Tears of a Bluebird

Chapter Ten

Chapter 10

"Don’t trail those leaves in—" I began to shout, but as always Master Richard barked at me, putting an instant end to my words.
"Give me one good reason why we should listen to you? Besides maid, it’s only le—ee—aves!" He trailed his legs back and forth, purposely grinding the leaves into the kitchen with the heel of his shoe.
"Well then... You can clean them all up!" I verbalised my words with evident hatred. "I'm sick and tired of it!"
Leaves where everywhere and anywhere . I sighed. I used to like Autumn. I enjoyed taking strolls in the forest that surrounded my home back before I was pregnant. I loved the different shades and tones of the leaves, but I wasn’t too keen on Autumn at Bayside in the Harrington household, because it was me who had to constantly clear the pathway, empty the leaves from the gutter, groom them away from the front and back garden. It was now September twenty-ninth.
Like I said, it was Autumn, and it definitely wasn't how it used to be. Nessa’s seventh birthday was fast approaching, only being four days away. She was thriving with new-found excitement, constantly wondering what was going to happen for her birthday. I felt a little gloomy at first because as far as I could tell… no plans for her birthday were being arranged. Father Harrington slipped to me that he was going to a Parish somewhere up north, visiting Father Baillie and as for Ms. Harrington… I started to wonder if perhaps she had deliberately forgotten about her youngest daughter’s birthday, because she had shown no awareness of it – or even her child, for that matter.

* * *

"It’s ma birthday John! Ma birthday!"
"Your birthday you say?" – gasped the ample butcher, John Ferguson – "And how old are ye gonna be, Miss Vanessa?" His long, white hat bobbed from side to side atop of his messy head.
"Seven!" Nessa mused, her face cherry-red with exhilaration.
"Well then!" John shot me a cheeky smile and a wink, before bending up and straightening his big, bulky back, crying, "This does cause for a celebration! – how about a Jammie Joe for you and Molly there – on me?" He held out some shillings within the hollow of his palm. Nessa, looking at me for approval – which I gave her by winking – carefully took the money from him. Whilst Nessa tried not to explode with happiness, I thanked John and steered Nessa across the cobbled road and we entered the bakers. The baker – Miss Patterson – did not like me. If it weren't for Miss Nessa being with me, I'm certain she would've refused to sell me her goods. It was not unknown that everyone up here was scared of Ms. Harrington...
  I smiled once more as we bought our delicious Jammie Joe’s without complaint. I bought an extra truffle too; the cat Charley liked those.
Laughing and joking with each other, we began walking down the steep hill. Nessa held my hand, as always. When we reached the bottom, a whirl of leaves came striding our way. I had to duck down in order to dodge the rampage of wind and leaves which were striding towards my face. Nessa, however, didn’t duck. She began to jump up and down trying to catch the leaves in her hands.
"The amber ones are so pretty!" Nessa giggled, still whirling about in the air, successfully collecting the leaves. I stared at her, then, like a child, I joined her. I found that I myself was lolling along with her, and that I too was catching the leaves – though I wasn’t going for the amber ones – I was going for the deep cerise ones. The ones that looked burnt.
We continued to laugh right up until the sudden gale of wind ceased and took up towards the hoary clouds which dominated our heads ferociously. Panting, I took Nessa’s hand again. I was holding on to my single, cerise leaf and also the shopping bag, whilst Nessa stuffed her turquoise bodice with umpteen yellow leaves. We'd almost reached the little lane that led to the broken front garden and white gate, when suddenly a voice began to rant from behind.
"Say, Billy! – look oor here!" I could not recognise the doleful voice, but I did, however, remain still, just listening. "That's her all right, look at her... The one old Maggie was talkin' about!"
I didn’t want to turn around. I knew what the outcome of this would be. And so instead I took a deep breath and walked onwards to the house, expecting Nessa to follow. Besides, I saw the matter as a case of sticks and stones. I did not care what anyone had to say about my sin any longer.
"She doesn'y look as filthy as Maggie said, but you can tell she's hud a bairn!"
"Isn't it obvious?"
Lingeringly I turned around only to be confronted by two, red haired strangers. They were both on identical blue bikes, but having stopped to glare at me, and one was slim and had freckles on his long horse-like face; the other plump with a large golf ball nose. At the time I reckoned they were not much older than myself, around eighteen I'd have said.
"You were saying?" I coked an eyebrow, trying to the best of my ability to tame my evident shaking.
"Ah, I wis just sayin' to ma pal Billy here that you're the girl who sinned? They say you're very unwashed..." The horse-faced boy looked me up and down then laughed. "They call you the raccoon chaser!"
I gawked at him, my mouth fell superfluous as I strained my eyes. I hoped that something would come out; an utterance, a garble – anything! But I became speechless, and frightened again.
"You've both got a cheek! She's cleaner than you'll ever be you dirty wee sods!" Nessa barged passed me and began to finger-point each boy in their astonished face. Whatever they were expecting, this was not it. "You, Jack Stratton! Where dae you get aff sayin' Molly's unwashed? From what 'ave seen yer mam doin' in yer back shed with that... uh... sailor or somethin', you can't say nasty things about Molly because Molly's no like yer mam! Molly has – well – she has class, ye see. And looks, too! As fer you, Billy MacKenzie! Don't get me started on you. Wait 'till I tell Richard on you. He tells me stuff about your brothers, and that one of your brothers whistles to the boys instead of the girls – aye! That shocked ye. My big brother says your brother would... would swing backwards for any lad!"
I could tell by her moue lip that she didn't have a clue what Master Richard meant by those remarks but it had stunned both the boys and this made Nessa pleased.
"Cat got yer tongues noo? Nae wunder people avoid ye's in the street... All that dirty business yer dads get up to at night time – don't think we dinny know... Richard says his 'lorry buisness' is a joke an' a scam an' I believe him!"
I reached forward and held on to Nessa's shoulder, whispering that that was enough now and we best go home. She threw my arm away and began to glare more at the boys, panting and heaving like that of a runner.
"I suggest you go get some soap an' wash yerselves before ye start callin' other folk dirty!" Nessa, at long last, turned around; tears pouring down her little face, and began becking me forward imperiously. It wasn't until we were a good bit away when one of the boys found their voice and shouted., "At least we've got a da!"
I thought maybe this comment would hurt her, but she was too angry to let it. Once we had reached the house, I bolted the door and gasped at her.
"You shouldn't have done that, Nessa... Your mother – she'll – she'll kill us both if she caught you talking like that!"
"But Molly!" she groaned. "You shouldn't 'ave to put up with them! You don't deserve it... You don't deserve any ae it!" Her poor little chest fluttered in and out. I bent down to her and wiped her tears away with my handkerchief, then said, "Come here you!" And I brought her close to me and I embraced her. "I'm used too it..."
"Ah know but you shouldn'y be. Richard speaks the damn truth Molly, 'ave seen it with ma own eyes."
"Now, now – don't swear!" I said sternly, letting go of her. It was a strange moment whilst it lasted, for I had almost felt happy – felt the urge to laugh at the whole experience. But then I heard someone banging upstairs. I knew that already the boys were out; I didn't know where Janey was or the father but I knew that it was the mistress upstairs. My smile dropped.
"Girl! Girl get up here – now!" Her high-pitched voice created a deep reverberation within the hollow walls.
Nessa frowned as I placed the shopping on the kitchen table, and gripping at the bottom of my dress, I scampered up the stairs and into the mistress’s bedroom.
"Yes?"
"Don't you dare 'yes' me! You direct me by my title as always.... Now look – look at all this... This water! Why did not you clear away the basin and my other morning essentials like your protocol?"
"I'm sorry, Mistress. I must have forgotten. I'll clean it up this instance, Mistress."
"Oh by God you will!" The mistress glared at me and stalked out of her room – the bottom of her dress already sodden wet – and slammed her bedroom door shut causing the paintings on her wall to shake.
Dutifully I walked over to her wardrobe in the hope that the rag I normally left there to dust was still there. But it wasn't. I debated whether or not to get a fresh one, but then I thought perhaps the mistress had misplaced it – or even I did so – and put it in her drawers. As I opened her white drawer, I told myself how foolish the mistress must have been to topple her basin. For I always left her basin on top of the trunk at the foot of her bed, yet here it was, lying smashed at the other side of the room. It was almost like she done it deliberately. Then again, I told myself, that would not surprise me in the slightest.
I eventually found a cloth, well, it was more of a clean-looking handkerchief. As I picked it up, I unveiled a small black, leather book. I did not pick the book up – I was not that brave – but I read the cover of the book which was embellished with gold, prominent writing. It was the mistresses journal! I had to fight myself to not pick it up and read it; I would never be forgiven for such treason.
Thinking back, if it weren't for the faint sound of the mistresses boots mounting the stairs, I'm quite sure that I would have caved in and picked it up. But fortunately I was prevented from disgracing myself, and I closed the drawer then bent swiftly down and began to sponge up the water and clear away the broken china.
The mistress grimaced at me the entire time whilst I cleared the spillage away. Once I had finished I stood up, carrying the broken pottery, inclined my head to her then left the room.
I never did get to see what was in the book, not until years and years later. Even to this very day I still wish that I never read it, because what I was to find in that little black book infuriated me something awful. At the time the indignation became too much; and not just for me, either.