Timothy Griffin never felt like luck was in his favour. At the age of eight, his parents died in a fire and he went to live with his great-uncle John Griffin, a retired doctor who had no way with children. But just when he managed to become fond of...
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“Come on, children! 1, 2, 3 and...”
Mrs. Parsons sank her fingers into the piano and all the children began to sing at once. She played each note softly, and had Tim closed his eyes, he might have been able to ignore the out-of-tune voices of the ones next to him and just hear the sound of the instrument, but as he didn't know the words, he had to pay attention to the paper.
A little bird was sitting outside the window, it looked like it was watching them sing, but it didn't stay for long and soon took off, flapping its wings against the weak late afternoon breeze. And to be honest, Tim didn't blame him for that.
Like any other weekend, that Sunday had passed slowly, perhaps even slower than he was used to.
After lunch, Mrs. Parsons summoned all the children to help clean the orphanage. She gave them mops, cloths, brooms, dusters and each one went to a corner of the house to do the work, and although that was a surprise for him, he could clearly see that this was something natural for them.
Once a month they did a general cleaning of the house, and as they only had Mrs. Parsons as a caretaker and the house was too big for her to take care of alone, the children also had to help with some chores.
The younger ones were left with simple tasks such as mopping the furniture, while the olders swept the floor, mopped and also took care of cleaning the windows. This last one ended up being Tim’s doing.
He had no idea how many windows there were in the house, and after a while he was no longer even thinking about what he was doing, his movements of moving the cloth up and down and in circles had become almost involuntary, he didn’t know if he was making it right.
His mind was no longer thinking about the chores, it was outside. He looked at the sun shining on the grass in the garden, imagining how everything out there could be so colourful and vibrant. He had just lost an uncle, how could the world just move on so quickly?
He looked at the neighboring houses through the second floor window, imagining what kind of families lived there and what they were doing at that hour; and he looked at the front gate remembering when he got there the day before, wondering when was going to be the last time he would get through them and out of there for good.
Tim had passed by the music room earlier that day while he was cleaning the windows, it had never crossed his mind that there would be something like a music room in that place. There were small violins leaning against the wall on the living room floor, a white dresser where flutes were stored in the first drawer, and in the corner of the wall, a large black piano rested.
It was the place that took him the longest to clean. Whenever everything seemed to be all shiny, he would find some dirt that was difficult to clean just so he would not have to go to another room. He would occasionally sit on the bench in front of the piano, open the keyboard cover and pretend to play some song in his head, being careful not to touch the keys or make any noise.
After the cleaning was over, everyone went to the music room, where, just like every Sunday, they sang a praise song for the Lord.
This wasn’t exactly what Tim expected, he thought they would play the instruments, but they only used them sometimes, in most of the music classes they had, they only sang while Mrs. Parsons played the piano, and they were always praising songs, at least so was what Norman had told him.
But the singing didn’t last for long, they sang about three songs and everyone was allowed to play in the garden. Leaves fell from the trees and scattered across the grass, and from where he stood he could see the washing line swaying constantly, it was an unusual wind for a May afternoon, but it wasn’t cold enough to keep the children indoors.
Tim looked just as a bee landed in a pot of petunias on the porch, taking off shortly afterwards. The garden was full of flowers like this, with more colours than he could count. It was almost as if one had placed Vivaldi's Spring music in a landscape, this was how he imagined the spring in the song would be like in real life.
It was difficult to know where the garden ended, the closest house he could see from there was a good few meters away. There could be another one further behind the residence, but it was difficult to tell with so many trees blocking the view. Tim could easily get lost in that forest.
The lads were gathered in the tree house. Stephen held a bag of marbles in his hands, Charlie and Edmond sat with him in a circle outside the little house and began to play. On the swings, Sally and Anne played pushing each other and Beatrice lightly pushed her doll on the swing next to her while Peter and Madeleine observed her closely.
Tim didn’t know which way to go. He thought about getting together with the boys and playing marbles, but it didn’t seem like they needed anyone else, he wasn’t sure if it was good to intrude. The girls were also doing very well playing alone, they probably would not appreciate having a boy in between.
“Aren’t you going to play with them up there?” nudged Norman suddenly appearing behind him.
“I don’t know, are you?”
“I… don’t think so. I like marbles, but not that much, I’d rather play games that need to move, you know? Like football.”
“I see” he said. That seemed to be Norman’s style, he seemed like one of those electric kids who love to run around. Tim wasn’t much of a runner though.
“Hey, do you want to see something?” Norman spoke again.
“Like what?”
“Come, I’ll show you, it is deeper in the garden” he covered his mouth with his hand as if telling something very secretful. “It is something great, I promise, but don’t tell anyone about it, okay?”
“All right,” he hesitated when answering.
Tim followed him to where he was pointing, wondering about what on earth that boy wanted to show him. Maybe he wanted to play some prank on him, so he thought about refusing, but curiosity got the better of him.
And besides, Norman seemed too innocent to think about something like that. Charlie seemed to be more the type to play pranks; if he had been the one to call him, he would have thought very differently.
The grass, which had previously been perfectly trimmed, now almost reached his knees. They had gone down the hill and now they could only see the second floor of the house from where they were.
Norman stopped a few steps in front of him where there was a huge wall made of bushes, which were also a little poorly trimmed. The wall was long and doubled on both sides, in the corner there was a narrow passage.
“It’s a labirinth,” said Norman. “Mrs. Parsons doesn’t really like us coming here, she wants us to always stay close to the house where she can see us, but I come here from time to time.”
“Why do you come here then?”
“I don’t know, it’s nice around here” Norman replied without elaborating. “I don’t know why it is so much of an issue.”
“It is weird to have a labirinth here.”
“I think so too” he laughed. “but that must have been Mrs. Parsons’s husband’s doing, they used to live here before it was turned into an orphanage. Still, I don’t know how she agreed to it, Mrs. Parsons was never that extravagant.”
Tim thought about asking where her husband was now, but the answer was obvious. Mrs. Parsons was already an old lady, she appeared to be the same age as his uncle when he died, perhaps even older, her husband would most likely have already passed. This must have left her very alone, he thought, maybe that’s why she decided to open an orphanage.
They entered the passage and made their way through the bushes. It was high enough for Tim not to see anything, the top of his head could reach up if he jumped, but he still couldn’t see anything beyond the leaves. An adult would be able to look over it easily, however, he bet Stephen could do it if he was there. Not the same thing could be said for Mrs. Parsons, she was the same height as a thirteen-year-old boy.
There were many paths that had no exit, which made Tim question how big that labirinth was, from the outside it seemed much smaller.
He felt like they had already tried them all, but he still went back the first path, just to see if he had missed anything, and there it was: a passage at the very end of the corridor, he had not noticed the first time.
He ran there and tried to see where it would go, it seemed like it was a different path than the one they had tried.
“Hey, Norman, come here, I think it is here!”
“Where?” he heard the boy’s voice somewhere behind him.
“Wait, I’ll be back, do not move!”
He turned along the path he had just passed, finding two more passages. He was sure he had just come from the left and so he followed that way, but when he arrived at the place where they were before, Norman had already left.
“Where are you now?” he screamed.
“Here, follow my voice.” His voice seemed lower than when he heard it last time.
“I think I’ll lose my way if I try to find you,” he shouted, and then a question came into his head. “Hey, didn’t you come here other times? Can’t you remember which way to go?”
“Yeah, but you see, I’m not very good at memorizing things,” the voice replied. Tim let out a weak laugh. “Never mind then, continue on without me, I’ll go later, I just need some time to remember.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, you can go!”
Tim ran to where he was and followed the path. He turned left: no way out, then right, left, then right again: no way out. As he turned the last left, he saw what looked like the trunk of a pine tree at the end of the hallway.
“I found the exit!” he shouted.
“Nice, now just wait a bit, I think I can manage!”
Norman’s voice was closer, but not close enough, he wasn’t getting there yet. Tim then decided to sit on a tree stump that was further into the forest, where he could clearly see where Norman would come out.
He had barely sat down when he heard a strange whistling. He looked around, but didn’t see anyone, he imagined it was the sound of a bird and left it alone.
After a few seconds, he heard the sound of dry leaves breaking, footsteps coming close to him. His first instinct was to get up and look around, but he didn’t see anything. Instead, he heard someone singing:
“Daisy, daisy
Give me your answer, do.
I’m half crazy
All for the love of you.”
It was a girl. She was kneeling on the ground, singing while picking some daisies near the bushes.
Her voice was sweet and thin, he had never heard that song being sung so well in a female voice. Her back was turned to him, he could only see the back of her blue dress and her blonde hair.
She was no orphanage child; in fact, he had never seen her before.
“Hello.”
He tried to get her attention, but the girl didn’t respond, she might not have heard him. He came closer.
“Hello, you right there!”
She turned to him, her eyes widened, his calling had made her jump in fright. She got up and ran away, which certainly wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, he didn’t know he had spoken so loudly.
“Hey, wait!”
He followed her through the trees until she stopped halfway and turned to him, looking like she had given up on running.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said, his voice a little breathless. “I heard you singing, you sing very well.”
The girl remained motionless, looking at him in shock. Tim cleared his throat.
“What were you doing?”
She looked at him for a few seconds, until she said:
“I was just picking up some flowers.” Her expression changed, now she was smiling, the daisy twirling between her fingers. “This garden has very beautiful flowers in spring, daisies are my favorite. They are simple and small, but there is a certain beauty to them. That’s what makes them so cute.”
Her blue eyes turned to him. Now that he could see her better, Tim noticed a small daisy stuck behind her ear.
The girl was almost the same size as him, the blue dress she wore was a little shabby, its edges were with dirt, and when he looked at her feet, he saw that she was barefoot.
“You are not from the orphanage, are you?”
She denied with her head.
“But don’t tell anyone you saw me, please” she begged. Her face seemed to be made of porcelain, which would break if he decided not to do what she asked.
“All right. In fact, I should not be here either.” He paused. “My name is Timothy, what about yours?”
“Tim!” He looked back when Norman called out to him, his footsteps were approaching.
“I am here!”
“It took a little while, but I did it,” said Norman. He looked to where Tim was looking previously. “Who were you talking to?”
He turned thinking that she didn’t have enough time to hide, but there was no one there anymore, just trees and the daisies on the ground. She had already run away from there.
Tim thought for a moment, maybe it would be best not to say it.
“No one, just talking to myself.”
“Do you talk to yourself?”
“Sometimes,” he replied. “I like talking to myself.”
Tim looked at the flowers again. Where had she gone? He never saw a girl run that fast, or maybe she was already hidden somewhere, but he didn’t know where.
Norman giggled.
“You are weird.”
“That means I am starting to fit in then.” Norman laughed, which made him laugh too, and the two of them went back up to the orphanage together.
