Day 5
It had been a lovely Sunday afternoon walking back from church with the Squires family and the rest of the staff. We followed the cart on foot while the Family rode in the old wagon. The sun had been warm over the fields of corn, and steady old Blackie the carthorse had tossed his great hairy head as if to say he had enjoyed the little outing too.
I do enjoy these little outings, especially since we all work such long hours during the week. Sundays were something for us all to look forward to; a chance to catch up on the village gossip, and meet other young folk as we came out of the churchyard. The Family didn’t used to wait once the vicar had said goodbye, so we didn’t have long to talk to each other, but the other staff were kind enough to find an excuse to be a little late going through the church gate. That was the small amount of time we had to clasp hands and smile at each other.
This Sunday, though, was a little different. He had asked me to meet him after we got back to the Big House. I was not sure that this would be very sensible, as if we were caught, it would be the poorhouse for me and a whipping for him, but finally agreed that I would meet him behind the dairy, after we had skimmed the cream ready for making the butter in the morning. My heart was singing; he did like me...........he had told me so. He said he loved my blue eyes and my long hair. He said he couldn’t wait to kiss me!
On the way back to the Big house, my closest friend, the little kitchen maid, asked why I was so happy, and smiling dreamily to myself. I whispered to her what he had said , and that I had agreed to meet him later that afternoon, after milking..
She was horrified. She told me I shouldn’t meet him, it would be too dangerous, what if the Mistress should come to the dairy to make sure the milk was cooled and that I was skimming the cream properly. What if the kiss led to something more; what if he was leading me on. Everyone knew that the boys from the Farm were bad boys; the Farmer left them to run wild. I shouldn’t be such a fool, she said, you mustn’t meet him; it’s more than your position here is worth. You know the Mistress will send you and your sister away if you do anything wrong, and he is a wrong ‘un., you know he is.
All afternoon, while I was milking, my head against the warm flanks of the house cows, and while I poured the top of the milk into the big copper cooling pans in the dairy, I was thinking, Should I, Shouldn’t I?
The work went on and finally the afternoon came to a close, and the quiet and cool of the dairy became my refuge from my now uneasy thoughts.
I gently skimmed the cream from the now cool milk, and left it to rest on the cold marble slabs of the now shadowy room. Washing my hands and tidying my apron, I made my way back across the yard to the Big House.
Entering the kitchen, I spoke to my young friend. I had decided – I was not going to wait behind the dairy. If he wanted to meet me, then he would have to come to the Big House and get permission to speak to me from the Mistress and the Master. Then he could walk out with me properly, not skulk behind the barn for a quick kiss.
Having made my decision, I sat down with the kitchen staff for our usual Sunday supper of bread and ham, and a cup of good hot tea.
Suddenly there was an almighty commotion out in the yard. Everyone jumped out of their seats, and rushed to the back door. There was the house cow, bellowing , blood coming from her teat, and milk and cream running down the ground from the door to the dairy.
A hoarse shout came from the darkness beyond the dairy - he had taken his revenge for my decision.
*******
Day 5:
I looked over the email once more, my heart in my throat. I knew what I was doing was dangerous. My rejection would make him angry, make the demon rise within him. He was a different man then, a tainted man. Gone was the sweet smiles and kind words that had captured my heart all those months ago; that was the man I loved. Not the monster he had proven to be.
It took so much effort to hit send, my hand feeling as if it is was moving through cement. Slowly, shakily, I raised glass to my lips, emersing myself in the sharp burn that spread down my throat. Even that didn’t settle me tonight.
I couldn’t help but think of him discovering the email, imagining the red that spread across his cheeks, the viscious glint in his eyes as he scrambled for his keys. He would storm through the streets, shouting at passerbys until he reached the entrance to my apartment block. I could hear him pounding at the door even now, threatening to kick it down if I didn’t open it. It was a scene I wasn’t keen to replay.
I wasn’t safe here. Not by myself. The walls I had so painstakingly decorated wouldn’t keep me safe from him, from my mistakes. I knew that when the morning came, with the sun seeping through the curtains onto his sleeping form, I would forgive him.
I always did.
A part of me longed to save him, protect him from whatever it was that seized him, held him captive.
It was impossible and yet, I still tried, time and time again.
The streets were empty as I scurried through. My body was encased in ice, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. This was eternal. It was something a jacket or hot fire couldn’t fix. Nothing could.
It was with half remembered steps that I made my way through the park I had played in as a child. I smiled, a bitter, wistful smile, as I recalled the innocence with which I had dreamt. Dreamt of my Prince Charming, my hero. How well that had turned out.
My hand paused on the ornate knocker that hung from the large oak door that marked the entrance to my parents house. Coming here felt like defeat, like I had failed. I wasn’t even sure why I had come here. I could have turned to any number of friends, who would have been more than willing to offer me their sofa for the night . There were hotels in the area. Why did I come here?
Before I could turn and run as I had all those years ago, however, the decision was taken out of my hands. The door opened to reveal my mother, who’s face was wide in shock at the sigth of me. It had been too long since we had seen each other. Something in my eyes must have given me away cause she smiled at me. It was a shy smile, but a smile none the less.
Something about this pushed me over the ages and I folded myself into her arms as I had all those times before. She rubbed small circles on my back as I sobbed into her shoulder, suddenly overwhelmed. It felt natural. It was as if I was that little girl again, not yet ready to face the world unsupported.
As I lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, which was still the same sickly shade of pink I had chosen all those years ago, I realised why I had chosen that particular oak door to reopen. My family was a long way from being whole again but we were exactly that: a family. It may not hold the glamour I had searched for when I had left without a backward glance but they offered me something I cherished much more. They gave me security; the chance to make mistakes and have them forgiven, an unconditional love I had failed to find elsewhere.
For the first night in weeks, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
It wasn’t until the next morning that I realised the consequences of my actions. All I had done was say no, but he hadn’t been able to handle it. He never could. As the newsreader told the grim story of the young woman choked to death mere streets from my apartment, the ice returned. I knew it was him. I don’t know how, but I did. I could see it when I closed my eyes. His gleeful smile as the life drained from her was forever etched in my brain.
It was his final revenge.
His final legacy.
My eternal guilt.
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