Voices in the Mirror

by Ross Turner

  “Good, good, very good…” He commented, continuing. “It doesn’t matter how old Maddie gets, Johnathan…” The old man mused, leaning in slightly as he spoke. “Even when you are both grown up, and each have families of your own, you will still always need to look out for her. You will always need to be her Knight in shining armour.” He explained to the boy with a whimsical smile dancing across his lips as he spoke, and his strange choice of words sparked Johnathan’s raging thoughts once again.

  Deciding to take the Vicar’s words at face value however, Johnathan smiled and nodded in clear agreement with the old man, vowing silently to himself never to let Maddie down.

  Nonetheless though, he couldn’t help but still attempt to decipher the real meaning behind Father’s Peter’s bizarre comments.

  But all too soon it seemed that their strange conversation came to a swift and somewhat abrupt end, and Father Peter rose to his feet, gesturing with his hand for Johnathan to do the same. He guided the young man back over to where his family sat, on the opposite side of the aisle in the pews adjacent to where they’d talked.

  They were all looking on at him quite expectantly, Johnathan thought, especially his mother, and he felt as though he had somehow not delivered on some part of an arrangement that he knew nothing of.

  Emily Davies thanked Father Peter for all of his help, embracing the old man briefly, yet fondly, and again Johnathan felt something pass between them, and a sudden wrench in his gut crawled painfully up and into his chest.

  But just as quickly as it had begun, the horrible feeling passed, and Father Peter bid them all farewell in turn, thanking them too, and before Johnathan knew it there was fresh air in his lungs and warm sunshine upon his face.

  He felt as though he’d been in the church for not a morning, but instead a decade, and though his senses had been heightened by the whole ordeal, everything seemed to return to normal then, and for the rest of the day he didn’t notice anything else out of the ordinary.

  The Service had concluded, despite all of the intriguing build up, quite anticlimactically, Johnathan thought. Now everybody was dispersing back to their homes, all scattering off in different directions, and the strange conversation seemed already to be forgotten by all.

  Outside the sun was almost blinding, and it took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the light.

  Maddie bumped into his side and whispered in his ear so that their parents couldn’t hear.

  “What did Father Peter say?” She hissed.

  Johnathan could tell that everyone in the village was equally intrigued, for the inquisitive looks they were all casting in his direction were nothing if not obvious.

  “He just asked how school was.” He replied with a shrug, but then a smirk crossed his face. “And if I was looking after you.” He added.

  “What!?” His sister exclaimed then, only just about managing to stifle her voice so that their mother and father, walking just ahead of them, didn’t hear. “I’m the one who looks after you!” She hissed playfully again, poking her brother in the ribs. He smiled and put his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her tight.

  He was quite a lot taller than Maddie, and her shoulder buried into his ribs, but Johnathan didn’t mind, walking home the rest of the way in that embrace.

  The day pressed on, as days always do. Especially Sundays, Johnathan thought: he often wondered why the most enjoyable day of the week always had to pass so much more quickly than all the rest.

  Fortunately, the sunshine remained strong for the rest of the afternoon, and since the folk of Riverbrook did not work on Sundays, the children of this little rural community very soon found their way to the vast meadows that surrounded the village. Flooded with warmth and golden light and scattered here and there with some thicker and some thinner copses, the huge commons were the perfect setting for enormous games of tig and hide and seek.

  These games often lasted for hours on end, and since there was no need to cut them short on days such as this, parents and grandparents wandered the meadows too, enjoying the afternoon in the warmth of the sun and watching their children and grandchildren all run and laugh and play together, enjoying themselves in the way they should.

  There were the odd single figures amongst the scattered couples, and a few trios here and there too.

  It was something of an unwritten law, an unspoken rule, within this close knit community, that marriage was for life.

  That was simply the way it had always been.

  And so it should be.

  Those that stood alone amidst the crowds, or that had attached themselves temporarily to another couple, simply for the joy of conversation, were all either of bachelor status, or had been widowed through unfortunate circumstances.

  For the young, unmarried men and women amongst the scattered crowds, this didn’t pose a problem.

  As a matter of fact, for them, these were exciting times, for their entire lives of love lay ahead of them.

  For those that had been widowed however, through one unfortunate circumstance or another, remarriage was never really an option, for they were still considered bound to the person they had devoted themselves to.

  And, needless to say, divorce was a subject never even discussed.

  The qualities of trust and respect and faithfulness, lost though they may have been in other places, meant much more to many of the people here than most else.

  That was just the way things were.

  That was just the way things had to be.

  All too soon though, as is always the way, the sun dipped its head down towards the horizon far to the west, and the scattered games and wanderings through the meadows surrounding Riverbrook slowly ceased and dispersed.

  Meandering back amongst the thatched, stone cottages, with small wooden, painted doors and low beamed windows, the families each filtered back to their homes as evening fell upon the village that wove its very existence down the banks of the river.

  The river didn’t cross through the town, for the river had been there long before the buildings had. Instead, it was indeed the town that encroached upon the river’s banks, but then, all things considered, the river didn’t really seem to mind.

  Johnathan and Maddie reluctantly followed their parents back home, of course not wanting to leave the meadows, but knowing that they had school the next morning, they knew they would have to go to bed sooner or later.

  They devoured the supper that their mother prepared in what seemed like minutes, consisting of fresh bread and warm tomato soup, for their afternoon of racing around had made them ravenous. Johnathan and Maddie both were still buzzing with energy, excited from their joyous afternoon.

  Soon after supper though, with warm food in their bellies and their adrenaline fading, waning, weariness swiftly descended upon the two of them, for of course they were still only young, Johnathan twelve, and Maddie only nine.

  Regardless of the fact that they were tired however, Johnathan still nudged Maddie as they turned to head upstairs, under instructions from their father to get ready for bed.

  She threw him one of her cheeky smirks in return, her blue eyes glittering mischievously, and Johnathan knew she would try to get him back as soon as they were out of sight of their parents.

  It was a game they played constantly. There was never a winner or a loser: it was just fun.

  Inevitably, once they had ascended the creaking wooden stairs of their cottage home, Maddie poked her brother in the ribs again, this time aiming instinctively for the spot where she knew he was ticklish and most sensitive. He squirmed away from her and she laughed gleefully and ran to her room.

  Johnathan turned immediately to follow, but a scraping chair and a firm voice halted him in his tracks.

  “Enough!” Their father called up the stairs. “You had better be ready for bed by the time I get up there!”

  It wasn’t a threat, of course, and their father’s voice wasn’t overly authoritative, but both Johnathan and Maddie both knew not to p
ush their luck too far.

  Nonetheless, Johnathan’s sister still poked her head round her bedroom door one last time and stuck her tongue out at him before waving and disappearing for the night. Johnathan smiled and retired to his own bedroom, yawning deeply as he did so.

  He lit a candle by which to see and readied himself for bed. The burning wax threw a dancing orange light across the room, illuminating the single wooden bed pressed up against the one wall. The second wall was lined with a wardrobe and chest of drawers, wooden and chipped here and there, but nonetheless fit for purpose.

  Looking across to his left, the third wall framed a single window that by day looked out towards the river in the distance, but for now, with darkness engulfing the village, it showed Johnathan only a dim reflection of himself holding a candle on a tray.

  As the young boy threw on his nightclothes then, a set of cotton trousers and a plain buttoned shirt, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that sat on the floor, propped up against the wall on the fourth side of his room, next to the door.

  It was quite a large mirror, and Johnathan could see the full length of his body in it. It had at one time belonged to his grandfather, or so his mother had told him at least.

  He had never known his grandfather, for he had died before Johnathan was born.

  Nevertheless though, he felt a strange attachment to this mirror that the young boy couldn’t quite describe, and he had always cherished it.

  It was housed in a silver, oval frame that was pristine and perfect, though it must have been very old. Swirling patterns that must have taken many painstaking hours to craft decorated its top and sides and base, and even in the two top corners of the mirror, constructed entirely from silver too, were two birds with their wings spread wide and welcoming, each within its own metallic ring.

  It was a lovely thing, and Emily had kept it always for Johnathan.

  She had said once that his grandfather would have wanted him to have it. Johnathan had of course asked more about the mirror, for children are nothing if not curious, but when he had done, it seemed to upset his mother for some reason, so he had not asked again.

  Instead, the young boy had spent many hours inventing wild and imaginative stories as to exactly how the mirror had come to be. Crazy adventures of heroism and bravery where the brave conqueror had slain a dragon or great beast of some description, and the mirror had been his grand prize.

  Johnathan realised then he was still gazing into the reflective face of the mirror, his image dancing orange and yellow in the candlelight. He felt as though he wasn’t really looking at himself however, rather that he was looking just into the mirror instead.

  That made no sense though, even as the thought crossed Johnathan’s mind. After another moment or two, not really knowing exactly what he was looking at anymore, let alone what he was looking for, he shrugged the feeling off and, overcome by a sudden sweeping weariness, descended into bed.

  He blew out the candle as he did so, casting the room into sudden darkness, though unknowingly he left the flickering remains of the dancing light cast across the surface of the mirror.

  It shimmered even still, reflecting the trembling light across its face, though of course that was impossible.

  But it was too dark for Johnathan to see, and so he didn’t notice the shapes and figures that the mirror cast in the darkness of that long night, sweeping cross its face in the night, watching him as he slept.

  Chapter Two

  The following morning, on the whole, was a very normal start to the day for the Davies household, and nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary happened.

  Though, evidently, that didn’t depict that the rest of the day would follow the same course.

  As per usual, Johnathan and Maddie threw each other silly faces over their breakfast of porridge oats, entertaining themselves for the morning as they got ready to go to school.

  Emily, their mother, prepared breakfasts and washed up and began the house work that she would spend most of the rest of the day doing.

  Their father, Richard, ate with them also, though he ate much more quickly, for he needed to leave early every morning. He worked in the city, and though Johnathan didn’t know exactly what his father did, he imagined the work was very important.

  He looked up to his father greatly, and the man had always promised Johnathan that one day, when he was old enough, he would take him with him to see the city.

  The young boy imagined the whole thing would be very grand indeed.

  Just the same as he did every morning, Johnathan’s father said goodbye to them and kissed their mother at the door. He took the same horse as he always did, and rode off away from Riverbrook. Sometimes he took a horse and cart if he needed to take much with him, or pick anybody up along the way, but more often than not he went alone, with just a change of clothes for when he arrived at work.

  Almost before they knew it then, Maddie and Johnathan were fed, washed, dressed, and saying goodbye to their mother for the day. Their school was but a few minutes’ walk from their house, for Riverbrook was really not a big place, and she always waved them off every morning from the doorstep.

  Johnathan often thought that there were only just enough children in the village to warrant having a school anyway. There were only two classes; the first class was for the younger children, and the second was for the older children.

  Once upon a time, the children in the village had all taken their lessons in the church, for the school had not yet been built. Johnathan vaguely remembered that, though he had been only very young, and in the lower class; the one which, as Father Peter had pointed out the day before, Maddie had recently moved up into his class from.

  The Vicar had tutored some of the children himself back then, when there was only one teacher in the village: Miss Falcon, the head of the school, and Johnathan’s teacher. She was tall and thin with greyed hair, a sternly lined face, a somewhat sour disposition, and a temperament to match. Her clothes were always plain and spotless and well pressed, she always sat bolt upright, and stood with somehow even more perfect posture than that. She actively encouraged her students to do the same, spending seemingly forever telling them not to slouch, and though her efforts sometimes seemed to be in vain, she never once ceased or relented.

  She was, however, regardless of how strict she sometimes appeared to be, a fine teacher, and had taught in the church with Father Peter whilst the school had been under construction.

  Though they had probably only spent a small part of their lives in Riverbrook, Johnathan couldn’t imagine Father Peter or Miss Falcon to ever have lived anywhere else. They were as much a part of the village as the river or the church or the school were, and without them somehow Riverbrook wouldn’t have been the same.

  They both made up an integral part of Johnathan’s life, and indeed the lives of all the children and families in Riverbrook, whether they appreciated it all of the time or not.

  “Good morning Johnathan…Maddie…” Miss Falcon greeted them as they approached the school with one eyebrow raised, ready to jump at any opportunity to correct those that passed her.

  It was a relatively small building, much smaller than the church, and was made from a mixture of brick and wood rather than stone. The windows were small and square and close to the ground, and the doors were wooden and narrow and chipped here and there from constant use.

  “Morning Miss Falcon.” Maddie replied instantly, immediately standing bolt upright. Johnathan too took note of his own posture, but as he opened his mouth to speak, a yawn escaped his grasp instead and Miss Falcon gave him a firm and steady look.

  “Indeed it is.” Johnathan rolled off his tongue following his yawn, stifling a laugh as best he could.

  Their teacher raised her other eyebrow to match the first and clasped her hands together behind her back.

  “I do hope you’re not going to fall asleep in class today…” Miss Falcon noted. Johnathan immediately shook his head and rushed to reply.<
br />
  “No, no, of course not Miss Falcon.” He stammered. “I just didn’t sleep very well, that’s all…”

  He had indeed been very disturbed during the night, and sleep for some reason had come to him in broken bouts that left him feeling much more drained than rested.

  “I see…” His teacher replied, lifting her gaze slightly. “Very well then, inside you go.”

  They both nodded and hurried past their tall, imposing teacher as quickly as possible.

  It wasn’t fear that drove Miss Falcon’s pupils to respect her, far from it. In fact, exactly what it was seemed to be quite indescribable; it was simply a sometimes chilling air of command that she apparently held complete ownership of, turning her often calm and reserved comments into commands delivered like the loudest cracks of thunder.

  The school sat a little ways from, but then also quite close to the southern bank of the river that ran across the northern edge of the village. That was, incidentally, how the village got its name, or so Father Peter had told all the children during Service once upon a time, Johnathan remembered.

  There had once been a weary traveller making his way across the open plains of England, the Vicar had told them in this particular Service, which even now for some reason Johnathan could so clearly envisage.

  Some would have said he was a brave adventurer, others knew him as a noble Knight, whilst others would simply have labelled him a wandering vagabond.

  For some reason, Johnathan remembered then that Father Peter had looked at him quite deliberately whilst he had been talking, and the young boy recalled that the Vicar’s expression had been full of knowing, though at the time that had made no sense to Johnathan, and still didn’t if he was honest.

  Father Peter had then told them of how the traveller, or Knight, or vagabond, whichever name he had chosen to go by, had eventually come across a river. Knowing not exactly where he was, he decided to follow the river south, for it seemed to be the most sensible and logical choice, since he was from further in the reaches of the north.