Archive of Our Own ^beta

T'was a hazy July afternoon when it happened.

Inside a century old mansion, Lee ran around each room, excitedly searching. She got to one of the bedrooms, or shall we say, the place where we tell our tale. It was rather old-fashioned, but sweet; first she checked under the large bed that sat in the centre of the room, backed up so it slumped next to the window.

Next, Lee flew back the thick green and yellow curtains that she almost tripped up on; then the chest at the foot of the bed, which was big enough to fit someone inside. Lastly, she pushed past the door on the right hand-side of the room, to the en-suite bathroom, ripping the shower curtain out the way: but it was empty. The eldest Nashton girl sighed, and wondered where the hell she hadn’t looked yet.

The wardrobe! The was a huge wardrobe pressed up the wall opposite the bathroom door. Not expecting anyone to be there, she gently opened both doors on it.

“Oh,” she let out a little sound of surprise, as inside was a man, much taller than her, with slicked back brown hair and a nervous demeanor. At least his suit fit in with the rest of them.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” Lee repeated back like a robot.

“That was quick.”

“Well, obviously, I know the house, so…”

“So you have an unfair advantage,” he teased, as Lee struggled to keep up the small talk.

“Unfair advantage. Yes. Well, let's-” the Nashton laughed, a little nervously as it occurred to her that she’d never seen this man before.

“Come on in,” he gestured, as though he’d forgotten the whole aim of the task at hand.

“Sorry, we weren't properly introduced. I'm Butch, by the way,” the man spoke like he’d never communicated with another human before, “It's Barbara, isn't it?”

“Lee.”

“Lee. I work with Jim. I say work with. I'm more on the security side, but obviously with him being the Office Manager, there is a fair amount of overlap,” Butch babbled, much to Lee’s dismay,  “He's more responsible for infrastructure whereas I take more of a lead in programme development.”

“Right. What did you say your name was again?” Lee stood shorter than Butch, but that didn’t make her any less intimidating.

“It's Butch,” he said, like he was catching on to what Lee was doing.

“That's right. Jim has mentioned you. Sh!” from outside the wardrobe, the door to the room was opened, and footsteps were heard.

This carried on for a minute before the door closed again. “I wonder who that was,” Lee smiled, then it fell as she remembered she was stuck here without any decent company.

“Don't know. It could be a long game. So, how does it feel to be engaged, Barbara?” Butch attempted to restart the conversation.

“Lee.”

“Lee. You set a date yet?”

“9th November.”

“Oh, dear. That's 9/11,” at that point, Lee realised and felt like she'd just had a blow to the jaw, “You'll not forget that in a hurry, will you?”

“No, I hadn't thought of it that way, to be honest.”

“Well, you must,” Butch didn't seem to understand what he'd just done, and he instead rearranged himself inside the closet.

“Boo,” the wardrobe doors opened, man stood, looking rather unimpressed. He was a little taller than Lee; with dark hair, dark eyes; and he was wearing a green suit, with a matching tie.

“Oh, Ed. Get in quick,” Lee tried to usher him in, but he ignored it.

“I heard you talking. Very slack, Lee. Why are you hiding in here?” Edward didn't sound too interested in this game, yet he played.

“I didn't choose it, did I?”

“Guilty as charged,” Butch interrupted the sibling dispute.

“Have you met Butch?”

“No, I don't believe I've had the pleasure. Edward. I'm Lee’s brother,” he stuck his hand out for a handshake.

“So, you must know all the nooks and crannies of the house, then,” Butch laughed, looking around the wardrobe.

“Oh, yes. I spent most of my Christmases hiding in various cupboards waiting for my bossy older sister to find me,” Ed took Lee's left hand, admiring the engagement ring, then shot a painful look at her, “You never could, though, could you?”

Everyone was frozen for a moment before a noise outside shocked them back to life.

“Get in,” Lee urged, as she dragged Edward inside, “Is dad playing?”

“He said he would. He's out showing Jerome and Jonathan the stables.”

“He can do that afterwards. We're meant to be playing the game,” she whined. It wasn't fair: this always happened to her. “Anyway, what on Earth is he showing them the stables for. Neither of them have any interest in animals…”

“I know. Keep your voice down. You'll give us all away,” Ed snapped back at his older sister, forgetting the other person in there with them, who was bound to ask questions. But evidently not.

Time passed rather slowly, the waiting was dull, but at least the next person wasn't. At the sound of footsteps, everyone shut up and listened closely.

“Lollipops! Come and get your lollipops. Where are those children hiding? Now, then, if I were going to secrete myself in this room, where would I go? Not behind those curtains. They're a migraine waiting to happen. Oh, hanging around the toilets, perhaps. It has been known. Or would I enjoy spending time in the closet?” the wardrobe door swung open, to show a rather tipsy Oswald almost laughing at the sight, “Not interrupting anything, I hope.”

Ed grabbed at Oswald’s jacket, “Come on, Ozzie,” dragged him in, closing the door with a happy sigh. They stood rather close, and Oswald reached out to try and sort Edward’s tie out, giving up after a minute of drunken focus.

“You two know each other, then, do you?” Ezekiel asked, intrigued as to how they were so close.

“Yes. They're partners,” Lee answered for them, as it wasn't like she was doing anything, and Ed and Oswald seemed contempt with just staring at one another.

“In what line?”

“Sorry?” Edward turned to Butch.

“I'm in security.”

“Congratulations. I'm in shit, because I got home late last night…” Oswald began, and looked down, regretting his state.

“Ozzie, I've told you, it's okay.” And it clicked for Butch. Made a huge amount of sense. And if he was wrong… that’d be really, really odd. Really odd. Bizarre, even.

“Oh, I see. You're living together partners,” Butch treaded carefully, fingers crossed he was right.

“Yeah, we're queer, dear, get used to it.” Thank fuck. But Oswald didn't sound particularly sober.

“How much have you drank?”

Ed had always been such a mother hen to Oswald. It was cute to start with, but it could get a little much, and then downright possessive, but much better than how he cared for himself.

“Ed, please. Oswald, behave. This party's not about you. It's about me and Jim, so butt out,” Lee whisper-shouted at the couple, who gave her puppy dog eyes, which did not compare to Jim's, so it didn't work.

“You're much prettier when you're angry, and so are you,” Oswald turned to look thoughtfully at Lee, then Edward - who almost blushed - “Anyway, changing the subject slightly, I'm not being funny, but there's a man downstairs that stinks.”

“Yes, that's Stinky Bruce.”

“And what is it? Is it his clothes? His breath?”

“I don't know.”

Bruce went to school with the Nashton children. They were all good friends, and their father was more than happy to have them all round. But that was back when he was just Bruce, not Stinky Bruce. No one knows what, but something must have just happened to him. He just stopped washing one day. Hell, you could probably trace it back. Edward was very quiet at this point. He was very good friends with Bruce, but yet again, no one knew why...

“And what about all the other ones? There was that really boring one,” Oswald inquired.

Lee just looked incredibly uncomfortable, and Ed nudged his boyfriend and pointedly looked to Butch, who was politely stood facing the doors. It was for the best.

“Yes, and, um,” trying to get back on track when Butch moved to listen to their conversation, “Have you seen my mother?”

“Gertrude? She's dad's cleaner, of course I've seen her. I asked her to come and serve drinks but she thinks she's a guest.”

“You should tell her,” Oswald laughed, the alcohol getting to him and Edward trying to grab the bottle of champagne, but to no avail.

“It’d be cruel. And she's dressed up for it."

“Dressed up? She looks like Feed The Birds."

“There's a sandwich man at work who wears a yellow T-shirt. It's a jersey but it's T-shirt material, and all the girls call him Mustard Mike,” Butch chuckled, but the others couldn't even force a smile. It was a shame, but what could you do? He was the boring one. They felt a little sorry for him.

“Well, thank God I brought champagne. Who wants a swig?”

“Found them! They're in here!” The doors were wacked open again, another woman, a little taller than Lee, stood with a grin plastered to her face. With short blonde hair and bright eyes, it could only be one person. Barbara.

“Sh!”

“That's it, is it? I've won?” the woman seemed so excited to have perhaps won something for once. She wasn't used to it. It was more likely that Barbara would have never won a game in her life, so it hurt like a knife to the chest for Lee to explain:

“No, you've got to hide as well.”

“Oh, okay.”

Her posture fell a tad, but perked up. Barbara frantically searched around, then ran over to the chest at the foot of the double bed. But upon opening it, her was pulled back down as Lee also whisper-shouted “No, in here! With us.”

She walked over, took one glance and decided that four people was enough for one wardrobe. “Oh, there's not really much space in there.”

“That's why it's fun, apparently,” Oswald smirked.

“I'm a little bit claustrophobic.”

“Then it's even more fun,” Ed, with a malicious smile, took the other girl’s hand, pulling her inside, Oswald closing them in.

Now, the problem was, Barbara had never played Sardines before, and Lee was trying to spread the enthusiasm. Which meant that Lee was going to have to answer Barbara’s questions on what the fuck they were supposed to be doing during this time spent in a closet - which everyone was trying very, very hard not to joke about how long Ed had spent in there.

“So, what happens now?”

“We wait for the others to find us.”

“So, how do you win?”

“Nobody wins. You just wait.”

“Oh. Alright. So, when does the game start?”

“This is the game, Barbara. We're playing it.”

And the realisation struck Butch. The name mixing up. This was the other one.

“Oh, so you're Barbara, are you?”

“Yes, hello.”

“Because I've been calling Lee, Barbara, haven't I?” and with Lee in the middle, Butch had to lean all the way over to Barbara, which Lee did not like at all, “I think I just got mixed up because Jim talks about you all the time.”

“Does he?” Both of them inquired. Crap.

“Yes.”

“Who are you talking to?” Lee was looking more and more anxious, which only made a very drunk Oswald laugh, earning him a kick and a stern glare from his overprotective boyfriend.

“Which one are you again?”

“Lee.”

“Yes.”

The awkward silence was painful. And Butch was stuck in the middle of possibly the most deadly conversation in the history of conversations. And how could he forget which one’s which? They look different and their names are very different. So, who else could attempt to rekindle speech, other than Oswald Cobblepot.

“Oh, I've not seen this much wood since I was-”

“How much have you had to drink?” Ed took one look at Oswald, immediately making him shut up. The dominance was a sight to behold, but the others were too busy to notice.

“So what does Jim say about me?” Lee asked, rather intrusively.

“I'm sorry?”

“At work. You said he talks about me.”

“Oh, just the usual boring girlfriend stuff,” Butch gulped, really not knowing what to say without offending him. Bit late for that.

“Boring girlfriend?”

“Not that you're boring. Just the stuff he says about you is…”

“Boring?”

“Yes.”

“Coming from you, Butch,” Lee huffed, very, very pissed off, “That's quite something. Thank you.”

The pause were getting worse, no one liked it in there. The whole game of Sardines was really bringing the mood down, on such a joyous occasion of an engagement party.

“Is anyone else getting hot? I just need to open the door a crack,” Barbara innocently asked, “I just need to get some air.”

Despite what you may think, Barbara was rather lovely and oblivious to what had happened years before hand. She was just a good little soul.

“Wait till Stinky Bruce gets here. You'll need more than a crack.”

“Is Stinky Bruce playing?” the look on Barbara’s face was priceless. The utter horror of the idea. And the others felt the same about it.

“Everybody's playing. It's Sardines,” Lee told them for what felt like the a hundredth time. Why did no one understand how this game worked? They'd played it for years. Hell, Lee remembers playing it since she was tiny, and Sardines was the cause of-

“Oh, I don't know if I can stay in here if he gets in. I do get a bit…” Barbara spoke before Lee could revisit that memory. Thank fuck for that.

“Don't worry. Me and you will go through to Narnia, have a snowball fight, get some Turkish Delight,” Oswald laughed.

“I'm sorry. I need to breathe.”

“No, you're not allowed!”

“She's allowed to breathe,” Edward almost snapped at his older brother, but refrained.

“I wouldn't mind stretching the old legs, actually. Been in here a while.”

Before Lee knew it, Barbara had rushed out and sat on the bed, fanning himself over-dramatically. Then, Butch - who no one seemed overly fond of - also got out, and walked around the room a little.

Next was Oswald: “I'm going to have a piss-break then. That champagne's gone right through me.”

“Well, don't flush it!” Lee whisper-shouted at his sort of brother-in-law. Now it was only him and his younger brother left standing in the wardrobe that was doing a great job of holding them all.

“Don't worry, I’m not stupid.”

However, as Oswald opened the door, all the others heard was a voice say “Oh, occupied!”

“Sorry! Well, that's something I shall never un-see.” He looked utterly traumatized, even at the thought that there was no lock on the door. Lee would have laughed if Edward wasn't right next to her, ready to punch her arm if she dared insult the drunken Oswald Cobblepot.

“Who is it?”

“Mother.” Oh, it was Gertrude.

She was a lovely woman, but she seemed to have been losing it a bit lately. Unfortunately that just old age for you. And then, there was everything she wasn't supposed to talk about, but you could never trust that woman not to burst a secret.

“Shouldn't she be using the staff toilets?” Butch piped up, yet no one answered, they all just gave him a funny look.

“You okay? What's the matter with you?” Lee asked Edward, who was staring at the room. He looked as though he'd seen a ghost.

“What do you think, Lee? Look where we are,” Ed turned to stare into Lee’s soul, pain overshadowing his sight. His sister knew better than to ask, she knew what had happened. Lee bit her lip in apology, and didn't say another word.

The room was quiet now, a couple of them knew why, the others just found it awkward. The bathroom door opening, made them jump, and Gertrude was smiling at Oswald as she spoke “There you go, lovey. Doesn't have a lock. It's an en suite.”

“You warmed the seat for me,” he thanked her, and walked in, leaving the cleaner to be the positive person in the room.

“I heard you all talking in there. I just didn't want to disturb you,” they could see how she didn't fully understand everything, she didn't even understand that game, so Gertrude turned to Barbara who was sat on the bed, “That's a bomby dress.”

“Thank you. I got it in Paris,” she said, looking down at her deep purple dress, and flattening it a little.

“My hip went that colour when I fell up some steps at Legoland.” Yeah, she was a little crazy. But Gertrude was getting old, and her mind was going a little. Lee stifled a laugh, as she could see the look on Barbara's face, which was fantastic. It brightened the mood a little bit.

“I was just getting some air. I'm a bit claustrophobic.”

“Is that why you can't bear to touch a snake?

“You've got that, haven't you, Ed?” the yelling came from Oswald who was still in the bathroom, and still very drunk, which was what Edward was blaming for what his partner said.

“Har, har, har. I'd hardly call it a snake, Oz,” Ed retaliated, just loud enough for Oswald to hear.

“I heard that!”

“I know.”

Lee knew that she should intervene quickly, so as to not allowing a right to commence between her brother and brother-in-law law. It was the safest option. You didn't want to come between them, she'd done it before, and had vowed never to do it again.

“Right. Shall we assume the position?”

Everyone - apart from Oswald - moved back towards the hiding spot, and back to their original positions: except with a little more room.

“Wait for me! Room for little 'un,” and lastly, Gertrude, squeezed herself into a spot at the front, near Butch and Barbara.

“It's like the time and relative dimension in space,” Butch laughed, but no one payed attention, so he sighed and finished the joke, “TARDIS…”

“So, Barbara, tell me again how you know Jim,” Gertrude wondered, in all innocent, not realising she would cause a little fuss (and a lot of jealousy from Lee).

“Barbara is Jim’s ex,” she bluntly stated, refusing to look at anyone in the eye or stop smiling. After all, this was her engagement party, and nothing was going to spoil it for her. No exes. No bad past. Nothing.

“Oh, that's it. I knew it was something I wasn't supposed to mention.”

“We're just mates now. Text buddies. He BBMs me every now and again at weekends,” Barbara commented, not trying to start a war. But it wasn't exactly doing her any favours.

“Yeah, he BBMs me a lot, too,” Lee slightly shouted. She didn't want the attention shifting particularly, “Always BBMing…”

Funny thing was, she couldn't actually remember what BBMing was. It was a young person's app, presumably. Probably some type of messaging system, but Lee wasn't as young as she once was, and therefore it'd be like watching an elderly person attempt to operate an iPhone with no help or prior knowledge.

“What it is to be young. It's been ages since I've been in this room,” Gertrude rambled on, “Your dad usually keeps it locked. You know, after-”

“We're not going down that road, Gertrude.
It's a party, remember?” Lee stopped her. She didn't want to remember. And she knew Edward didn't either. Her poor little brother.

“ Oh, yes. Why am I always the bridesmaid.

Never the blushing bride.

Dingdong, wedding bells.

Only ring for other girls.

One fine day.

Oh let it be soon

I shall wake up in the morning on my own honeymoon. ”

However, that didn't stop the flashbacks occurring. Edward wasn't faring very well, and Lee didn't know what the fuck to do, so like an idiot, she kept quiet. The trauma of the whole situation was something you wouldn't even wish on your worst enemy.

Luckily, the spell was broken by Oswald coming back,  “Right, I'm coming back in,” then he thrusted his hand into Ed's face, “Smell that. Carbolic. We should get some of that for our en suite.”

Carbolic soap. Because if anything, that made it even worse for Ed. They'd always had carbolic soap in the Nashton household, it was their father's choice.

“This is fun, isn't it?” Wow. Yet again, the cleaner misread the situation. Because it's not like she ever managed to actually understand what she was doing.

“Thank you, Gertrude. Yes, it is,” Lee smiled, since someone else, thankfully, found this enjoyable. Even if it was the mad old bat.

“Do you have a partner, Butch?” Gertrude turned to him, and he leaned over Barbara to talk to her.

“No. Young, free and single at the moment. I'm not being a monk. I've had some experiences, but no. Pretty barren at the moment. A pretty arid patch.”

Barbara clearly wasn't happy that Butch was invading her personal space - Lee found it funny though, and stifled a laugh.

“We'll have to get it fixed up, won't we? Yes. Do you like him, Barbara?”

“No, no, no,” she was quick to stare, more looking as Butch than Gertrude, “I have a girlfriend. Her name is Tabitha. Did you meet her downstairs?”

“Yes, she gave me her coat and asked me to get her a drink.”

“Oh she's only young,” Lee tried to reason, and defend her enemy's girlfriend.

“How young? Is she legal?”

“She's 21.”

“Oh, you know what they say. If there's grass on the wicket, let play commence,” Oswald laughed, and took a swig from the bottle in his hand.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Oswald. Give it a rest,” Ed had had enough of his partner's antics, yet again. This is why they shouldn't have played Sardines, because then Edward could have watched how much Oswald had drank, “Can't you just talk like a normal human being for five minutes?

“Sh!” Lee stopped the argument because she'd just heard the room doors open, followed by two sets of footsteps. They all tried to peek through the gap in the wardrobe doors, but to no avail.

“Jerome, in here. Have you managed to get rid of him yet?” a very pissed off voice, that belong to one of them, filled the room. He sat on the bed, whilst the other paced a little once he'd closed the bedroom door.

“Yeah, he's gone off to look for the others. God, I hate playing other people's family games,” this time the other person spoke, a man, presumably Jerome Valeska. Meaning that the other was Jonathan Crane. They were friends of the Nashtons, however, no one knew exactly what the nature of their relationship was. Either, they were incredibly close friends, or a couple. It was widely debated at dinners, but everyone was too afraid to ask. Both were a little… unpredictable.

“We should have been done by now. You said we'd be away by three.”

“Why don't you just do the lie about the dog sitter being ill?” Jerome asked.

They owned three massive dogs (possibly wolves or hellhounds , either way, they were bloody big and had a lot of teeth) known as their 'babies’. From what had been heard in previous conversations, the dogs were called Fluffy, Fifi and Fidget. It was hard to believe they'd found a dog sitter in the first place, everyone was terrified of those creatures. Tetch was probably looking after them - or attempting to hypnotise them again .

“Because it needs to be seeded. You need to seed it,” they could hear Jonathan complain, he always had been paranoid.

“Doesn't need to be seeded. You just say it. ‘Oh, I'm sorry, we've got to go now. Dog sitter's not feeling very well.’”

“You're so naïve,” he huffed, and walked over to Jerome, who'd moved back to near the doorway.

What was more interesting was that neither of them had thought that perhaps six other people were hiding and could hear exactly what they were saying.

“Listen, listen. Old man may be tedious, but he's our way into Carmine Falcone, yeah? So, we have to put a shift in.”

“I thought you hated Carmine Falcone.”

“Yeah, I hate Carmine Falcone. He's a first-class prick,” he admitted without thought, “But I need him to smooth over that merger next year, yeah? You know what they say. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."

“You're such a horrible shit, Jerome,” he laughed and stumbled backwards.

“That's why you bloody love me,” now both of them were… giggling? Maybe they were in love after all. It could be perceived differently depending on which way you prefer. The wardrobe tenants started to worry now. It was getting dangerous.

“Someone could walk in on them,” Gertrude sensibly spoke up first. After all, no one else was going to, so she was the brave one.

“Well, that's the thrill of it, mother,” Oswald smiled, and surprisingly got a smirk from Edward too. They really were a great couple, they just had a few issues to smooth out. And if Oswald behaved, he wouldn't have to sleep on the sofa tonight - bonus points there then.

“Quick, someone make a noise” Lee whispered, so Butch made the quietest little murmur humanly possible. “I think that was a bit too subtle, Butch.”

“Geronimo!”

“Fuck.” Jerome crept up to the wardrobe, and gently unlocked it, to an audience of their little 'show’.

“Oh, you found us. Well done.”

In the room, stood a man with short red hair and a dark purple suit, looking fairly calm and cool. On the other hand, the man sat on the bed, in a plain black suit with shortish brown hair, appeared to be a tad shocked at the occurrence. This must have been Jerome and Jonathan, respectively.

“What the hell?!”

“Sardines.”

“Hello, Jerome. Welcome to the wardrobe. Butch. I work for you. In security.” Now, despite how young Jerome looked (and was), he had a higher position in the company. As mentioned previously, he may have been unpredictable, but he was good at his job.

“Of course. Hi.”

“We've been hiding in here for ages waiting for someone to find us, and these doors are so thick, we didn't hear anything, did we?” Lee fake grinned and turned to the others, encouraging them to agree with her, or they were all dead meat. "No, no.”

“Do you want to come in then? Before dad finds us?” Lee cheerfully gestured to the cramped space, as the others supported pained grins.

“Um yeah,” and Jonathan suddenly seemed very nervous, shooting a wide-eyed look at Jerome, “I'm a  bit worried about the dog sitter. He said he's feeling under the weather.”

“No, I'm sure we'll be alright for a few minutes, won't we?” Jerome softly spoke, attempting to literally spend a minute or two hiding. It annoyed Jonathan like hell, but he refused to let it show.

“Yeah, looks like a lot of fun,” but first he looked about for a decent sized space. Naturally, there was none.

“Just get in Jonathan. You stay in there next to Barbara,” and that's where he stayed, with Jerome on his other side.

“Lee,” she reminded them, again.

“Sorry,” the man didn't sound it. And didn't bother to hide the fact he didn't.

“It's my engagement party. Nobody seems to know my name,” Lee nervously laughed, quite loudly.

“No, it's just that Jim always says…” Jerome commented, just as he shifted into position within the wardrobe. All of them were very squished now. Not good.

“What?” She was panicking now. Everyone seemed to be doing it, and there names aren't even that similar. And if Jim has been saying it too, does that mean…?

Reaching over and tapping Barbara's nose - again, she was almost disgusted by it - Butch said to Jerome “This one's Barbara.”

“Oh, hello. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Each of them stretched to shake hands, despite the awkward way they were stood.

Before they could close the wardrobe doors, someone else walked in. “Ah, there you are. Already been in here once.”

Through the open door, another woman came in, with dark hair and blue eyes, but shorter than Lee. She must have been the person who had searched the room whilst only Lee and Butch were in there then.

“Renee, come in. We're having such a laugh,” Barbara put on her best fake grin, gritting her teeth down, pleading her girlfriend to join them.

“Wardrobe. Can't believe I didn't check the fucking wardrobe. I'm such an idiot” she smiled, then became concerned, “Is everything alright? I thought I heard someone shouting.”

“That was me. I said ‘Geronimo!’ Don't ask me why,” poor dear. Gertrude was still bonkers as ever.

“Have you met everyone? Renee, this is Butch. He works with Jerome,” Barbara proceeded to explain.

“For Butch, actually.” He had worked very hard for his position, and he wasn't about to lose it in a short conversation.

“You know Lee, obviously. And this is Jerome’s… this is Jonathan,” admittedly she was going to say ‘boyfriend’ after the incident from minutes before, but didn't want to jeopardise herself.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” he appeared from the back, with red eyes.

“You alright? You look like you've been crying,” ever the gentle-woman.

“It's just a little bit dusty in here, that's all,” Jonathan excused himself, and went back into the corner before anything else could be said. He was one of the toughest people any of them knew, and be damned if they caught him crying.

“And this is Lee’s brother, Edward. And that's Oswald, his flatmate.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ed shook Renee's hand, not caring about how Oswald had just been described.

“Flatmate?” Oswald scowled, looking so offended by the term, as Edward didn't intervene.

“And this is Gertrude.”

“Oh, yeah, I know, yeah,” she the had the nerve to he out his empty glass and put it into Gertrude's hands, “Wouldn't mind a top up if you don't mind, love.”

“Pardon?”

“Champagne,” maybe Renee wasn't as nice as she looked earlier. Or there had been a misunderstanding.

“Why do you keep asking me?” she thrusted it back at him, confused as to the situation.

“Lee said you were serving drinks-” it was her turn to be puzzled now.

“No. I'm a guest. She's got her wires crossed.”

“Yes, we're all guests here. All equal,” Lee told her, implying the mix up with wide eyes and an emphasis on 'equal'.

“I used to be their nanny. I've known all three of them since they were so high.”

“Three of them?” Wait. What? Was she including her own son as well?

“Yes, we have a sister. Sofia,” however, when Lee spoke, it looked as though she really didn't want to talk about it.

“Is she not coming, Lee? I'd love to see the boys again. They must be getting quite big now,” Gertrude inquired, yet again, not knowing she was triggering bad memories.

“No, they can't make it. It's a bit too far to travel.”

The pause between words was almost unbearable. None of the others knew, but weren't so rude as to be nosey about it.
“I'll go get my own drink then, shall I?” Renee piped up, trying to find a new topic.

“Here we go, Renee. I've got some contraband you can have. We'll form a splinter group," once Oswald was out of the wardrobe, and stood next to Renee, he passed over the bottle, and headed for underneath the rather large bed.

“You can't do that,” Lee hissed.

“It's alright. I'm sure my flatmate won't mind.”

Oswald pointedly glared at his sober partner, who shot him a dirty look back. No one even bothered to try and guess what they were thinking. As soon as they actually tried to get under, complaints came again.

“I'm sorry, Oswald. That's against the rules.”

“Homophobic?” It just earned a funny look off Barbara and Ed.

“Oh, you've got that, haven't you, lovey?”

“No, I'm claustrophobic,” Barbara reminded her. Unbelievable.

“Well, it is a little crowded in here.”

“Yes, it's almost like we're a tin of sardines,” Butch joked, earning no positive reactions.

“Actually, Bart, why don't you step out for a minute and give us a bit of room,” Jerome puffed, as he tried to move a little, but to no avail.

“Yes. I mean, it's Butch, but, yes.”

“Yes. Sorry. Butch.”

After fighting his way out, Butch bent down to go under the bed, only to be told “Sorry, private party.” Instead, he just his in the bathroom, where the shower could easily fit and conceal him. No one liked him, and he couldn't help it.

Lee didn't even bother telling them off, it hadn't worked all the times before, it certainly wasn't going to work this time. Now it was all quiet though, they were waiting. Waiting for the next person. Why the hell did Barbara enjoy this? It was dull as fuck.

“We are very close aren't we, Renee? Squished up here…” Oswald began to talk, his voice slightly muffled.

“Renee?” Barbara sounded particularly worried about what was going on under there, and you could hardly blame her.

“Babe, I'm not doing anything.”

“Oswald, you're drunk and gay,” Edward shouted. He couldn't care less if he was heard.

“What's the matter, Ed? You jealous?” he taunted, knowing full well he shouldn't.

“Piss off.”

“Please stop arguing, you two. This is ridiculous!” Lee tried to stop them.

She really hated seeing them fight, hopefully she and Jim would never become like that. Lee felt like she was their child, in a way. How she desperately didn't want them to split up, and cover her ears so as to not hear them quarrel. It hurt a lot.

“It's not my fault you're afraid of intimacy, Ed,” Oswald yelled back.

“And it's not my fault either. You have no idea,” his voice crashing at the end.

After a moment of silence, Oswald did what he should have done a long time ago, “Shit. I'm sorry Ed, I shouldn't have brought it up. I do love you, you know.”

“It's okay, I love you too.”

“Ta-da!” The doors were ganked open yet again, to show a man in an ill-fitting suit, same height as Jerome, same age as Edward. Everyone had to hold back gagging at the stench of the man.

“Bruce.”

“Oh, looks like I'm one of the last to join the party. Can I squeeze in?” Bruce was sweet, he really was. It was just… he absolutely stank . They couldn't let him in. More than one person would end up vomiting.

“No. I just think it's a bit too full,” Lee stretched her arms to stop Bruce getting in, attempting to make it look like it would burst.

“No, there's plenty of room,” he contradicted, but when he stepped forward, everyone else in the wardrobe jerked forwards, backing Lee's argument.

“I feel sick,” Jonathan whined.

“Breathe through your mouth,” Jerome retorted.

“Actually, Bruce, some people are hiding under the bed.” Oswald could practically hear the Cheshire Cat grin on his partner's voice. How dare he. To be fair though, there was very little room left to get into anyway. He just needed to convince Bruce, in his drunken state, to go back to the wardrobe.

“Oh, no, you don't,” was all that was heard from 'the splinter group’.

“That's not the game, is it? You're all meant to be squashed in together. That's the rules,” finally, someone that was agreeing with Lee, shame it was in this situation though.

“Yes, but we thought it doesn't really matter about the rules. As long as we're all in the same room it still counts.”

So, Lee, who had been insisting that they play by the rules for the past few hours, was now going back on that decision in order to stop Stinky Bruce getting in. Now do you understand just how vile the scent was? Good. Carry on soldier.

“Alright. As you wish.”

The doors slammed shut, and the wardrobe group thought they'd off loaded him to the bed group. And so, Bruce knelt down, only to be told, “Actually, Bruce, there really isn't room under here. There's suitcases and everything. Isn't that right, Renee?”

“Packed mate. Sorry,” like they were really sorry, “Yeah, you're better off going with the wardrobe group.”

Standing back up, Bruce stepped over to the wardrobe, “I'm back again. Hang on. What's going on here? Is it caught or something?”

He couldn't physically open the doors, no matter how much he pulled. And that was because everyone inside the wardrobe that could reach the doors, were pulling it back towards them, pretending that-  “It's stuck, Bruce. Maybe try going in the bathroom.”

“First time for everything,” Jerome sneered.

“I can see what it is,” Bruce had managed to prise it open just enough to see, “It's fingers. Someone's holding it with their fingers.”

“No, we're trying to push it.”

“Oh, let him in. Poor lad,” Gertrude spoke up, not getting the point of keeping him out.

“We can't. Jerome, tell them,” Jonathan whisper-shouted just quiet enough so Bruce couldn't hear him.

“Try again behind the curtain!” Jerome did as Jonathan told him. Whipped.

“Alright. Funniest game of Sardines I've ever played,” like he was told, Bruce his behind the long curtains, which barely covered him.

“You haven't seen Lee anywhere, have you, Bruce?” A tall man, with sandy blonde hair walked in, and spotted Bruce immediately. It was Jim, Lee's fiancé.

“Oh, caught red-handed. She's hiding in the wardrobe. But you can't get in. Door's stuck, apparently. And there's two under the bed. It's a shambles,” Bruce laughed towards the end, then went back to not-so-secretly hiding himself in front of the window.

The man waltzed up to the furniture holding his love, knocked and spoke, “Lee, it's Jim. Listen, I've just got to pop down to the station. Pick up a friend who's running a bit late. I can't seem to find my keys. You haven't had them, have you?”

“No, they're in your jacket," Lee could have sworn they were.

“No, I've looked. They're not there. I can't find them. I might have to take the Mini. Is that okay?"

“Alright. Drive safely, though. Love you."

“Love you too, Barbara,” shit. Not only was everyone else doing it, but now his girlfriend. And that was the last straw. “Lee. Lee, I love you.”

“What is that awful smell?” And lastly, Mr. Nashton entered the room that was hiding nine people.

“Hello, sir.”

“Searched this room, have you?” the eldest Nashton asked.

He wasn't a pleasant character, never really had been, especially after his wife passed away a year ago. Poor dear, she was lovely, very patient, and didn't believe what was said about him.

“Yes. I believe there are some people hiding in the wardrobe,” Jim started to point, “Some under the bed, and Stinky Bru-... Bruce is behind the curtains.”

If you looked directly at the curtains, you could actually see Bruce shaking and leaning as far back as possibly.

“No, that is absolutely wrong. Come out from there, boy. You all have to be in the same place. This isn't Hide and Seek. You know the rules, don't you? Well?" Mr. Nashton scolded the man.

“Yes, sir,” he gulped, his skin as pale as if he'd just seen a ghost.

Bruce never looked so afraid, other than when he was confronted with Mr. Nashton. He was utterly petrified, but they didn't understand why.

“Come on. Out, out,” next he kicked the bed frame, and two people came out from below.

“It's like the Diary Of Anne Frank,” Oswald commented, a rather tasteless joke earning a moment of silence for everyone, ditching the bottle of champagne on the window sill.

All four of them were ushered towards the open doors of the wardrobe.

“Five more sardines to go in the tin.”

“Sorry, sir, it's just I need to-” Jim tried to explain, and obviously, it didn't work as Mr. Nashton just pushed him in.

“Come on. In you go. That's it. Come along. There we go. That's the name of the game. Sardines.”

“This is fucking mental. I've got to tweet a picture of this. Here we are. Right. Smile, everyone,” Renee laughed, and held up her phone to take a picture.

Ed and Oswald were squashed together, as were Lee and Jim - who incidentally weren't in a great position - Renee was next to Barbara, Mr. Nashton was in the middle at the front, Gertrude was over his left shoulder and everyone else just fit in around them.

“They sound a bit similar… so...” Jim was crushed into Lee, trying to tell her, but Lee didn't believe him. Not after everything that had been said. That was the engagement over then.

“Would anyone like a mint? Bruce?” Gertrude was kindly attempting to be helpful, and then when she singled out Bruce, it was a tad more noticeable.

“No, thank you,” he politely declined, but he was a great deal quieter than before.

“Are you sure? They're very refreshing.”

“They give me diarrhoea.”

“Oh, dear God,” Barbara sighed, trying to breath out her mouth, rather than inhale the toxic air.

“Mr. Nashton, sir,” Jerome leaned over his 'friend’, “Jonathan was just asking after Carmine Falcone. How is he these days?”

“Carmine Falcone? Haven't spoken to him in two years. Dreadful man,” so Jerome wasn't the only one who didn't like him.

“I thought-”

“Ah, you thought you were going to use me as a stepping stone, did you?” Mr. Nashton was a lot smarter than he looked, pity they hadn't figured that one out, “Well, tough titty. That bridge was burned a long time ago.”

“Dog sitter?” Jonathan offered up the suggestion, he'd had enough of being kept in a closet for one day (ba-tum-tss).

“You're still in love with her, aren't you?” Lee spat out, then shoved Jim out the way, and happily began to talk to her father, “We used to love playing Sardines at parties, didn't we, dad?”

“Oh, yes. We used to call it an icebreaker. Do you remember the Sardines song?” and for a nice change, he was in a good mood. Then again, he did love Lee. Always favoured his eldest daughter over the other two.

“Of course.”

“A baby sardine saw his first submarine -”

“Don't you dare sing that!” Ed interrupted, yelling at his father. He hated that man, and if you knew why, I think you would too.

“My house. I'll do what I bloody well like,” the man snapped straight back.

“Is it just me or is there, like, a shitty smell in here?” Renee, ever so innocently questioned.

“Do you remember the year we had the Cub Scouts jamboree? Chaos it was. Kiddies everywhere,” Gertrude softly spoke, bring it back up. It had been so many years.

“That was a long time ago.”

“We were having such a laugh. And then this one little boy spoiled it. What was his name?” she tried to remember, forgetting in her old age, that this wasn't something that should be talked about.

No matter how long ago it was, it shouldn't have ever come back into the conversation.

“I think we ought to be making a move now,” Jonathan tried to sound positive, despite it being obvious he didn't want to a) get caught up in the Nashton family history, and b) stay any longer than he had to.

Jerome just gave him a 'you’re wasting your energy, there's no way we're getting out of here anytime soon’ look. And he was right.

“Oh, the police were involved and everything. Do you remember, Bruce?”

“Cyrus Gold.”

If you took a moment to look around the wardrobe, Jerome, Jonathan, Barbara, Renee and Jim looked very, very confused. They could tell whatever had happened was bad, very bad. It would have been mentioned before if not. Especially as none of them had heard of this, that made it more suspicious.

Bruce looked like a mixture of terror and nausea. Edward was staring at his father, like he wanted to punch his father. Oswald just looked very uncomfortable, as he knew what had happened, Edward had told him. Lee was looking like she might be sick, out of embarrassment, but mainly that she wanted all this to stop. And Mr. Nashton… he was trying to avoid eye contact, and avoid the topic completely.

“That's it. Little Cyrus. Whatever happened to him?” Gertrude's genuine curiosity was disturbing. She was digging the hole deeper, though true, she was asking what they others wanted to know.

Mr. Nashton shifted a little then spoke, as confident as he could. “Family moved away, as I recall. Spain or Somerset.”

“Mm, good riddance I say. Accusing you of such horrible things.”

“He paid them to go away.” Ed still looked like he wanted to strangle his father, so Oswald took his hand, in an attempt to calm Edward down, which worked a little.

“I was teaching the boy how to wash himself. Basic hygiene,” he turned to his youngest son, hoping Ed wouldn't challenge him, and being ridiculously wrong.

“Well, we weren't all that lucky. Were we, Bruce?”

“I can smell carbolic soap,” and when Bruce started to gag, that's when Mr. Nashton stopped everyone.

“Alright. That's enough!” and into a few moments of silence.

“Now, before I ring Jeremy Kyle,” Oswald may have been a little drunk, but he was sober enough to comprehend the situation, “Can I just say there's no-one actually looking for us any more. We're all here.”

“No, that Butch fella's not here.”

“Yes, I've got to go and pick him up from the station actually, so…” Jim hoped that was a good enough excuse to get out of the position he was in. With his girlfriend, and squashed in a corner.

“Erm, he's in the bathroom, I think,” Jerome pointed out from the other side.

“What?”

“He's a boring chap, quite big,” Jerome continued to explain.

“Oh, no, that's not Butch.” Everyone went quiet. Jim didn't know the Butch they'd been talking to. So if he didn't know the guy…?

“A baby sardine saw his first submarine,” calm singing came from outside the wardrobe, as the key turned in the lock.

“Hello?” they began to cause a commotion locked inside.

“He was scared and watched through the peephole,”

“What's going on?” If it wasn't Butch...

“Oh, come, come, come, said the sardine's mum,”

“Open this door.” Who was it?

“It's only a tin full of people.”

And within that moment Edward realised exactly what had happened. And he knew who he really was. Outside the wardrobe, the man covered the piece of furniture in petrol, then held out a zipper lighter, holding the flame out.



“Cyrus?"