Gretel: A Fairytale Retold

by Niamh Murphy

  pointed to a huge, bare tree. Its thick trunk was gnarled and twisted with

  knots and its huge branches stretched out over the riverbed. It was easy

  enough to spot with Maeve pointing at it, but Gretel wondered if she would

  be able to find it again when all the trees were green and the forest had

  become a new world, along with its new season. “Once there, you can make

  your way to the crest of the hill, you’ll be able to see my little farm, even

  when the trees are heavy with spring blossom.” Maeve looked at Gretel, her

  face solemn. “Can you remember that?”

  Gretel thought, ‘River, oak, hill, farm’: it seemed easy enough. She

  smiled. “Yes,” she said, “I’ll remember.”

  “Good.” Maeve placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled, she seemed

  relieved and Gretel could only imagine that she must crave the company of

  others. She decided then that she would definitely return to her. She would

  ensure that the next village would be her final stop and, along with Hans,

  she would find work and a place to live and would regularly visit Maeve.

  She would settle down, the turmoil would be over and she could, at last, be

  happy.

  Although the traps were empty, Maeve still knew all the places to look

  to find food. There were oyster mushrooms growing on the inside of a tree

  stump and another set of violet mushrooms under some leaves, growing in a

  ring. Gretel was cautious about picking them, but Maeve assured her they

  were safe. There were little weeds with pointed leaves, growing all around

  the forest floor. Gretel had hardly paid them any attention before and hadn’t

  considered eating them, but they were gathered up, along with some cow

  parsley. Maeve dug out some pignuts, little roots growing near a hedgerow,

  and she seemed happy to be finding so much.

  It was slow work and Gretel’s hands were cold and numb by the time

  they had enough for three people. As the sun began to slowly fade, Maeve

  suggested they begin the journey home. Gretel realised they didn’t have

  much more time alone, yet there was something that had been bothering

  her, and she wanted to ask Maeve before they got back to the cottage.

  “What was his name?” she asked.

  Maeve looked at her, confused.

  “The man you loved...” Gretel prompted, “...the wrong man.” She was

  trying to return to their conversation of the night before and hoped that

  Maeve would open up to her.

  Maeve looked at her intently as they walked and Gretel wondered if

  she would answer, if she had pushed her too far.

  “It wasn’t a man.”

  Gretel was confused for a moment before Maeve continued.

  “It was a woman.” She said the words plainly, not taking her eyes from

  Gretel, who was stunned into silence.

  Maeve had loved a woman.

  She realised now why Maeve had been exiled from the village, why

  she had needed courage from her lover, why it had been so difficult. Gretel

  was shocked, confused and yet also... intrigued, excited by the rebellion of

  it, the idea that two women could love one another, it made her wonder...

  “Does it trouble you?” Maeve asked and Gretel realised she hadn’t

  said anything.

  “No.” She wanted to ask more, to find out more of the story to hear

  everything, but her blood ran cold at the sound of a distant howl.

  “Don’t worry,” Maeve said, sensing her fear. She reached out and took

  Gretel’s hand, her skin soft and warm, her touch was gentle and strong. But

  she was firm, pulling Gretel along and hurrying their pace.

  Despite the wolves, Gretel felt safe.

  Witch

  “Hans?” Gretel said softly, wiping his brow. “Hans, can you sit up to

  eat?”

  His face was slick with sweat and his head burnt. He had been like this

  since they had returned from foraging. Maeve had suggested that he needed

  to sleep off the fever and they had left him for a few hours. But Gretel

  wanted to see him eat something before the day was out, as he needed all

  his strength to help him heal.

  They had made a mushroom soup with a few green vegetables from

  Maeve’s garden, as well as the fresh food they had brought back with them.

  For a forest that had seemed so barren when she had first looked, the food it

  produced was the heartiest she had known in months.

  “How is there more food?” Hans asked, his words slightly slurred with

  sleep.

  “We went out to find some and Maeve had more in her stores.” She

  waved the bowl under his nose and he sat up to take it, still suspicious.

  “There’s no potion in it, this time,” she said, hoping the joke would make

  him smile, but he frowned, looking around the cottage for Maeve.

  “How does she have food while the rest of us have starved?” he asked.

  “Perhaps it hasn’t been so hard here as it was in the north.”

  “Perhaps she is fattening us up to eat us.” He whispered the words, and

  she wasn’t sure if he was teasing her.

  “Why would she fatten people to eat them, when she could just eat the

  food herself?”

  “Because she likes the taste of human flesh!”

  “You are being ridiculous!”

  “How do you think she stays so young?”

  “She is young! She’s probably the same age as us!”

  “How do you know for sure!?”

  Gretel sighed. Hans had been cooped up in the little cottage for longer

  than he had ever been before, even with a childhood illness he had never

  been so restricted for so long. His fever was making him suspicious and the

  time alone was letting him dwell on his dark thoughts. But even knowing

  this, Gretel didn’t have the patience to listen to him speak ill of their

  hostess.

  “Maeve has taken us in, fed us, kept us warm and tended to your

  wound, but you condemn her as a witch: is that what you really think she

  is?” Her voice rose slightly and she was conscious that Maeve was only in

  the next room.

  But Hans didn’t answer. He looked away and grunted, non-

  committally, before tasting the thick mushroom soup. He was used to being

  in charge, taking care of Gretel and making all the decisions, so it was hard

  on him to be tended to like a child. But until his leg was healed, he would

  just have to get used to it.

  “There is more in the pot,” Gretel said, leaving him to it. She did not

  feel in the mood to sit with him all night.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to bed, Hans, I’ve been out all day and now I’m tired.”

  She didn’t look back as she closed the door to the bedroom. She didn’t

  enjoy arguing with her brother and wanted to see him healed as soon as

  possible, even though she knew it would take her away from there.

  “How is he?” Maeve asked.

  In the semi-darkness, Gretel could make out the figure of Maeve lying,

  curled up, in the bed. Suddenly Gretel felt nervous at being so close to her

  in her state of undress, at the thought of sliding into bed with her, of

  sleeping next to her.

  “He is well enough to argue,” she said, turning her back on Maeve and

  beginning to take off her clothes. It
was too dark for Maeve to see anything

  and yet she still felt modest in front of her, and the thought crossed her

  mind that she shouldn’t be getting into bed alongside her at all.

  A part of her had intended to tell Hans about Maeve’s revelation. The

  part of her that never kept secrets from Hans, ever since they were children

  they had told one another everything and yet when it came to Maeve... it

  was different. She wasn’t ready for Hans to know, not just because he

  would see it as another reason this woman was sinful, but also because it

  was something Maeve had told her, only her. It was their secret, something

  they shared, and Gretel wanted to keep hold of that.

  As she removed her outer layers of clothes, stripping down to her

  undershirt, she imagined Maeve watching her in the darkness, waiting for

  her to climb into bed next to her. She was nervous, her heart beat a little

  faster, she struggled to undo her buttons as her fingers shook and she

  struggled to see in the dark.

  Something made her wonder if perhaps Hans could be right: perhaps

  Maeve was sinful, perhaps the village had been right to drive her out,

  perhaps there was a reason that she could find food while the rest of the

  world starved.

  Gretel remembered how afraid she’d felt when she had first seen

  Maeve, when she’d seen her throw an axe some twenty feet and strike down

  a wolf. How she’d watched her carry the wolf, a weight that Hans would

  have struggled with, all the way back to the fort and yet she didn’t appear to

  be any stronger than any other woman. Gretel wondered if there was

  something different, something other-worldly about Maeve, she was

  certainly different to any other woman she had ever known.

  “Are you alright?” Maeve asked suddenly.

  “Yes,” Gretel lied, realising she had been taking a long time to get

  undressed. She quickly stripped down to her undershirt and climbed into

  bed, as if to prove that she was alright, and as she lay in the bed, staring

  straight up in the dark, she could feel the weight and the warmth of Maeve

  next to her, just within her reach.

  She had been afraid of her at first, but the fear had gone quickly and it

  had been replaced by something else. All she felt now was warmth, trust

  and contentment. Gretel felt safe and at ease around Maeve in a way that

  she had not felt with anyone else. She loved her brother and her family, of

  course she did. But she did not long for their presence in the way that she

  longed to be near Maeve.

  It was madness to think evil of someone who made her feel so good.

  Gretel lay wrapped in the warm blankets, listening to the breathing of

  the woman next to her, and she knew she was safe. She wanted to reach out:

  there were only a few inches between them, so it would be easy to take her

  hand, hold her and embrace her. If she was brave enough she could feel the

  whole length of Maeve’s body against her own.

  As Gretel moved her hand just a fraction closer to Maeve, her heart

  began to pound harder in her chest. Suddenly she was afraid of how Maeve

  would react and the tiniest distance was an infinite chasm hanging between

  them.

  For a moment Gretel was jealous, jealous of the woman who’d had

  Maeve’s affection. How easy it must have been for her when Maeve was in

  love with her, how strong it must have made her feel, how invincible. In

  that instant Gretel wanted to have that kind of love, the love of someone as

  strong and as beautiful as Maeve, and she pledged to herself that if she ever

  received it, she would never forsake it.

  But as the heavy weight of sleep pulled at her, all thoughts of the

  future, of plans and dreams, melted into the dark.

  THE ROOM HAD GONE COLD.

  But cuddled beneath the blankets she was warm. Curled up next to

  Maeve she felt the warmth of her body hot against her legs. Maeve’s hair

  swept across the pillows and the scent of it filled Gretel’s nostrils as she

  watched her sleep. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay where she

  was, listening to Maeve’s gentle breathing. In the dim morning light that

  crept through cracks in the shutters, Gretel could see the outline of her

  forehead, the gentle curve of her cheeks and her slightly parted lips. She

  could watch her sleep forever.

  She started to wonder about the woman who Maeve had loved, what

  she had looked like, how it happened, how they knew, what it had been like

  to kiss. She looked at Maeve’s lips and wondered what it would feel like to

  kiss those lips, to feel the softness beneath her own.

  Then Maeve turned, slowly opening her eyes and smiling shyly as she

  saw her. But Gretel pulled back, embarrassed at being caught watching her.

  “Morning,” Maeve whispered sleepily.

  “I should check on Hans,” Gretel said, sliding out from beneath the

  covers and quickly getting dressed in the cold air, hoping that Maeve hadn’t

  seen her watching, and wouldn’t guess what she had been thinking.

  She left the room without saying anything further, but gasped when

  she saw the chair by the fire was empty. Hans was gone.

  She started forward, wondering what could have happened to him,

  thinking he must have fallen to the floor in a feverish sleep, but he was

  nowhere to be found. She started to panic, thinking perhaps the wolves

  could have dragged him away, or he might have limped off in the night. She

  rushed to the door, thinking he might be struggling somewhere in the

  woods; he could be unconscious and dying, but the door swung open before

  she reached it.

  “Morning!” Hans said as he saw her. He closed the door with his

  elbow as his arms were stacked full of firewood. “This is the last of it,” he

  said. “I’ll have to go out and chop some more today.” He moved to the fire

  and began tending to it as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Hans!” Gretel managed to say. “You’re walking!”

  “Well spotted!” he laughed. He stood and walked over to her, turning

  about like a bride in a new dress. “It’s still a little sore, but it is very well

  healed.”

  “This is wonderful!” she said, truly delighted to see him so well and so

  happy.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” he said, a little sheepishly, and suddenly

  Gretel was reminded of their argument, of Maeve and of what it meant now

  that Hans could walk.

  “That’s alright,” she said, but the words stung in her throat, as she

  realised her time here was almost over.

  “You’re walking!” Maeve said, coming into the kitchen. She smiled at

  Hans, but didn’t look at Gretel.

  Gretel wondered if she’d offended Maeve by backing away like she

  had.

  “Yes!” he said, smiling at Maeve for the first time since they had met.

  “All thanks to you. We can be on our way as soon as we’ve made up for

  your loss.”

  “I’m sure you can stay a little longer,” Maeve said, “perhaps until the

  spring has broken.”

  “I’ve been out in your yard,” Hans said, ignoring her protest, “the

  fence needs repair in some places and I could
restock you with firewood. I

  think that would be a fair exchange for what you’ve done.”

  Maeve glanced at Gretel briefly, and in that look she saw her own

  feelings reflected. Neither of them wanted to be parted. Even if it was just

  the thought of food, warmth and shelter, it would be hard for Gretel to say

  goodbye, and yet she knew there was so much more for her there than that.

  For the first time in her life she considered parting from Hans, the

  brother she had been close to since they were born, the brother that had

  been there for her at every step along the way. Hans had always insisted

  they would stay together, and that even when they each got married, they

  would live next to each other and their children would all be raised together.

  She knew she couldn’t leave him, she knew that after all the times he had

  been there for her, she could hardly turn her back on him now. How would

  she even explain it to him? How could she begin to explain the pull that she

  felt and what it meant? She wasn’t even sure how to explain it to herself.

  “I think it would,” Maeve said, and Gretel heard the sadness catch in

  her voice.

  “Would you like me to come out with you again today?” Gretel asked,

  hoping that Maeve had plans to go out and hoping that the few hours they

  had left could be spent alone together.

  Maeve looked at her and smiled. She nodded. “That would be lovely.”

  A New Beginning

  The wood was quiet and still.

  But it was no longer cold enough for her breath to turn to mist on the

  air. The winter was starting to fade, but it only seemed to highlight to Gretel

  how little time she had left.

  The two of them hardly spoke as they gathered food, Maeve had taken

  her to a different patch of the forest and there was even more to be found

  than the day before, so it wasn’t long before the basket was full and they

  were able to head back to the cottage.

  But they walked slowly, neither talking, neither of them able to find

  the words to admit how painful their separation would be, and neither in a

  hurry, not wanting to cut short the precious time they had.

  Suddenly, Maeve grabbed Gretel.

  “Look!” she whispered, pointing to a bare branch high above them.

  “Do you see it?”

  “See what?” Gretel asked, peering hard into the trees.