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4. Of Birthdays and Secrets
Life after my confession was perfect.
Outside of school, now completely undisturbed by one Prunella Trunchball, I was able to spend my time freely with my carers. Nanny Anne kept me in the kitchen as often as she could, teaching me the wondrous secrets to her recipes and, most importantly, how to brew the perfect cuppa. The first time I removed the teabag without her reminding me, she squealed up until the point she was almost crying, ignoring the fact that my milk to water ratio was vastly off.
Bill was far more relaxed in that he allowed me to roam the village with Jimmy whenever I was supposed to be minding the paper shop with him. "Business is slow", he would say in response to my questioning gaze, "your soul's far too energetic and wild to be locked up inside with an old bear."
Not once did I complain.
I had not seen George in the time that followed my confession, but I was too full of this new unfamiliar joy to care. I was relishing in the feel of warm tingles when surrounded by my new family and friends. Zoe and Nate occupied a lot of my time, they even ventured spending many afternoons in my home. They grew so close to Nanny Anne and Bill that they became like a pair of surrogate children to them, coming in whenever they pleased and exchanging pleasantries (Zoe's greeting to Bill always went along the lines of, "Hello there grizzly ol' bear, nice to see you haven't mauled Ella dearest yet.").
But, as every child does, I only focused on the sunny side and did not once dwell on the darkness. Because everyone knows, perfection never lasts long, if ever at all; we merely mask the horrors and shroud it in bright colours and glitter.
But a colourful monster does not remove its evil.
Nanny Anne's health was deteriorating by the day. She could barely stand for ten minutes – maybe less – before succumbing to a heavy coughing fit. Her physical health was also failing. She needed aid in a lot of areas she never needed before. Hanging the washing was no longer an option for her; the stretching to peg the clothes on the line hurt her ribs. Bill's pestering was wearing her thin, her constant need for independence in the domestic chores were being hounded upon and she did not appreciate it.
My nightmares returned in full force, the ones that haunted my days before being taken in by Nanny Anne and Bill. In these nightmares I was always trapped in a dark corner, surrounded by the sinister laugh I had encountered once before. It was imbedded in my mind, never to be forgotten, as if one day it would return and I would recognise it instantly, the laugh beckoning me over despite the chills it triggered down my spine. But I never could put a face to the laugh. I had never seen the man behind the laugh, so my mind, instead, drowned me in darkness. Why not brightness? When I was in such harmony myself, why couldn't my mind reflect this in my sleep? It was if my subconscious was reminding me of my origin.
Evenings were spent questioning each other on our pasts. That night was never directly mentioned, we always skirted around it. I did not have much to say, and when I could, I barely did. It was not as if I did not trust them – on the contrary, I did not want them to focus on that, I wanted us to move on, chase the sunset into the horizon so we would always be in the light.
I found out that Nanny Anne, unlike Bill, was a muggle. Her and Bill had fallen in love when he was on a mission for the Ministry of Magic, but because of the dark times with prejudices still running high, he took desperate measures to keep her safe: he quit magic, so as not to be found, and they hid. And where else but in the wonderful muggle village of Ottery St Catchpole where they still resided. Of course, he still used magic occasionally.
One night, Bill informed me of everything.
He told me that he used the Floo to keep in touch with other wizards, so he was kept updated on life on their side of the wall. During his explanation, he had a wistful glaze to his eyes. He missed his magical life. He mentioned that he always offered his assistance when needed, just to be involved in the action once again without actually jumping in himself. He couldn't risk endangering Anne's life by his own recklessness.
Not only Anne's, but the child they were planning to have. For months, when the threat of an attack was so slim it could barely even be considered, they tried. Bill was more hopeful than Anne and visited shops to see the Babygro's and cribs whenever he could. Every night he would dream of a tiny bundle wrapped in his or Nanny Anne's arms, so fragile that even a wisp of a finger on their cheek would seem hazardous.
Bill's face transformed during his story. We were all sat in our designated spaces around the living room, Jimmy lying beside me on the couch. Bill gazed deep into the fire, as if the dancing flames were re-enacting his tale, his lips tilted up ever so slightly showing a hint of a smile. And then he turned sombre.
The news came that they could not have children. Either Bill's biology wasn't fit enough or Nanny Anne's body rejected it, they never found out. And they never dwelled on it. But it took them years to recover.
The Floo was how he knew of the dark lord's rise. Once word got out that Voldemort was up and hunting, Bill deactivated his Floo altogether, his last way of communicating with his magical brothers and sisters, and remained anxious in the dark, the shadows teasing and taunting the blood traitor. Bill had every right to be scared; he had committed the most heinous crime possible in the eyes of those who lionised the pureblood mania. He had fallen in love with a muggle. He married a muggle.
Bill had stopped talking then. I was too mesmerised by the tale and trying to keep every single detail fixed into my mind that I hadn't noticed. It wasn't until Bill slammed his hand on the table and suggested we go out to eat that I realised he didn't want to think back on the past anymore.
Finding out about the gruelling events Nanny Anne and Bill suffered through brought us even closer together. Bill, on the other hand, was found distancing himself sometimes. Maybe it was the thought that they were denied the ability to have children of their own that he perhaps, resented me. Thought of me as some sort of a pity replacement. But if that was the case, he never showed it. And I admired him greatly.
Bill was finally fed up with worry on Nanny Anne's intense coughing that he decided to take her to the doctors, after much nagging and pleading and dealing with her. I was left to watch the paper shop with Jimmy.
The twenty minutes I had been there were boring. Not one customer. The entire village was out wandering the streets and shopping on the somewhat sunny spring Saturday, yet none even glanced our way. Even Jimmy had thumped to the floor as there was nothing to be done.
"This is so boring!" I yelled, although the sound was muffled into my folded arms.
Jimmy whined in response.
Just as I was contemplating jumping off the counter and cannon-balling onto some cushions, a distraction swaggered by outside the window in the form of a familiar shade of red.
"Jimmy! Look, there's George!"
Grabbing the key off the counter, I ran across the shop, Jimmy hot on my heels. After locking the door I tip toed as high as I could to catch a glimpse of that red head against the multitude of browns and blondes.
"George!" I yelled once I saw him. He didn't even flinch.
I tried again. "George!" He was getting further away now. I squeezed through the crowd and made my way to the side of the street where I could run more easily.
"George!" He was looking around him now. He looked left and right and even peered up ahead of him, but he didn't look back. "GEORGE! Westley! Er- no…Whitcombe? No, no, umm…Weasel..." I was mumbling to myself now.
My desperation to see George was overpowering. I didn't think I had missed him much what with everything going on. I was so caught up in my nightmares, Nanny Anne's increasing illness, and the past in general, that I found myself craving the cheerfulness that oozed out of George. It came naturally to him.
Only a few people were separating us now. Jimmy ran ahead of me and reached George, seizing his attention. George stopped walking and crouched down.
"GEORGE WEASLEY!"
His head snapped up and he caught my eye. A wide grin spread across his face. I stopped in front of them and bent over, hands on my knees to catch my breath.
George opened his mouth but I held up a finger, to which he closed it again and smirked, quirking an eyebrow.
Seconds later, which, in all honesty, could have been minutes, I stood up to my full height and smiled down at the still crouching George. "Hi there again."
"Why, hello," he smiled.
"Good boy Jimmy, thanks for stopping him. Phew, that was tiring. You could've stopped earlier y'know George. I wouldn't be so tired if you didn't."
George stood up and peered over my head. "You mean that shop a few doors down? Of course, very long indeed. Your poor little legs must've suffered greatly."
I frowned and turned to where he was looking. My mouth dropped. It was true. "What! You mean I ran three shops down! You're kidding me. But it seemed so long."
He laughed at my pout. "Don't worry darling, I'm sure it was terrible running through all those people."
I scrunched my nose at him. "Why did you call me that?"
"What, 'darling'?" he asked.
"Yes, 'darling'," I mimicked, shivering at the word as if it sickened me.
"Oh, it's what my brother calls his friend. She's a girl too. I thought it was normal," he rubbed his ear.
"Oh."
"Yep."
"Well don't, it's what Nanny Anne calls me. Makes me feel like a baby. Just call me Ella, no nicknames."
He chuckled. "But nicknames are fun! Ella's so boring."
I gasped. "No it's not! George is definitely way more boring. And besides, there was a princess named Ella."
"Oh yeah, and who told you that?"
"Nanny Anne. Well…her name was sort of Ella. It was Cinderella…and yes that counts!"
"Pfft, I beg to differ, darling." He winked that obnoxious, arrogant wink. God, I did not miss that.
I closed my eyes and let out a few deep breaths before opening them again. I smiled. "So I never see you in school. Don't you go?"
"Aw, you look for me in school? How sweet of you!" He chuckled when I slapped his arm. "No, I don't. Mum home schools us. Has done for all of us."
We began walking aimlessly through the street.
"Oh. So, how many of you Weasley's are there?" I asked.
He grinned. "Seven."
Once again, my mouth fell open and my eyes bugged out of my head. "Seven…?" I mouthed.
"Yup. There's Bill, the oldest-"
"My da-" my breath caught and I faltered to correct myself, "My uncle's called Bill."
"-yeah, how nice, after Bill there's Charlie, they're the coolest, then Percy the pompous prat," I sniggered at his description, "then Fred, and yours truly, George Fabian Weasley, the best one, followed by wittle Ron and then baby Ginny. But she's not actually a baby, just the baby of the family."
I was speechless. "Wow," was all I managed as I pictured the large family of red heads. Poor Ginny, the only girl (and the youngest for that as well!) having to put up with the testosterone filled house of boisterous boys.
"Yup."
We were greeted with the luscious scent of fresh bread and sweet cakes, and I looked up to see the familiar sign of Imogen's Bakery. I rushed inside, Jimmy stopping at his usual spot by the bench.
"Hello Immy," I greeted the baker.
"Hello there Ella," Immy smiled. "Who's your friend there?"
I raised my hand to George. "This here's George. George, Immy the best baker ever. She's the one who gave me the cupcake which you stole," I glowered at him, recalling the last time we met.
He chuckled, "Nice to meet you Immy. And may I say, what a splendid cupcake that was."
"Kiss up," I murmured, only to be elbowed in the arm by George.
"Why thank you George. But if you ever want one, you come straight here now, no more stealing," Immy wagged her finger. But she couldn't have looked mean if she was the boogeyman himself.
"Understood," he saluted.
I beamed up at Immy, "So, lovely Immy, with her fantastic, absolutely amazing baking skill-"
Before I could finish my sentence she rolled her eyes and held her hands out to us, a cupcake in each hand. We snatched them up quickly. "Thanks Immy," I called, running out.
"Cheers," George yelled as he followed me.
"So Georgie-" I swallowed the lump of cupcake in my mouth.
"-It's George."
"-How old are you?" I asked.
"Nine. Ten in a couple of weeks," he puffed his chest out. I poked him in the side and he recoiled with a wince. "What about you?"
"Eight. Nine in about…" I counted on my fingers and gasped when I realised, "Oh! Only in five days."
George stopped rubbing his side and his mock pout was replaced by a large smile. "Really? What are you going to do?"
I shrugged, "Probably nothing. Nanny Anne's not feeling too well and I don't want to trouble her. Maybe invite my friends around, eat cake," I waved my hand behind me to Imogen's Bakery. "I'm not really excited. What about yours?"
It was a fat lie. I used to love birthdays. My sister would always wake me up by jumping on my bed, screaming 'Happy Birthday' until her throat could handle no more. Breakfast was never a completely pleasant affair. Requesting pancakes with the picture perfect face of innocence, my mother would tighten her lips and shake her head, putting forward a plate of fruit or a bowl of cereal, saying how I would eat twice my fill later. The day would be spent at some fancy outing, whether it be a beach near the Somerset holiday home, a zoo or a shopping trip – the one thing I could do without. Dad would've been busy throughout the day organising the birthday ball that was to occur in the evening – another thing I despised. But before that, presents!
"Party with the Weasley's, what else?" George said. "Bill and Charlie go to a boarding school in Scotland, so they won't be here which ruins it slightly. But Fred and I will be the life of the party."
We sat down on the bench. "What do you normally do?"
He shoved the half of the cupcake left in his mouth, leaving remnants hanging off around his mouth and chin and a slight smudge of cream on his nose. "Mum goes all out for meals, makes our favourites. We play a bit in the garden and field, feed the chickens-"
"-you have chickens!" my voice came out more shrill than I would have liked. George just gave me a look that clearly said what-on-god's-green-and-blue-earth-is-wrong-with-you.
"Yeah…anyway, we do that, then presents and…that's about it I guess. We just spend time together and dance, and party, and eat. Oh, and Fred and I play pranks."
"Oh, I bet your mum hates that." I know mine would.
He laughed. "You have no idea."
The afternoon was spent with George regaling me with stories of past pranks and birthdays. Every memory was told in such detail I was sure that if I closed my eyes I could picture it vividly, as if being there and witnessing it for myself. The family of red heads gathered around the cramped table, tearing the wrapping off presents and getting just what you wanted, stuffing yourself at every meal just because you enjoyed it immensely, blowing the candles off the cake with all your siblings, slapping the cake in each other's faces (a lifelong dream of mine), the firework show at the end of the night after a day of mischief and love…
And just for a second, I imagined myself being in George's position.
Nanny Anne and Bill sat on the sofa together, both wearing grim expressions. I placed their tea on the table and sat on the armchair opposite.
I waited with baited breath for them to speak.
Upon returning home from the doctors, the two returned to their daily jobs, Nanny Anne escaping to the kitchen and Bill mumbling about checking on the shop. Neither had spoken much during dinner, nor did they look at each other, much less me. I didn't ask what was wrong, sure that they would say when they were ready. After all, it was indoctrinated in me from a young age not to question my elders if they were not keen in sharing information. Maybe they were tired, I kept telling myself. But they would have said something.
The silence dragged on, so much so that it became deafening. Could it be that no sound at all can cause the mind to suffocate just as much, or maybe more than, a barrage of noise? Well, whatever the odds it was for me. And I couldn't handle it another second…
"Ella, why don't you go on up to bed love," Nanny Anne smiled sweetly at me.
I blinked. Were they not going to tell me? There was blatantly something wrong. But I couldn't force them to say. I nodded and offered a smile back. Giving them each a kiss on the cheek, I went up to bed, pondering the probable concerns.
Awaking on the 20th March was different than I thought it would be. No familiar sinking of the bed to alert me to Abigail's presence, her shaking me and rolling around trying to rouse me from my bed. No dancing to some band she adored.
But what I did wake up to was another nightmare. The same one with the ominous laughter. But this time there was something else. A snake. A large snake, slithering in front of me, barely noticeable in the darkness but so close that its eyes glowed and emitted a green light. It did nothing, just stared back.
I shivered upon thinking back on the sense of foreboding the snake seemed to bring.
I saw George again a few days after our catch up outside Imogen's Bakery. He came into the paper shop seeking me out just to promise me that he'd try to visit on my birthday. He said he was busy, what with his home schooling and his trying to get out with his mum's permission (in other words, sneaking out). Apparently his mum only ever let them venture into the town to get supplies from the shops. I thought she must've been worried about the influence her kids – ahem, George – would have on the other kids. From what I'd gathered through his stories, he was terribly persistent in teasing others and pranking until he laughed his throat hoarse.
"Mornin' Nanny," I said around the yawn breaking through, and sat myself down at the table, the smell of breakfast clearing my mind.
"Good morning Ella, have a nice sleep?"
I nodded. My eyes widened in surprise when Nanny Anne placed my breakfast in front of me. There, on the table, sat a plate stacked up high with steaming pancakes, smothered in the chocolate sauce and sugar and lemon juice with a lone candle sticking out. My mouth salivated as I sat transfixed, my gaze not unwavering.
Nanny Anne chuckled. "You'd better start eating before it gets cold love."
And so I dived in, briefly halting to blow out the candle. Best birthday breakfast ever.
Bill limped into the room and threw a glance my way. "Damn, girl got started before me. Oi, don't you be eatin' all them pancakes now girl, leave some for ol' bear."
But I barely heard him, too busy shoving mouthful after mouthful of pancakes into my gob. My jaw began to ache from the incessant chewing and I could vaguely feel sauce dripping down my chin.
Bill and Nanny Anne began saying something else to me but I wasn't paying any attention. God, these pancakes were good.
"Hey! Thanks for waiting Ella-butt."
The familiar chastise did not distract me from my breakfast. I muttered a, "sorry," through my chewing, causing Bill to laugh. Zoe sat at the table and frowned at me before digging into her own plate of pancakes with as much fervour as me.
"Oh, my dear sweet god that was glorious. Nanny Anne, you outdid yourself, I applaud you," I huffed, clapping to Nanny Anne who curtsied. Zoe joined in eagerly.
She then leaped on me with so much force my chair fell back, taking us both with it. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLA!" she screamed into my ear.
From my position underneath her I could not do much but try and push her off. "Ge'roff Zo, I'm dying here."
"Sure, sure whatever," she said and stood up. "Oh, hello there Jimmy! I didn't see you there, sleeping in your wittle bed…" she continued to coo to Jimmy, leaving me on the floor with my arms outstretched. Well, rude.
"Where's Nate?" I asked.
"He's busy with his mum, I think she wants to come as well and he's trying his hardest to tell her to bugger off- sorry Nanny Anne," she said.
I grimaced. "Oh, please no Mrs Pike. I don't think I can handle her today."
Mrs Pike was an overly affectionate woman, the type who squished your cheeks and printed a stain of her bright red lipstick on your skin like that aunt no one liked and was slightly senile. Lovely, but mad.
"Let's hope Nate gets her claws away from him," Bill mumbled. Zoe and I giggled. It was no secret that Mrs Pike had been promiscuous in her time, and her habits did not die along with her husband (his death a muddling puzzle which no one was clear on and dared not ask). She flirted with every male she saw fit, Bill included.
"At least I know my man's still got it," Nanny Anne sung from her seat. Bill spluttered on his tea and it spilled all over his front.
Zoe and I dissolved into fits of laughter.
"Come on Ella, Nate, we're going to be late!"
Nate and I followed Zoe home. Nate arrived soon after breakfast, thankfully without his mum, and we spent the day with Jimmy in the town. We ate cookies and played in the park where we spent most of our day. It was not extravagant or anything spectacular, but it was comfortable. I learned that I did not need lavish gifts and clothes, to flaunt money to other people to be happy. Happiness came from the company you keep.
"Slow down Zo, you'd think it was your birthday and not Ella's," Nate called.
We made it home and shoved each other aside to be the first one in. Flicking the light on, the room erupted in noise and colour.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
My mouth hung wide open as I stared the room and all its occupants. Half the village looked to be squeezed in every available space, all wearing a party hat and some with fake moustaches. A banner across the ceiling that read 'Happy Birthday' shone brightly. Strands of confetti and party poppers littered the ground and surfaces. In the arms of Mr Dicks and Mrs Pike was a giant cake smothered in chocolate cream and candles.
I couldn't comprehend the feeling of elation that swept over me and consumed every inch of me. Looking around at all the faces I felt my eyes swell with tears and my mouth widen into a smile. These people, these wonderful, strange people, despite knowing me for all of three months cared about me enough to drop their plans and spend an evening celebrating my birth. They cared that I was alive, that I had been born.
"Ella, you alright darling?" Nanny Anne's voice called out.
I saw her sitting in her armchair, Bill perched on the arm with his arm around her shoulders, both watching me curiously. Without thinking I flung myself at them and wrapped them in a group hug.
"Thank you, thank you so much," I said, forcefully blinking away my tears. "I love you both."
It was the first time I had said it and I couldn't be more honest. The two had swiftly replaced my own parents without even putting in much effort. They cared and looked after me when it wasn't their place to, they had no need to take me in. I wasn't their responsibility. But I couldn't be more grateful that they stumbled upon me in the snow. Thinking back on life before Nanny Anne and Bill, I seemed so empty, living my life in the repetitive routine I familiarised so well I had no need to think about it. No questioning, I wonder what I'm going to do today, to myself. But here…here there were always surprises. The paper shop was Bill's second priority. His family came first and he never failed to shower us in spontaneous surprises. Just the other day he Flooed us all to a small wizard café for brunch. No reason, just.
Their arms tightened around me. "We love you too darling, so much."
I pulled away after a moment and laughed, giddy on absolute happiness. Turning to Mr Dicks and Mrs Pike, I beckoned Zoe and Nate forwards. Grabbing one of their hands each, we counted to three and together, blew out the candles. The small fires burned out to booming applause and whistles.
We giggled and bowed to the crowd, Jimmy jumping up on his haunches and barking in the background.
"What did you wish for Ella?"
I smiled knowingly and tapped my nose. I threw an arm around Zoe and Nate and hugged them close.
"You guys are the best," I whispered.
"Oh Ella, we know," Zoe said. We succumbed into laughter once more.
"Cake time!"
I sighed contentedly as I lay in bed, my mind and body still wide awake from the sugar rush or the late night partying, I couldn't tell. But no way was I in any mood to sleep. I wasn't going to forget a second of this day.
A thudding noise vibrated through the air. Sitting up abruptly, I glanced around the room. Jimmy wasn't in here tonight, for he had slumped into bed as soon as the last guests left and refused to budge.
Telling myself it was a stray cat outside, I returned to my thoughts of my birthday, comparing it to past birthdays. Well, it didn't compare to be honest; this birthday was simpler but so full of love.
Another thud. I sat up again and moved to the window hesitantly. Was someone coming to kill me? Was it someone who wasn't invited or didn't come to the party?
My internal worrying vanished when I heard the voice.
"Ella!" it called.
A stone hit the window right where my face was and I jumped back. Pushing aside the net curtain I peered down.
"George?" I said incredulously. No way was he here now. I opened my window. "What are you doing?"
"I promised I'd be here, so ta-da! I'm here," he grinned up at me.
"But it's so late. You didn't have to," I said, even though I was secretly glad he made the effort. This day was just bursting and oozing and showered and sprinkled with love.
"Of course I had to, I promised and that's that. Now, are you going to let me in or what?"
I sighed. I gripped my nose between my finger and thumb and released a deep breath. Well, I wasn't sleepy yet. "Stand by the door."
Shutting my window, I pulled on my slippers and slipped out the door as quietly as I could. Bill's snores carried through the air, assuring me of his deep slumber. I crept down the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeaky step and tip toed to the door. Upon opening it I was met with a mischievous smirk.
"Took your time," he said.
"Same could be said for you," I countered, crossing my arms over my chest.
George snorted. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
He entered the house and followed me into the kitchen. Removing the lid from the dish, I cut a slice of cake and passed it to George. He ate in silence, murmuring noises of delight.
"You're such a messy eater," I said, watching the chocolate stuck on his cheek just below his eye.
He crossed his eyes. "Where?" His tongue swept across his lips and then stretched to cover his chin and face, almost touching his nose.
I chuckled and handed him a tissue. After he wiped his face clean he grabbed my arm and pulled me up.
"Happy birthday Ella," he grinned, and pulled out an object wrapped in newspaper from his pocket. On it, was a small sticky note with my name in orange. "Because of my hair," he said when I voiced my question as to the colour.
I tore open the newspaper to find a shiny red apple. I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand to avoid making much noise. George joined my laughter and I had to forcefully push him out the front door before he woke up the inhabitants of the house. He yelled out a quick, "Thanks for the cake," and another, "Happy birthday," before disappearing.
I clutched the apple in my hands and hugged it to my chest. A small giggle escaped my lips and I took a bite.
Oh yes, definitely better than the green ones.