CHAINS TO FREEDOM.✔

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Remember Italics is in the past.

Their footsteps echoed down the long dimly lit hallway, walls reaching high to ominous ceilings.

The legend was that once you crossed the hallway's threshold, there was no turning back.

No one ever came back.

Fear grabbed at his stomach, he needed to wee, but the stern look on his companion's face told him such a request was bound to be denied.

A door loomed in front of him.

"Sit!" his companion commanded.

The bench was large. He struggled to climb upon it. Once seated, his feet were suspended in the space between the hard cold timber and mirror finish of the hallways polished floor. He was alone now, his companion having disappeared behind the impeding door. He took a deep breath and looked around him. He had lived in this place for as far back as he could remember, and not once before had he been down this hallway. He only knew of its existence because others had told him of it.

Death was surely the next event to happen in his life. Not that he really understood what death was but, that's what the others said would happen if you were ever led into this hallway.

It didn't look so different to the many other hallways in this place. In fact, he thought, if you had been led here with your eyes closed, you would probably think you were sitting outside Dr. Murphy's office.

Except for the door.

The door was different.

Dr. Murphy's was not so large and dark. It had a window above it. He swung his legs. If death was going to come, he wished it would hurry. He really needed to wee.

Had there been a cupboard nearby...

But...there was nothing. He'd just have to wait.

The creak of the door opening startled him.

Fear welled in his stomach. "Come!" his school master boomed as he used his finger to convey his order.

He struggled from the bench, tipping his toes to the floor, and then warily stepped through the door.

The extravagance of the room overwhelmed him. Plush red carpet, huge furniture and, walls made of books. Three pair of eyes watched him. He could control the urge no longer, urine streamed down his legs. Tears came when the headmaster's cane struck him across the back of the legs.

"You disgusting boy!" he roared, as he lifted the cane above his head, preparing to strike again.

The other man in the room, a stranger with enormous moustaches, reached out and grasped the Master's wrist, preventing the next strike.

He was enveloped by gentle arms. Comforting words ensured him that all would be well. Accidents very often happened.

As Louis held Alice and Aiden's baby child in his arms, these memories of his first encounter with his parents confronted him. A very different introduction to the one this small baby boy had with his own parents. "You are a very lucky man, Aiden," Louis said handing the baby back to his father. "He is a fine boy."

The children squealed with delight. Snow lay everywhere, thick and soft. They sank into it as they climbed the hill pulling their sleighs behind them. 

"Wait! Wait for me! Emma called to the boys. 

 Louis was six. It was his first Christmas with these people who he now called family. He was both older and younger brother. Emma was the eldest and Daniel the youngest. His new parents, Thomas, and Victoria Copeland had taken Louis from the St. John's Orphanage for homeless boys. They believed in love and understanding rather than, the speak only when spoken to, code of the times. Thomas had inherited his father's fortune. A shipping company, which began by importing spices and cloth from China, and then later was commissioned for the transportation of convicts to America, it being a lucrative trade for ship owners.

They reached the crest of the hill where other children played. The wind was much colder here. It howled through the tops of the trees and swooped down on them in gusts, and then snatched at their winter hats and lifted their coat tails in an erratic display of teasing. When it finally tore a hat from their heads, they laughed and tumbled after them down the slopes.

"Tis this ya 'at pretty boy?" A round faced lad held out the woollen hat and waved it in front of Louis.

"No, It's my brother's," Louis murmured and reached for the hat.

The boy snatched it away. "What'll ya give me for it?"

Louis tilted his head to one side. "I'd like the hat please."

"Not tills ya give me somptink for it."

"But I don't have anything to give you."

"Ya sled, I want ya sled." The boy pushed Louis to the ground and wrenched the sleigh's rope from his hand.

"You give my brother back his sleigh," Emma, tall and willowy, fumed. She flung her long black hair over her shoulder and stormed across the snow, her hands on her hips.

"Yeah! And oo's gonna make me?"

Emma grabbed for the rope but the boy shoved her in the stomach. She stumbled backwards and fell onto the snow.

Daniel started howling. His rusty red hair stood up on its ends, he wanted his hat back.

Louis scrambled from the ground and threw himself at the bully's feet.

Copyright © 2019 Donna Fieldhouse. All rights reserved.