Volanta

Oliver tried his best to sleep on the train ride to Trillby’s Cove, but it was a little hard with Pippa buzzing around the cabin and having a hard time sitting still. He wondered how many times she could hop from the seat on one side to the other before she realized the view was going to be exactly the same. Grassy fields. Some hills. More grass.

“Cows!”

Oliver opened his eyes and lifted his head to see Pippa with her face pressed against the window, as the train moved past a large pasture with cows grazing in the fields. They paid the train little attention, tails flicking lazily as it passed.

“I know you’ve always lived a comfortable, indoor life,” Oliver said through a yawn, “But I figured you’ve seen a cow or two before in your life.”

“Of course I have,” she said, rolling her eyes. “They’re cute cows, Oliver. Look at them.”

“They’re cows.”

“Leave it to you to kill the excitement,” she grumbled. “Aren’t you a tiny bit excited, at least? After all, this is your work, not mine.”

“Life is moving a little bit faster than I can process at the moment,” Oliver told her, turning his gaze out the window to look at the cows. “Let’s find this author and see if he can actually help us. Then I’ll tell you how I feel about it.”

She shook her head and stood, brushing off her skirt. “You’re being a killjoy. I’m going to go find the candy cart.”

She held out a hand to Oliver, and he realized that all of their money was in his case. He rolled his eyes and took a few bills out, putting it in her outstretched hand. She looked at it, not very impressed, and kept her hand out. Reluctantly, he gave her a couple more bills.

“It’s not like we need to save the money for anything like food or lodging,” he muttered.

She just stuck her tongue out at him, leaving their little cabin and closing the door behind her. He watched her shadow disappear, then sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes again. They arrived in Trillby’s Cove late at night, but Oliver felt that even if they arrived during the day, it still would have been as quiet and dreary as it was when they arrived. There was a thick fog and a mist that smelled of the sea around them, with faint lights flickering in the distance from the port town.

“Kind of spooky, isn’t it?” Pippa said.

A burly sailor gently set her trunk down for her, and she gave him a sweet smile and a nod in thanks. The sailor turned a little red, giving her a slight bow before hurrying off.

“It’ll be better in the morning,” Oliver told her.

“There’s an inn somewhere around here,” Pippa told him. “I read that it’s a quaint little place. Large rooms.”

“Lead the way, then.”

Oliver followed her as she made her way down the dock and into the port town, where she found a dimly lit inn there, like she’d said. She picked up her trunk and walked in with her head up high, and Oliver trailed in behind her. The woman inside smiled and greeted them with a nod.

“Just arrived on that ship, yes?” she asked. “Welcome to Trillby’s Cove.”

“Thank you,” Oliver said, taking out the money.

“A room for you and your wife, then?” the woman asked.

“Oh, she’s not my wife,” Oliver said.

“Oh,” the woman frowned, eyeing them suspiciously. “I… understand.”

“No, no,” Oliver said quickly, feeling his face turn red. “Nothing like that, I mean. We’re not married, but we’re not… together, either. She’s just a colleague of mine. Two separate rooms, please. Four nights.”

“Two separate,” the woman repeated, still giving Oliver an annoyed look. “Right, then.”

She took the money, and Oliver glanced over his shoulder at Pippa, who just shrugged as she wrote some things down. She reached into a drawer to take out a couple of keys, handing them to Oliver.

“Two separate rooms, then. Numbers are on the keys.”

“Thank you,” Oliver said, though she didn’t let go of the keys.

“You stay out of your ‘colleague’s’ room, you understand, boy?” she warned.

“What? Yes, of course,” Oliver frowned.

She let go of the keys, and Oliver quickly picked his things up, ushering Pippa up the stairs. She was stifling a laugh, but couldn’t hold back when he shoved the key into her hands.

“She thinks you’re up to no good,” she giggled.

“Yeah, well she’s wrong,” Oliver grumbled. “Be up early tomorrow. I just want to find this guy and talk to him as much as I can before we have to leave.”

“He’s a hero of yours, right?”

“Huh?”

“I remember my father mentioning that you’ve looked up to Patrick Gleeson since you were little,” she said. “You may not show it, but I know you’re excited to meet him.”

Oliver just shifted awkwardly, then shrugged and slipped a hand through his hair.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Pips.”



Oliver was not awake early in the morning. As hypocritical as it was, he was still snoring in bed when Pippa came for him. Nigel was right. Oliver really did need more sleep. And Oliver had spent most of the night wide awake, staring nervously up at the ceiling and thinking of all the things that could go wrong when looking for the author. Pippa let herself into his room and ripped the sheets off him, which startled him awake. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, curling up into a ball.

“You told me to wake up early, and I did!” Pippa said. “Wake up, stupid. Comb your hair and put some clothes on. We have work to do.”

Oliver reluctantly rolled out of bed and got dressed, meeting Pippa back downstairs. She shoved a bagel into his hands, excitedly brushing crumbs off her hands and adjusting her hat.

“You can eat that while we walk,” she said.

“What about you?” he asked, licking some cream cheese off his finger.

“I already ate,” she said. “In the morning. When you were supposed to be awake.”

“Alright, alright,” he sighed. “No need to rub it in. Now where do we find this author?”

“Well, I’m not sure of his exact whereabouts,” she admitted.

“What? You don’t know where we’re going?”

“I know he’s here!” she said quickly. “We just have to ask around a little bit.”

“For Patrick Gleeson?”

“Roland Fishweiler.”

“Right.”

Pippa grinned and bounded ahead of him. She’d piled her red hair in pretty curls up high on her head, and he noticed them bounce when she moved. Pippa looked different ever since she came back, and he wasn’t just talking about her face. He felt she was a little bit more confident.

“New dress?” he asked.

She stopped and turned to look at him, an expression of what looked like shock on her face. She nodded slowly, voice softening.

“Yes, this is new,” she said. “Do you like it?”

“It suits you,” he said simply.

“Thank you.”

She sort of stared at him for a half second before snapping back into reality, waving over a man who was walking by. He smiled at her and eyed Oliver suspiciously, and he noticed the man just slightly glance at their hands to make sure they weren’t married before he gave Pippa his full attention.

“What can I do for you, dollface?” he asked her.

“Right,” she said, taking a step away from him. “I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Roland Fishweiler’s home?”

“Fishweiler?” the man said, wrinkling his nose. “What business does a girl like you have at a place like that?”

“I’m a relative,” she lied.

The man gave her directions, and she thanked him before starting on her way again. Oliver followed her to an isolated little house on the top of the hill. It was just then that it suddenly occurred to him that he was about to meet the author of the Barty Brave books. He always imagined what he’d say if he ever met the man, but now, all of that had escaped him. He had no idea what he was going. He froze in front of the door, then quickly fixed his hair and clothes, looking over at Pippa.

“Do I look okay?” he asked.

“You look more than okay,” she told him. “Go on, this is your chance.”

Oliver took a deep breath, then knocked.