by Maynard Sims
For one awful moment I thought Aunt Madeleine would explode. Her whole body shook with silent rage, and her hands gripped the edge of the sideboard so tightly that her long fingernails actually marked the wood. Alice stood firm, fixing my aunt with a defiant stare that I thought would not have been so cocky had Aunt Madeleine been facing her; still I admired her courage.
A tremor swept through my aunt's body and she gave a long sigh. Her voice when it came, was firm but carefully controlled.
"Very well, carry out your instructions," and then to me: "Jonathan, it's time for bed. Can you find your way or would you like me to ask Miss Tregear to take you?"
I did not know the way but neither did I relish the housekeeper's company. "I'm sure I can find it," I said.
"Good night then, and..." she paused and stole a look at the maid, who was busy clearing the crockery.
"Yes, Aunt?"
"We shall talk of these things again, another time. Good night, dear." She bent and kissed my cheek. She smelt of lavender water.
"Good night, Aunt," I said, and walked towards the door. "Good night, Alice."
"Good night, Master Jonathan," she said, and smiled.
"Jonathan!" Aunt Madeleine's voice arrested me at the door. I turned slowly, fearing a reprimand for talking to the maid. "Sleep well." I left the dining room whistling long and low under my breath.
Once upstairs I found that my confidence about finding the way to my bedroom had been misplaced, and I soon found myself going round and round in circles, lost in a maze of dark winding passages and narrow stairways. I tried several doors and found myself in all manner of rooms, none of which appeared to be mine. Several of the doors were locked, whetting my curiosity, and resolving me to explore the place more thoroughly during my stay.
After half an hour of wandering along corridors and trying doors, I had still not found one which remotely resembled a `blue room', and I was about to admit defeat and make my way downstairs again when I saw rescue approaching in the shape of Alice, who was coming along the passage in the opposite direction. She was carrying bed linen. "Can I help you with those?" I said.
She smiled. "I thought the mistress sent you to bed a while since."
"So she did, but it's early. I usually go to bed much later at home." I added, feeling that this would impress her. She cocked her head to one side.
"Really?" She handed me the bed linen. "Here, as you're not tired you can give me a hand."
"Where do they go?"
"There's a cupboard on the landing upstairs. You can take them up for me. Only don't let Miss Tregear find out or she'll be down on me something shocking."
As we walked along the passage and up the stairs we talked. She spoke freely and openly, telling me that she had been maid at the house for the past two years. Before this she lived in the nearest village, Pengarth. (I remembered the name from the road sign.) Her parents owned a small provisions shop there, but after she had left school they had told her that she would have to find herself a job as there wasn't enough work at the shop. The shop was where Miss Tregear bought food and other goods for the house, and upon hearing of Alice's need for employment offered her a position at Border End. At first Alice had politely refused the offer, seemingly the house had a bad reputation in the village, probably, I thought, to do more with the architecture then anything else, but after a great deal of pressure had been brought to bear by her parents who were solid, no-nonsense folk, she finally accepted. A year later both her parents died from what Alice described as 'flu.
We had reached the cupboard. Alice took the linen from me and opened the door. "Anyway you don't want to hear about my troubles. Best get you to your room before someone catches us. Come on, it's downstairs, at the back."
When I finally saw the room that I had been given I wondered why it had earned the name, the Blue Room, for of that particular colour it was totally devoid. It was dark and dingy, even after Alice had switched on the light. The electric lamp flickered and quavered for a moment before settling to an anaemic glow that offered little in the way of practical illumination.
"It's the generator," Alice explained. "There's no mains power, you see. It's always going wrong. It's really Cartwright's responsibility, lazy good-for-nothing he is though. Shouldn't be surprised if he's in his room above the garage getting pie-eyed. Probably got some tart in from the village." She gave a bubbling laugh. "Old Tregear calls 'em Cartwright's fallen women."
I stared at her incredulously, wondering if such things really did occur in my aunt's house. Alice noticed the expression on my face.
"Anyway you're too young to be told of such things."
"I'm not," I protested. "I'm thirteen."
"Yes, I know," she said, with what seemed a sudden sadness. "They all are when they arrive." She went across to the bed and turned down the sheet. "There you are, Master Jonathan. Into bed now before you get us both shot. I'll leave you to it."
She began to walk towards the door. Suddenly I didn't want her to go. I was in strange surroundings with an aunt I barely knew, and a woman, Miss Tregear, to whom I had taken an extreme dislike. Alice, the maid, was an island of warmth and friendship in such cold, impersonal waters.
"Will you come back and say good night, when I'm in bed, I mean?" I blushed despite myself.
"Very well," she said kindly. "I'll give you five minutes, all right?"
She left my room and I undressed. Within two minutes I was in bed and waiting for her return. After what seemed an age the door opened and she walked in, holding something behind her back. "All tucked in then?" She bent down and tucked a stray corner of sheet under the mattress, clicking her tongue in mock despair. "Men are helpless. Can't do anything properly."
She stood at my bedside for a long moment, looking down at me, as if wanting to say something but being unable to find the right words. Then with a swift movement she produced what she had been holding behind her back. It was a rag doll, long and thin, with black wool for hair and a face that had once been sewn in livid colours but had now faded.
"This is Jermimah. I know boys aren't meant to like dolls...think they're sissy...but when I first came to live here, Jermimah was a very good friend to me. She kept me company, if you know what I mean. Well I was thinking that you...well you might like her...Here," she handed me the doll. "Throw her under the bed if you like. I thought she could keep you company just for tonight." It was Alice's turn to blush.
"Thank you," I said, settling the doll beside me. "I'll give her back to you tomorrow."
"Yes, well good night then." she said walking to the door. She paused, her hand on the light switch, and then turned and blew me a kiss, "Sleep well."
I watched her go, then slid down further beneath the sheets and closed my eyes. I felt the soft material of the doll beside me, and, reassured, I fell asleep.
The next morning I awoke to find that it had been raining during the night. I stood at the window and looked out onto the back garden. The rain had stopped, but the flattened flowers in the beds that ran parallel to the lawn, bore witness to its force. As I was usually a very light sleeper I was mildly surprised that I had managed to sleep through it. I put this down to the change of air, and the fact that the journey to Cornwall, and the arrival at Border End, had tired me more than I realised.
The rain had done the garden good; the lawn looked fresh and green, and leaves on the orchard trees seemed healthier than they had the previous day. This was very pleasant but I guessed that the weather threw serious doubts about me being allowed out to play, and the prospect of being confined to the house depressed me. Consequently I spent a long time readying myself for breakfast, and it was after nine before I made an appearance downstairs.
I soon discovered that breakfast at Border End was taken in the Morning Room, an airy, high-ceilinged room at the front of the house. Not sure of the etiquette in such matters I made myself comfortable at the small oval table which was laid out with plates, a toast rack and cereal bowls, along with a bu
tter dish and several jars of preserves, and waited for someone to notice me. That someone was a long time in coming and after about fifteen minutes of sitting, staring wistfully at the things on the table, I finally plucked up courage to pull the cord that hung down at the side of the fireplace and which, I supposed, rang a bell somewhere in the servants quarters. Reaction to this was almost immediate. Alice rushed into the room looking flustered and carrying a full rack of toast and a cereal packet. Seeing me sitting there like the master of the house made her stop in her tracks.
"Master Jonathan!" she said. "Was it you who rung the bell? I thought the Mistress had come down early."
"Yes," I said not sure of her mood. "I'm sorry but it is after nine. I thought everyone would be up by now."
"No one stirs in this house till well past ten, 'cept me and Miss Tregear of course. Still you weren't to know that. Not to worry, I'd done the toast for myself, just as well, eh?"
"Thank you," I said. "I hope I haven't put anyone out."
"Don't you worry about that." She smiled for the first time that morning. "Miss Tregear's gone to church, Cartwright takes her in the car, so there's only me, and I've been at this house long enough to let nothing put me out. No, you go ahead and enjoy yourself. While the cat's away, eh?" She winked as she set the toast and cereal down on the table. As she walked to the door she looked over her shoulder and said: "And if there's anything else you want just ring."
I ate my breakfast quickly and toyed with the idea of pulling the bell again to summon Alice, but without a good reason I decided not to, and amused myself instead with an exploration of the room. This did not take as long as I had expected for although there was an interesting looking bureau complete with roller top and several drawers, I found, on inspection, that it was securely locked. The rest of the room yielded little to the curiosity of a thirteen-year-old boy and so, eventually growing bored, I went out to find the kitchen.
The Morning Room gave onto the entrance hall, a spacious area containing the stairs to the upper storeys. On one side, set in the wall were two alcoves; in one was placed a semi-circular mahogany table on which stood a hideous blue china vase. Several wilting flowers drooped over its edge and dropped their petals into a brown decaying ring on the table. Miss Tregear, I thought, was a little less than the perfect housekeeper. In the other alcove was a chair upholstered in dark green hide and studded with brass tacks.
"Finished your breakfast then? You should have rung the bell."
I wheeled round in time to see Alice emerge from the passage that ran alongside the staircase and disappear into the Morning Room. I followed her. When I entered she was already in the process of clearing away the used crockery, I went across to the table and began to tidy the jam pots.
"Got nothing to do?" she asked, as she brushed the toast crumbs into a tiny silver dustpan. I shook my head. "Why don't you go and play in the garden? It's a fine day out there now."
"I didn't think I'd be allowed to," I said.
"Can't see that anyone will mind. Come on, it's quicker to go through the kitchen."
Alice led the way out of the room and along the passage. Half way along it bent sharply to the left, then narrowed until finally there was room for one-way traffic only. The passage opened out into a large kitchen. An oak refectory table, littered with various pots and pans and an assortment of cooking utensils, stood in the centre of the room. Against the far wall stood a black-leaded cooking range that shone impressively in a shaft of sunlight that poured in through an oval window set in the adjacent wall. The floor was quarry-tiled and felt cold even through the soles of my shoes. Alice's heels clicked over the tiles as she crossed quickly to the sink and deposited her tray on the draining board.
"Better get these things washed up before Miss Tregear gets back." She began rolling up her sleeves. "Can you fetch me some water?" She picked up a bucket from beside the sink and held it out to me.
"Pardon?" I said, not realising that Border End was not served by the mains.
"Water...from the pump. It's just outside the door."
"Oh, yes, of course."
"And there's no sewer connection either," Alice said as I returned from filling the bucket. "You'd expect a house like this to have all the proper amenities; I don't know, messing around with pumps and septic tanks. And as for heating...you want to be here in the winter, Master Jonathan, it's as much as I can do to keep from freezing."
"Do you enjoy living here?" I said, but the question was drowned by the sound of car wheels crunching on the gravel drive.
"You'd best be getting along, Master Jonathan. You don't want Miss Tregear finding you here. She'd say you were keeping me from my work."
Still wanting to talk to Alice, and yet not wishing to get her into any trouble with the housekeeper, I reluctantly went out into the garden and closed the kitchen door behind me.
The rest of the day passed as slowly as it had begun. Aunt Madeleine did not come down for breakfast, and according to Miss Tregear, who called me in from the garden at lunchtime, was suffering from a headache, which would keep her confined to her room. In fact I saw my aunt only once that Sunday, and that was in the afternoon when, playing amongst the trees in the orchard, I looked up at the house and saw her standing at her bedroom window. It struck me that she did not appear to be ill, at least not ill enough to be confined to bed.
She stood at the window fully dressed, as elegantly as she had been the day before, and even from where I was standing, in the shadows of the cherry tree, I could see that she was smiling. Smiling and waving, at first, I thought to me, but as I emerged from the shadow and stood in full view in the centre of the garden, it became obvious that she was completely unaware of my presence. Instead it seemed that she looked straight through or beyond me, to the orchard. I returned her wave a few times, and once even called out to her but to no avail.
Eventually I turned away and peered into the orchard where my aunt's attention was so firmly riveted. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or perhaps a cloud passed in front of the sun at that precise moment. As I looked between the trees it seemed that the orchard grew suddenly darker; much darker and immersed in shadow than it had been minutes before when I had been playing there. When I began to see shadows gliding and weaving between the trees at the very back of the orchard I decided that my eyes were playing tricks on me. But tricks or no tricks the desire I had to get away from the trees and shadows was very real, and I did not question the impulse. I turned and ran at full speed towards the house. I stopped at the back door and looked towards the bottom of the garden. The shapes had gone and the apple and cherry trees were bathed in sunlight.
On the way back to my room I scoffed at my fanciful notions and resolved not to let my imagination get the better of me, but despite this, as I laid in bed that night listening to the creaks and groans of the house as it settled, my thoughts turned against me and not even the rag-doll could provide the comfort of mind needed to sleep. Instead I lay awake until the clock in the drawing room had struck two. Soon after I fell into a fitful doze.
In the ensuing days I found that I became more and more reliant upon Alice to supply companionship. My aunt had never re-emerged downstairs after her supposed headache; she took all her meals in her room, and it seemed that Miss Tregear spent the majority of her time trudging up and down the stairs, in answer to Aunt Madeleine's every beck and call. Consequently she had little time for me and, apart from preparing my meals, seemed to forget me entirely. She answered my questions regarding my aunt's health curtly but forbade me to visit her. Miss Tregear's neglect bothered me little. I had taken a strong dislike to the woman on our first meeting and more than suspected that the feeling was mutual. But with her time so occupied, Alice and I found that we could meet and talk without fear of receiving a reprimand from her acid tongue.
And meet we did, frequently. It rather surprised me how much free time Alice was allowed. She worked in the morning from when she rose at six until two in the afternoon, the
n, after washing up the lunchtime crockery, her time was her own until dinner in the evening. A strict curfew prevailed at Border End, and every light in the house was extinguished promptly at half past nine. Cartwright was the only exception to this rule, and often the light in the room he occupied above the garage could be seen burning well into the early hours of the morning.
One afternoon Alice and I went for a walk in the woods that all but surrounded the house. The day was sweltering and the woods provided a welcome respite from the heat. We kept mainly to the paths, using the shade afforded by the thick canopy of leaves above our heads. Out of her maid's uniform, Alice looked entirely different. She wore a becoming pink frock that matched her complexion. Her hair hung loose and tumbled down her back, a mass of curls that caught the rays of the sun and flecked from auburn to chestnut to dark brown with each toss of her head. Altogether the effect was extremely pleasant.
"Do you know why Aunt Madeleine stays in her room?" I asked, as we sat down on the bank of a small lake we had come across deep in the woods. Alice slipped off her shoes and dangled her feet in the water. She gave a shiver of delight as her toes broke the surface.
"Not really," she said after a while. "I think she may have had one of her attacks, she gets them occasionally. Usually when she has children to visit, funnily enough. I don't think they're that serious...At least, not serious enough to call in the doctor."
I followed Alice's example and removed my shoes. Soon the pleasing chill of the water lapped over my feet. "What are these attacks? Have you ever been there when she's having one?"
"My, you ask some questions, don't you?"
"I'm interested, she's my aunt after all, and if she's ill I should know about it."
"Well it's no use asking me, I'm as much in the dark as you. She takes to her bed as soon as the children arrive, just like she's done now, and doesn't make an appearance for days. I don't know why, I only know what Miss Tregear chooses to tell me, and who's to say that's true."
