Evergreen Everleigh - The Wattys 2020

Chapter Forty-Nine - Holdfast

Chapter Forty-Nine

Holdfast

My hands grip the edges of the poetry book tightly. Jayne Ellis' poetry book - a book that has somewhat melded into my own. The margins of many pages hold my own scrawling writing. Most is nonesensical, all is precious, at least to me. I sit at the top of the stairs, outside Lady Lavender's office and living quarters, in a daydress and slippers, wishing I had the comfort of my blankets wrapped around me.

In a way, the poetry book was my comfort blanket. Words had frozen me and melted me and likely always would. I long for the day when only my own words had the power to hold me ransom.

I look down at the most precious part of the book. The slit where I used to keep the wood block to open my skin with. That was when I told stories in blood instead of ink. Not long ago to some, lightyears to me. The wooden block is in some unknown spot now, hidden in the maze where I threw it, perhaps held in the unlocking grip of the roaming rhododendron. I was disappointed that I did not feel a legendary rush of relief when I tossed the wooden block, this symbol of my pain.

The reality was, my aim was dodgy and my throw, weak. The minute I heard it land on the grass, falling through branches and leaves, I found my mind wandering to my friends. Willow. Was she still making nightly trips to the bathroom? Would Aster and Teasel ever overcome their traumas to attend a regular school? Even Cedar, with his caramel-eyes and kind smile, I knew only a hint of his true struggles. More achingly still, I thought of Aloe and all that I failed to do for her.

Before I could fall down the rabbit hole of my own mind, the door behind me unlatches, bringing with it a smell of fresh verbena, lemon and naturally, lavender. I turn around to see Lady Lavender satin slippers, patterned with a herb I know recognise easily as thyme.

"Care for tea?" Lady Lavender asks, smiling down at me, glancing away from the book and back to my face quickly. I scramble inside, welcoming the wave of comfort that Lady Lavenders chaotic, rather cosy office room, adorned with trinkets and smelling of incense brings. I remember the first time I entered this room, a newborn deer on shaking legs. Still, I trusted her then and do now.

"Can I ask you something?" I say, as I take a seat in the plush, green armchair by the window, kicking off my slippers and tucking my legs underneath myself. Lady Lavender busies herself at an antique golden drinks cart nearby, pouring loose leaf tea before bringing a tray over to the window and setting it on the windowsill.

"Always," She vows.

"How did you know to find me at the hospital? That very first day?" I ask, though I am sure that I know the answer. Still, that girl, the girl from the hospital bench who clutched a pen so tightly between her fingers, feels so removed from my present reality at Freesia Fields.

Lady Lavender sits down, nestling into the couch and crossing her legs before taking one of the teacups from the tray. Lady Lavender always prefers peppermint, whereas I've developed a penchant for chamomile. She takes a small sip, looking out of the window all the while. Lady Lavender's window seat overlooks the front of the manor house, the front that is so rarely used in comparison to messy, imperfect sprawling back of house.

"I met a young woman once, who acted like a young lady even though she was no more than a child at the time. She sat with pose, despite having an unruly shock of strawberry blonde hair and a rather frail disposition," Lady Lavender's voice is slow and melodic as she recounts the story. I find my self settling back into my chair, lost by her voice. "At the time I was no more than a child myself, still unsure of the world around me."

Lady Lavender pauses, before getting to her feet and moving to the top drawer of a chest of drawers at the far end of the office. She riffles through some papers for a moment before returning with an old-fashioned looking photo album. Lady Lavender flicks through the pages delicately with her long, beautifully manicured nails before handing it to me. I rest the photo album on my lap and take in the large photo, printed and pinned to take up a whole page of the album.

It's my mother, sitting on the front steps of Freesia Fields, no more than thirteen or fourteen, arms wrapped around the shoulders of a boy next to her. I can't help it, I look up and glance from Lady Lavender back down to the young boy in the picture. She offers me a single, sad smile.

"Freesia Fields was a school, once you know," She comments, by way of explanation.

All at once, as our conversation continues, the truth begins to flow and make sense. My mother attended a boarding school in this building, where she met a boy who became her friend. A boy who did not stay a boy.

"She contacted me, your mother," Lady Lavender admits to me. "We had not spoken in many years, but still she trusted my guidance and had heard of our rather untraditional techniques here. So, I decided to pay you a visit with your mother's permission, bringing with me my close friend."

At this, Mr Flurry gives a particularly hearty yawn from his bed by the fire.

For several moments, we say nothing. She sips tea, I look out the window and imagine all of the reasons my mother was not honest with me about her past. Worse still, I ponder what happened to the girl in the photo with her arms wrapped around Lady Lavender to lead her to become the icicle I have always known?

"There is not much I don't know, so much I mis-judged about everyone," I say, slightly exasperated. "Will it ever get easier? Understanding the world?"

This is my truest, most desperate question.

Lady Lavender looks at me, her eyes piercing into my very soul.

"Life is just people making choices with the best knowledge they had on any particular day. Do not judge your own past, my child, you did not have the knowledge you do now."

Silence resumes and Lady Lavender seems to be waiting for me to admit a final, fundamental truth.

"I'm petrified of leaving. Part of me doesn't want to, not when my friends are here," I say over a large and uncomfortable lump in my throat, my mind caught in the warmth of Yarrow's eyes when he sees me each day at breakfast.

"All will leave, all will thrive, perhaps in the four corners of the globe," Lady Lavender reminds me gently. "It is only Yarrow who will likely stay connected to Freesia Fields."

I look at her questioningly, confused. She pauses, before seeming to decide that I am trustworthy enough to warrant an answer.

"I adopted Yarrow as my own son after the loss of his family sent him to be under the care of the government. I have nurtured him, hoping that someday, he will thrive without me." A soft, pride creeps onto the corners of Lady Lavender's mouth at the word son.

Nothing about this surprises me. I know little between Lady Lavender and Yarrow, but I have seen that love and pride more than once when she looks upon him. It is not entirely far removed from how she looks at me.

Lady Lavender leans forward, resting a tender hand on my knee.

"You will take this world by storm, simply by being yourself."

A/N:

Admittedly, that was a late upload. My reasons are little vague but justifiable. My local cinema is reshowing all of the Harry Potter movies and tonight was the Prisoner of Azkaban! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

Jens x