Sweet Satisfaction (Purple UGC Winner 2014)

Sweet Satisfaction - Sixty-Eight

Sixty-Eight

Brighton, Sussex, England

Bare trees stood against a bleak watercolour sky. The hue of the grass had faded; every sharp blade was all one sludge now. The starlings had ceased their singing during their murmerating. Apart from the cry of the wind, everything was silent.

My home now felt lonely, cavernous and cold; it was strange to have returned after three months away. The fluffy white carpets seemed stiff, the loud tick of the grandfather clock ominous. Maddy Jack and Steven’s disappearances accounted for the layers of dust that obscured the house.

I had wondered if Father would be home to greet us and if he was still as angry at me for attending Joseph Vitner’s funeral as I was at him for raping Mother and Susanna. I longed to see Susanna and Bobby, to know that they were alright, as well as his sister Eliza, coping with her baby by herself, even though they had hurt me so deeply that my heart twisted at the thought of them, even now.

Emma was promoted to the position of housekeeper, which included cooking, as her culinary skills were sublime, although most days Mary and I would help out, stirring soup here and there, while Mother sat in a chair listening to the radio. We had fun, the four of us, and it was completely forgotten that Emma wasn’t one of us. The war was breaking down the barriers of social class- stories of Right Honourables running off with pages and parlour maids were reported monthly.

However, both Emma and Mother looked permanently exhausted. Mother stayed in a loose white shift all day, clutching her stomach and shuffling about in her slippers. She would doze by the fireplace, listening to Mary and I take turns playing the piano.

A letter had been waiting for me when we arrived home, from John. He had gone to the Isle of Wight with his parents to see his cousins, who had recently lost their son on the western front at the Battle of Loos, and he would not be returning until next week. I felt terrible for him and I replied immediately with my condolences to his cousins, even though I felt a little abandoned, the connection we had built over the summer seemingly fading. Why should my father return home and be knighted, the evil man he was, when John’s poor cousin couldn’t even have a proper funeral? His body hadn’t been found. The war was coming close to home again, and had given us a scare.

And every single day, my guilty conscience tore at my emotions. How could I have slapped Mary, my own sister, with such venom? How could I have let my four friends in Reaurez hang? What if I was hanged for killing Ludmilla?

All these worries whirled around in my head, preying on my vulnerability, until I felt as sick and weary as Mother with her big belly. I was somewhat quite excited at the prospect of having a new sibling, but rather apprehensive. Would I hate them? Would Mother prefer them over me? If it was a boy, would Father give my inheritance to him, the inheritance that should’ve been Benjamin’s? I still had not asked Mother about his death; I did not want to upset her while she was with child.

“Elsie.” I looked up. Mary. My other sibling, the one with the black and blue face because of me. I swallowed, looking at the floor.

“Father’s home.”

*****

Every single step I took down the stairs seemed to last for eternity. With shaking hands, I smoothed down my skirts as we entered the parlour. Father spun around on his heel to face us. I refrained myself from gasping.

One arm was in a tattered sling, his nose seemed crooked, and a jagged line of stitches ran down his forehead and onto his cheek. I did not feel one bit sorry for him, the vengeful-seeking girl I was, as he was stripped of his pride and dignity.

“Elsie, is that honestly you? Whatever have you done to your hair? At least Mary is following the fashion, although she looks like she’s been picking fights with scullery maids.” We both flinched, a slap in our faces, after three months apart, three months since he fled, after hurting those dearest to me. And here he was, criticizing our appearance, when John’s cousin had died, fighting for his country gallantly. What had Father done to earn his knighthood? Shot a few more men? My jaw tightened.

I glanced at Mother sitting powerless in her chair, fingers gripping the arms. She was scared of Father, and what he might do next.