A knock sounded on the door, bringing all our attention to the sitting room. Who could be knocking by this time? This question was drawn on all of our faces.
Peter dropped his cutlery, and stood up from his seat.
“You should continue. Let me see who is knocking. It might be a patient.” He addressed us before turning away and walking past the flimsy curtain into the sitting room; his strides were quite overconfident.
My eyes perched on Diana, then strolled to Laura. Peter had told us to continue dinner, but what was going on here was far from it-it was a silent discussion between Diana and her mother. They were looking at each other, and Diana’s eyes kept squishing and her lips kept pouting.
What was going on? I was sure that they weren’t werewolves, but could part of their magical influence include mind communication, telepathy? My questions were answered in the next minute.
“Diana, I am not a mind reader. Just tell me who you think is at the door.” Laura mentioned tiredly as if weary of going back and forth, stunning me. I had thought the duo had been in this communication together, but it seemed that it hadn’t been effective, it seems to me that Diana had a gift which her mother was still trying to understand.
That would explain the pouts; the little girl was getting frustrated that her communication plans were not working. Could that be one of her classes at the queen’s palace? How to harness this gift of hers?
When Diana had returned from classes, and Laura had provided us with a dessert cum lunch, since dinner was still cooking, Diana and I had taken a spot in our room.
It had been the second time that I was entering the room, since leaving it in the morning, and so you could color me shocked when I had come to notice that the room had already been divided.
“Dad already did this?” Diana had asked, looking at the demarcation, a pout resident on her lips. I remembered thinking then that she does that a lot-pouting I mean. It was her signature.
The demarcation was a tiny wooden board that cut across the big room, dividing it into two portions. In my eyes, it had seemed that the room had gotten wider and bigger. I had calculated the total land space before and then, and had concluded that surely Peter had made the room bigger.
But how? Magic of course. That would have been the next explanation.
I had thought of asking Diana this, but had decided against it since the answer had just been too obvious. There hadn’t been an extension wall, if there had been, I would have known. It had been as if the room had expanded like a rubber band will. But was it beautiful?? Definitely. The demarcation had been painted a deep orange color with flowery black and hue patterns. It looked like an art board, rather than a wall to demarcate a room.
At the edge of the board, there had been a block space carved out like a door. I had guessed it had been made for easy passage between I and Diana’s room. From the belongings left in each room, I had guessed that the first room belonged to Diana-You know the room you see first when you enter through the main door of the now big but divided room. I had seen then that Peter had arranged her belongings in it just like they had been in her previous room. There wasn’t much a difference, just the towering orange wall.
I had left her in her room to change and dress up, and had walked into the second room, standing agape the next second at what I had seen.
There was a bed and then a wardrobe, artistically designed just like the things in this house, in this community. It had been alright though, but it was surprising that Peter had gotten so much done in a long time. I had noticed another door too just by the right end of the room.
Curiously, I had opened the door, smiling at the thoughtfulness of Peter when I had seen where the entrance led to. It was a door that led to the outside environment. So, in other words, the big-but-divided-into-two room had two doors, or three, if you would count the plastic fancy one that demarcated I and Diana’s room.
I had been admiring the artistic designs on the walls, which had been repainted-I was sure, even as I thought about how many people and how much magic had gone into it-when Diana had rushed into my room. She stood in the middle, amazed too at what her father had done.
“It is beautiful, your room is beautiful. Good. It is at least close to mine. I think I would have thrown a tantrum if they had built you another hut. This way, we are close.” She had said, before resting her small bottocks on my medium sized bed.
When I had seen what she did, I had rested my buttocks too, more to feel the texture of the bed, than to actually sit. I released a contented sigh when the softness of the mattress dawned on me. I owed Peter one, I had thought, as I grasped one of the pillows for myself, and took a deep breath in them.
It smelt like flowers, the pillow I mean. I had wondered if it had come from the petals drawn on the bed sheets, if the bedsheets had been made with white magic, the magic of peace. Because that had been what I had felt when I had taken a deep inhalation; peace. This deep connection with my magic root had me questioning Diana about her classes.
The little girl had been reluctant at first to discuss this with me, but seeing that I was too keen on the subject and would probably never let it go, she had decided to go one with revealing a lot, but not without me making a promise first not to let her mother know about whatever she spoke to me about. It was a secret.
At first, I had thought it was because Laura wouldn’t want me burdened with magic stuff at this time, or the intricacies of the community, but later I would find out that the reasons for Diana’s act of secrecy were far different and dangerous, totally unrelated to Laura’s intentions toward keeping me clean from matters of the community.