6. Breaking
The suns orange rays beat down on the village of Ottery St Catchpole, bathing the town in the summer warmth. Children's laughter and joyful songs stretched from one side of the village to the other, presenting the picture perfect scene. But the murky red curtains blocked the suns powerful rare beams, suspending the room in darkness. Outside voices were muffled from the closed windows and doors. I didn't want to participate in the festivities and by barring myself indoors away from any other forms of life, I was successful.
A dark cloud loomed over the house ever since Bill arrived home alone that night mere days ago. The absence of Nanny Anne had taken its toll on all the occupants of the house; I reserved myself to my room; Jimmy divided his time between sleeping and visiting the neighbours for food and Bill…Bill was in a state worse than death.
Even underneath the blanket and pillows my mind could not rest. Dry tears marked the fabric from hours on end of relentless crying, sobbing. I hastily wiped away the tear that slowly tracked down my cheek, leaving my face feeling grimy – when was the last time I washed?
The grumble of my stomach gave me an incentive to remove myself from the confines of my small room and I stretched my limp limbs, making my way down the stairs to the kitchen. Peering through the archway, I noticed Bill still perched on his armchair, his physical form still present yet mentally he was light-years away.
The room was shrouded in darkness just like the rest of the house. But the lavender walls that once brightened the room did nothing to cheer up the gloom. Instead, it bequeathed a dull grey tone in the filtered sunlight from the gaps in the curtain, intensifying the mood.
With tentative steps I made my way over to Bill and stood in front of him. His eyes never wavered. "Bill," I called, my voice barely above a whisper. He made no move to show he heard me. He probably didn't; his mind stuck on that night. "Bill," I tried again. This time he blinked once, twice, before moving his eyes to me. His mouth parted ever so slightly but no noise came out. The ache in my chest intensified from his heartbroken expression. He looked so utterly broken that my eyes burned from oncoming tears. The tremble of my lower lip snapped Bill out of his stupor and he immediately gathered me in his arms.
"Ella," his hoarse voice cracked. "Oh…oh, my dear."
I slipped my small arms around his broad shoulders and buried my face in his neck, his beard scratching the bare skin of my arm. Sobs broke through my nine year old mouth and we cried together for the first time, both mourning the devastating end of our beloved. His callous hands patted down my matted chestnut brown hair as he openly wept.
Through our crying the sounds of laughing families sounded all but cheerful, the jovial tinkling was more taunting and spiteful, mocking the permanent departure of Nanny Anne. How could she be taken away so suddenly when I had scarcely gotten to be with her? So much I had yet to learn from her, about her. It was cruel the way fate shattered, beat and burned my heart only months after it was eternally dented from my own parents. Death was a funny thing; killing her slowly from within then all at once.
But the warmth that spread through my body in Bill's arms made me feel whole again, if only for a moment. Bill wasn't the biggest hugger but when he did hug it was the best feeling in the world. His large arms protective around my small body, his homely scent of fresh rain, paper and a deep masculine scent I could not identify, and of course, his large protruding belly. Very cuddly.
Dinner was spent in silence. I strongly urged Bill to eat in the kitchen upon hearing the growling of his stomach and after much insistence (classed as whinging to adults) he reluctantly agreed. Jimmy wasn't back from wherever he left to, leaving us to keep to our sandwiches. Bill picked at his pickle and peanut butter sandwich while I wolfed down my seconds of tuna and cucumber, filling up on the meals I had missed.
Bill resorted back to his selective muteness no matter how hard I tried to get him to talk. I discussed everything from the weather to the upcoming school year – still over a month away – but he didn't make a single comprehensible sound. His restraint from communicating made me feel terribly lonely and it took me all my willpower not to stomp my feet and scream in frustration. But like any other nine year old, I had my limits and my already small level of patience was wearing thin.
We needed each other and I was more than thankful to have him with me. But if we were to be strong together he would need to get his act together and act like the grown man he was. No more wallowing alone staring into nothing and disregarding his responsibilities.
"Bill," I said. Nothing. I slapped my hands on the table. "Bill!" His gaze flickered up to me before returning to his sandwich. "Bill, talk to me." Still nothing. The burning sensation in my eyes came back and I choked on a sob. "Why won't you say anything Bill? You need to get up and do something! You had her for years all for yourself but I only had her company for a few months. If anything, I should be the one moping around," I hated how childish I sounded; the etiquettes of acting a lady and proper mother had fiercely embedded into my mind vanished in an instant. I had every right to be upset and I was going to show it. "I need you, Bill."
The sympathetic and loving expression I expected was nowhere to be seen. Bill looked up with a glare and in the blink of an eye he gripped my upper arms. "How dare you." I flinched. "What makes you think you deserve her more than I? She's my- she was my wife! I've been with her for most of my life and you think you should be more upset? You're not even her real daughter!" His deep Scottish brogue enunciated every word, spitting them out as if to remove an awful taste in his mouth. I whimpered under his grip, his last statement cutting deeply into my heart.
"Bill-"
"NO ELLA!" I would have jumped back if it were not for his hands on my arms. He removed one hand to point in my face. "You want me to move on that quickly? Fine. But don't come crying to me when you're not happy. You asked for it Ella."
"I'm sorry, Bill. I didn't mean that, I'm so- so sorry, please, I need you," I cried, stumbling over my words. He shook his head.
"You don't understand, you just DON'T UNDERSTAND! You can't need me. I can't do it, not on my own." With that he got up from the table and limped out of the kitchen and to the living room.
I stood shell shocked, my hands shaking in fright. The telephone was ringing but the sound was so vague in my mind I didn't register it. It had been ringing on and off all day but we ignored it. We weren't in the mood to talk to anyone.
The sound of the Floo alerted me and I ran in the living room only to find the green embers dying and Bill gone. It was the first time he'd used it for transportation since my arrival.
My face scrunched up and hot tears streaked down my face. The pain in my chest grew with every sob. Why did he leave? Was he going to come back? I said I was sorry… "I didn't mean it Bill. I'm sorry, please come back. Please," I pleaded to the living room through my crying. I fell down to the floor where I crawled into a ball on my side, my dinner long forgotten.
I didn't acknowledge the pair of arms that wrapped around me. I was too numb. I let whoever it was hold me. In the back of my mind I noted the person had thin arms – definitely not Bill's. And their scent wasn't very strong but I could just make out the smell of skin that had been in the sun for hours and the familiar but mild shampoo. I wound my arms around their thin waist and nuzzled my face in their chest, hoping the soothing heartbeat would calm my erratic breathing.
"Ella, what's wrong? Where are Nanny Anne and Bill?" More sobs broke out once I'd heard this. Nanny Anne wasn't coming back. She couldn't make everything better again like she used to. No more motherly smiles, or fresh apple pie, or her cuddles. Never again. And Bill…I didn't want to think of what I did not know. Fear of rejection reared its ugly head and pushed my hope to the back of my mind. Why would he come back?
Words were being murmured softly into my ear, reassurances that everything was going to be ok. The fingers stroking through my hair and the soft lips pressing down on my forehead contributed to pacify my breathing until the hiccups faded away and we were left rocking on the floor.
"She's gone," I mumbled against the soft cotton. "Nanny Anne's gone." My voice was empty, void of any emotion. I was sure I cried out all my feelings.
"Where, Ella?" Mrs Brimble's gentle voice asked.
My throat tightened briefly. "Heaven."
Mrs Brimble took me to her house. She wouldn't let me stay in an empty house, and after my refusal to say what happened to Bill, she left it alone. Just before we left the phones shrill ringing rang through the air and she answered, her expression turning solemn. Writing a note to Bill, she grabbed my hand and led me out of the house and down the street.
Zoe instantly broke off the headlock she had her brother stuck in and bombarded me, wondering why I was at her house but then claiming she didn't really care and that we could spend the night making a fort and watch movies and eating lots of yummy cake, maybe even invite Nate over for an impromptu sleepover. A stern look from Mrs Brimble cut off her excited ramblings and she led me to the sofa where everyone watched me bemused.
I kept my head down until Mrs Brimble sent her four children off to bed, her eldest son Eric the only one not present. She spent some time trying to find out what happened but I couldn't talk. Coming to sit by me, she pulled me in a hug and told me about the phone call: it was notifying us of Nanny Anne's impending funeral to happen in two days' time. It was sooner than expected but they had no need to keep her rotting away above ground. The thought sent a shiver down my spine and Mrs Brimble squeezed me slightly tighter. With nothing left to be said, she sent me off upstairs to bed.
The next day Mr Brimble escorted me home to get a few belongings before we went back. During my brief visit at home, I hastily checked every room for Bill but was disappointed when I saw the house empty. Maybe he wasn't coming back after all. With a deep sigh we left.
"So it's agreed then?" Zoe said, startling me out of my daze. We were spending the day in the living room watching movies. I tried my hardest to engage with Zoe but I found my mind blank, devoid of any emotion or thought. I had sudden random urges to burst out in tears but I would always brush them away before anyone noticed. Mrs Brimble came in the room to check up on us every few minutes. "Ella? Are you listening?"
I nodded. "Yeah, Pinocchio's fine, Zo." She gave a tight lipped smile and placed the video tape into the machine. Taking the remote off the table, she came and settled herself beside me and her younger brother of only four years, Phillip, before playing the movie.
"Y'know Phil," Zoe started, once the movie was nearing its end. "That's how you were born; you're really a puppet."
Phillip's outraged gasp and stuttering caused me to choke on a piece of popcorn. It was so utterly adorable.
"It's true Philly," Zoe continued, "But I don't see how. I mean really, you're not brave, truthful or unselfish, are you? I think the Fairy made a mistake."
Phillip started sniffling. He didn't know exactly what Zoe was saying but with four older siblings he knew an insult when he heard one. He quietened down in an instant, a wondrous expression over his face. "Do I have Jimimy?"
I chuckled under my breath. Zoe saw me and grinned wider. "Yes Phil, you do have Jimimy Cricket. He's in the garden."
He gasped, his blue eyes bugging out of his head and a large smile taking over his face, showing the gaping hole where his front teeth should've been. "Mama! I need to find Jimimy! Where's he hiding? Don't let cat eat him!" he ran out the room shouting.
Zoe and I giggled. She turned to me. "Y'know Ella," she said slowly, and I prepared myself for her curious questioning. I returned her gaze. "If you lie would your nose get any bigger? 'Cos it's quite big already."
I blinked at her before spluttering out into laughter, her question being so unexpected. I laughed so hard I toppled over onto my side. It felt nice. "Let's see, umm…you're the most amazing person in the world, Zoe." I crossed my eyes to look at my nose when Zoe scoffed.
"I said lie, Ella. Everyone's knows how fabulous I am," she said and made a pose, bending her elbows and resting one hand on her hip and the other behind her head. From the corner of my eye I saw Mrs Brimble stick her head around the corner to watch us, a hint of a smile on her pink lips.
"Ok, ok, I'll try again," I shut my eyes in concentration. Opening them once I'd thought of something, I spat out laughter once again, spraying Zoe's face in spit. She had her fingers stretching her mouth wide open with her tongue poking out and her bright blue eyes crossed over her scrunched up nose. She looked utterly ridiculous. Zoe immediately jumped back and fell off the sofa.
"EW! That's disgusting Ella," she whined. The effect was ruined from the few giggles that broke out.
"Oh my- I'm so sorry Zo," I said, leaning over the edge to see her wiping her face vigorously with her hands. She sat up and fixed a glare on me. We stared at each other before succumbing into laughter again.
The pressure on my chest lightened as we laughed and momentarily, I forgot why I was upset. It was nice to joke and be a normal kid again.
"Where's Jimmy?" she asked once we calmed down and were sitting on the sofa again.
I shrugged. "Don't know. He's probably at someone's house getting them to feed him," I said, guilt creeping into me for not looking for Jimmy, but he was a smart dog and could look after himself. More than I could say for myself.
Zoe nodded. She sighed and leaned back into the sofa. "I wish we had a dog. It's so annoying living with boys all the time."
"At least you have loads of people your age to play with –"
"– We wrestle –" she corrected.
"– When I have to wait until school or if we invite each other around. Or if I see George then I play with him." I added the last statement as it came into my head. Zoe sat up.
"You still see George?" she asked. I nodded. "Why do I never see him?"
"I thought you were annoyed by boys?" I teased.
"Pfft no. I said it's annoying living with them. Like Nate; he's a boy and he's one of my best friends. But I don't live with him so he's fun to play with," she explained.
"Well next time I see George I'll see if I can get him to meet you."
She eyed me. "You're the only one who's seen this 'George'," Zoe stated.
"Yeah, so?" I asked defensively. Did she think I was lying? It wasn't my fault he didn't talk to any of the other kids from the village. I had always wondered why he kept to himself whenever he came by.
Zoe watched me closer then shrugged. "No reason. Come on, what else should we watch?"
The next day came way too fast for my liking and the sense of dread I woke up to didn't ease my nervousness. Mrs Brimble let me sleep in longer than usual but the morning sped by so fast I found myself at the graveyard in no time, clad in an old plain black dress of Zoe's.
The graveyard was buzzing with activity; most of the villagers were present to mourn Nanny Anne's passing. I gulped as I made my way towards the front with Mrs Brimble holding my hand tightly.
I shifted my gaze and felt my heart dropping when I didn't see Bill. I needed to say sorry. I didn't mean half the things I said but I needed him to understand my pain. I needed him. He should've been here. For Nanny Anne. A nudge on my leg caught my attention and I looked down to see Jimmy. He gave a swift poke with his leg and took off before I could give him as much as a pat. Lucky him, leaving before it got too much.
The ceremony droned on and I couldn't linger on the words of the priest. Why would I? I didn't care what he had to say. These were empty words with no feelings. The same words repeated over and over again with no correlation to the deceased. I knew Nanny Anne was in heaven. I didn't need someone to tell me how much she was going to be missed, or how many people were left deeply impacted by her death. The only people who were truly going to feel the pain of the loss of her were me and Bill.
Towards the end of the speech I zoned out and watched the other guests. Many had sombre expressions and were respectfully keeping their heads down. The sun shone against the sea of black, illuminating the foliage surrounding the graveyard.
My gaze swept over the trees and flickered back to the figure at the back. I squinted against the sun to get a clearer look. I was too distracted to notice the priest ending his speech and Nanny Anne being lowered into the ground.
People began to leave and I rushed away from Mrs Brimble discreetly. My little legs stumbled over the many feet I ran over as I squeezed myself through the swarm of bodies. Escaping through a gap I saw his back retreating through the village and I resumed running to catch up.
"Bill!" I yelled. He didn't stop. I pushed my legs even faster. "Bill, wait!"
Bill hurried home and I rushed in after him, only to see the living room empty again. My heart was beating wildly and I searched the whole house calling his name. He wasn't there.
A door slamming caused me to perk up. "Bill?"
Jimmy trotted into the room and sat down by my feet. I squatted down and stroked his fur. "Hey Jimbo, where you been boy?"
"Little guy wouldn't leave me alone until I followed him, the bugger."
I would recognise the terribly high pitch yet masculine voice anywhere.
"I came down yesterday but you weren't here. No one was actually. Care to tell me where everyone was? Wait- why are you wearing a dress, Cinderella?"
In spite of my mood I had an urge to laugh; he knew my dislike of dresses and itchy tights. "I've just come from a funeral."
George sat down on the worn pistachio-green sofa and patted the spot next to him. "Who died?"
I looked down at my hands in my lap. "Nanny Anne," I murmured.
"Oh. I'm sorry. Do you, er…want to talk about it?"
Jimmy shifted and tilted his head. I shook my head.
"So, where's Billy bear?" he asked.
A smile involuntary made its way onto my face at his use of Bill's nickname. He couldn't be a normal person and call people by their legal birth names. "I don't know. He left."
George had a small frown on his face. "Why?"
I shrugged. "I said some things and he got angry and just…left. I feel horrible." I put my face in my hands to hide my quivering lip. Jimmy rested his paws on my feet.
"Where're you staying?" George asked, rubbing my shoulder with his hand. It was small and thin, but still bigger than mine, giving a small amount of comfort.
"A friend's," I responded. "Zoe. She actually wanted to meet you."
George chuckled and pulled on his ear. "Ah, I'd love to Elle, but mum doesn't know I came down here. Jimmy dragged me away before I could come up with an excuse."
I shook my head. Typical George.
"Come on," he said, jumping off the sofa and pulling me up. "Walk me to the hill and help me come up with an excuse so mum doesn't skin me alive. I've grown rather fond of my tan. First time I haven't burnt y'know."
I smiled. My sunshine. "For an eleven year old you're really vain."
"Dashing good looks, princess. It's all natural."
"Don't call me that."
We walked through Ottery St Catchpole towards Stoatshead Hill with Jimmy running up ahead. Villagers roaming through the streets would stop and send me pitying looks but with George cracking ridiculous joke after ridiculous joke it was easy to ignore them.
"So you're ready?" I asked once we'd made it to the bottom of the hill.
George nodded. "Yep: Percy started screaming that there was no sugar at home for his tea so, like the best brother ever, I kindly went to the village to get some to sweeten up his sour bum," he said, repeating the story we had come up with and holding up the bag of sugar I gave him from the kitchen before we left.
"Good."
He looked at me with an unreadable expression, the slight tan the sun had given him camouflaging the smattering of freckles on his normally pale face. "You'll be ok?" he asked, unusually serious.
"Of course."
"Good. Bye princess."
"Don't call me that ginger."