Anna In The Garden

21

21

Days, once again, crept and merged together. The morning routine. The afternoon studies. Time to herself. Retreating to the haven of her bedroom where nothing could ever hurt her. A peaceful, sanguine routine that never changed. Nothing ever exciting happening.

She continued to gaze through the window, legs tucked beneath her, hoping and praying for Mother and Father to return, if only to put an end to the interminable drudgery of day-to-day life. Each day, she would stare out towards the gates of the garden. Each day, her heart would tumble and fall as darkness would come to intrude upon her vigil.

For the first time in such a long time, Nursey decided to take Anna to the folly that sat upon the tree covered hill. With shoes unsuited for the trip, Anna forged her way through the deep drifts of snow, fur edged hat covering her ears, holding back the prickling bite of the cold. Mittens, forced upon little hands, cramping fingers into the very depths of the material.

Upon reaching the tower, its iron walkway, at the top, circling around and around the folly, high above, Nursey brushed snow from the panorama seat and dropped her ample backside down, allowing Anna free rein to explore.

Anna tested the door and, as she believed it would, found it locked. She never saw the inside of the folly, unless Father brought her. His hand upon her shoulder, pointing out into the distance, beyond the garden. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken the winding, aged stairs to the top.

A strange feeling washed over her. A feeling resembling deja-vu, the thought that she had experienced this very moment before. Dismissing it, she giggled as she kicked snow from her shoes against the high, curving walls of the tower. The feeling, however, remained. It itched and tickled inside her head.

As her giggling subsided, her head snapped to the side. For a moment, a single sliver of time, she expected to see something there. Or someone. Of course, minds played tricks and her mind could imagine many things. This did not feel the same as a flight of fancy. It felt as though she had missed something. Something quite important.

With her mitten covered hand trailing along the brick work of the folly, she followed the curve around, leaning out, as though she could see something around the bend. With careful steps, she circumnavigated the folly, returning, after a while, back to the front.

Once again, she tried to open the door, foiled by the old, large lock. She frowned. For some unknown reason, that did not seem right. A fleeting though told her the door should be open. Not by her hands, but by some unseen figure. A figure that she could chase all the way to the top of the folly and then back down again.

She had heard, from Father and from reading books within the confines of the extensive library at the house, that some people, after suffering from loss of limbs during war, often felt those very same limbs. Their hands, or arms, or legs were no longer attached, yet these poor people could feel them as well as they could feel their remaining appendages.

That was the feeling she had, here at the folly. As though something had excised a memory from her and now she felt the ghost of it and also a deep, heavy-hearted sense of loss. And fear. Why she felt afraid, Anna could not imagine. She was safe. She was always safe, close to the loving arms of Nursey. Safe behind the high walls and sturdy gates of the garden.

Nursey sat upon the panorama seat, hands folded into her lap and Anna felt that fear once again. She could not explain it. The feeling came upon Anna in a wholly irrational manner. Nursey would never hurt Anna. She knew this. Yes, perhaps, once or twice, due to Anna's tendency to find trouble in practically every situation, Nursey may have resorted to corporal punishment, but Nursey would never hurt Anna.