Hey again everybody! Another oneshot, just while I work tirelessly on the multi-chapter fics! So the backstory behind this one (because you know I love a good backstory!) is simple – in English class we've been To Kill A Mocking Bird by Harper Lee, and though they weren't very important characters at all, I found myself loving the relationship between Miss Maudie and Uncle Jack. It reminded me a lot of USUK, hence this fic. My story is told through the eyes of Elizabeth (Hungary) and her friend Emma-Louise (Belgium). It's fairly old-fashioned because I wanted to stick with the 50's theme! I hope you guys enjoy it, and as always, please read and review if you have the time! Love Lucy xxx
For Meggie,
Who if you turned 'round now, I'd give you a beard. x
A Lark In Winter
I grew up in the small but close-knit community of Bluebird, in the South of America. I moved away not long ago, and it was hard to say goodbye. I had so many memories of that place, ones that shaped me and made me who I am today. It's hard to turn your back on that, but sometimes you gotta spread your wings. On the morning that I planned to leave, I found myself with my whole family and many others that I considered my family, despite our lack of blood relation. Seeing all those familiar faces everywhere brought those childhood memories back, memories of long Summer nights and picnics on the lawn, of sparkling lemonade in fancy pitchers and endless conversations with my neighbours, asking them about anything and everything; I must have driven them half mad but not once did they complain. I just sat back and laughed, remembering all these things, and after a while I found myself remembering someone, someone who probably had no idea how much he had changed my outlook on the world. The man I was remembering was called Mr Arthur Kirkland, and boy, was he a weird one…
To say that Mr Arthur was different to the other residents of Bluebird County was an understatement. He was the cuckoo in our nest, and everybody knew he didn't belong there. The first thing that made you an outcast here was if you weren't born and bred local, and Mr Arthur had flown a long way. He was from across the pond, and still had the accent to prove it. If something was unfamiliar, it was scary and folks around here to a while to get over their concerns. But it seemed that most had decided that Mr Arthur was no threat to them, because while they were still polite to him, they left him well alone.
His house was a secluded one, in fact, it was at the very end of the street. It was a pretty little place, and had an air of grandeur without being overbearing. Someone had clearly put their heart and soul into that place, and Mr Arthur did everything he could to preserve that. I often saw him out on the back porch, or on the veranda, scrubbing down the doorframes and washing the window panes, anything he could to make it that little bit better. I supposed it was because he didn't have much else to do. As far as I knew, or anybody else for that matter, the only reason he ever left the place was to get his groceries, and if he wasn't outside in his yard, he'd be indoors, always alone. I had never seen him with anybody else, excepting those who he passed on the street, because those conversations seldom exceeded a minute or two.
The only other person I knew of who Mr Arthur would engage in discussion with was the Mayor, a Mr Alfred Jones, and I'd heard that they went way back. Every time I heard them speak however, it was an exact carbon copy of the same discussion. The Mayor would pass his little house, and see him sitting out on the porch and call out to him, a most peculiar request. Mr Alfred would yell at him, practically begging, for his hand in marriage. It made no sense to any of us, but we never questioned the Mayor. Partly because we respected him, at least, we must have done because we re-elected him every year, but I think mostly because we became accustomed to this unusual exchange. So he would shout out for Mr Arthur to come marry him, every time he walked past, and Mr Arthur would always reply in the exact same way: "Call a little louder, Alfred Jones, and they'll hear you at the post office, I haven't heard you yet!" And it must have meant something to them, although it never made sense to me, because they always parted the same way - Mayor Jones would laugh loudly and carry on down the street, while Mr Arthur retained his previous expression of teasing indignation, though one time I thought I saw a small smile flicker across his lips.
When I first started to notice that strange dynamic between the two, I was twelve years old. I still didn't know much about the world, but what I knew was enough. Enough to get me by, and though I didn't like to brag about it, it was a lot more than the other people my age knew. I was still a child, but I didn't feel like one, not until events pointed that out to me. It's oddly humbling being proved wrong, sometimes it is, but it never feels like it at the time. It was at this time that I began to get much closer to a girl who lived near to me, one Emma-Louise Mogens, a pretty thing, with big green eyes and short blonde hair that she kept pushed back with the security afforded by a pearly ribbon that more often or not was matched to her dress.
Despite her prim and dainty appearance, Emma-Louise could rough it with the best of them, which was one of the many things I liked about her. It was at that age that my male cousins, who I was incredibly close with prior, began to reject my offers to come play skits with them. They began to look down on my performances that they once admired, calling me a 'g-irl' and refusing to let me join them, just 'cause I had more sensibilities than they did. Girls grew up fast, something boys took a while to understand, but we still wanted to have fun, same as a few years ago. With Emma-Louise, I could enjoy the freedom of getting covered in mud in the yard, then sit down for a pleasant chat about the books we were reading that week.
Emma-Louise and I had observed the somewhat situational comedy between Mayor Jones and Mr Arthur with a curiosity unspoken, at least to anyone other than each other. We were determined to find out whether their relationship really was that which we speculated, or whether this recurring conversation was just that - an inside joke, like those we shared in the schoolyard over a homemade rock cake.
We began to frequent a make-shift "camp" that we called our 'base', though looking back it really was nothing of the sort. Emma-Louise had been orphaned long ago, so long in fact that she had forgotten with little discomfort, and she lived with an aunt of hers, a Miss Charlotte, and her husband Mr Timothy. Miss Charlotte was well-liked in Bluebird because she went out of her way to be kind to people, and a quality like that never goes overlooked, even by those who appear to dislike you. Miss Charlotte's house was situated opposite Mr Arthur's, such that we could sit comfortably on her perfect lawn, and watch Mr Arthur's house like hawks, or rather their chicks. Our meets there didn't have much purpose because we weren't even sure what we were looking for, but it gave us something to do when school was out.
I'll always remember something Miss Charlotte said to us one afternoon, seeing us at our haunt once more. She asked us what it was we were always doing out here, to which we had no reason to lie, so we told her that we were watching Mr Arthur's place, because we wanted to know more about him. Most adults would tell us not to pry, and to run on in, but not Miss Charlotte. She could be firm and mature when she needed to be but she was a child at heart - she never told on us kids when we did things wrong, and she always understood where we were coming from. It was a shame that she couldn't have children of her own because I just knew she'd be a great mother, and that's what she was to Emma-Louise, I knew. When faced with our honest response, she simply laughed, and she said that she understood our curiosity. "The things that happen to people we never really know." she said, "What happens in houses behind closed doors, what secrets."
Knowing how we did, that our activities weren't forbidden, Emma-Louise and I spent a good portion of our days on that grass facing Mr Arthur's place, and one day our efforts paid off. Mayor Jones came down the road, and began to scale the steps up to Mr Arthur's front door. The man behind the threshold opened it and invited him in. In all the time we had spent watching Mr Arthur's house, this was the only time we had ever seen anyone but him enter it.
I snatched up Emma-Louise's hand excitedly, both of us recognising the potential fruit of our labours. We tentatively approached Mr Arthur's house, silently shutting the gate and walking further from Miss Charlotte's house. I forget which one of us shut the latch and which of us watched the house but it all fell into place as if we had planned it.
We resumed our military operations, stalking closer to the lot. I hopped over the fence to the yard easily, before helping over Emma-Louise, who was a good head shorter than I and not as strong.
Positioning ourselves at the window at the front of the house was not a good idea - if Miss Charlotte were to see us we'd be fine, but we didn't know what any of the other residents would think of our shenanigans. And so we went around the house to where we knew there to be a screen door that at the right angle could give us a good view of nearly every room in the lower floor. Sure enough, we made the right choice. None of our neighbours would be able to see us, and we were able to look straight in on Mr Arthur and his house guest. It was then that we saw it - something that both confirmed our suspicions, and lead to the conception of many new questions. They were having a conversation, that much we could see, but we couldn't make out any words, before Mayor Jones leant over and kissed Mr Arthur straight on the lips. We certainly hadn't seen any other male folks do that, and while we had heard rumours about couples like this, we'd never met any.
I'm not sure how we were feeling at that moment, but I think that this was when the pangs of honour began to rise in our chest, and we reluctantly tore our gaze from the scene in front of us and left Mr Arthur's yard, careful to bolt the gate properly, both so that he couldn't guess at what we'd been up to, and also to keep up the polished appearance that he gave to the place. We half-walked, half-ran back to my home, a few doors down, where we found my mother and Miss Charlotte, deep in mutual thought.
They snapped out of whatever they were doing as we arrived. "Elizabeth?" My mother questioned, "Emma-Louise? Are you girls alright?"
"Yes ma'am," I assured her, "but you wouldn't believe what we just saw!"
Our discovery seemed to worry, or at least bewilder, them and both gestured for us to elaborate.
"Elizabeth and I just saw Mayor Jones and Mr Arthur kissin'!"
"Yessum!" I chipped in.
A look passed between my mother's eyes and Miss Charlotte's then, a look that neither myself nor Emma-Louise understood, but we knew that they did, before my mother took me by the hand and pulled me aside.
"Hush now child, come here!" she whispered.
"But why momma-" I protested.
"You don't tell nobody what you saw today, y'hear?" Soon we were heading home, without exchanging goodbyes with Miss Charlotte, that's how I knew this conversation would be important. I also knew that Miss Charlotte would be having a similar one with Emma-Louise right now.
Still I was confused, "I don't understand?"
"And it would be wrong to expect you to, I suppose. But the sooner you learn, the better… You and I are more accepting than most, so-"
I felt the need to defend my neighbours, "But the folks of Bluebird are good people, momma!"
"Yes, they surely are." She nodded, "But the world don't begin and end with Bluebird!" We'd reached our door now, and both sat down on the steps to continue our frank exchange. "And while we see nothing wrong with how Mayor Jones and Mr Arthur feel about each other, other people ain't gonna see things the same way. They'll see it as wrong, as unclean." I knew then that she was referring to the kiss, and I understood now what she was getting at, and bitterly resented it.
"That ain't fair, though! That ain't fair momma!" I cried out against this harsh truth.
"I know, little ma'am. It ain't fair one bit. But that's the way the world is, and I can only pray that it gets better." She smiled sadly, looking down at her shoes.
"So does everybody know then, momma?" I asked, "About Mr Arthur and Mayor Jones?"
"Sometimes I think they do. But no one ever says nothin'. You gotta hand it to them, the folks of Bluebird keep the cage door shut. I don't know why, maybe they think it'd cause them trouble were the birds to fly away, but mostly I think it's 'cause they're happier to sit and hear them sing."
It was then that I realised that I was wrong about Mr Arthur. He wasn't a cuckoo, far from it. The people of Bluebird cared about him, loved him even, I had just never noticed. He'd never been allowed to sing, and they were doing their best to let him. He wasn't a cuckoo, he was a lark - a lark in Winter, waiting for the Spring.
"I get it momma. I won't say nothin'. Besides, I've heard Mr Arthur sing, and despite what anybody says, I think it's beautiful."
"I do too, sweetheart. I do too." She placed a kiss on the top of my forehead.
Us folks of Bluebird County lived out our lives guarding that little secret, and I like to think that we did some good by it. We didn't need no thank you, and we never got one. Mayor Jones still held the belief that their antics went unnoticed, but I think that Mr Arthur, the more realistic of the pair, knew the truth, but he was too proper and self-conscious to address the situation. But they were happy, and that was all that mattered.
I learnt a lot about love from my years in Bluebird - Mr Arthur and Mayor Jones taught me that it was unconditional, my parents taught me that it was everlasting, my neighbours taught me that it was worth protecting, and Emma-Louise... Well, she taught me that I found it long ago. Leaving Bluebird was tough, but I knew when it was time to leave the nest. I flew far far away, with the promise that I'd be back again for the Spring.