Oaken Roads, 1938.
Men’s expeditions into the forest, to strike unwelcomed intruders, were coming in rarely. Unfortunately, searching for a lost child happened more often and it did not always end happily. But usually it was all about looking for Lucy, lost in her fanciful thoughts.
One time Ellie lied that Lucy went missing.
We were at the fishponds, throwing stones into the water. Sunday was coming to a lazy end. We had nothing better to do and we did not want anything different to do. Charles was relaxed and full of hopes. He was telling me about this book he was reading. He was wearing a blue shirt, sleeves pulled up, and neat, grey trousers on braces. I was wearing my white Sunday dress. Both of us looked smart, but we were barefoot and my hair was on a loose.
Suddenly Ellie showed up out of nowhere, thumping, as she ran upon the wooden bridge. I suspected she had been hiding somewhere near, watching us, waiting for a perfect moment to come out. But maybe I was mistaken. Within seconds she was all over Charles, mumbling something indistinct. She acted so hard, he dropped all of the stones he was holding. They came down on the boards and then they splashed into the water. I cried in alarm watching Ellie almost pushing Charles off the bridge too, but he managed to keep his balance. He grabbed her by her fragile arms and demanded she would speak calmly. Sobbing, she exclaimed that Lucy went missing again, that she was asked by Sisi to bring some flowers for the evening and was seen going into the woods by some of the servants. She had not been seen ever since. Charles said nothing, trying to gather his thoughts. He was evidently surprised. He knew Lucy best. He was closest to understanding her and that was why it was easiest for him to find her, when she was on one of her fantastic trips. Alarmed by her escape, Charles colud learn from the last book she had read or a painting she had made, where she was off to, and he could find her, for example, in an abandoned lime stove or a quarry, and bring her back, to others’ joy and relief, after promising to think of a new play to her. I was always so proud of him every time he would bring her home, carrying this little puppet piggyback. And usually, half-sicken with Ellie’s burts of emotions and gratitude, when she was throwing herself into his arms as a ‘thank you’ for finding her sister. Ellie usually was quick to forget to welcome her ‘long lost beloved sister’, who stood by, patiently waiting for Charles to be free again. Usually. But not that day.
I was having my own vague suspicions. I caught Charles’ eyes and I shook my head.
-Lucy was supposed to do her overdue Latin and some extra homework as a punishment for breaking the kitchen window. – I said. I knew what she was meant to do, because it was said by Sisi, the oldest of the three sisters, when Lucy wanted to go out with us to the fishponds. It was said loud and clear, and Lucy was too smart to disobey Sisi. And I truly doubted Sisi changing her mind and sending Lu to pick up some flowers.
Ellie pretended not to hear me.
Charles slowly looked away from me and focused his eyes on Ellie’s panic-stricken face. It was a little while, before I started wondering what they were doing. I felt embarassed to witness something, what in my opinion was some kind of a weird intimacy between them. Weird, because they had never been close. Never, because he was a gardner’s son and she was his father’s lord’s daughter. I had never looked at them that way. And it was in this moment – I looked away, my stomach lurched and I understood that whatever happens I would always be on a loosing side. Because she was his father’s lord’s daughter. Because she was Charles’ age exactly. Because she was so thin, fragile and beautiful, whereas I was only his friend. That was all – I felt I could only be described as a reference to him.
Even though Charles knew something was badly amiss, he followed her, without a single word, never looking back at me. I trailed after them, anxious to know what was happening and feeling truly concerned about Lucy’s fate.
Copyright: E. Littlerat 2018
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