The Whipping Tree

II: Jonquil and Carmine

II
Jonquil and Carmine
Several Years Ago

         “Are you leaving for certain?” asks an eleven-year-old Joan.

         “Yes. Mummy and Daddy said tomorrow,” Maud replies.

         “Are you finished packing, then?”

         “No. The servants will take care of everything for me.”

         Joan fiddles absently with one of the pillows on the sofa. The tassels on the corners are especially adept at gathering dust, and it makes her sneeze whenever someone rests against one. She does so presently and rubs her eyes.

         “You will come back and visit, won’t you?” she asks.

         “If I can.” Maud shrugs her bony little shoulders and gazes out the large sitting room window.

         Joan can’t quite explain it, but she feels her cousin slipping away already, and it frightens her more than she feels comfortable admitting.

         She hasn’t even gone out the door yet.

         “Well…Do you want to do something? Visit the market with Vera? Sit outside? We have some pie left. Lingum, your favourite.” She racks her brain for more things they can do together before Maud moves away.

         “No, thank you,” Maud answers politely.

         “Then…What do you want to do?” She clasps her hands in her lap and prepares to wait for as long as it takes.

         “Oh, Joaneveive.” Maud smiles indulgently at her before turning to face the window again. “I want to just…sit, and think.”

         Think?

         “Okay then.”

         They are noiseless for a heartbeat before Joan breaks it.

         “What are you thinking of?” she asks.

         “My future.”

         Joan grins and waits for her to say she is merely making a joke, but she says no such thing.

         “Well all right. But why don’t we—?”

         “I must be going.” Maud hops off the sofa and smooths her dress. “Many things to be done, and very little time to do them.” She titters and Joan finds the noise very unlike her.

         But she dwells on the thought some more and corrects herself.

         No. No, that isn’t unlike her.

         Ever since her departure was announced, Maud had been growing more and more distant. It had something to do with her uncle passing and some large piece of land, though Joan could not understand how a grass field had enough appeal to make Maud’s parents want to leave Brevinham.

         “Okay. I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Joan gets up to accompany her to the door.

         “If you want. Farewell.” She waves airily and drifts down the busy road.

         Farewell?

         Joan watches from the empty hallway of her aunt and uncle’s house. Most of their belongings are piled onto a row of wagons pulled by horses irritated at the beating sun, and a carriage awaits the three-person family.

         “I wish you a safe trip,” Lord Ailemer says, laying a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder.

         “Send word of your arrival when you can,” adds Lady Ailemer.

         “Of course.” The two brothers shake hands, and the women kiss each other lightly on the cheek.

         Maud is nowhere in sight, and Joan is on the verge of asking where she is when the girl appears at the top of the stairs. Joan notices how her travelling cloak lays open, framing the criss-cross of the bodice straps reeling her stomach in.

         “Come, Maud. We must leave soon if we want to reach Polt before nightfall.”

         “Yes, Father,” she answers. She barely sweeps her gaze over Joan. “Aunty and Uncle Ailemer. I hope you will visit us once we settle in.”

         Joan blinks back surprise and taps her cousin on the shoulder. “See you soon, Maud. I hope you have a safe journey.” She stretches her arms out for an embrace but is met with a sticky kiss on the cheek. She smells the paste and knows without asking that Maud applied some Lingum berry concoction to her lips, the vibrant colour of the fruit painting her mouth an unnatural pink.

         Joan stands with her parents to wave to her cousin and aunt and uncle as they grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

         When the carriage and the small train of wagons measures no bigger than Joan’s finger, she wipes the Lingum berry paste from her cheek.

         Her chest feels as empty as Maud’s missing embrace, and the house behind her is a void.

         She touches her mother’s arm and asks if they can go home. While her parents think it’s because it has started to rain and the streets become irritatingly muddy to walk through, it is the thought of how frighteningly quick change can take place that makes her want to leave the echoing house.

         When they leave, she makes sure to hold on tightly to both her parents’ hands. With them she finds permanence, consistency. She truly believes then, and for several years after as well, that her home is the one place she can be sure of.

(**A/N: Wooo. Okay. Getting into the zone here. I've given myself a month to finish this novel! Expect me to say it's done around the...fifth of August? Sometime around there. And yup, this chapter takes place during the summer!

As always, drop me a comment :D Love hearing what you guys think. Pmuah!)