TicTacToe

35.mm

Jul ‘94.

Mr Tomitickle and his relative一Nile, swarm with a rabble of eager tourists through a centuried old Victorian manor. The manor had belonged to the first rank family since the 1800s till date and still remained firmly intact on a three-acre land.

The interior however, portrayed more of the family’s opulent manners and splurges一Gilded bannisters on the spiraling staircase. Checkered floors with tall arched windows. The coffered ceilings were high and ornamented, and in the foyer, drooped an enormous crystal chandelier. Gothic scones perched on several wings of the crimson red walls gave the corridors a soft bright glow. All in all, it lived up to the magnificence of its formal residents.

The tour guide could have been in her mid-twenties. She had on a large pair of reading glasses that overshadowed her symmetrical face. Leading on, she addressed the crowd about every crevice and corner of the place she had come to know like the back of her palm from the years of several exhibitions, “...over this way, you’ll find Sir Trout’s special study room. There were about two hundred and sixty-five books recovered after the first fire. In total his works amounted to nearly a thousand. Handwritten, mind you. It’s hard to think a man with such a penchant for writing would pass on without a will.”

“Maybe he hated the little squirts,” someone blurted from the crowd. Arousing a few chuckles.

“That certainly could be up for debate,” the guide retorted. “Though we tread through family grounds, some of the events and circumstances will have to remain private.”

Tom admired her. Her elegance. Her demeanour. Watching the way she moved. The way she spoke and how her smile dazzled. Even to the way she clenched her journal pad to her chest, she was astonishing. So much so, he caught himself paying more attention to her than the furniture he had come to study as a muse for one of his work projects.

To his side, Nile tugged his coat sleeve as he babbled forth remarks on some of the statues mounted along the corridor, “Tommy, can it wiggle its feet?” but Tom was long enchanted. The little kid persisted, “Tommy, can it breathe?”

The tourists were oriented past the first study room, into the dining room where the majestic family shared meals over a twelve-foot grand table, though many had doubts they did so in one accord. Then, they trailed back into the corridor to the opposite wing that had the guest rooms一which of course hosted many nobles and high rank courtiers. They circled to the foyer then paced up the stairs to the main rooms.

The lady’s room had a massive canopy bed with red velvet drapes over an antique Persian rug. Everything else一from the filigree frames of the paintings, to her wardrobes, drawers, and nightstand一were all embellished with gold. The tourists sauntered into the room with no regard for courtesy. Some of them began to caress the bedding material for authenticity. Some paced around on the rugs. Others scrutinized the curtains. Some took bright flashes of the portraits. While some munched on snacks, leaving crumbs to dust mites on the floor.

Tom let the youngster off his latch but kept a close eye as Nile went on to leap around the room. It wasn’t until the crowd began filing out that he glanced back and spotted the youngster crouched down surveying something. Tom ambled towards him and said, “Come on, we're off to the next room.”

But Nile remained arched over, staring intently at the wall behind the bed.

As Tom drew nearer, he saw it too.

In the dark corner, behind the queen size frame, was a small door no larger than a pet flap. It seemed over the years, it had been left ajar or maybe the wood had decayed. Whatever it was, it wasn’t addressed or acknowledged in the pamphlet or by the guide. Tom and Nile found themselves gazing at this bizarre object when finally Tom decided to take a peep himself.

As Tom slid the tiny wooden door open, he squinted to be certain what he was seeing: a black leather book covered in grime, leaning in the little space. Tom could still hear the guide’s voice echoing in the hallway.

Quickly, he tugged the book out. On the page he flipped on, he got a glimpse of the words, “To Anne, my dearest...”

“Tommy, what is? Is that the tooth-fairy door?” Nile was asking.

A voice startled them both, “Are you alright, Mr Tomitickle,” the tour guide called from behind.

Tom swiveled back and dragged a smile across his face, “oh yes. Just admiring the wood paneling in the corner. It’s astonishing to wonder how someone could have lived in such affluence.”

“Hmm. Alright. We’ll be waiting for you in the hallway,” she paced off to the rest of the tourists.

Tom hurried to stow the book back. Tilting it back in place, it spilled old bills of hundreds to the floor.

Tom’s jaw hung loose. Even Nile by his side stared with widened eyes. The time had come where deeds met counselling. Tom had to decide to be an exemplar before his relative. Now more than ever. But then again, there were the bills. He was lucky enough to find himself a bachelor's flat in Blue Rock circle but that location came with its prices and quite frankly, its compromises. PikGarden being home to a few top notch establishments, everything in the heart of its city was tagged with a price. Upfront or by the hour could easily have been the county’s pledge. For Tom, it was either here or a four-hour commute by the outskirts of Timber Creek. He swam deep in responsibilities.

Riveted in his spot, running through different chains of thoughts, Tom began to hear the tour guide pacing back his way. Nervously, he tucked the bills back into the book, and into his satchel. Leaning forward like he had placed it back, he closed the door panel that housed the book. In the nick of time, he swung Nile up on his shoulder and paced forward to the door where he stumbled on the guide.

“Mr Tomitickle. I see you’re all set. Shall we continue?”

“Please.”

The group shuffled down the hallway towards the master bedroom, which was locked due to family privacy, but tourists still had the benefit of capturing images of themselves by the door. As they continued towards the other rooms, the tour guide was still talking, “..and over this way would be Prince Luvia’s room. A few years after Lady Lara passed, Sir Minford remarried in late October of nineteen-fifteen, and his wife, Lady Seila, moved in with her son, who at the time would have been in his early adolescence. By tradition, he inherited most of his stepfather’s belongings including three other manors by saltwater bay. The princess did of course inherit some of their father’s treasures and wealth...”

While she was talking, Tom’s heart ticked against his ribcage. He kept thinking about the book he had stumbled on. The bills tucked in it. Most of all, he contemplated his decision. There was the thought to abandon the book. Then again, there was the curiosity for its worth from such a place. With the tour almost coming to an end, he needed to make a brisk decision. Hesitantly, he raised his hand.

“Yes, Mr Tomitickle?”

The rest of the crowd peered back at the mention of such a name but it was nothing unusual to Tom. He lived most of his years mocked for choices one of his great grandparents had made. It didn’t matter now. “How much would a ceno from this era be worth now?”

“Oh my, treasures no doubt. A twenty ceno bill would be worth around two hundred cenos today. Give or take.”

Tom felt a grip in his core. He was certain there were a number of bills. Queasily, he inquired about the restroom and excused himself.

Locked in the vast bathroom, Tom splashed cold water on his face. His encounter ran shivers down his spine. With his hands still shuddering from nervousness, he fished out the book from his satchel. He counted twenty of the hundred ceno bills一in today’s time would amount to twenty thousand cenos.

Tom stared at his reflection in the wide mirror. Watching his chest rise with heavy breaths. He glance back into the page he stumbled on and was able to get a few more reads:

“To Anne, my dearest. I fear my condition only worsens with time but I write to you with a sound mind, under no duress or undue influences, and fully understanding the nature and extent of my property and of this disposition thereof. The time to beg forgiveness is long gone but with this, I hope I can make amends, though I doubt such will occur before my demise precedes me. I have separated an official document in my name with a man I can trust in Bordas. In any case you will need this, I have left you a fee for transportation. 1290 La Pex street, with your mother's maiden name and birth, and he will treat you as his own…”

Tom had seen enough. He closed the book and wedged it back into his satchel. Everyone knew princess Anna, she continued to stand the test of time. Knowing the bills had only been kept for transport made Tom feel much more at ease. He was certain he needed the notes more than she did. But now he had stumbled onto family secrets. He had joined a triangle of uncertainty. Now the decision rested on following through to unravel his discovery with the princess herself.