Anna In The Garden

9

9

The flurries of snow, that fell softly during the night, became a storm by breakfast. Inexplicably, Nursey decided that, instead of the usual morning constitutional, a staple of healthy living according to Nursey, there would be extra lessons within the library. Anna found this not at all fair, but dared not argue, lest Nursey come to the conclusion that Anna had performed her act of sedition in the small hours.

Throughout the lesson, between peeking over her books towards the raging snowfall outside and glaring in fear at Nursey, Anna could swear she heard a different tone to the clinking of the keys upon Nursey's thick chain attached to her belt.

Every movement brought a fresh stiffening of Anna's back. She felt certain that Nursey could hear the change. Like listening to Mother's pianola, out of tune from over-use, making middle 'C' sound  entirely wrong, throwing the whole of the composition into such disarray as to cause visible cringes from the audience.

Each time Nursey stepped to the window, Anna would hear a clank, instead of a clink. A thunk, instead of a tinkle. Several times, Nursey brushed down her thick, dark dress, fingers brushing against the chain and Anna found her breath stick in her throat, awaiting the sudden realisation and the booming of Nursey's voice as she interrogated Anna as to the whereabouts of the smallest key.

Of course, it did not help that Anna, starved of sleep as she was, found great difficulty in focussing upon her lessons. The exploits of Caesar at the Rubicon fell away from her eyes as stifled yawns threatened to overwhelm Anna's face. More than once, Nursey caught the twist of Anna's jaw, the screwing up of her nose and the pursing of her lips, raising an eyebrow, yet saying nothing.

Anna could only conclude one of two things; That she had achieved success in her pilfering, or that Nursey, for some reason known only to herself, awaited the perfect opportunity and time in which to bring her knowledge of Anna's nocturnal foray to light.

For her part, Anna remained silent. Returning her head to the volume on Roman history as soon as she caught her mind wandering, or nose twitching, or her eyelids drooping. A swift walk in the snow storm would do wonders for her tiredness, but that seemed less and less likely as the morning wore on, with snow beginning to peek above the window sill, like an urchin licking their lips at a feast inside.

She had continued and compounded her perfidious activities by hiding the littlest key within her dress, as though taunting Nursey with the object. Only feet away from the chain and the ring upon which the smallest key should sit.

What Nursey did not know, or, at least, Anna believed she did not know, was that, in each of Anna's dresses, she had sawn a secret pocket. A tiny flap of material where Anna would, on occasion, store things she found most precious. A button she found, shining and golden, with a delicate relief of a lion engraved upon it. A pebble, stumbled across one day as she helped Nursey in the garden, pruning rose bushes and turning soil. The pebble, a dazzling array of colours impressed within its form, had sat within the pocket for many weeks until Anna lost it while chasing a butterfly one day.

Many things had found their way into Anna's secret pockets and now that list of precious things had a new addition to their ranks. A small, slightly battered, rusting key.

Luncheon came after long, arduous hours of study made worse by her fatigue. It had not occurred to her, at the time, how little sleep she have after purloining the key. No sooner had Anna returned to her bed than Nursey seemed to appear, throwing back the curtains to reveal the whirling wall of snow outside. She did not see herself lasting until nighttime, fearing that she would fall asleep during afternoon lessons, face imprinting itself within a book of mathematics, or chemistry, or physics, depending on what Nursey decided to teach her that afternoon.