Beauty
“Beauty! Beauty! Wake up!” Hob was kneeling on the side of the bed, shaking me and bouncing up and down.
“What is it?” I mumbled into the pillow. She rolled me over with a firm push and grabbed my shoulders and shook me.
“Wake up properly and I’ll tell you!” she said.
“I am awake,” I said, with a little more dignity this time.
“Sit up then,” she demanded. I did, and pushed my hair out of my face so I could see her properly. She seemed to be bursting with excitement.
“Has something happened?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” she said. “You’re going home!” I gaped at her stupidly. “You do want to go home, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, of course I do!” I said. “But how? Why? Is he letting me go? When?”
“Today,” Hob said. “This morning, in fact. You should get up.”
I bounced out of bed on the instant, flinging on the first clothes I found in the wardrobe, and all the time peltering her with questions, which she did not answer satisfactorily. When I had finished I turned to look at her, and found her sitting in the window, looking out at the forest. “Is it because I asked him to see our family?” I asked.
“In a way,” she said.
“Hob, what is going on?” I asked.
She turned to face me, and bit her lip. “I saw our father,” she said. “He isn’t well.”
“Hob!” I exclaimed. “We must hurry!”
“No,” she said, almost as if she was arguing with herself. “That won’t do.”
“Hob, will you please explain all of this to me,” I said. The first euphoria of going home had worn off, and I now saw that she was looking expressionless, a sure sign of evasiveness. “What are you hiding from me?”
“Father has been ill ever since you left,” she said, all in a rush.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I gasped out.
“You were ill yourself,” she prevaricated.
“I am well now,” I said.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” she said. “You have had enough to bear since you came here without worrying over things you could do nothing to help.”
“Did you not think that I could cope?” I asked, hurt. “Do you always have to try and take everything on yourself, as though I was completely useless?”
You are my sister. My little sister. I love you – why shouldn’t I try to protect you?” she said.
“I am not a fool, and I am not weak,” I said. “Tell me the truth for once, and trust me to make my own decisions. Or will you tell me that seeing as my own decisions led us both here, I should never try to make any more?”
“Never,” she said. “Your decisions are your own.”
“Then let me make them,” I said. “Don’t you understand? You have so much freedom of your own – I only want a little piece of it. And how can I do right if you won’t let me know what I should?”
“You can’t. I’m sorry,” she offered. “You’ve grown. I should have seen that.”
“I think you did,” I said. “And I forgive you. But please, don’t hide anything else from me.”
“I promise,” she said, taking my hands. I looked into her eyes, trying to see if she meant it. She squeezed my fingers. “I do mean it. I promise to you that I will not lie to you again.”
