Walking by us, his tearful expression said it all and I could tell he might never speak in class ever again - then I realize its Ruby’s turn to impress Julian.
As she nears the front of the queue, I see Julian turn and as he does, I could have sworn his rather orange tan faded for a moment as he caught his first glimpse of Lulu. “May I see, please,” he inquires.
“Yes, sure,” replies Ruby then tells him. “It’s my doll, Lulu - I was wondering if you...” However, before Ruby can finish her sentence, Julian delivers the first line.
“Beautiful,” he says, “absolutely beautiful,” and as he does, a rush of cameramen from the TV station stampede towards us and begin filming.
“Where on earth did you find her,” inquires Julian? “No, don’t tell me - and let me guess - at a car boot sale.”
At which point the whole crowd began muttering in agreement.
“Well - yes,” replied Ruby - as the truth - just for the moment would never have been believed.
Julian Claridge then inspects the doll, before pronouncing. “I have never seen a doll of this period in such magnificent condition,” then turning towards my sister, asks. “Do you know how old this doll is, my dear?”
“No, not really,” replies Ruby although knowing how my sisters mind works and how competitive she is, she’s already researched all she needs to know and I’m now thinking that Julian could have a fight on his hands here.
“I SUSPECTED NOT,” replied Julian, in an unusually deep voice, which immediately sparked rapturous applause from the crowd. “It’s around three hundred and fifty years old,” continued Julian, and as he spoke you could see the crowd’s expectations rising. “Do you know who Marie Antoinette was - young lady?”
“A French queen, around the time of the Revolution,” replied Ruby, proudly and as the crowd clapped even louder, it was becoming evident that a competition was forming for the most knowledgeable, in French history, between Julian Claridge and my sister.
“Yes, she was,” responded Julian, disappointedly. “You definitely know your period history - young lady.” Julian then looked towards the camera. “Dolls like this one were given to French lords and ladies, its clothes designed by Bertin, a French costume designer of Marie Antoinette’s.” Julian then continued to inspect the doll, finally pulling out her nametag and as he did, the doll tumbled to the floor along with Julian Claridge, who had apparently fainted.
“GIVE HIM SOME AIR,” insisted the rather large woman, who again had appeared out of nowhere. “HE HAS A HEART CONDITION YOU KNOW.”
At that moment, I truly believed we had killed Julian Claridge and could see the headlines in the morning paper. “French doll owned by local children, kills renowned antiques dealer, Julian Claridge.” And it was all captured on TV for the whole world to see.
“Are you two OK,” inquired Mom?
“Yes - they’re fine - it’s me who’s not well,” replied Julian Claridge, from under what appeared to be a whole army of paramedics, “and where’s my Fufu, I need my Fufu.”
“Were taking him to hospital,” informed a paramedic, who was a doctor, according to his nametag.
“Will he be OK,” inquired Mom. “We feel quite responsible?”
“Yes, he’ll be fine - I’m certain,” replied the Doctor. “We just need to find his dog, Fufu,” and he then smiled at Mom - which made her blush.
As Julian was lifted into the ambulance and the crowds moved away, the rather large woman appeared once again and beckoned us over.
“If you could call Julian, in a couple of days on this number, he would like to talk to you all in private - if that’s OK - it’s about the doll - and by the way - my name is Harriet. Oh, and you didn’t happen to see where Julian’s wig, Fu-fu landed - he’s rather fond of that one.”
“Yes, I think it flew off towards the road,” I replied, but in truth I knew Rupert had it.
“Well what was all that about,” exclaimed Ruby, “I thought Fu-fu was his dog?”
“Well, he obviously likes your doll dear,” said mum. “Where did you get it from, by the way?”
“It was a present from Lottie,” replied Ruby.
“Well that was really nice of Lottie, and it obviously has some value or poor Mr Claridge would still be here, rather than in hospital.”
“He freaked out when he saw the name on the tag,” I whispered.
“I know,” replied Ruby. “But why?”
I told Ruby I thought Mr Claridge might know the answer to that and that the best thing to do was persuade mum to take him up on his offer and get in touch with him in a few days’ time when he felt better. On the way back we bumped into Rupert, who asked me if Mr.Claridge was dead and had I noticed he wore a wig.
I told Rupert Mr Claridge was going to be to be fine, and I was sure I heard Rupert mutter, “THAT’S A SHAME,” so I decided to confront Rupert with the issue of the missing wig.
“I noticed you picked up Julian’s wig, Rupert.”
“Yes I did,” replied Rupert, pulling out Julian’s wig from his trouser pocket, “it’s my war trophy, and I think I shall keep it as a reward for Julian Claridge’s rudeness, he made me cry you know.”
“Yes, Rupert, I know, but taking a wig from a man potentially dying from a heart attack, was a bit extreme.” Rupert seemed quite sorry about the whole thing and explained it was probably a moment of madness, and as we were going to see Julian in hospital later, gave me the wig to return to him.
“Thanks, Rupert, and I’m sure he didn’t mean to make you cry.”
As I began to walk away, Rupert called me back. “There’s something else I need to tell you. That doll, Lulu, I know who owned it. My dad’s the curator of the local museum and I’ve seen pictures of that doll on the walls of the museum, look.” Rupert held up his iPad and there, full screen was Lulu in the hand of some young French aristocrat. “Who’s the young girl,” I enquired?”
“Marie-Thérèse Charlotte,” replied Rupert. “The young, soon to be queen of France.”
“How do you know it’s the same exact doll,” I replied?
I don’t know for sure but when Julian Claridge fainted, I knew that doll had something special going on, and Julian’s specialism is ‘FRENCH HISTORICAL ANTIQUES,’ it says so on his van, I'm surprised Gregs didn’t say anything to you.”
“Greg's... he knew about the doll?”
“Off course,” replied Rupert, with his usual nonchalance, before continuing. “It was part of his history project - he came into the museum every week for about a month, looking through old pictures and history manuscripts – strange isn’t it?
“What,” I replied, expecting greater things.
“How you think you know someone - but then you find out, you don’t really know the at all.”
Gregor
Monday morning, at school, and I’m completely soaked. Somehow trying to save on tram fare for a few extra bars of chocolate now seemed a bad idea, and as I dried myself as best I could, under the worlds smallest hand drier, I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Good morning, wet boy,” chuckled Gregs. “Can we talk?”
“I thought you'd dropped off the radar,” I smugly replied.
“Sorry Barnaby, I’ve been having a few issues since our last games night.”
“Like what?”
“Strange nightmares... about me... and you... and somehow Danny's there, all three of us... on the streets of Road Warrior, and someone’s whispering to me from the darkness of ‘Nukem Road.” ‘Tell me where the doll is, Gregor’, then I wake up. Mom says it’s too much gaming and insisted I should concentrate more on my school work, so I have. The irony is this all started as a history project for school... about a doll, and that doll of Ruby’s...it looks very similar to the one in my project.”
I explained to Gregor, I knew and that Rupert had told me about the history project. Greg's then told me how the whole idea had started from an article he'd read in a science fiction magazine about a strange doll, a doll that somehow alwa
ys seemed to be present at the scenes of some of the most terrible events across history, The Great Plague, The Great Fire of London, and that this had inspired his history project.
“So, if this is the doll does it mean something terrible is going to happen, or am I overreacting?”
“You tell me,” replied Gregor, in a rather spooky voice? “Maybe it’s the end of the world... or... just coincidence. Greg's then inquired how the girl friend boyfriend thing was going. “Fine,” I replied. “We get on really well, and I wasn’t lying.”
Danny and I are now an item. She’s great, and listens to all my problems without mentioning any of hers. She’d also won the Judo finals across the city - and could - if she trains hard enough, represent the north-east of England in the regionals.
So I said farewell to Gregs, dried myself off and headed for class, apologizing to Miss Pemberton our form tutor for my lateness before sitting down next to Danny.
“You're wet,” remarks Danny. “I saw you talking to Gregs, I’m glad you’re talking again, he’s seemed a bit distant for the past few weeks.”
I told Danny that Gregs had not been sleeping to well, and his mom had insisted he keep the gaming down a bit.
Danny then went on to explain that scientists are now looking into the health effects of video game consoles and have linked overplaying to dozens of injuries – some even life-threatening, and that some gamers could potentially become serial killers. Maybe Danny was right, and Greg’s mom may have to take his Xbox away permanently, but then I remembered about that American kid, a fifteen-year-old boy from Buffalo Grove, just outside Chicago who asked police if his parents had the right to take away his Xbox, so the police stopped by his house to set things straight. Oh, the joys of gaming.
Aimée.
“MY DOLL...MY DOLL!”
Holly and Gérard rush down the corridor toward the shouting. “It’s coming from Miss Durant’s room,” screams Holly.
As Holly and Gérard enter the room, Miss Durant has stopped shouting and is now sitting motionless, pointing toward a TV screen now frozen with the image of a doll, and as the old lady turns to see who’s entered her room, she whispers, “It’s her - its Lulu - my doll.”
“I’m sorry Miss Durant, I don’t know what you mean and please, try not to get too excited - it’s not good for your blood pressure?”
“My blood pressure is fine dear - unlike the story I have to tell you, if you have time - that is.”
Holly decides to humor the old lady; after all it’s only a story - so how can it hurt.
“It’s a long story dear - so shall we order some tea.” Holly looks towards Gérard who nods in agreement.
“Gerard will bring some tea,” replies Holly. “Won’t you Gérard?”
“The story I have to tell young lady, is like no other you’ve ever heard - that’s if you have time?” Holly sits closer to the old lady as never before and listens intently as she began her somewhat extraordinary story.
“Many years ago our family moved from France during the Second World War, to England to stay with our uncle. My sister Lottie and I were given the attic bed-room, a very dark, cold and uncomfortable room.
I had a doll, Annabelle, which I kept on my bedside cabinet. One morning Annabelle was gone, and wasn’t to be found anywhere, Lottie and I searched, but never found her. Other things then began to disappear, so Lottie and I decided to set a trap to capture whatever was taking our prize possessions.
I had an old hand knitted doll, Lulu that I had-had since I was baby. Our uncle said it was an old doll he had given my mother many years ago. Found in the barn when uncle bought the old place, it probably belonging to the houses previous owners, or possibly the last family who had sheltered there.
Lottie said we should use her to tempt our invisible thief into the open. So we placed the doll on the floor and sprinkled flour powder around her, so anything coming in would be caught by the footprints it made; only things didn’t go to plan. The night was heavily moon lit, making the old barn stand out on the hill against the skyline, an ideal target for any enemy on their way to London.
There was an explosion; collapsing the old gable wall supporting our bedroom. Within seconds, the floor gave way...leaving me hanging from what was left of the upstairs. Lottie couldn’t reach or see me - it was then I saw it.
“Saw what,” replied Holly, who had now become totally engrossed in the story?
“I don’t know,” replied the old woman. A shadowy figure, maybe. I was only just coming up to my third birthday, and my memory isn’t what it used to be dear.”
“I remember holding out a hand, just as the floor collapsed - and for a moment - all time seemed to stand still as falling bricks became suspended in the night air and pieces of broken wood floated motionless against the moonlit sky. I thought I would fall - so I grabbed at the chains wrapped tightly around him, some broke away - and then he whispered to me, ‘The Whisper’.”
“Whatever had visited that night never came back, and after a while Lottie led me to believe the whole thing was a dream - only it wasn’t - she was protecting me from the truth.”
“Lottie was never quite sure what they were and neither was I, but Lottie knew they needed things - objects that bind us to memories - like toys we have as children - or things we cherish.”
“It’s a wonderful story, Miss Durant, but why were you shouting?”
“The doll – the one on the TV screen...the antique show...its Lulu...it’s her... my doll. I know it’s difficult to believe, so allow me to show you something... it might change your mind.”
From the drawer of the cabinet, next to where Holly was sitting, the old woman pulled out a tiny black velvet bag; she carefully unknotted the tie and poured a tiny, grey colored chain link into her hand.
“There - you see.”
“It’s just an old chain link Miss Durante.”
“No, not just any old chain link,” replied the old lady. “It’s his chain link.”
“Come closer child, place it in your hand and close your eyes, it won’t hurt you.”
Holly thought she would humor the old lady, so she took the link.
“Now, close your eyes and wait.”
Holly closed her eyes and as she did, a sea of pure emotion washed over her as she was immersed within long forgotten memories and shadowy images. The experience ended with the resounding crash of the old lady’s walking stick, as she beat it down on her chair side writing cabinet.
Startled back to reality, Holly could just make out the old lady’s hand in her own. “Are you alright my dear,” she inquires.
“Yes, fine... thank you... I saw my mom.... she died... when I was eighteen months old... how is that possible?”
“They take your childhood memories, feeding on the emotions and events within them, it’s how they survive. They take the memories that confuse and distract our young minds whilst we are trying to figure out how the world works and feed on them, it’s some form of psychic energy.”
The old lady then presses the tip of her finger against Holly’s forehead. “Try to remember a time before your second birthday and you’ll understand what I mean.”
The old Lady explained all she knew about the chain and all her older sister Lottie knew, and how that night in the barn had somehow changed her, leaving memories and images in her head that somehow didn’t belong there.
“Your childhood memories Miss Durant... are they still there?”
“Yes, some... well most... and they shouldn’t be, it’s the pills that suppresses them - without the medication I would have gone completely mad by now. Most early childhood memories are unresolved, how could they be anything else if we can’t remember them - that’s why she can’t get inside my head - it’s far too painful for her. Children are often viewed as highly resilient my dear, often able to bounce back from just about any situation, but traumatic experiences in childhood can have severe and long-lasting effects well into adulthood, if they are left unresolved.
>
“Her,” asked Holly.
“‘Her’,” replied the old lady. “She is the one trying to take my doll.”
“But why, Miss. Durante?”
“When the whisper enters your head everything else no longer matters - it’s what they use - a kind of psychic connection that bleeds memories from us, and once gone... they can no longer be retrieved.”
“Lulu is a very old doll; she holds the memories and experiences of thousands of children, collected over decades of history. I believe the doll originally belonged to a young French Princess, Marie-Thérèse Charlotte, the daughter of a French Queen. The Queen herself was very self-centered and eventually put to death by guillotine, however, on this one occasion she did attempt to teach her daughter about the sufferings of others and on New Year's Day, in 1784, The Queen brought to Marie-Thérèse's apartment some beautiful toys. She told the young Princess. “I should have liked to have given you all these as New Year's gifts, but the winter is very hard, and outside the walls of the palace there are crowds of very unhappy people who have no bread to eat, no clothes to wear, and no wood to make a fire with, so, I have given them all my money; and have none left to buy you presents, so there will be nothing this year, except this doll,” and she handed the young princess, Lulu.”
“Having heard her mother’s words, the young princess would secretly go out onto the streets to feed the poor and starving, giving comfort to the young by letting them hold Lulu even when they were dying. She must have visited thousands of people, each imprinting a memory of generosity and kindness on Lulu. Her mother, The Queen, never found out.”
“I believe they play a game with each other, a game through history neither of them can win, but they’ve played the game for so long it’s impossible for them to stop, a bit like good and evil... they’ve probably even forgotten why it was played in the first place.”
“She’s out there you know - hiding in the darkness - just waiting for an opportunity - she needs the doll and all the memories and emotions stored there - he’s been hiding the doll from her, but she doesn’t know the truth.”
Doll Page 6
