Dinner was long and savory. Matilda, the aunt's fat housemaid, who took care of the kitchen, cleaning, gardening and many other duties around the house, had put on a new white apron, bought specially for such occasions. She then emerged in to-and-fro between the kitchen and terrace, where the aunt had set the table. One by one, the goodies thoroughly prepared for this special occasion were set before them.
'You see, Miss, we rarely have visitors from the city, such as yourself' said Matilda, catching her breath between two trips.
After the steaming soup, which Victoria had enjoyed until the last drop - even though she knew manners dictate one should leave a couple of spoons in the plate - Matilda brought a huge plate with the star of the evening: stuffed chicken. Victoria had never been a grubber, but now she simply couldn't stop. Carrots, peas, onions, pumpkins, apples and lemons brought together by the taste of the chicken being cooked slowly in the oven, how can one not succumb to such temptation? Dinner ended triumphantly with a crunchy layered apple pie and the aunt's famous lemonade. They decided to have their desserts in the orchard, taking in the fragrant breeze of the evening. Victoria felt an irresistible urge to go on the swing under the nut tree, while her aunt sat on the bench next to it, with her yarn and knitting needles on her lap.
'I could stay here forever' said Victoria, amazed at her own words.
'So what's stopping you, dear?' her aunt said. 'You can stay for as long as you want. The entire summer, even.'
'And what am I supposed to do here all summer, Aunt Alice? I'd just keep eating and come autumn, I'll be the fattest girl in school.'
The aunt barely kept from laughing. All girls think about is their figure. Was she also like that long, long time ago?
'But you have so many things to do and see in this village, as abandoned as it may seem. You're not the child who needs to ask for permission anymore. You can visit the fair during holidays... Or the antique shops... And the library... Oh, and we have such a beautiful forest, filled with the most wonderful and rarest flowers. You simply have to see it!"
'But what will the villagers think when they'll see a girl walking around by herself?'
'Don't you worry' laughed the aunt. 'If you said you were traveling with Virginia Pop, that means the whole village knows who you are, why you are here and for how long. The people here are nice and friendly and a new and pretty girl, such as you, will surely tingle them. I could join you, alas, the piano lessons take most of my time, especially now, during the summer.'
Victoria thought about it and her aunt's plans didn't sound so bad after all. She would still take a couple of books with her, just in case she got bored.
The night had settled in, with the air growing colder, scattering the last signs of light and heat. The stars covered the sky and they appeared closer and brighter than she remembered. From under the old walnut tree, Victoria could see how, one by one, the creatures of the night made their appearance, twirling in a dance known only by themselves; fireflies sparkling here and there, crickets singing vigorously now that the night had taken over the orchard and nightingales with their songs sweetening the fresh air.
Victoria muffled a yawn and even though she wanted to spend the night on the swing under the tree, she had to admit that the day had exhausted her.
'I think I'm going to call it a night, Aunt Alice. Thank you for this wonderful day. Good night!' she said, slowly getting up.
'Good night, dear' whispered Aunt Alice, kissing her forehead. 'And, please, cut down on the reading. You're tired and you have a whole day ahead of you. The night is for sleeping and beautiful dreams...'
⃰
The white, fresh and cool linen on the bed gave Victoria even more of an appetite for sleeping. She changed into the nightgown her mother had packed for her and as soon as she laid her head on the pillow, she fell asleep.
But something woke her up in the middle of the night. She couldn't figure out what exactly. But she was wide awake. Perhaps it was the pendulum in the piano room announcing the third hour of the night... Or a whisper from a dream she couldn't remember, as hard as she tried. Still, something definitely woke her up.
She got up and poured herself a glass of water from the jug on the coffee table. She unwillingly saw her reflection in the mirror, so vivid and clear in the moonlight coming through the window. She got even closer to the mirror and, for a second, it appeared that behind her there was a flicker, a pale candle light. She turned around, thinking that a firefly might have entered the room. But there was nothing there. She swiftly reached for the bed and covered herself with the blanket, all the way to her chin. She touched the silver pendant hanging from her necklace; she never went anywhere without it. Inside she kept a photo of her dearest parents, which calmed her every time she saw it. Soon enough, the thought of them threw her in a deep sleep, with sweet dreams and lullabies sung in her mother's soft voice...
⃰
The sun was high up into the sky when Victoria opened her eyes. The clatter of piano keys woke her up, a sure sign that her aunt's most devoted students were eagerly practicing their skills. She went down to the kitchen, where Matilda greeted her with an ear-to-ear smile.
'Good morning, Miss Victoria! Ready for a day in the countryside?'
Victoria smiled, grabbed a butter tart with raspberry jam, and took a sip of the refreshing mint tea and, between bites, she muttered:
'I can hardly wait to take a stroll on a beautiful day like this... Too bad I can't find anyone to join me...'
'Don't worry, Miss. Sometimes it's better to go alone; this way you'll see things that otherwise would go unnoticed.'
Victoria smiled with all her heart and got out of the kitchen with the tart in one hand and her favorite book in the other. She had planned to find a quiet spot where to read quietly. She didn't understand why she had to roam the village, from one end to another. What marvel could this forgotten place be hiding?
The day was going to be as hot as the one before. It was past ten and she could already feel the sun caressing her skin with burning beams of light. She had put on her straw hat with blue ribbons and started off on the cobbled street, being watched over from both sides by nice and clean little cottages, with gardens filled with flowers and as neatly as her aunt's.
She was surprised when she found, not two, but three antiques stores shops. The villagers were truly jolly and kind. The men, mostly masters, merchants or simple traveling salesmen, would take their hats off with obvious solemn gestures; while the women would take a small bow. Even the kids would wave their hands, greeting her. She bought apples from a fat village woman and peaches from an old man who gave her a large, toothless smile. She also bought a wicker basket in which the fruits could indulge as they wanted. And she went on to the end of the village, where the reign of the forest started. The way over there seemed as nice as it had been the entire morning. The sun had already taken over the entire village, and, one by one, people started to disappear from the streets, searching for bowery places. Her only companion was a hot, yet gentle, wind. She could barely see two feet in front of her due to the bright light, so she hurried to the long-awaited forest shade. The bright light had also a significant impact on her: she didn't see the rock that appeared out of thin air, tripped over it and fell down, book and fruits flying in the air. She hardly got up, checked her bleeding knee and dabbed it with her white handkerchief marked with her initials which she always carried around. As she wanted to get up, she saw a hand reaching towards her. A blond boy with blue eyes and sun burnt skin was smiling at her. Victoria accepted his help as naturally as she could.
'I hope you didn't hurt yourself too bad' said the boy with a voice as cheerful as the eyes staring at her.
Victoria felt her cheeks heating up. 'No... Just a little scratch.'
The boy handed her the basket which he filled with the scattered fruits without her noticing it.
'Can you walk?' he asked, all serious this time around.
'Of course' answered the girl, trying to seem unaffected by the fall.
And she headed towards the forest, limping. The boy was silently following her.
'You must be the piano teacher's niece. I'm Paul.'
And he reached his hand towards her a second time.
'Victoria', said the girl, gripping a hand slit by wounds, scars and full of calluses.
'If you wish, I can escort you, Miss Victoria. Where to?'
'To the forest. I heard there are many wonderful flowers there and I was curious.'
'You're in luck', he said, smiling. 'I know the forest like my own pocket... I even know a shortcut to get there.'
And he took a turn on a small road hidden behind the houses. Victoria followed him in silence. With the corner of her eye, she noticed his shabby, yet clean clothes: a shirt that was once white, a pair of pants that were once black, a pair of boots knee high and a hat that once had hard, small flaps but now they were slouching. The skin on his face, neck and arms was entirely burnt by the sun.
The girl tried to follow him as fast as she could. The fall was more serious than she thought and her knee, even though it stopped from bleeding, was hurting pretty badly. All around them, the birds, bugs, and plants grew more and more quivering like they were letting the girl know she was about to enter an enchanted world, waiting to be discovered at every step. And following those fairy tale messengers, they arrived. It was a broadleaf forest, not very bushy, but shady enough for a hot summer's day. The boy had already arrived and was now waiting for her, whistling a jolly tune.
Victoria could barely catch her breath, enjoying the shade. Paul hinted a "follow me" sign and went firmly deeper into the forest. The girl tried to keep him in her sight, afraid that she might get lost. His joyful whistling seemed to give him a swift and steady pace. Soon enough she got used to his light walk, giving her a chance to see the wonders around her. The air was fresh and cool, slightly damp and the milky sunlight was flowing through the leaves. Birds of all kinds were chirping and tweeting and bugs filled the air. Little white butterflies swarmed around, taking the shape of clouds, birds, and even fairies in her mind.
She then discovered, following the boy close, a meadow bathed in a light green haze. The air smelled sweetly of flowers and tree moss. Her feet were tickled by a myriad of flowers, winding gracefully in all the colors of the earth. Paul was waiting for her on a log, playing around with a stick. Victoria joined him on the log, quite hesitant to look at him. She checked her knee, still wrapped up in her once pristine handkerchief, which now had a dandy stain of dried blood smack in the middle of it. Paul came in a little closer, looked around for a moment or so, snapped a plant from the ground and squashed it with his fingers. He then confidently scattered bits of the plant on the girl's wound:
'It's white swallow-wort', he said. 'It heals all fresh wounds like you wouldn't believe. An old forester I used to work for told me this.'
Victoria felt little stings pouring down from the healing bits of the plant, and then a pleasant numbness took over her knee. She gave Paul a peach as a sign of appreciation, which he devoured, beads of the juice coming down his chin. His zippy eyes moved over the wicker basket, noticing the book.
'Poems by W. B. Yeats', he read. 'You like poetry?'
'Yes, a lot', said Victoria. 'I wish I had his talent. He is a young poet, but very gifted.'
The boy turned solemn, but just for a moment. 'I would have liked to have more books', he said. 'Unfortunately, I only have one, Dante Alighieri's "Inferno". Do you know it? A master printer gave it to me when I used to be his apprentice.'
Victoria looked at him in awe. Who was this boy? How come he knew so much? Where did he come from? She couldn't guess his age. And by the looks of his clothing, he appeared to be the child of some peasants, or poor workers even. And yet, he didn't act like that at all.
'If you want, I can lend you my books as long as I'm here', suggested the girl. 'You show me the forest and the surroundings and I'll give you the most interesting books I have. Sounds like a good deal to me. What do you think?'
Paul's eyes shimmered. 'I agree, we can start right now. What do you want to know about this forest?'
Victoria pondered for a moment. 'How about you tell me about all these flowers around us, for starters?' she suggested.
Paul looked around and caressed some sprouts with the tips of his fingers. He seemed in a world of his own, one which only he knew and mastered.
'Well, take the healing plants for instance. They have such curing powers without any help from us humans...'
Victoria was speechless. Time seemed like frozen. Paul kept on talking about plants, the forest wildlings, stories about water and sky spirits. Some of the flowers with most fascinating stories ended up between the pages of her poetry book. Others became a fragrant bouquet for Aunt Alice.
The sun was about to set when the girl realized she had left home hours ago. The pain in her knee was almost completely gone and Victoria found herself running with the setting sunlight braided in her hair.
'I have to get home to my aunt... She must be worried sick' she told Paul.
In a couple of sprints, he was next to her.
'Wait', he asked. 'You're going the wrong way. You'll only get deeper into the forest this way.'
And gently grabbing her hand, they got on a small path, no wider than a foot. When they finally arrived at Aunt Alice's house, the sun was long gone. Matilda greeted her, panting. 'Where were you, miss? Your aunt Alice got all worked up on your account not being back.'
And without hesitating, she hugged her in her strong, welcoming arms.
'I'm sorry, Matilda... I simply lost track of time... The walk in the forest was so interesting... Plus, I wasn't alone. Paul took care of me the entire time' she said, looking at the boy.
It was then when she noticed that the boy was far away, trotting away on the village road, without looking back.
Matilda's soft gaze suddenly turned dim. 'But, Miss, a girl like you is not to spend time with a poor orphan boy. Come on in, the dinner got cold and your aunt hasn't even touched it yet.'
Well, let me know what you think! The action has not yet began, but it will soon :) Votes? Thoughts? Thanks!