Isobel

by Sheila Tibbs

  “That’s lovely, darling,” she said, taking the painting off him.

  “No, it’s not, it’s horrible and stupid,” Ryan piped in.

  “Take no notice of your brother, love, I think it’s truly magnificent ... and so will daddy.”

  She glared at Ryan, “You, my boy, just carry on the way you’re going and you will be in bed before tea.”

  Ryan looked away.

  “Come on, let's catch the bus home,” she said, trying to sound cheerful.

  They walked to the bus stop at the end of the road. Ryan stuck his tongue out at his brother. “How’s your girlfriend today, Reece?’ he teased.

  Reece just ignored him and sighed heavily to himself.

  'Shame it was your arm you broke and not your neck,' he thought.

  At the bus stop, Marion talked to Reece about his day at school. Ryan feeling left out and began to pace about, kicking little stones and raising the dust from the ground. He looked over towards the school gate and saw Isobel staring at him. He stared back his most hateful stare. Sarah was talking to Miss Cox. Isobel smiled. Ryan stared but he could feel his blood running cold in his veins. 'She don’t scare me he,' thought, but, deep down, he knew that she did.

  Suddenly, Isobel’s face seemed to change in front of him.

  He turned to his mother just in time to see the bus coming down the road. Relief coursed through him.

  Marion looked up at the bus as it seemed to lose control. She screamed and grabbed for her boys yet the bus ploughed into them, sending them in every direction, before grinding to a halt.

  Sarah and Miss Cox ran to the scene.

  Isobel smiled.

  Somewhere in the distance, her music box played.

  Chapter Seven.

  Marion’s eyes flickered open. As her surroundings came into focus, she realised that she was in hospital. A young doctor stood at the end of her bed, smiling.

  “You have been very lucky, Mrs. Thatcher, only a few minor cuts and bruises. You’ll probably have a headache for a while because you took a very nasty bang. We’ll be keeping you in overnight for observation,” he said. Marion then noticed for the first time since she awoke, that she did indeed have a painful headache.

  “How are my boys?” she asked.

  The doctor looked to the right of her. She followed his gaze and noticed Father Mather's standing there, his Bible hugged to his chest. His eyes were filled with sorrow and pity.

  “No!” she cried. “Please tell me I’m wrong. Please tell me my babies are okay!” Her eyes pleaded first with the Priest and then with the doctor.

  “Not my boys, not both of them!” she began to cry. Father Mather's touched her shoulder.

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways, Marion. They came into the world together, the Lord took them to be by his side, together.”

  “No Lord could be so cruel as to take my babies from me!” she sobbed.

  •

  The entire school, all sixty-four pupils and six teachers, were summoned to the school hall the following morning, for an urgent assembly. Mr. Blaine, the headmaster, stood solemnly on the makeshift stage. His normally tall stature hunched and his salt and pepper hair seemed to have become greyer over night. He coughed loudly to silence the children, whispering over what they had heard from their parents over breakfast. Colin Burrows said in a loud whisper, to anyone who was listening, “Yeah, me mum told us at brekkie. By all accounts she’s gone off the rails. Mum said she was a poor woman, losing it all like that.”

  Mrs. Richards, Colin’s form tutor, heard him and grabbed him by the ear so she could lead him outside the hall.

  “Did your mother also tell you to be disrespectful, Master Burrows, or did you decide that all by yourself?” she shouted at him. “You of all people should know not to listen to gossip and definitely know not to repeat it. If I remember rightly, it wasn’t so long ago that you yourself, and your family, were the topic of such gossip. Didn’t like it then though did you? Have you stopped to think what that poor woman must be feeling like? Well, have you? The last thing she needs now is gossip. Spare her a thought or two before you open your big mouth again.” With that she turned and left Colin standing there, feeling very foolish, and headed back in to the hall.

  Mr Blaine stared down at the sea of young faces looking up at him. He fought back the lump rising in his throat. 'These poor, innocent children,' he thought, 'so young in years, yet so wise.'

  “I have called you all here this morning, as I have something to tell you all. Regrettably, I bare bad news.” He paused while the hushed whispers past from one student to another.

  “As you are all undoubtedly aware, there was a terrible, terrible accident outside the school yesterday. Mrs. Thatcher, Ryan and Reece were involved in… well; they were run down by the bus as they waited at the bus stop. Unfortunately, both boys were killed and the doctors say they died instantly ... so they wouldn’t have suffered ... which is a blessing,” he paused again. “Mrs. Thatcher however ... she was more fortunate and escaped with minor injuries. I have this morning been informed that Mr and Mrs. Thatcher have gone to stay with relatives in Cornwall, to come to terms with there sad loss. So, as a mark of respect, the school will now be closed until Monday. Your parents are being informed of our decision as we speak and will all be collecting you in due course. Please file back to your classrooms quietly, until your parents collect you.”

  Quietly, the children stood, and, on the command of their teachers, walked single file back to their classes. Some were in tears, others shocked by what Mr. Blaine had said. They had all heard of the accident, but not that Reece and Ryan had died.

  Disbelief had kept them silent, apart from the sobs that could just be heard.

  •

  Sarah arrived to collect Isobel. On their walk back to the Manor, Isobel was very quiet.

  “Are you okay, Isobel?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes thank you, Sarah.”

  “Would you like to talk about the accident, darling? After all, you were there and Reece was your friend.”

  “Nothing much to talk about really,” she said, pausing by a large bush to watch the farmer in his field.

  “That’s farmer Bob,” Sarah smiled. “I don’t know his last name. Moved into the farm just before David and I took over the Manor from my grandparents. He seems a very nice man though, and his wife, Paulette, is lovely. She runs the village hall ladies club. I tell you what, Isobel; would you like to go to the village hall on Saturday? Most of the women in the village go for the coffee afternoon and the children play in the park outside, it’s good fun.”

  “Yes, that sounds good.”

  They carried on walking slowly, enjoying the cool breeze that was in the air. It had been a very hot summer, unusually hot, and most people welcomed the thought of the approaching autumn. Plants, flowers and crops had all suffered that year and what with the hosepipe ban, the gardens where looking very dry, and the grass had gone like straw. The autumn weather would be greatly appreciated; any chance of a drop in temperature and a spot of rain would do everyone good. It was no secret that tempers had been flared in the heat.

  “Death brings no misery you know, Sarah, it happens to everything that lives,” Isobel said, non-plussed. Taken aback by

  her words, Sarah stopped.

  “That’s a funny thing to say, Isobel. Why did you say that?”

  “Well, its true, isn’t it? Reece was my friend but now he’s gone. I can’t understand why people get upset. If there really is a God and a Heaven, like everyone seems to think, then why get upset if someone dies and goes to what is supposedly a better place?”

  Sarah thought for what seemed like eternity.

  “People get sad, Isobel, because they won’t see that person ever again, and they sometimes don’t want to be left behind. They wish they could go with the person they loved, not be left alone. When you’re bigger and you’ve lost someone, then perhaps you’ll understand better.” She gave Isobel a little smile.
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br />   “I understand perfectly well, Sarah. I have lost too, remember. Okay, so my mother’s not dead, but I’ve lost her all the same. My father’s whereabouts are unknown, as you are aware, so I’ve lost him too. Then there was my twin sister…” She cut off as though she had said too much already.

  At first Sarah was stunned by the words Isobel had used.

  Had she not known for herself Isobel’s age, then she would have said she was older than her years. So much had happened in her short life, was it any wonder that she spoke maturely, Sarah thought to herself. Then, realising what Isobel had said, she asked. “You had a twin sister?”

  “Yes, we were identical by all accounts, but I don’t remember her.”

  “Can I ask you what happened to her?” Sarah said.

  Isobel went and sat in a clearing at the end of Manor Lane, patting the ground next to her for Sarah to join her. Sarah sat down and Isobel straightened out her skirt.

  “When we were born, you couldn’t tell us apart, we were that identical. I have a picture at home, but I didn’t show it to you and David when I showed you the others. I don’t know why, I just didn’t. My mum was … is very religious, and my dad is a traveller, so my mum said. Anyway, mum is convinced that there is good and bad in everyone, do you believe that, Sarah?”

  “Yes. But I don’t believe anyone is born either good or bad, but we have the ability to be either.”

  “Mmm ... anyway, because we were identical, mum was convinced one of us was good and the other one bad. My sister, mum thought, was bad.”

  “But why?” Sarah asked.

  “I was told it was because she wouldn’t sleep and she cried a lot. She wouldn’t settle, where as I was always content.”

  “But surely some babies are more content than others?” Sarah said almost to herself. “Isobel, what happened to your sister?”

  “They say mum killed her when we were asleep in our cot. Mum denied it and said she put us down together to sleep for the night and when she awoke, my sister was dead. She ranted and raved, apparently, that she was innocent and that my sister had been sent to curse her and had probably killed herself. The judge locked her up for being insane. A baby can’t kill itself can it, Sarah?” she asked.

  Sarah looked down at the sweet face looking up at her and her heart went out to her. She hugged her to her bosom.

  “No, darling, you’re right, a baby can’t kill itself.” Isobel hugged her tightly and smiled.

  “That poor little girl,” she said to David that night. “I had no idea she had suffered so much in her life. Did you know she had been a twin?”

  “What, oh yeah, I think she mentioned something about it the other day while you were in the basement. Look, I’m sorry, love, but I really need to go over these plans before tomorrow, it’s a multi million pound investment we’re looking at and we meet the whole crew tomorrow. If these drawings are incorrect, then it’s my head that will roll.” He looked at her lovingly, “So, do you mind? I promise we will talk later, okay.”

  “That firm expects too much out of you, David.”

  “I know, but a senior position is coming up and I will do anything to get it. I’ve waited seven years for this opportunity. It's not often a position comes up, as you know, but old Davis is retiring in the New Year and they are looking for a replacement internally at the bank and Mr. Brown has told me I’m in with a chance.”

  Sighing, Sarah said, “I’ll leave you to it then,” before leaving the study.

  Upstairs, she turned the taps on in the bathroom and poured scented bubble-bath from the large pink bottle that helped line the shelf at the bottom of the bath. Sarah loved her bottles of different bath salts and foam, each bottle placed in order of size and shade.

  Before long, the room was filled with the scent of roses as the steam filled the air. She undressed and slid quietly beneath the suds and closed her eyes.

  Isobel sat at her dressing table and smiled. Her reflection smiled back.

  “Your mother didn’t kill your sister, but it got her out of the way. She was too weak.”

  “Mum was right though, one of us was good and the other, well...”

  Together, they laughed. The music box played.

  Chapter Eight.

  “I can’t believe Isobel has been with us for six weeks now.

  It’s gone so quickly,” Sarah said to her friend, Carol, one Saturday afternoon.

  “She’s definitely bought a glow to your face, everyone’s commented on how motherhood suits you, and you look absolutely radiant.”

  Together they reached for their coffee cups and stared out at the park to watch the children playing. Their screams and laughter could be heard inside and all the mums couldn’t help but smile.

  “Isn’t it lovely?” Jennifer said as she joined them, placing her cup on the table.

  “I love to hear children having fun, and they all seem to be getting on well. My, don’t you look lovely, Sarah. Being a mum must suit you. You’re a natural and you’re positively glowing.”

  Carol looked at Sarah and nodded, “Told you so.”

  Sarah felt so happy she could have burst.

  “Isobel has been the best thing that has ever happened to me, apart from David of course. She has bought so much joy to the manor.”

  She looked outside and saw Isobel standing by the window, staring back at her. She smiled, Isobel just turned away.

  “Is Isobel settling in at school okay, and with the other children?” Jennifer asked noticing Isobel standing alone with her back to them.

  “Yes, I think so. Miss Cox has said that she has trouble with Isobel in scripture class. I think Isobel is a non-believer. Mind you, if you knew her background, it’s hardly surprising. She’s not had a very happy life. She was one of identical twins did

  I tell you that? Her mother, poor soul, she had a breakdown, her twin didn’t survive.”

  Sarah mentally decided not to elaborate on the issue further. As nice as Jennifer was, she was a bit of a gossip and was quite capable of adding her own bits to make tales seem more interesting. Besides, her daughter, Charlotte, was in Isobel’s class and she could be a proper little madam.

  The afternoon flew by and before long the light was beginning to fade. The hall was tidied and cleared away of tables and chairs. The kitchen was cleaned and the cups put back in their cupboard until they'd be needed again, the following week.

  The urns were emptied and polished and placed back on their trolley, only to gather dust by the following Saturday and to need polishing again before use.

  The wind had picked up a chill. Wrapping themselves up in their coats, the women collected their children and bidding farewell, left for home.

  Sarah and Isobel set off hand in hand and decided to walk back via Crouchview Crescent. It was the longer route but by far the prettiest. The few houses and bungalows that adorned one side of the road had the most beautiful gardens, rich with spring, summer and autumn plants. The trees that lined the other side had leaves of reds, gold’s and browns. Yes, it was by far the best route home.

  They were so busy talking and laughing about their afternoon that they didn’t at first notice old Miss Cuthbert standing at her garden gate.

  “Hello, my dears,” she said.

  Sarah visibly jumped. Her hand leapt to her chest, and then she laughed.

  “Oh, Miss Cuthbert, I didn’t see you there, you gave me a fright.”

  “I’m sorry, dear, didn’t mean to scare you. You two look like you’re having fun,” she said and looked down at Isobel.

  “Yes we are,” Sarah smiled. “This is Isobel. Isobel, this is Miss Cuthbert.”

  “Hello, Isobel, my, aren’t you a beautiful one”

  “Hello, Miss Cuthbert.” Isobel smiled.

  Suddenly the look on Miss Cuthbert’s face dropped and, unable to take her eyes off of Isobel, she began to back away.

  “Must go, Sarah,” she said. Her hands were holding her throat. She turned and almost ran to her front door a
nd slammed it shut behind her. Sarah and Isobel were still standing at her gate.

  “Well,” said Sarah, “that was strange. Still, she’s a funny old woman, never married you know, no family either from what I can gather.” Slowly they walked on.

  At home, Sarah couldn’t get the vision of the old lady’s face out of her mind. She'd looked frightened, she remembered.

  'Perhaps she saw something in the trees behind us that gave her a fright. Yes, that must be it. She’s old and alone so it must be scary sometimes; don’t think I’d like it.'

  Back in her house, Miss Cuthbert was pacing around, wringing her hand and muttering under her breath. “What to do, oh, what to do!” she was saying in a whisper like voice.

  “Speak to Father Mather, that’s what I’ll do. Yes, Father Mather. He’ll understand and know what to do. I’ll go see him in the morning, before Mass. I’m there getting the hymn books put out anyway. Yes, I’ll speak to him then,” she mumbled.

  Having made her decision, she went to her bedside cabinet and took out her crucifix, and placed it above her bed.

  “There,” she said, feeling somewhat safer.

  •

  Isobel went to her room after her dinner and sat at her dressing table. She stared into the mirror and, eventually, her reflection stared back.

  “Did you see the look on the old woman’s face?” she laughed.

  “Yes, she looked terrified, and so she should be, meddling lot those Cuthbert’s. She’s the last one!” her reflection spat. “Her time draws near, Isobel.”

  •

  Sarah and David sat in the big lounge; they had recently finished decorating it and re-furnishing it. The large picture windows were complemented by the heavy blue curtains that hung loosely in tie backs, and the large, pale blue suite surrounded the ornate fire place. They had decided to keep the original floorboards and sanded them down and polished them, placing a large, Chinese style rug in front of the hearth. The rest of the furniture was tastefully chosen to complement the floor and stood proudly against the walls. Crystal ornaments adorned the large sideboard and ornate lamps sat on the small side tables. David had removed the original centre light fitting and they used the soft glow of the lamps to light the room now, giving it a cosy feel.