Duke Grey Willington

“It’s a nice day out, sir!”

Sally opened the curtains, and bright sunlight poured into the room, making the bedroom glow like a golden apple.

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“Fancy a walk?” she asked, beaming at me with an unsettlingly strong affection.

I said nothing, my gaze fixed on the sunlight, trying to ignore her presence.

She strolled up to the chair beside my bed and sank down, tweedily, weightily, on its arm, inundating me with the perfume my beloved daughter had used. How could a sweet fragrance turn so repulsive when worn by a stranger?

I disliked everything about this Sally woman. In fact, I didn’t know her at all. One day, she simply appeared in my bedroom, bringing me trays of breakfast and speaking to me as if I were her father. See, I don’t trust strangers anymore. Not at my age. And especially not when they seem too kind. They’re always after something.

Yes, I am extremely wealthy. I am the first cousin of Queen Maria, Her Majesty. I have an extraordinary talent for literature and politics, so most of my life has been spent serving my country in both academic and diplomatic roles. Five years ago, I retired with the highest honors after sixty years of service. The perks of being part of the noble family are simple: money is never a concern. Isn’t that a blessing? I suppose that’s why this troll is pretending to be my daughter—so she can slip a pill into my morning tea and take control of all the inheritance meant for my little Lizzy.

“Do you need help to get ready, papa?”

“I’m not your father. Where’s Lizzy?”

“What are you talking about, papa? I’m right here.”

“Nice try, but enough of this nonsense.” I bit my lip hard.

Every day, we have the same conversation. How much longer must I endure this? WHERE IS LIZZY?

She looked distraught, as if my words had struck her deeply. Very good acting indeed. She stood up and left. I felt a brief moment of triumph as I watched her yellow dress disappear through the door.

But then, a dark shadow falling over my heart, remorse began to stir within me. Maybe it was my noble blood, condemning my rudeness. My heart ached, but I didn’t understand why. Things hadn’t felt right since my retirement. I couldn’t remember things like I used to, and I had no idea what was going on around me. I missed Lizzy, but where was she? She used to call me every day and visit me every Thursday afternoon.

I got dressed and shuffled to the kitchen to make my morning tea. To my surprise, I found Lizzy sitting at the round, solid wood dining table, pouring maple syrup over her vanilla waffles.

“Sweetheart! Where have you been?” I cried, tears welling up. Praise the Lord, my daughter is back!

“Oh, papa?” she said, looking at me with confusion in her eyes.

I rushed to her side and embraced her, both of us crying. I sat down, and we spoke—just like we used to. She wore the same beautiful yellow airy dress, the one her mother used to wear. Her golden blonde hair shimmered under the sunlight. I couldn’t understand anything she said, but I didn’t care. My heart was filled with joy.

I wanted to show her the earrings I had found under the bed last night—the ones her mother used to wear. I excused myself and went to fetch them from the bedroom.

When I returned, my heart sank. Lizzy was gone. And in her place sat Sally, exactly where Lizzy had been, eating the remnants of her waffles. How disgraceful she was!

Her glossy blonde hair had Lizzy’s silkiness, and the features of her delicate milky-white face with pink lips and silver-ish eyelashes were less foxy than those of her likes— the great clan of Scandivanian elf-like blondies; nor did she sport that pukey yellow dress covered with tiny sunflower patterns. Her loose updo bun with strands of hair dropping down the sides of her sunken cheek.

Her mannerisms made me sick. But what disturbed me more was her poise at the dining table. This troll knew how to dine like a noblewoman. Elegant, calculated. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had studied the art of English noble dining, perhaps by abducting my dear daughter.

“Papa... it’s time for you to take your medication.”

It’s happening. Now she’s trying to drug me. I’ve been telling myself this for days.

“Why don’t you just fuck off with your medication?” I snapped.

I couldn’t take this anymore. I walked straight to the door leaving that cow standing in the dining room, she seemed ugly heartbroken, but I did not care.

I ran for miles, everything seemed to be a blur. When I finally looked back at the house, I saw Lizzy standing on the front porch, as if waiting for me to come home.

“Lizzy...?”

Something didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. I wanted my mummy. This is very worrying.

I fumbled through my pocket, desperate to find the earrings. But instead, a laminated card slipped out. I picked it up, my heart racing.

It read: My name is Grey Willington. I have dementia. If you find me lost, please contact my daughter Lizzy Willington at 605-610-8710.