We Who Are Jaded

Chapter Seventeen

"Why are you so curious?" I enquired. Roslyn tapped her chin and jumped down from the large seat. She went to look out of the window, resting her elbows on the sill. A forlornness plagued her small, picturesque face and she looked far older than her seven years. 

"My uncle does not know how much of a prison this place is. He believes that it is enough for me to have more books than ancient Kings and gardens like African plains but I've never really experienced the outside world, never known what it is to be a child born into a secular family. When I go to my piano lessons I see normal children playing games and getting muddy and being embraced by the normalcy that is to belong somewhere." 

I wanted to tell her I didn't know what it was to belong either, but the words didn't come. 

"Sometimes nanny takes me to the park but the other children like to tease me. Uncle Kieran tells me the world is a dangerous place and he is keeping me safe from it. He's over protective and is keeping me from living an ordinary life but I cannot bring myself to not love him." She stroked one of the panes of glass, the only thing preventing her feeling the warm summer breeze. "What he is yet to understand is that days spent imprisoned in stone walls cannot be defined as a life  – that's blasphemy to every definition of the word." Roslyn lay her head to rest against the window. I could see the desperation in her eyes but I didn't fully understand it.

"Surely it can't be that bad. I'm sure you have lovely books to read, toys to play with and clothes to dress up in." In my childhood of uncertainty and having only what was need and not wanted, I did not understand her. In my eyes she had everything and that was her freedom. But my saying so made her angry, the type of angry children aren't sure to contain as they ball up the firsts and their bottom lip wobbles.

"I've read about places all over the world but to experience them...that would be freedom. I can pretend and dress up but I can't disguise the fact that I know nothing." She fell silent. I didn't know what to say to that. I twiddled my thumbs for inspiration.

"Have you spoken to your uncle about how you feel?" I asked. Roslyn turned to face me, chuckling darkly. The hairs on my arms stood on end.

"No, I haven't spoken to him, he's never here to speak to." Her appearance of warmth now chilled me in a way that could have rivalled her uncle.  

But now I understood her bitterness, how could she not resent me? It was because of me she was neglected, the Kieran was preoccupied by the want of being with and protecting me. In all of Roslyn's pursuit of academic achievement, it had not been enough to secure Kieran's attentions and here was the reason standing before her. 

Now I considered it, I felt sympathy in the longings of the blue eyed girl. It was around the age of seven that I had sought desperately the attentions of my mum but she had Jackson and anything I offered was too pale by comparison.

"I know I'm the last person you want to help you and please don't think this is charity - I owe you nothing - but would you like me to speak to him for you?" Roslyn hesitated a moment, bemused by my reply. She had not expected me to be civil it seemed. Roslyn stepped away from the window and confronted me.

"You would do that, for me?" she whispered.

"Sure, why not?" Roslyn bit her lip, the corner of her mouth pulling up into a small smile.

"Could you ask him if I could go to public school? Maybe there I might somewhere to belong with people of my age."

"I couldn't promise anything but-"

"Oh no, no." she said. "I am not so childish as to value things in promises." She placed her delicate hands on her hips and tutted to herself. "Aunt Sophia is completely wrong about you. You're not a scheming witch."