The strangest day of the autumn for time out of mind, had finally reached an end and numerous voices resounded throughout the valley, mellifluous and lilting, lifting the spirits of the small, English town.
Despite the fact that it was cold outside, the cold like that left you unable to warm without retreating back inside, the town was all alive, bustling with great rejoicing, festivity and devotion. People of all ages were out on the streets, astonishingly not bundled up in their thick, heavy coats, woollen scarves and snow boots; but tonight, they wore the brightest colours of summer in a style typical for the most significant days of all the year.
The homes and shops were more elegantly decorated with jack-o-lanterns and oddities to draw out the best for all the extra time and attention as expected. Promptly giving themselves a break from their standard moneymaking and occupied errands, almost each inhabitant of New Nettlebury was an uproar of colours, grins and warmth, with the exception of one; a teenager girl standing in the attic window of the huge and baronial Brooks Female Boarding House.
The cold evening breeze, wandering through the damp and sooty obscurity over the waste of roofs and chimney-pot, constantly struck her face with a cold clammy jerk and shuddered her hair everywhere all over, in her eyes, in her mouth, shrouding the scenario she watched from the darkened attic; with no light in there being a part of her punishment, hiding was unnecessary
She was a skinny, brown-haired, rosy-cheeked girl in her late teens with the pinched, slightly peaky look of someone who has grown a lot in a short period of time. Her full-length gown was baggy and wrinkled, her long hair was luxuriant and tousled, and the soles of her ballet pumps were caked in dirt. Anastasia Dawson's appearance did not appeal her to the residents of the Brooks Female Boarding House, who were the kind of people who thought unladylike behaviours should be punished, as she was now.
"A very happy birthday, Anastasia," I wished the girl who was no similar to me any longer, becoming the first and the only person to do so. "Seems like the Mother Nature has turned out to wish you, at least. Isn't it lovely
Yes, definitely.
Out of nowhere, a solid gust of wind hit the Fortress of Stringentness and rattled the roof, causing a few shingles to blow off the rooftop deck.
Well, probably.
Another gust of wind - rougher than the past one - came in through the open window, pushing her a few steps backward, and blew out the flames burning in the fireplace, engulfing everything in complete frigidity and darkness now.
"Holy cow! You...."
Stumbling back, She nearly landed on her delicate derriere, so did I, muttering some indecent words under her breath at the Mother Nature, to which Mother Nature dutifully responded with another wave of withered leaves blowing in her face
Bloody hell! It wasn't lovely at all.
It was no secret that British weather was anything but predictable. Although we had got four seasons of a fairly length - each around three months long, they did tend to overlap though and often didn't follow the expected pattern. Yep, that meant we sometimes got a warm, bright, sunny day in February and or cold temperatures and freezing rain in the middle of summer.
But today as the sun dipped below the horizons and the fleeting colours of dusk faded away, the temperature dropped well below freezing, and the wind whipping through the tall and skeletal trees became vicious, creaking and groaning like an old racking chair like some opening scene of a horror film.
For the first time in Anastasia's life, she felt as if all the warmth had been drained into the earth, which was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat and wonder what for the sake of North Pole was going on. Was the world about to come to an end? That meant, as much as I would have jumped at the chance to pretend my body was possessed by her, so it mined. Yes! Who was I trying to fool? There was no such thing as she. Just me!
God, we lived in the southern England, which meant less rain and higher temperatures than all over regions, then why? Was the world was actually ending? Were we all about to die? Panicked thoughts flooded my mind like a sudden release of water held back by an ice jam. No! That was far too early! Mind you, my To-Do list had not yet received a single tick.
"It's your own doing, Miss Dawson." I snapped back at myself. "If you hadn't listened to that moronic thought to show off your generosity that night, and didn't have to end up here as a punishment by Madam Brooks- " I pointed to the attic, "then perhaps your list of To-Do things would have a couple of ticks on it at that point.
With incurring odium and cold, I marched up to the open fireplace and rummaged through the log basket for some newspapers.
"What's even more incredible is that you have no memory of what happened that evening, which was so awful that you were sentenced to three years in this attic. Girl, what did you exactly do? Did you rob someone from the town? Beat him?
Or perhaps something far worse.
My hand came into touch with some particular thick papers in the basket as I took a long, unconscious inhale, producing a burning feeling in my lung. I pulled out the remaining newspapers from under the logs, wondering what could be worse than robbing someone and beating them? Did... did I kill somebody
Don't be ridiculous, Sia. You? And kill somebody? Impossible! I told myself. And look at the bright side. You did something that was worth of three year punishment in this stinky attic. You took your first step towards your freedom
Which didn't make me feel any better, because it was my first and only step toward freedom, which I had forfeited by being caught doing the most ill-mannered act possible to commit in society as Madam Brooks put it.
Picturing Madam Brooks' face, I crumbled some sheets of newspaper in between the two pieces of firewood, and covered the tinder with kindling. Then I twisted another single sheet of newspaper, burned it, and by slowly lighting the kindling with the burning paper, the fire was lit in no time.
About my part of that evening, I couldn't say much because the only memory of my fifteenth Christmas eve I had was sneaking out of school and wandering around the town, seeing families celebrating the season until Mr Ralph, the local innkeeper, asked me to help him with the orders because he had an unexpectedly large number of foreign customers that night. I had helped him with the orders, and after a few hours of back-breaking work, Mr Ralph thanked me with 40$ and a delicious dinner in the kitchen, which I ate before leaving out the back door; after that, I had no memory of the night. When I opened my eyes the next morning, I was in the school.
That, I suppose, says it all. That explains why I was up here, why I had been sentenced to three years in this attic, and why I was so angry at myself. That explains why I was concerned about the end of the world. That explains why I didn't have a single tick on my To-Do list. That clarifies everything.
No? Doesn't it? In any case, not to you?
So consider of yourself as fortunate. You must have lived in a society where people didn't forget to take their brains with them when they passed the Victorian era.
Not so in Madam Brooks' world, I thought, gritting my teeth in rage. Madam Brooks had given careful thought to the issue of women's liberation and concluded that in a world where good manners and common courtesy were dwindling, and there was an obsession with celebrity culture, a lady stood out, by a few following etiquette rules out of hundred.
1. Watch Your Language
"Rather be silent than talk nonsense. And avoid swearing. Remember a proper lady does not swears.
2. Speak softly
"Cultivate a soft tone of voice and a courteous mode of expression. Do not be rude and abusive towards others.
3. Pipe Down.
"It is better to say too little than too much in company: let your conversation be consistent with your sex and age. Do not talk loudly and laugh raucously when with others.
3. Dress to Impress
"The plainest dress is always the most genteel, and a lady that dresses plainly will never be dress unfashionably. Do not wear overly revealing clothes that reveal your cleavage or bottom.
4. Don't Venture Far From Home
"Be not too often seen in public. Specially a young unmarried lady must not go out without an escort.
7. Form no friendship with men
"Young ladies must be chaperoned. To be found alone with a gentleman who was other than Family will tantamount to social death. Afterall, a woman's reputation is as brittle as it is beautiful.
8. Skip Frivolous Fictional Entertainment.
"Read no novels, but let your study be History, Geography, Biography and other instructive books. And do it all inside the walls of your home as you were not allowed to be educated or gain knowledge outside of the home because it was a man's world.
On and on this ridiculous list goes.
And as I lacked every single one of the qualities described above, I sometimes thought Madam Brooks' decision to lock me up here was a good thing. I was not, perhaps, very comfortable in this attic, but on the other hand, nobody was glaring at me, grinding their teeth so loudly that I couldn't even eat my meal, or making comments about my unkempt hair or the way I dressed, talked or walked, as it had happened every time I tried to even breathe in the same room as Madam Brooks.
It was almost as if my thought had flitted through the window, the sound of the office double door under the attic banging open echoed, followed by two set of sharp footsteps and Madam Brooks' melodious voice - unmistakably announcing it was time for the long-awaited 7 o' clock news. Regardless of how much I loathed this school, its paper thin floors and walls were a disguised blessing.
I quickly rose to my feet and positioned myself near the window for better voice quality, deciding that if I didn't want to go insane, it was probably time to stop talking to myself and be about my eavesdropping business. Perhaps tonight - after three years of waiting - would be the night -
"Ah, this first day terribly converged of unadulterated innovation! The streets are as of now loaded with those little brats interrupting with the expectation of complimentary confections and I need to leave in not exactly an hour for London - away from the school. If not for him, I wouldn't have accepted his dinner invite for now alongside with other invitations."
Him? Who was this him?
It had to be someone important if Madam Brooks had accepted his dinner invitation only.
"Madam Brooks, you are right. But, given his generosity towards our school, it's not as if we have a choice," the sugary voice as I recognised was of Mrs. Smith, the vice headmistress. "Notwithstanding, about the school, you need not to push. I guarantee you that all that will remain totally levelled out and disciplined till you safely return."
There was a noise - it sounded like a pig oinking. Or maybe it was just Madam Brooks scoffing.
"Totally levelled out and disciplined...I know better of the girl, Olivia, dear. It has been years. Just as if a normal girl of her age has such rebellious and opted out aims in life -
Hm...now why does that sound so familiar I wonder
- other girls haven't gotten a clue regarding anything other than themselves; doubt they care! Nevertheless, it is not as if there would exist anything about her fam - "
"Madam, please." Mrs. Smith's voice lifted. "The walls, too, have ears."
I stiffened, having previously been uninterested in the conversation. Had I heard right just now? A secret?
"Ah - yes - pardon me, dear..."
Wait, no!
They quickly fell silent. Nobody moved for a while, then there was only a rustle of paper and sharp clicking of Madam Brooks' heels that could be heard. Cursing, I listened to a crack-and-hiss filled 90s top classic on the old record player while I watched Vicar Joseph go out of the church. The streetlamps from the street were casting a misty glow strong enough to silhouette a short, plump old man who secretly fancied Madam Brooks - age brings wisdom wasn't the case with him.286Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIJNNcm4ZMS
He was shaking his head and muttering to himself, nothing I complained about; Vicar Joseph had recently started asking Madam Brooks around for tea every week, and I doubt Madam Brooks would be pleased to find me the newfound topic of discussion on their next tea date and reward me with another year or half of punishment in this carbuncle attic. He'd abruptly rounded the corner and vanished from view before Madam Brooks' voice echoed again, recapturing my attention.
"Did you inform Vicar Joseph - "
No!
-ph with regard to that sudden change of plan in our tomorrow's evening tea? It would not be nice to keep the gentleman waiting, now would it be?"
No, no, no.
"Yes, Madam Brooks," said Mrs. Smith, her tone more honeyed than before. "And he said, he completely understands."
Of course, he does! Now, mention who Mr. Lopez is and the secret already, would you?
"Goodness, I was hoping to hear just something - "
Blast you!
I let out a long, slow breath and stared at the now starry night sky for a moment before closing my eyes; my mind had seemed to wander somewhere else again. Every day for the past three years had been the same; the thoughts, the anger, the confusion, the temporary peace and then frustrating thoughts again - a lot of them..... and always, more insistent with each passing day, the question of what happened that evening....
I kept listening, in case there was any more information about this 'man' and that unspoken secret - smelling a rat, even just a small clue, was enough to figure out what it was all about - an unexplained reason for the punishment, perhaps, or some strange accident related to that night... but the appreciation for Vicar Joseph was followed by the news of the student counselling and advising meeting ("Each session should not be longer than an hour, Olivia," ordered Madam Brooks, "We cannot delay the graduation for another month."); then the holding of an art exhibition in the hall, then the once-in-a-while ball ("The headmaster of the Royal Military Academy graciously accepted our invitation," Madam Brooks exulted, unable to hide her not-so-master plan to use the ball to select the most eligible suitors for her female student).
As Mrs. Smith said, "- over the decade, unbelievable progress has been made in the number of students -," I opened my eyes and sat on the floor, leaning my head against the wall.
If they had reached to the point of discussing the increase in the number of wealthy students, there would be nothing else worth hearing or expecting any of them to grant my silent wishes. I suddenly felt worn-out, but it was that same kind of head-buzzing exhaustion that told me I wouldn't sleep if I went to be.
Are you seriously concerned about some stupid secret right now? That nasty little voice in the back of my head said. Because I doubt it. You're just trying to divert your attention away from the fact that you should be fighting for your freedom right now. Isn't it exactly what you had in mind for your life all along? Then what does it matter what happened in the past.
I stared at the attic ceiling, knowing that as much as I tried to deny it, it was true, and realised that what I actually needed was a temporary escape right now. Yes, a temporary escape! Standing up, I reached out for the ugly chord hanging from the ceiling, and pulling it to lower the door to the bottom of its travel, I climbed swiftly up the pull-down ladder until I was on the room.
When I first moved into the attic, three years previously, Madam Brooks showed me how this pull-down ladder tucked away in the ceiling led up to the roof and forbade me from even considering using. I indeed knew better than to just sit and consider. Simply using it was so much easier.
Now I stood on the mansard roof, staring out at the flashing darkness of New Nettlebury below. A hundred people lived, breathed, ate, and argued in the vicinity of me. A hundred lives that were completely unrelated to mine. It was an odd kind of peace. Coming up here, I felt like the flora of nature, alive and unseeing, existingonly as myself; as if I were at home and the starry night around me was my cocoon, a place in which my dreams flew freely.
Without hesitation, I sauntered to the edge of the mansard roof and took a step out towards the other end, my eyes closed, my arms wide onto the side. One foot before the other, bordering the concrete, the breeze making the hair on my extended arms stick. When I first moved up here, when things were at their worst, I had dared myself to walk through the attic with my eyes closed from one end to the other. When I reached at the other end I had laughed into the darkness. See? I'm here, - not doing what you want me to do - fighting for my freedom. I'm doing what I want to do.
The comfort of silence, me being a tightrope walker, the town below, anonymity, and the knowledge that no one knew who I was up here had become a secret habit of mine. I opened my eyes and lifted my head, feeling the occasional gust of winds, hearing some teachers' laughter, the muffled shatter of a bowl breaking in the kitchen, the urgent blare of a car horn at the school gate and, with complete disregard for my temporary peace, Madam Brooks' dog barking at something in the darkness.
Only the hours between twelve and three a.m. were relatively peaceful, the townsfolk having collapsed into their beds, the Pepper and Salt chef having peeled off it's white, the Gray's Inn having barred its door. The only thing that broke the silence during those hours was Madam Brooks' dog barking every now and then. Because I no longer slept, I was acutely aware of the town's most subtle movements.
In a distant, the church and graveyard were clearly illuminated by the golden glow of candles lit on the graves of the dead. In the centre of town, a buzz of chatter was going on around the bonfire - the celebrations of All Hallows' Eve; telling scary storeys, divination games, and apple bobbing, while several ladies were preparing for evening's vegetarian feast; the tantalising smell of warm potato pancakes and soul cakes wafted through the air. Tonight, even just for a few hours, unlike me townspeople were experiencing the joy and freedom that existed beyond boundaries.
I loved All Hallow's Eve, the first day of Allhallowtide, just like every other teenager in town - with the exception of the snobbish ones of the Fortress of Stringentness. I loved All Hallow's Eve better than Christmas. There were no gifts or a special Christmas dinner to attend at the Grand Dining Room. I'd have an excuse to read scary storeys in my bed all morning, and I'd make spiders and bats with my special DIY kit to scare Madam Brooks all day. That always brought me a lot of joy.
In the afternoon, I would carve the scariest faces I could into the pumpkins, making them frightening enough to make anyone's blood run cold. I loved making those trick-or-treaters jump because it was only then that they would cling to one another and run, screaming as far down the town as they could. Also, assuming some were brave enough to stay, it would be an excellent starting point for them. I'd replace the doorbell with one that activated a smoke machine and shrieked, then make a big reveal with candies to pass out in the costume that had taken so long to make.
Every year, my 'costume' was the best and creepiest on the street. My personal favourite was the one where I disguised myself as a young man wearing late Professor Brooks' clothes and wig and everyone assumed I was a genuine man. Regardless, when they discovered I was a young girl, they snickered as if it were the most amusing thing they had ever seen in their lives because the townspeople's minds were as Victorian as Madam Brooks'.
But instead of being forced to be quiet, composed, graceful, and disciplined, I would sneak out later that night and spend it sitting around the town's bonfire, listening to scary storeys. I didn't trick-or-treat or celebrate my birthday, but Mrs. William, the owner of the town's local bakery, would always give me a haul large enough for me.
Don't get me wrong here. It's not that I didn't believe in God; I used to go to church with others every Sunday. But it was All Hallow's Eve that I looked forward to the most, and it would have been the same this year if Madam Brooks hadn't decided to take away my freedom.
"It's been three years, God. Three bloody years! So when is it going to be enough for a punishment?" I said, looking up at the starry night sky. And there it was - the unexpected onset of anger; I could feel it swelling up again. I clenched my fists and took quick strides, not taking my eyes off the sky. "When is this misery going to stop? Because this doesn't feel like living. It doesn't feel like anything - and I don't want to live this way anymore.
Five more steps to go. Five more. Tonight, I'd go as far as the corner.
"They say you gave me a second chance at life. Whatever the case may be, I do not believe it's true. You didn't give me second ridiculous chance, God, did you? Not really. You just crushed up my only one. Crushed it into little pieces . What am I supposed to do with what's left? What's my fault -" I stopped briefly, feeling the cold wind against my skin, and I realised moisture had filled in the corner of my eyes.
"I hate you, Mom and Dad," I whispered, my eyes burning as I tried to keep those stupid tears at bay... "I hate you for leaving me.."
An intense, overwhelming wave of nostalgia washed over me. And I could feel myself sinking into it.
"Anastasia Dawson, what are you doing there?!"
My head jerked to the side where the sugary, but shaky voice came from - only to find Mrs Smith standing only a few feet away, her eyes wide open.
Oh, did I forget to make a fake me sleeping under the covers before climbing up here?
Damn it, damn it, damn i
End of the chapter
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