by Janeen Brian
“What is going on? Why is Eloise being pushed into that cupboard?”
“Sister Genevieve. You were with me last night. You also witnessed this child’s despicable behaviour. Her foot was on the wall. She was about to jump. Should news of this get out, our reputation would be at stake. Surely you can see that.”
“Perhaps we could try a different way, Sister. Maybe if –”
“Enough, Sister. I’ll kindly remind you who is Head Sister here and that my decision is final. Eloise will spend some time in solitary for reflection.”
“Very well, Sister.” To Eloise’s consternation, Sister Genevieve moved off.
Sister Hortense nodded towards the door. And Eloise climbed inside the cupboard.
Hunched up, she leaned against one wall. Click, went the lock. She could smell something rotten. Like rat droppings. Or something that’d died. She gripped her knees tighter and breathed through her mouth, her skin taut with goosebumps. Eloise couldn’t bear to run her fingers along the shelves for fear of what she’d find.
Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. When sleep wouldn’t come, her mind became crowded. Sister’s words repeated themselves. The nun had told her that no family would want her. The words bit deep but Eloise had a family in her head. Therefore perhaps it was possible to have a real one. So why hadn’t Sister ever offered her to a family? Why had she never been brought into the office to speak to grown-ups in search of someone? To be wanted. Instead of being thought of as something that had been discarded. A baby girl in a bucket.
Was there any way she could find a family herself? Eloise curled her fingers into fists by her mouth. Mr Jackson might’ve heard of a family in the next town, or further, in need of a girl to help in the house and yard. And she may yet become a maid, a daughter . . . or a sister . . .
She’d ask the blacksmith when next she saw him. Which Eloise hoped would be soon. She thought hard to see if she could picture more words in her mind. No, she needed to look at the paper.
The unicorn, however, was clear as anything.
So clear she felt a shudder down her spine and immediately saw an image of Dancy.
She imagined climbing on his back. Galloping first on flat, grassy plains. And then flying. Was that water down below? It was a pond. But as they flew, the clear, glassy water darkened and grew foul with rotting vegetation and carcasses of animals and birds. Wading birds toppled as they tried to raise their legs. Other, strange creatures with hunted eyes lay staring up at the sky.
Eloise tried to shut the vision from her mind. It made her feel sick. Now her breathing was coming in short bursts, making her light-headed and dizzy.
How long had she been locked in? Ten minutes? An hour? Three hours? Time had slid away, seeped out through a slit beneath the door.
Worse still, what if Sister forgot to open the door? On occasions, she’d gone to a large town on orphanage business. Sister Genevieve knew Eloise was in there. But what if Sister had the only key?
The dim space bore down on her, as if it was shrinking. The air grew too stale to breathe. Sweat dotted her forehead and upper lip and when she waved her hand to cool herself down, her fingers came in contact with something soft and sticky. The cobweb landed on her face and she screamed, flapping her hands to get it off.
The cupboard door swung open.
“Stop that noise immediately, Eloise Pail! I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Now, get out and straighten yourself up. You look a mess.”
Eloise scrabbled out, arms and legs at all angles, mouth open, eyes blinking.
Beside Sister Hortense was a stranger. A girl.
“This is Janie Pritchard,” said the nun.
Eloise stood, too shocked to move. The girl was about her age, with an overlong fringe that made it hard to see her eyes.
“Janie arrived today and will live with us from now on,” said Sister Hortense. “She will sleep in the same room as you and carry out many similar tasks. Janie, this is Eloise Pail. Eloise has been here a long time. She is aware of all the orphanage rules and I trust her to impart them to you. I think this will make a very satisfactory arrangement.”
The nun had a look on her face as if she’d just eaten a whole roasted chicken.
Eloise felt as if she was falling apart. A few moments ago, she was in a dark, smelly hole, fighting down fear and tangled cobwebs. The next thing she was being introduced to a girl and told to instruct her in the ways of the orphanage.
The only people she’d ever had in her life were either grown-ups or Littlies. She’d never spoken to, played with or shared anything with someone her own age.
Now she’d been ordered to. But how?
Little did Eloise know that the arrival of Janie Pritchard would turn her life upside down.
Having Sister Hortense talking to her, smiling thinly, as if nothing had happened, was bad enough. But once the nun had left, the miserable silence between Eloise and the new girl was agony. The girl’s shoulders shuddered. But she kept her head down and made no noise.
Eloise stared at the grandfather clock. “Do you want a drink?” she said finally.
“Yes, thank you.” The girl’s words wavered through soft sobs.
Eloise set off towards the kitchen, aware that the girl was following a little way behind.
Sully looked up, blinked and put her hands on her hips.
“And who might this be?”
The kitchen smelled of boiling bones. Eloise’s nostrils curled. “Janet Pritchard,” she said. “This is Sully.”
The girl raised her head. “I’m Janie,” she said quietly.
“What?” said Eloise.
“You said Janet. It’s not Janet. It’s Janie.”
Eloise looked away.
“So you’re a newbie?” said Sully. “A new orphan?”
The girl said nothing. There was only that faintest tilt of her head to indicate she’d even heard.
“We ain’t had a newbie for ages. And even when we do, they’re little ones. Not like you. You like spuds?”
“Pardon?”
“You know. Spuds.” Sully grabbed a potato from the basket.
The girl looked sideways at the vegetable with two green tendrils sprouting from it.
“Yes,” she murmured.
“Good. You’ll be right, then. So, is Eloise showin’ you round the palace?” She chuckled.
Eloise filled a mug with water and handed it to the girl. After gulping it down, Janie put the mug back on the bench.
“Goes in the wash-up pile,” Sully pointed out.
“Sorry. I don’t know where –”
“No wonder, lass. Amazing you can see anything under that fringe of yours. You goin’ to be doing the water with Eloise?”
The girl turned her head. “I . . . I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to . . .” Her voice cracked.
Meanwhile, Sully’s words hit a different note with Eloise. If this Janie was to fetch the water with her, when was she going to see Dancy? Or more urgently, spend time mulling over Mr Jackson’s special paper? And hopefully solve the mysterious words, both for him and for her. When was she going to do all those things if she had someone with her? They were not things to share.
The girl followed Eloise as she walked up the stairs. “That’s the nuns’ room,” she said, “where the sisters live. That’s the first Littlies’ bedroom. And that’s the second, where –”
“I’ve already been in there.”
Eloise glanced at the girl.
“I had to change out of my –” She looked down at her grey orphanage tunic and white pinafore. “They took my clothes away. And some of my other things. I don’t know where they are.”
Eloise stopped listening. She’d seen something in the bedroom. Was that really a folding screen? Did she finally have some privacy from the Littlies? A smile spread across her face. The girl with the long fringe and crumpled mouth stared at the smile. And turned away.
Although it was forbidden to enter the bedroo
ms during the day, Eloise couldn’t help herself.
“At last,” she sighed, and ran her hands across the screen. Then she came to a standstill. Why were there two beds behind the screen? Surely not. No. Eloise’s shoulders dropped. The screen was not to give her privacy at all. It was to give her and Janie privacy from the Littlies. But she had no privacy from Janie.
The whole realisation of what this sharing situation meant came crashing down on Eloise. It wasn’t just going to be this problem or that problem. It was going to affect everything.
Even her nights spent with the stars.
“That’s the schoolroom,” she said. And kept walking.
“Where we have lessons?”
“We don’t have lessons,” Eloise said.
“Why not?” The girl took a few quicker steps to catch up.
Eloise shrugged. “That’s the dining room. You saw the kitchen. That’s the side door.” She opened it. “The privies. And the laundry. And that path goes into the town.”
Eloise was about to turn back inside when Sister Hortense strode up with a stretched-on smile and nodded at the girl.
“How are you getting along, Janie?” she said.
“Fine, thank you.”
Eloise stiffened at the girl’s response.
Sister sucked in her mouth. “Ah,” she said. “Here, we say, ‘Fine, thank you, Sister.’ I’m sure you can remember that in future.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. Sister.”
“Good girl. Now I’d like you and Eloise to rake those pathways by the storeroom. Leaves from all around tend to end up here on our orphanage grounds.” She gave a tight smile as though the remark was some sort of joke. “Eloise will show you where everything is.”
Eloise stuck her tongue into the gap between her teeth. Sister was always syrupy on performance days, but never to any of the orphans. Never. She marched into the storeroom, fetched two rakes and two buckets and gave one of each to the girl.
“Where do I start?”
Eloise felt fingers of anger rise up her back.
“I don’t know. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. When you’ve got a bucketful, dump it on the pile by the laundry.”
Grasping the rake, Eloise began to scrape, making as much noise as possible.
“How long have you been here?” said Janie.
“All my life.”
“Oh. How old are you?”
“Almost thirteen.”
The girl took up the rake again and then stopped. “Can I ask you something else?” Without waiting for an answer, Janie continued. “Sister Hortense calls you by your full name. But she only calls me Janie. Except when she introduced me to you. Why?”
Because I’m special.
“I don’t know. Can we just get this job done?”
When the buckets were full, Eloise said, “You empty the buckets and I’ll hang up the rakes.”
Sister Genevieve was heading around the corner with a book in her hand. The nun liked to sit and read on a small bench that often got the sun at that time of day.
Eloise had never gone there when Sister was there. But that day she did.
“Eloise?” The nun glanced up from her book. One eye slid across to the other side. “Are you all right?” She studied Eloise’s face. “I hope it wasn’t too terrible for you. I’m sorry it happened. Would you like to sit down for a moment?”
“Thank you, Sister.” After she’d perched herself on the edge of the bench, Eloise placed her hands in her lap. She clasped them. And unclasped them. Her tongue wouldn’t loosen. Words wouldn’t come. It was as if she was sitting alongside a complete stranger. Lowering her eyes instead, she sought the title of Sister’s book.
The nun followed Eloise’s gaze. “I’ve only just begun it, so I can’t really tell you what the book’s like. Do you miss your lessons that much, Eloise? I wish there was something I could do. Perhaps I could read to you now. Or is there something else you wanted to speak to me about?”
Eloise opened her mouth. In her head tumbled the words that would explain why she’d stepped outside the previous night and risked punishment. Why she dared herself and put her foot on top of the wall. The horror of being locked up in a cupboard. And the fear of being left there. Then there was her unicorn story. Why the two sisters saw the creatures in vastly different lights. And what it’d meant to her.
Sister put her hand over Eloise’s and waited. Eloise knew she couldn’t speak then. Not about those things. But there was one thing she could ask about.
“Can you tell me about my name, Sister?” she said.
“Your name?” Sister closed her book. “What do you want to know?”
Up to now, Eloise hadn’t given it much thought. Her name was simply a label she had in the orphanage and one she’d take with her when she left. It would probably be the only thing she’d take. Her question must’ve been triggered by the girl’s earlier remark.
“Was my name always Eloise?” she said.
“Yes. It was the name you arrived with.”
“But, if I was left in a bucket, how did you know?” said Eloise. “Did someone tell you or –”
“There was a note, I believe. Whoever wrote that note wanted it to be your name.”
Eloise spun around. “A note? Did someone write a note? With my name on it?”
Sister shifted slightly on the seat. “I understand there was an envelope, with a note in it. In the bucket –”
“My mother,” Eloise gasped. “That would’ve been my real mother. She wrote it! She did, didn’t she, Sister?”
The nun’s face clouded over. “I’m sorry, my dear, but it’s not up to me to reveal anything more than what I have already told you.”
Eloise straightened, stunned. “Why not?”
Sister raised her hands. “I’m sorry.”
“My last name, then,” urged Eloise. “Can you tell me about that? Was that written on the note, too?”
“There was no last name on the note. That I know for certain.”
“Then Pail? My last name? Someone else called me that because . . .” Her mind raced. Then . . . of course. Of course. She sank back.
“Yes,” said Sister. “I can see you’ve guessed why. But bucket was considered . . . too coarse a word.”
I was named after something I’d been dumped in.
Eloise leaned over. She could’ve howled. Instead she remained dry-eyed. Hollow.
“Eloise?”
She couldn’t look up.
Sister Genevieve patted her shoulder. “Eloise. I believe someone is waiting for you.” She pointed. “Perhaps we can speak again another time. But take care, dear. Please take care.”
Eloise rose and turned. She walked up to Janie Pritchard. And then walked on, her skin tight as a shell, her heart hardly holding together.
Eloise,” said Mamie next morning, as Eloise wriggled the little girl’s arm through the sleeve of her tunic. “Why is that big girl here?”
“Straighten your arm, Mamie. That’s better. I don’t know why she’s here.”
“I do,” said Wilfred, seated on the next bed. “It’s ’cos she’s an orphan.”
“So now there are two big girls,” said Mamie. “Two big orphans!”
Mamie and Wilfred laughed.
Eloise’s face was grim.
Having a real shadow was easy. A real shadow slipped away at certain times of the day and night. Janie Pritchard was a shadow that stuck. Eloise couldn’t turn her head without meeting her face to face. She couldn’t walk two steps without hearing the girl’s echoing footsteps behind her.
The situation was made worse because Janie had to do many of the same chores as Eloise. One time both Eloise and Janie reached for stacks of breakfast bowls from the pantry shelf at the same time. And nearly sent piles of plates crashing to the floor.
A day later, Eloise asked Sully for two extra buckets. The girl had to go with her to fetch water. She was so close, Eloise could almost feel her breath on her neck. Added to that was the dismal th
ought that no matter how much she wanted to see Dancy, no matter how desperate she was to keep reading the mysterious paper, she couldn’t. Ordinarily, it was hard enough. With shadow girl, it would be impossible.
Sully handed over the buckets and then looked out the window. “If you walk slow enough, the rain’ll fill ’em for you.” Then she broke out into one of her made-up songs.
Janie Pritchard flinched and turned to Eloise. Eloise refused to return the look. Not only because the fringe hid the girl’s eyebrows and hung over her eyes. But because she didn’t want any cosy collusion, be it because of Sully or any other reason.
Although the girls stepped out into the rain, it was only a light spring shower and by the time they reached the lion statues, it’d stopped altogether.
Janie paused. She ran her hand over one lion’s mane and said, “Some things look fierce on the outside, but they’re not as fierce on the inside.”
They’re statues. They’re not real.
Eloise was surprised at how irritated she was that the girl had patted the creatures. They were her statues. Her lions. She spoke to them. She shared thoughts with them and stroked their manes.
“Come on,” she said.
Janie Pritchard walked beside her with ease. Eloise tried not to hobble. She was ashamed of her old, weathered boots and annoyed that the girl took the cobblestones with such little effort. As they continued, however, she thought of the girl’s comment about the lions. Fierce on the outside. Not as fierce on the inside.
She wasn’t sure she believed it. That would mean Sister Hortense was kind and caring on the inside. And Eloise had rarely seen that side of the nun. Anything that appeared sincere, that is.
Eloise drifted back to the farm in her mind. She was in the cowshed, with the smell of warm milk and messy manure. She pulled rhythmically on the teats of her favourite cow, Jonquil, and the white liquid slowly filled the bucket.
“I said, ‘What did you do?’”
Eloise turned her head, taken aback.
“What?”
“I asked what happened,” said the girl. “Why did Sister Hortense make you go in that cupboard?”
How dare she! How dare this new girl, this annoying shadow girl pry into her business. It was bad enough that Janie Pritchard had witnessed her scrabbling out of the hole, like an animal released from a cage. Eloise tightened her mouth.
