Torn Fragility

"I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind." Emily Bronte

I woke up to the sound of someone playing the piano. The music was reminiscent of a circus tune, twisted into something slow and infinitely sad. I had had a dream. In it I had beheld an entire circus tent devoid of any living thing while rain beat heavily upon the torn canvas sheeting. A boy sat on one of the stands staring at nothing in particular and, as if he could hear my intrusion, he tilted his head towards me. And the soul that shone dully through his eyes was fragile like a cobweb’s silver threads...and torn.

I shook myself out of the dream’s snare and the music just became music once again.

I wonder who’s playing? I made my bed, climbed into a casual white summer dress and hurried downstairs. Once again I found myself staring at the family portraits that hung on the wall alongside the staircase.

Dark hair and dark eyes were in prominence amongst the family members and the pictures dated back to at least five generations.

Did Mr Smith inherit this house? Why don’t his family look after him?

“Good morning Rose.” Hannah stood in front of the stove, stirring something in a pan, a snowflake white apron tied around her waist.

“Morning,” I said simply giving her one of my rare smiles I reserved for people I was fond of. “I thought that you were the one playing the piano?”

“I play sometimes,” Hannah responded vaguely. “I’m just whipping up something for Mr Smith. Feel free to help yourself; I went shopping before you came so the kitchen’s fully stocked. There are plenty of eggs in the fridge, no cereal I’m afraid. But...” she bent down and popped open the oven “There are warm croissants! I’m heating one for each of us.”

I helped her ‘whip’ up something for Mr Smith, and she showed me how he liked his coffee, his eggs (omelette) and what he preferred for dinner. She made me memorise the times for breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner and what kinds of meals were expected of me. I was beginning to think this Mr Smith was...well, on the overweight side and a smile crept upon my lips, but that was before Hannah explained to me that from breakfast onwards his meals became smaller and smaller.

She put the omelette, toast, and coffee on a tray and toddled off to deliver it to its enigmatic recipient.

I prepared myself some jam and toast and a mug of strong tea. I decided against sitting at the kitchen table and snuck out the kitchen door, that led outside, to eat my breakfast in the morning sun. The sky was a solid blue with thick lilac clouds fringed with gold. There was a curve in the driveway that led towards the house so I could not see the road but I heard a bicycle’s bell ring as it whizzed past.

I sat down on the porch steps and as I chewed I viewed the lawn. I wonder if there’s a lawnmower somewhere? Maybe I can cut the grass in my spare time.

“Rose? Rose?” Hannah was calling and feeling like a naughty puppy I went back inside. She was merely relieved to see me and didn’t ask where I had been. “I have to warn you...Smith’s not going to make you feel welcome to put it simply.”

I took note of the drop of the respective ‘Mr’ and wondered what had irked her about her employer.
“I’ll try not to disturb him then,” I replied softly and started washing up my plate and mug.

“Yes, best not till I get back. Just give him his meals quick like and get out of there.” She laughed uncomfortably. “He used to throw things at me when I first started working here.”

I tried not to be perturbed by this heart sinking snippet of information.

“I can handle it,” I told her and started washing the other dishes that were already in the sink.

She gave me a funny look, “I’m sure you can.”

There were a few minutes of awkward silence broken only by the clinking of cutlery and the sloshing of water.

“Well, I had thought I could leave today but I never realised how much there still is to do. I’m leaving tomorrow morning; make sure everything’s wrapped up here and show you what to do in case of emergencies,” she said finally and led me outside. I wiped my hands dry on my dress as we walked towards a wooden shed in a wild abandoned part of the garden, more so than the rest of the garden.

“This,” she grunted and she lodged the rickety door open. “Is where the lawnmower is kept, general tools, and...” she disappeared into the dingy darkness and reappeared with cobwebs in her hair. And she was pushing a bicycle, dusty but fairly new.

“This is all you’ll have I’m afraid if you want to go to the market. The stores are a bit further than that about half an hour with this thing. Both places are easy to find, but I’ll write the directions down for you.”

“Thank you, “ I said quietly, taking the bike from her and checking the spokes for breakages and the tyres for punctures. I had my own beloved bike at home which I tended lovingly at least once a week.

“Now, in case of emergencies, you may use the phone in the kitchen. Emergency numbers are on the fridge. And Rose?”

“Hmm?” I looked up from my inspection of the bicycle into her clear blue eyes.

“Don’t worry too much about how Smith acts. He’s had a tough life and he takes it out on anyone and anything.”

I smiled in amusement. “He can’t be worse than my grandfather. He’s been bedridden for years and likes throwing anything that comes to hand. Which usually happens to be his Bible.”

Hannah chuckled but it was an half hearted attempt. Something was still bothering her. “Thank you for being understanding. I still have to pack so I’m heading inside. Before I leave tomorrow I’ll introduce you two to each other okay?”

There was suddenly a lump in my throat, a rising fear of what lay ahead. I pushed the fear down and nodded at Hannah before she scurried off into the house. I found gear oil and a bicycle pump in a dark corner of the shed and set to fixing up the bike.



It was nearly midday before I had finished doing that and mowing the lawn...or at least a portion of it. Doing everything would take days. I looked down in dismay at my dirty dress and just at that moment Hannah came to fetch me for lunch. That night I began a rough sketch of what I had remembered of the house but feel asleep before I was even halfway.

And early next morning, before I had time to get dressed, Hannah burst into my room and shuffling and yawning I followed her.

“Don’t stare at him please, he doesn’t like that,” she was telling me. She seemed very flustered and I wondered at that. We were in the corridor that lead towards my room and she turned off sharply into a short side corridor hidden from a cursory glance.

Why would I stare? I thought as she opened the door.

As soon as the room came into view I bit off a scream.