by Wendy Reakes
The picture was almost all black and dark blue with streaks of yellow and white and splatters of orange. Despite her appreciation of the gift of oil paints, Rain had been troubled by the softness and density of them. She’d made gestures to Marley, which at first, she couldn’t understand, until she finally realised she wanted to make them lumpy, like the old paints she had used in the beginning.
When Marley tried mixing sand with them, Rain was still unhappy about the texture. Finally, they drained the excessive oils and left them to dry. When they were good and weathered, they mixed them up, before adding the oil to achieve the desired effect of textured paint.
When the black painting with its streaks of white and orange and splattering of blues and reds was hung, the candle light in the attic made it come alive, and they saw how she had depicted a midnight sky with a violent storm. The work was genius, so said Celia when she accepted it as a gift the following Christmas.
Life in the house below continued as normal, but their existence, or lack thereof, was threatened once more by unexpected visitors to the attic.
It was summer, so the Bedouin tents had been taken down in favour of having air circulate about the three sections. They had long ago named the first section at the front where the attic door was situated. They called it the ‘danger zone’ and it was there, one evening, they were almost discovered.
Marley had been playing with Rain on the carpet on the floor of the parlour. They had the building blocks out, the ones she had once discovered in an old packing chest, years before. They were made of wood and covered in paper with coloured letters on the sides. Rain had been using them since she was just a few months old, first by building them up and knocking them down and then when she was older, using them as a learning tool to spell out words.
That evening, Marley had arranged the blocks to spell out discovered, which was ironic considering the next thing they heard was giggling in the danger zone. Marley froze as she quickly took Rain’s hands and held them in her own, staring into her eyes, telling her to stay as still as a mouse. She obeyed, of course. She had long ago learned the dos and don’ts of their life in the attic. She knew when to stay still, how and where to hide if hiding was needed and most of all, she knew what to do if anything happened to her mama. She was to leave the attic without further ado, to get Celia and to own up to our illicit presence. If such a time occurred, she was to rest assured that she would be taken care of with no blame resting on her shoulders.
Now they were in danger, as the noise of people in the attic overwhelmed them and shook Marley to the core.
She crooked her finger at Rain who followed her, up off the floor and onto the bed. Their time of discovery was upon them and now all they could do was wait. Soon someone would find their way along the path cutting through the forest of furniture and they would fall upon the parlour. What an uproar there will be.
We could only wait.
They heard the giggling once more and the sound of a door banging and then a chair scraping across the floor boards. This is it, she thought. Only minutes more.
She heard the attic door open again. Then, a voice.
Celia’s voice. “Come along now, young masters. There’s nothing up here but a load of old furniture.”
A child. “We just wanted to explore the attic.”
“I see,” said Celia. “So, you haven’t heard about the rats up here, then.”
A groan.
“And spiders. They crawl around everywhere, and one could drop onto your head any minute now.”
A scream.
A sound of heavy scarpering feet.
The door closing.
Silence.
Marley held Rain’s body against hers as they both fell back onto the bed with an eternal sigh.
Chapter 25
April 1914
Since the night she lost her shoes, she had been hiding in the attic of Wilbury House for nigh on seventeen years. She had been confined to that place below the rafters most of her adult life and now she was in her thirties. How strange that time had passed without her really knowing when or how.
Celia and Marley had long ago stopped talking about them leaving to begin a normal life, and now, if ever the subject was raised, Marley could feel her heart palpitating in the most disconcerting manner.
The world beyond the attic continued unaffected by her absence. Thinking back to the main events, which had impacted her thoughts, she had to confess there weren’t many, but a few stood out in her mind, when she took time to recall.
In England, in 1903 women’s rights became prominent in the news. Marley was all for the cause, but she wasn’t, of course, influential in their fight for votes. She was useless, she confessed to Celia when she’d imparted the news of Mrs Pankhurst and her daring suffragettes. ‘Warriors’, Marley called them and she cried when she learned of their imprisonment in the name of civil liberties. That was a phrase used by Celia, civil liberties. She’d never heard it said before and even Celia confessed to having picked it up from a journal. Marley only got the meaning when she deciphered the two words separately; Civil - people, liberties - freedom. The suffragettes hunger strikes were reported, but only one publication told of how serious their actions had become. Rumours of force feeding were rife, but Marley found that hard to believe, despite her cynicism of life beyond the attic.
Only last year on the fourth of June 1913, Emily Davison, the bravest of all Pankhurst’s followers was killed when she threw herself in front of the king’s own horse at the Epsom Derby. Celia, Rain and Marley grieved for a woman who had, like Mrs Pankhurst, become our unsung hero. They prayed that the legacy of the women’s movement would continue, but with no help from her, Marley was sad to confess.
In 1910, King Edward VII, Bertie, died after only nine years on the throne. The occasion didn’t really matter to Marley. Kings were kings, even though the change of reign affected the family in the house below since the were members of the peerage.
Marley wasn’t completely heartless. She, of course, comforted Celia during that time, but for her, personally, selfish wretch that she was, the royal house was so far removed in terms of status, it was hard for her to equate. Nevertheless, when the new king George V succeeded the throne, on his coronation day, Marley and Rain raised a flag to mark the event, but that was only because Celia had brought up two spares.
An event in 1912 was a different matter altogether. On the 15th April, a White Star liner called the Titanic was sunk after it hit an iceberg. The terrible news told of 1,503 souls losing their lives, a combination of first class and steerage. The thought of people like her, no not like her, but people who were seeking a new life in the Americas, had died so tragically, causing grief to fill her heart. She’d been thankful for the sadness, fearing she had lost all sense of proper emotion.
Nearing her sixteenth birthday, Rain had turned into a fine young lady, a beauty, with long thick black hair and clear green eyes making her appear like a cat that could see in the dark. She was pale as could be, but that only served to enhance her beauty since not a flaw touched her face or any other part of her, not counting the little heart shaped birthmark on her shoulder. When Marley looked at her, she saw the sleeping beauty, Briar Rose, hidden in the tower until her prince came. But for Rain, there would be no prince. Certainly not in the attic of Wilbury House.
“Master John is to celebrate his sixteenth birthday with a marquee in the garden,” Celia said one morning when they were sipping a cup of tea. In their chipped saucers sat a small piece of shortbread she’d sneaked up from the kitchen. She often brought them a tit-bit or two and they were always gratefully received, especially when satisfying Rain’s insatiable sweet tooth.
As Celia and Marley perched comfortable at the side of the bed, Rain sat on the floor, upon the rug. They had two chairs in the attic parlour now, but just out of habit, they still positioned themselves on the edge of the bed, just as they always had.
To get her attention, Rain tugged at he
r skirt, still long about her ankles. Marley had long ago scoffed at the idea of shortening its length. ‘It’s the fashion,’ Celia often said, but Marley had no call for it. Besides, the longer length kept her warm in the attic. Rain, on the other hand, welcomed the change, after Celia brought up a dark grey uniform frock -without the pinafore and head dress- the length revealing her ankles dressed in black stockings. “The servants were all given the dresses to keep up with fashion,” Celia said, offering the dress to Rain. “There was one spare, so it’s all yours, little beauty.”
Celia was head-housekeeper now. Three years ago, her mother had finally accepted Mr Gainsborough’s proposal of marriage. After she resigned her position at Wilbury House, she went to reside in Mells to help her new husband in his grocer shop in the village. It was a proud moment for us when Celia was honoured with such a senior position for one so young, entrusting her with the keys to all the inner rooms.
Anxious to speak, Marley felt Rain tugging at her skirt. She used her lips and her tongue to define the words she’d taught her, and even though no sound came from her throat, Celia and Marley could both understand almost everything she said. Now, she was talking so quickly, they couldn’t comprehend her at all. “Slow down, Rain,” Marley said, sharply. Marley had long ago developed a quick temper. She wasn’t proud of it and she often prayed that God would give her patience and a happy heart, but that heart had hardened many years before, not from the night she lost her shoes, but from the day Porter had left and never returned.
Rain smiled and sat up, leaning on her knees. The rug beneath her was threadbare in places, but it still served to dull the noise of their footsteps across the boarded floor of the attic. ‘May I have a party too…for my birthday?’ she said silently, using her small hands to tap her chest.
Marley brushed her cheek with her hand. “We’ll do what we always do, dear. Aunt Celia will bring us cake and we’ll have candles and gifts.” She smiled to offer her encouragement, but Rain went back down onto the floor and looked away. She tapped her on the shoulder. “What is it, dear?”
She turned back, looking plain sad and Marley’s heart stopped as it always stopped when she saw grief in her eyes…grief for the normal life she had never known.
She could count on one hand the times Rain had been unsatisfied with her lot. Five times in sixteen years was a paltry number and that lack of selfishness had only served to make her love her daughter more, if that were possible. Most of the time she accepted their life, since she had little to compare it with and she often told her of the dangers lurking beyond the attic to the world outside where evil reigned. She accepted Marley’s explanations without question because she adored her as much as Marley adored her, but sometimes she’d catch a glimpse of doubt in Rain’s eyes, a look of hope; one she tried her hardest to dispel. She was the sweetest daughter to humour her so. “What’s wrong, dear?” she asked as Celia sat at her side, quietly sipping her tea.
‘I would like to have people come to my birthday, as master John has,’ Rain said with clear movement of her lips.
Marley chuckled at her suggestion. “Oh no dear. That is impossible. You know that.” She turned to face Celia, to see if she also found humour in Rain’s proposal, but she wasn’t smiling. “It’s impossible, is it not, Celia?” Marley urged.
Celia stared at Rain and paused, as if she was choosing her words carefully. What was wrong with the two of them today? Marley wondered.
Celia spoke, “I’ve had an idea, which I hope you will approve of, Marley…since you approve of so little these days.”
Marley was suddenly aghast. Her biting statement had shocked her into stuttering a reply. “What? What do you mean, Celia darling?”
Rain was waiting for her to speak, as she too waited.
Celia wouldn’t look at her. “The mistress has invited all the youngsters from the village and surrounding areas to celebrate master John’s birthday.” She looked up and stared into her eyes, hoping for a hint of understanding from her, but she was still oblivious to what she was about to say. “He is to start Cambridge, you see, so it’s a big event in his young life…”
She pouted, “Of course, he’s gentry.”
Celia nodded, which was curious since they had discussed that very topic a few times before in the past. “I think, with the number of young people there, if Rain were to attend, no one would notice she was among them, let alone wonder who she was.”
Marley was speechless. She had been struck dumb, as mute as Rain. “You can’t be serious, Celia.” She looked back at Rain to see a look of yearning in her pretty green eyes. Then she knew. They had already discussed it, without her involvement. They were in cahoots and they’d planned the whole discussion.
“Well, why not, Marley? I would be there to ensure she came to no harm. You wouldn’t have to worry on that score.”
Marley guffawed and she can’t remember ever guffawing in her life before. “I can’t believe you’re asking this of me, Celia. You know the hazards of our life here, you know what it’s like out there.” She tossed her head when she said that part, “…the dangers…How can you even suggest that Rain should expose herself in that way…expose us!?”
“Marley, dearest,” Celia said putting her hand on hers. “It’s not all bad out there…she would be quite safe.”
Marley pulled away her hand and stood up. She walked with a slight limp since her foot had never really repaired itself after she’d turned it all those years ago. “How can you say that, when…” She stopped to prevent a sob catching in my throat. “…when, what happened to me is proof of what life is like out there?”
Celia had often questioned her over her fears of the world outside the attic, but each time she reminded her of how she was brutally molested and how her uncle would have allowed the devilish men at the fair to have their way with her, had she not escaped that night she lost her shoes.
Celia sometimes suggested that perhaps what happened was just bad luck, and that something so dastardly may not happen again. But Marley wasn’t about to take any chances. No, she and Rain were safe in the attic. They needed nothing more.
“I won’t even think about her going to master John’s celebration, Celia, so please let’s not discuss it again.” She ran her hand down Rain’s black hair. Her daughter glanced back at her with a look in her eyes she’d never seen before. “No,” she said opting to finish the matter. “We’ll do as we have always done. Celia will bring us cake and that will suffice.”
On the 5th June, one day before the celebration of Master John’s birthday, and of course her dear Rain’s, Celia told Marley that the house was in uproar as they prepared for the festivities. Since King George had taken the crown from his father, Bertie, life in the great households of Britain had taken a drastic turn in its economy, so said Celia.
“They say there’s a war coming,” she’d said just the other day. “We’re going to fight those damn krauts.” She’d curled her lip to demonstrate her distaste. Marley couldn’t fathom why since she’d never met a soul who came from Germany, although she’d heard that the baker in Frome was of German origin. She’d heard people speak highly of him, so she had no idea why her dearest Celia was so angered? Marley had little knowledge of anything political happening in the world or even her own country. Politics had never reached Mells. At least not as far as she was aware.
“Personally, I don’t believe it will happen.” She’d chattered on whilst Marley had her feet up doing a bit of embroidery, “but they said if it does, it’ll be over by Christmas. The family were discussing it at dinner. The mistress said she was very happy with that because she was planning a big event on Christmas eve and she didn’t want a silly war getting in the way of it.” Celia looked up to the rafters as she tried to recall the conversation word for word. “The master said it wouldn’t affect them in the least, although he would probably have to attend his regiment at the front.”
Celia looked rather indignant at the prospect. “Then the mistress aske
d if he’d be back by Christmas. He said he would. Most definitely,” she finished.
Chapter 26
Marley watched Rain, sitting out on the terrace in the sun. She was making something which, by all accounts, was to be a surprise for Marley. Her back was curled over the project as she worked intently, silently, privately in her own world of soundlessness.
The terrace outside the attic window had become a glorious garden, with clay pots grouped together in the centre, away from the side balustrade, as we took care not to reveal the foliage and blooms to anyone down below, perchance they looked up to the roof. Around the central garden was a walkway to the far end, giving Rain the privacy she needed when privacy was called for. At the end, they’d settled two chairs for their lazy days in the sun. Those days were precious to Marley and Rain as they talked about how Marley had come to the attic and her life before the black-haired lout took her purity.
Marley had always been open to Rain about their history, but she’d left it until she’d turned eleven to tell her of the dastardly deed her father had lain upon her mother. At first, she’d recoiled with disgust, crying with remorse and a measure of guilt. But she had nothing to be guilty of, Marley assured her many times. Despite his actions, he had given her the one thing in her life she was grateful for, her beautiful daughter.
Just as Marley was thinking her thoughts, and as she watched Rain through the closed doors to the terrace, an unfamiliar noise crept upon her.
“Celia,” she called out “is that you?”
She heard footsteps coming through the forest of furniture. Steady steps. Heavier than those of her darling Celia. When there was no reply, she could feel herself trembling at the thought of being discovered by someone prowling the attic. How blasé she had become, how less cautious. She was a fool. She stood up and faced the entrance to her parlour, waiting for a constable to enter and catch her red-handed.
