The Butterfly Box_A SASS Anthology

by Anthology

  “We thought – we thought you were running away.”

  I smile at her as I move my pyjamas back in place.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I smile as I wash my hands in the small washbowl. “Door’s locked anyway.” I walk straight back over to her, take her in my arms and swing her in a circle. Her hands come up around my back and she squeals in delight. I dip her backwards into a deep kiss. The orderly clears his throat but I pay him no heed.

  “What has gotten into you?” Ida laughs, as I stand her up again.

  “Madness,” I whisper in her ear, but we both laugh. She presses her face against my shoulder and I hold her tighter.

  This is where happiness is.

  This is where it’s always been.

  I CLING TO Percy, letting the memory of our laughter soak in. I can hear his heart beating in his chest. I cling on tighter. The nights I have lain awake, praying to hear the sound of his heartbeat again, and I’m finally here, listening to my favourite lullaby. Percy sways ever so slightly where he stands, rocking me backwards and forwards. It’s something he’s always done. I don’t know why or where it came from, but it’s so familiar, so reassuring, I almost burst into tears again. I’ve cried so much, my eyes feel dry.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “About what?” The vibrations of his voice rumble through his body where my ear is still pressed against him.

  “The war. I want to know what it’s really like. What it was like for you, not the big picture. I don’t give a damn about the war itself. I want to know what you’ve been doing.”

  “Ida-”

  I raise my head to look at him. I’m pushing my luck. He could snap again, but I want to see how far I can go. He kisses the top of my head and shuffles his feet.

  “Please don’t shut me out, Percy. I’ve been with you my whole life, I knew everything about you, but these past few months I know nothing about. I can handle it, Percy. I just want to know.”

  He presses his lips to my head again, and I can feel his fingers twitching against my back. Taking me by surprise a sudden torrent of words flood from his mouth, as if he’s been holding them back and is only now allowing them out.

  I listen in rapt attention, hanging on his every word. I hardly dare to breathe lest I break him from the trance-like state he’s now in. His eyes stare just over my head, towards something only he can see. His fingers continue to play with the seam at the back of my dress. I can feel a hole being worked in the garment but I don’t care.

  He talks about everything without faltering once. The life is back in his voice as he speaks of the trenches, the mud, the death. I shiver as he gives his descriptions and I feel the orderly still standing behind us, locked in place by the vivid words Percy is telling. He’s been to the front, he must have seen these things too.

  I don't know what to do or say as Percy continues to speak, so I stay quiet. I want to soak in his stories, every horrifying detail of them. I hear a creak behind me and Percy stops speaking immediately. Still holding my waist, he moves us towards the bed. He faces the door, shielding me with his body. The doctor is stood in the middle of the room. His face is bruised and he is still slightly hunched over. His eyes are wide as he takes in the scene. He looks happy to have seen us as we were but holds up his hands regardless.

  “It's alright, Percival. I just came to check on you, see how you're doing today.”

  “We're fine, get out!”

  I peek over at Percy. His eyes are squinting, his teeth clenched in anger.

  “Mrs Denton? Can I speak with you for a minute?”

  I look at the doctor and go to respond, but Percy gets there first.

  “No. She can't. She's staying with me.”

  “Percy-”

  “No, Ida. He wants to get you on his side. I can't let that happen.”

  “He only wants me for a minute. If he tries to...sway me, I'll come right back in.” I wriggle free of Percy's grasp with a little difficulty. “I'll stay in the room, how's that? You'll be able to see us the entire time.”

  He looks as if he wants to argue but I fix him with a stubborn glare. I let my mouth tilt up at the side to show him I'm joking. Turning so the doctor can't see, I drop one eye into a wink. Percy chuckles and I kiss his cheek.

  “I'll be right back, grumpy.”

  I walk over to the doctor carefully, trying to make my step appear cheerful.

  “He looks well,” the doctor says, smiling.

  “Yes, but let’s keep this brief for his sake. What do I need to know?”

  “I understand. I was thinking last night how much better Percival looks when he is with you. Obviously, I can't send him home, not anytime soon at least, but I thought we could perhaps bring a few familiar items from home here. Make his room more welcoming, it might help to have things he recognises.”

  I nod my head, seeing the determination in the doctor's eyes.

  “That might be good, for both of us. I want to stay here with him, Doctor, so I'll be needing some of my things.”

  The doctor rubs a hand over his eyes.

  “That can be arranged. We could set you up a room-”

  “No, I want to stay here. I don't mind sleeping on the floor.”

  “No, no. I shan't stand for that. I'll have another bed brought in. I can see you are helping him and we're short-staffed as it is. It will be nice to have a fresh pair of hands around. There’s men sent home with war neurosis every day now so we need all the help we can get.”

  I smile to convey my thanks to him. He's gone above and beyond for Percy and I know without asking that he would do this for all his patients. I wish all doctors were like him.

  “I don’t want the orderly in here every night.”

  “Mrs Denton-”

  “Percy won’t hurt me, Doctor. He only turns when others are around. That’s part of the delusion he’s in. Alone, I think I can help him.”

  The doctor nods, looking at Percy who is pacing beside his bed, the hem of his pyjama trousers brushing the floor with each step.

  “So, your first assignment then.” The doctor continues with a small smile. “I'd like you to pick up some things from home, some things Percival will recognise, connect with.”

  “I'll go now.”

  I look over at Percy. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed and his eyes are fixed on me.

  WHAT'S HE SAYING to her?

  She keeps smiling, nodding. I strain my ears to hear but I can't.

  Damn it! I can feel my temper rising, the ringing in my ears increasing in volume.

  What's he saying?

  “Percy?”

  I rush towards her, taking both her hands in mine.

  “Don’t go with him.”

  “I’m not, I’m going home to get you-”

  “No, he’s just telling you that. Once you’re gone he’ll – I don’t know but he’ll stop you coming back, they’ll get you, Ida.”

  She tries to get away, looking at me firmly. I can’t stand her leaving, knowing she may not return. If only I could tell her how important it was for her to stay, but that damned doctor is still stood here. He twitches his nose and his ridiculous moustache moves with it. He makes me sick to my stomach. Seeing him here, watching me communicating with my wife, watching me struggle to tell her what’s on my mind, my annoyance boils up.

  “DON’T GO WITH HIM.” I know I’ve startled her with my volume, with the anger in my voice, because she stumbles back a step. I move closer, gripping her wrists tighter. How do I tell her how much I need her to stay?

  “I’m not going anywhere with him. Why won’t you just listen to me? I’m going to our house, yours and mine, the one we lived in together after we got married, remember that?”

  How could I forget? It was the best day of my life, but that’s not where she’s going. I’m not a fool.

  “You’re not. We’re not even in England, how can you be so fucking stupid? Do you want me to die, is that it? You’d inherit a lot of money.”


  Ida breaks free of my grip and draws back her hand. Her palm slaps into my cheek so fast the sound echoes around the room. I feel the sting soaking into my face and flex my jaw. I’m surprised by the force she uses, the strength in her small frame. I look towards her, dumbstruck. She’s never been a violent person. She even used to catch spiders, to release them out the window instead of crushing them.

  “You witch.”

  It’s them. It’s not me saying these words. I would never say that to her. I should be stronger, able to fight them. I regret letting the words out before they’re even uttered, but I can’t withdraw them. I curse, more to the voices than to Ida. She looks at me for a few seconds. Time seems to slow down. Her eyes glitter as if she’s about to cry but she takes a deep breath, drawing herself up to her full height. Snatching her hat from the chest of drawers beside us she turns around, opening the door with a single, angry gesture.

  “I will come back and when I do, you will treat me better.” Her voice is low and menacing. “I don’t care if your entire brain fell out on that battlefield, you will treat me well, Percy. I am not one of your soldiers, waiting for your orders on how to breathe. I am your wife. I did not go through everything I’ve been through for you, to have you speak to me thus.”

  I take a step forward, desperate for her not to go. The ringing is so loud I can’t bear it, the voices scream in my ear.

  “I – I -”

  She is leaving. I can see her through clouded vision pinning her hat to her head. She flinches as a hat pin pricks her skull. I can’t get my words out. I want to say sorry, to tell her how much I love her, to beg her to stay.

  “I – I – I’m sorry,” I blurt out eventually. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ida. I’m so sorry.”

  I keep repeating the words as I sink, trembling, onto the disinfected floor.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  My forehead is pressed against the wood as I sing out my chant.

  “I’m sorry,” I continue, but it’s too late. She’s already gone.

  HOME. HOW BITTERSWEET it is to be back here. The first time I’d crossed the threshold had been in Percy’s arms. It was a few weeks after our wedding, when Percy’s family had finally accepted me as his wife. The house was a belated wedding present. What an extravagant wedding present. As I walk up the steps, the massive gold knocker seems to blink at me from the black door. I take a deep breath and place my finger to the doorbell, listening to it sing through all four stories of the house. The clicking of footsteps gets louder before the door is opened.

  “Mrs Denton, welcome home.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.” I greet the butler and step inside, breathing in the familiar air. “Please tell my driver I’ll be heading back to the hospital shortly.” Without pausing to think, I make my way up to the third floor and into our bedroom. It’s been cleaned and the bed made. I pull my suitcase from the top of the wardrobe. It’s my old suitcase, the one from my former life, so it’s patched up and fraying. It’s been through so much though. I couldn’t bear to throw it away when I moved here.

  I look around the room. The light shines through the window perfectly. Getting to work, I throw in some essentials, grabbing undergarments and stockings at random. On top of these, I place a few of Percy’s clothes, folding his starched shirts beside my carelessly packed things.

  “Let me do that.” It’s Nina.

  “No, no. It’s alright, sweetie. I want to do this myself. I’m sure you understand. Can you – can you make me a pot of tea?”

  “Of course.”

  She curtsies and exits the room. I hate it when she curtsies. I used to hate doing it myself and despise the idea of someone feeling that way towards me. Hearing her humming as she goes off to prepare my tea, I race into the adjoining bathroom, putting together the necessary toiletries for both of us. I don’t have many things for Percy, they’ll be with him already I imagine. I doubt they’ll let him have a shaving kit in any case. The final thing to go in the suitcase is our picture, the one I’ve fallen asleep looking at every day since we moved in. I touch my fingertip to the glass. Caught in his laugh, Percy is ever so slightly blurred, but the image is perfect to me.

  “Where do you want your tea?”

  I jump, dropping the frame into my bag. My heart races and I place a hand on my chest.

  “I – erm, put it on the table by the window. I’ll – I’ll-”

  Words don’t seem able to come out anymore. I bend over the suitcase, trying to catch my breath. I know Nina’s still stood in the doorway and I desperately try to reassemble my composure. I don’t seem able to. My tailored clothes dig into my ribs with each breath I take. I picture Percy’s face, not as it is in the picture, but as it is now. The haunted eyes, the hollow cheeks, the anger, the fear, the sorrow. I want to make it better, to bring back the man he used to be. I want everything to be as it was before, but I can’t make that happen. The realisation cuts me like a knife. This is our life now.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, straightening up. Nina silently places the tea on the table, as requested.

  “I know what it’s like if it helps,” she mutters. “You’re not alone.” She smiles at me with a slightly forlorn expression. She lives in my house, attends to my needs and yet I realise I know next to nothing about her. Of course she has someone at the front. She may have even lost someone. Everyone in the country is going through this. I’ve been so selfish thinking my pain is greater than anyone else’s. I click my suitcase closed and smile back at her. I had planned to take a bath, get changed and perhaps have a small nap but none of that seems important anymore.

  “Thank you.” I truly mean those words. I keep my smile on, my battle armour I suppose, and walk out the room. I’ve forgotten to drink the tea but it’s too late now. My stomach growls in hunger and my skin itches for a wash but I ignore it all. I have to get back to Percy.

  I GET UP off the floor when the doctor lays a hand on my shoulder. I crawl to the bed and heave myself into it. All of a sudden I’m exhausted, more tired than I’ve ever been in my life, although, I know I won’t be able to sleep. I can’t sleep. I’m not allowed. That’s when they come. I stay sitting up so I don’t get tempted to rest.

  “Percival,” the doctor attempts. I ignore him, trying to shut him out completely. I hear him sigh and he turns to leave. “Your wife loves you very much, Lieutenant.”

  I fix my eyes on him, but he only nods his head, touching an imaginary hat as he exits the room. Now alone I cry out in anger, throwing a pillow. It hits the wall with an unsatisfying thump. I scream again, louder this time. It’s good, it wakes me up a little and lets me get out some of the anger festering in my gut.

  There's a wash bowl of now cold water resting on the chest of drawers beneath the window, beside where Ida's hat had been. I splash the water on my face. The shock of it is nice. I look around to check I'm alone before unbuttoning my top. Dropping it to the floor and stepping out of my trousers, I pour the entire bowl of water on my head. It drips off my hair, cascading down my body. I watch as a drop falls down from my shoulder to my groin. I look thin, too thin. I run a hand down my stomach, feeling how it dips inwards. My ribs stand out against my skin. I can’t eat the food they give me here, I can’t risk it. However, it’s stripped me of my physical strength.

  Is that why Ida left?

  Is she no longer attracted to me?

  We never used to be able to keep our hands off each other but she has barely touched me since I've been here. Perhaps that's one of their conditions. Putting my pyjamas back on, not bothering to dry off, I sit in the chair by the door. The cloth of my pyjamas is itchy against my wet skin, but it's nothing compared to the lice in the trenches. I scratch absentmindedly. It's kind of comforting, familiar. This seat is where Ida's guard had sat. I roll up my sleeve and pinch the damp skin. I pinch harder, until the skin is bright red. It's not enough. I want to feel something, feel physical pain instead of the constant pain in my head, that's always hovering just outside rea
lity. I look around the room, trying to find something, anything, to give me that release but there's nothing. Even the wash bowl is unbreakable.

  How long has Ida been gone?

  I want to have her back with me. I can't think of anything but Ida now. In the trenches, there had been distractions, people to command and protect, daily jobs that needed doing. Here there's nothing but staring at a blank wall. I vaguely register my body moving, rocking backwards and forwards in my chair. The chair creaks with the frenzied movement, but I pay it no heed. Instead, I focus on the voices. I want to master them, tell them to stop or learn to ignore them. They still want pain, physical pain. They want it so bad they're screaming. The ringing, companion to the voices, is singing along with them. I put my hands over my ears, pressing so hard I feel as if my head might pop. I hope it will.

  The door opens. I don't look up. It'll be a doctor, a quack in a white coat. I refuse to look...but the steps are light, the clicking of the heels familiar.

  Ida.

  I won't look at her. I don't want to see her eyes. She hates me. I don't want to see hatred in her. She places something heavy on the floor by the wardrobe. I know without looking that it's her suitcase. The frayed battered case she had used to elope with me. Her wedding dress, made herself from a roll of white silk I’d bought her, had been inside it. I'm so tempted to look but I don't. I can see her feet, feel her gaze, and smell her flowery scent as she walks towards me. I keep my eyes on the floor.

  Something is placed in my lap. I jump a little, startled. It's a photo frame. I glance at it. Behind the glass is us. It's a photo we had taken before we were married, on one of our stolen days out - without my mother's permission, of course.