ago.’

‘Well, it’s early for the next one then.’

‘You know longer hold a grudge?’ Silas asked his sister.

Marina shrugged. ‘Dear brother, we have both grown up a lot since then.'

‘Yes, but you did so love that doll. At least, before it lost its head.’

Marina pressed her eyes closed, as if trying to repress a memory. ‘It is all forgotten now. And this is my peace offering.’

She took from behind her armchair a large canvas painting of a country house very similar to the outside appearance to the one we were sitting in. In fact, the likeness was uncanny.

‘I do hope you like it. That was, ah, also a gift from the Louvre in Paris.’

Silas put on a pair of golden-framed glasses and inspected the piece. He looked impressed. ‘Thank you, Marina. I will treasure it always.’

‘Do you want me to hang it up for you, Sir?’

Ms Pretorius, Silas’s housekeeper, made us all jump at her sudden entrance. She often appeared out of nowhere. Although that wasn't too unusual, on account of her being a ghost.

The housekeeper put the painting on a spare place n the wall. ‘It really sets the room off, doesn't it, Sir? Inspector Crabtree will so like it when he arrives for tea soon.’

‘Inspector Crabtree is coming here.’ Marina bit her lip. ‘Goodness is that the time I'm afraid I must be going.’

She slipped back into her disguise in a flash. When she had done so, brother and sister stood, smiled and shook hands.

‘ I'm so glad we can put that petty feud behind us.’

‘I too,’ she said in her husky voice before Ms Pretorius showed her out of the room, and the house.

‘It’s peculiarly nice of Marina to leave me a gift,’ said Silas, going over to inspect the painting.

‘It reminds me very much of that ‘haunted painting’ that was in the news,’ I said. ‘Apparently, it was terrifying gallery attendants. Where the devil was that?’

Then it dawned on me.

‘Silas, get away from that painting,’ I cried.

It was too late. Silas was nowhere to be found and in the ground floor window of the house in the picture stood a tiny painted figure that looked very familiar. Its finely-painted hair resembled that of my friend and its arms were in a position of knocking at the window. 

‘What a remarkable woman,’ I said, and went away.