The Girl Who Cried Wolf

by Bella James

  As I continue to walk I begin to hear a voice calling my name, a voice that is instantly familiar. I turn my head to listen more closely and am taken by surprise as I see my mother running frantically towards me.

  ‘Mother?!’ I call out, the comfort of my old life bringing conflicting emotions. For the second time, another person passes straight through me. I turn, and the beautiful valley is gone and I see her running down Elm Tree Lane, screaming my name as I lie motionless on the ground.

  ***

  ‘Anna!’ She drops to the gravel beside me and lifts my head onto her lap, brushing my hair and grit from my face. I see her crying, great sobs of fear as she holds onto me. ‘Don’t worry, my angel. The ambulance will be here soon. Oh God, help me, I don’t know what to do.’

  She looks desperately up the lane, willing the ambulance to hurry as I remain unconscious and limp in her arms. I have never seen my mother like this before. She strokes my face and tears fall from her beautiful face onto my ashen cheeks.

  ‘I have loved you since the day you were born, Anna. My strong, wilful girl. I wish I had your strength and had taken you away from him. We could have had a happier life. I am so sorry. Please live and I will make everything right. I promise. I promise.’

  The sirens drown out her desolate cries and within moments she is pulled back from me by paramedics, and grasping her trembling hands together she prays for her dying daughter.

  ‘We have a weak pulse.’ A young man in his twenties places an oxygen mask over my face and I’m hastily lifted onto a stretcher as my mother tells them what’s wrong with me.

  ‘Do you know her medication? What she has taken today?’

  As I am placed in the stretcher she jumps in and finds the pill bottles in my bag. ‘She takes these three times a day and these twice.’ Her hands shake violently as she hands them to the paramedic.

  ‘And these?’ He shows her the third bottle of my trusted pain killers.

  ‘They’re low dose multivitamins,’ my mother tells him, and I am stunned at this revelation. ‘She was relying too much on painkillers; they made her worse. I switched them before it got out of hand.’

  He raises his eyebrows uncertainly and she looks at him with incredibly steady focus, as though that had been without doubt the right thing to do. I watch the scene play out and I cannot help smiling as I realise no wonder they had stopped taking effect. I feel incredibly confused at seeing her from this new perspective.

  The ambulance doors slam shut and the sound makes me jump, bringing me back to the present and the only thing before me is a winding lane I feel compelled to follow.

  Chapter Seven:

  Beauty and the Beasts

  I had not seen my Great Grandmother for almost five years but I knew the figure standing in front of the pretty cottage immediately. She only came clearly into focus as I ran further down the lane, and became flooded with memories of running towards her as young girl.

  I stop abruptly as I look properly at her, remembering that for the last few years of her life she had fought bravely with my own nemesis. When I had kissed her cheek for the last time as she lay dying, her skin had been ghostly white and red rings circled her lined eyes. The body of the woman, who had once lifted us high into the air, could not have lifted a feather. She had been skeletal, a shell whose inhabitant had abandoned her long ago.

  ‘Grandma?’ I ask uncertainly, as the woman before me does not look old at all.

  ‘Darling, come here!’ She laughs joyfully and I fall into her arms, assured once more it is her. I step back and see she looks about forty, an age I don’t remember knowing her, and she is completely lovely. Bethany’s hair is chestnut like Izzy’s and long past her shoulders. She looks very similar to my mother with cat-like eyes in a heart-shaped face. They light and twinkle with laughter, as I recall they always had, and they look as though someone has taken Lillian’s eyes and turned the dimmer switch up to its brightest.

  ‘Let me look at you,’ she tells me, and smiles as she holds my face in her hands. ‘Anna, you are just the same.’

  ‘I thought I would never see you again.’ I remember how much I had cried after her passing, knowing she had gone for ever.

  ‘You knew you would see me one day, darling, you just didn’t know that you knew!’

  She laughs her tinkling laugh again and beckons me to follow her into the cottage.

  Although my heart is filled with joy, I shudder with apprehension as I do not see the dark wolf but I feel his ominous presence nearby.

  ***

  I walk into a room and call out to my Great Grandmother, but she does not respond and unaware of me, continues to carry her tray into the living room. I once again become an unwitting observer to the scene.

  A girl of perhaps twelve is crying softly, holding her head in her hands as she sits in a comfortable-looking armchair adorned with crocheted blankets. She is stroking a shaggy dog who sits contentedly in her lap.

  ‘Lillian, my dear. I’m pleased to see you after all this time, but I’ll have to tell your parents you’re here. They called this morning, and I hope they call again so I can put an end to their worrying. Why on earth have you run away this time?’

  ‘Why have I run away? A thousand reasons! How about because we’re moving again? I’ve only just made friends and wanted to go to their school, I never learn anything in that stupid caravan. Mother doesn’t know about anything I want to be taught! I am tired of seeing them get drunk! The men they think are their friends look at me for too long and try to tickle me until I scream and everyone thinks it’s funny! I don’t want their filthy rough hands anywhere near me.’

  She looks gravely concerned and stares hard into the open fire, as though the answer may be found somewhere in the crackling flames.

  ‘They’re travellers, darling; they never stay somewhere long enough for you to be in school. I know you get tired of moving but they love you very much. You are a family and you must stay together. You may not like their choice of friends, but I know neither of them would let you come to any harm.’

  My young mother snorts and I can tell those words sound as hollow to her ears as they do to mine. I am shocked that my grandparents could have let her be exposed her to this. I begin to feel uncomfortable as I remember the night I drank some of their ‘special juice’.

  ‘Grandma, they were so drunk last night they didn’t even hear me sneak out. I want to live with you, I hate that pokey caravan. I cannot wait until I am old enough to buy my own house … it’ll be big and beautiful and I will stay there for ever!’

  I see my Great Grandmother smile sadly as she hands my mother the tray and watches her devour the scones, giving the dog a few crumbs to nibble. It surprises me to see her so fond of the little thing, I could never imagine her, in her crisp, white linen trousers, letting a dog lick sticky jam from her fingers.

  A ringing breaks through my reverie and I see Beth run towards an old fashioned phone and lift the receiver. My mother looks horrified as she tells the caller that yes, Lilly is safe and with her. She asks them to call back later tonight when she has had time to think.

  ‘Lilly, they are terribly worried. You must stop running away, that is not the answer. I think you should stay here with me for now, at least until I know what to do.’ My mother laughs happily as the little dog licks her face and she looks pleased to discover her determination may have won at last. I cannot help but think that she looks remarkably like me.

  ***

  I’m being guided towards another room and as the door opens I see a busy street, and my mother (a little older) is apologising to a handsome man as she picks up his books from the pavement.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!’ She picks up the last book and smiles at him before hurrying into a room past a sign saying, ‘Auction.’

  The man is without a doubt my father, but I am taken aback by how young and good looking he is. He’s in his twenties and still has very dark hair and a moustache, but it is trimmed neatly.
His hair is gelled fashionably into place. With a bemused look on his face he follows her past the sign and finds her looking at a tired and tattered-looking sofa.

  She smiles when she sees him. ‘I need furniture for my flat. I’m going to university to study History.’

  ‘How old are you?’ he asks, unable to take his eyes off her face.

  ‘Nineteen.’ I see her flick her hair over her shoulders the way I used to and I realise she likes him. I understand that he must seem very impressive to her considering her upbringing. He’s dressed in an expensive grey suit and has an imposing aura. People were noticing him amongst the tatter and jumble and I could sense that my mother appreciated that. Perhaps she saw an opportunity for the life she had always dreamed of, a proper family living in a big house with a garden where she could live for ever. In that instant, maybe the smell of the dingy caravan of her youth became a little less prevalent. I understood her a little better as she smiled at this man, a radiant beautiful smile that clearly beguiled him. He asked her name, and I noted that she almost said ‘Lilly,’ then quickly changed to telling him ‘Lillian.’

  ***

  Vibrations intensify as the scene vanishes and I walk down a dark corridor of what seems to be a hotel. I push open the nearest door and recoil as I see him on top of my mother.

  The room is shrouded in darkness, but a low glow from a brass lamp casts shadows. I avert my eyes from where they lie on the grand bed, and see a wedding dress discarded on the dusty floor, its beautiful silk layers crumpled and creased and smudged with dirt. An almost full bottle of champagne stands on a circular table aside two crystal glasses, and the bubbles still dance a little around the rims, untouched and untasted.

  I hear her whimpering and cannot stop myself from looking back to her. His hand is pressed firmly over her mouth and tears fall silently from her once radiant eyes as he pounds roughly inside her.

  I wonder why I am being shown this untrue vision. My father would never behave this way. He gives a final painful thrust, stifling her scream and pulls quickly away from her, a look of distaste on his handsome face, as he wipes her tears and coral lipstick from his hand.

  ‘Well?’ he says as he straightens the clothes he hadn’t bothered to take off. ‘Was it worth making me wait till we were married?’ He laughs nastily and continues, ‘Don’t fuss like that every time, you’ll have to become accustomed if we’re to have a child.’

  My mother says nothing but has pulled the blanket up over her breasts with trembling hands. He looks at her with a cold stare. ‘You’ll get used to it, I’m sure, unless you want to go back to your little caravan?’ He laughs. ‘Get dressed. I need cigarettes then I’ll take you for dinner.’

  ‘Children?’ she whispers, her eyes widened with shock. ‘I’m only nineteen. I haven’t finished my studies, Malcolm.’

  He steps towards her and she pulls the blanket up further in haste. ‘You’re my wife, Lillian, not a damn student – A wife who will take care of my home and give me a family to come home to – Isn’t that what you wanted? When I showed you Elm Tree and you danced and sang and told me how our beautiful children would play in the meadow? How we would be so happy. You said you wanted that, are you to break your promises after a few hours of marriage? Shall I send you back to Granny with no money and no Elm Tree?’

  I can see my mother is still in shock, that the man who probably smiled down at her a matter of hours ago as he said his vows, who had offered her the life she had dreamed of as a child, turned suddenly into this tyrant.

  ‘I do want to have a family one day …’

  ‘What you want,’ he interrupts her loudly, making me jump, ‘is of no great consequence, Lillian. You are married. For God’s sake get dressed, and sort yourself out. You look like a slut.’ He curls his lip in disgust and she flinches involuntarily. ‘I want your hair tied up from now on, and we’ll get you some decent clothes. You need to look and act like the wife of a successful merchant. Things are going to be a lot be different if this is to work.’

  He straightens his moustache in the dingy mirror and leaves the room, the slamming door making her start.

  I cry with her as she swings her legs over the bed, walking unsteadily to the dressing table, and I flinch at the sight of blood on her pale thighs. She reaches for a silver-backed paddle brush and scrapes her beautiful long hair into the familiar chignon she wore the last time I saw her.

  ‘Oh, Mother,’ I whisper, and her frightened face turns towards me, but her glassy eyes do not meet mine. She is alone.

  ***

  My legs are trembling a little and I cannot process what I’ve just seen. The corridors open and close around me and I feel as though I am in Wonderland once more as I feel myself falling through a vast nothingness, lost and afraid.

  I jolt to a halt and see that I’m now standing in our hallway at Elm Tree; I know my parents have lived there since they were first married, so I’m not surprised to see my mother sitting on the bottom steps of the grand stair case, her hands clasped in prayer and a suitcase beside her. Her body is thinner than the Lillian I saw moments ago on her wedding night, and her face is drawn and pale. Perhaps only a year has passed, because she still looks incredibly young. Vulnerable and afraid, on the stairs of the home she had dreamed of. She looks dishevelled, and her hair is falling from its clasps.

  My father runs down each step two at a time and as she jumps up and begins to run forwards, he grabs her trailing hair so her neck jolts painfully back.

  I try to close my eyes or turn my head but my entire being is frozen as I watch him spin her around and punch her in the mouth. Blood pours from the gash and her face is distorted. ‘Just kill me!’ she screams at him. ‘I have nothing to live for. I’ve lost my baby because of you!’

  My father lets go of her and his face turns ghostly white. ‘What?’

  ‘I was pregnant, Malcolm. When you thought I was sneaking off to see someone I was going to the doctors. I wanted to be certain before I told you.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you tell me, Lillian? I thought you were acting differently. I thought you were going to leave me.’ He begins to sob uncontrollably and drops to the floor. ‘Please forgive me, my love. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for us. A family to fill this big house, to keep you busy when I’m not here with you. A boy …’ He chokes on the word and brings his hands to his face. My mother curls her broken lip as he blows his streaming nose into his fist. ‘A strong boy, to carry on my name.’

  He looks at her with more urgency and takes a moment to compose himself. ‘You can’t leave me; we have to put this right. It can’t be my fault, I barely touched you. If you didn’t do such stupid things and make me angry …’ His eyes open wider. ‘We’ll try again and this time it’ll be perfect. I’ll never hurt you, I promise. We’ll be the family we dreamed of.’

  My mother shakes her head sadly, and as he grabs her arm his tone turns swiftly from pleading to anger. ‘If you leave me, you will leave with nothing. You have nowhere to go, you have no friends, or do you want to go back to the family you’ve all but abandoned? You can say goodbye to your designer clothes and your precious antiques. Are you really ready to leave Elm Tree for ever? To give up on your dream and go back to drifting from one filthy place to the next?’

  My mother looks uncertain and afraid. I have always sensed weakness from her, but I am certain she will find the strength somewhere to leave after all he has done.

  To my horror, she picks up the heavy suitcase at her feet and carries it past him, back up the sweeping staircase as he smooths down his hair with both hands.

  I stay close to her for a little while, trying to offer some comfort but of course she doesn’t know I am there. A little while later she walks silently out into the garden, looking behind her to see if he is watching. Held out carefully in front of her is a small plant cupped gently between her hands, and she moves quickly to the secluded rose garden behind the elm tree. I watch her embed the plant amongst the pungent soils with such tender
ness I that I am quite moved.

  ‘You were not a boy to carry on his name, darling. You were a little girl to live your life full of dreams and laughter. You would have always remembered how to laugh as I have forgotten. I would have raised you in this beautiful house, and given you everything I never had. I shall never forget you or stop loving you and I hope there are angels who will protect you where I failed.’

  I am left lost and alone, wondering if it meant that somewhere in this afterlife, Izzy and I have a sister who was lost before birth. My anger towards Father is boundless. I run towards the house but as the door swings open, everything is different as though many years have passed, and I see my mother pulling us up the stairs and telling us to hurry. She gently ushers Izzy and I into the attic room, full of toys and wall hangings, and tells us to play quietly. I see her lock the door and run back down the stairs as my father storms up the driveway and into the house.

  ‘Where are they?’ he bellows. ‘Have you seen what they have done to the garden?! I have people coming for dinner in an hour and it looks like a jumble sale out there!’

  ‘Malcolm, please. Calm down, I have time to clear it up. They were having such a nice time playing tea parties. I have everything ready for tonight …’ Her voice trails away and she lifts her hand in a practised motion to defend her face from the imminent blow.

  ‘Do you want to leave?’ He spits each word as she picks herself up from the floor, eyeing him wearily. I see that the radiant face which had looked up at him all those years ago had been replaced with a stone mask. Her eyes were dead as she told him, no, she didn’t want to leave.

  ‘Because you know what will happen, don’t you, Lillian?’ She nods silently. ‘You will be the one to leave but my girls will stay here. Without you guarding them like a she-wolf I could show them proper discipline.’ His laugh is so ugly that I shudder. He smiles nastily. ‘No. I don’t think you’ll be leaving yet. Not just yet.’