Complaining floorboards announced Finn's return. Wet rag in hand, he made a show of displaying his find. "Clean. Just like you asked."
Nell returned a smile of thanks. "A fine one indeed." Upon taking it into her grasp, she asked, "Could you wait outside for us?"
He shrugged. "Suit yourself."
As he ambled away and shut the door with him, Ellie felt relieved his churlsome nakedness had once again left the room.
Nell bent over Ellie and made sure to brush aside any stray hair that remained near the bloody mess. Examining the damage, she held her patient's face steady with an assessing scrutiny. Her hands were so cold. This brief moment of pause gave Ellie an unhindered glimpse of the green core in the child's eyes.
Despite a touch of redness round her lids and the mark of dark circles, her lashes were so thick and curly, and the emerald of her gaze so clear and faceted, that if Nell were to sit very still she truly might be mistaken for a life sized marionette or porcelain doll.
As Ellie marvelled this, she then noticed how thin Nell's skin was. Beyond pale, blotchy translucency revealed the veins climbing down from her jaw to her throat, disappearing only for the collar of her teal pinafore. Ellie also detected a mild rasp in her breaths, possibly from a coughing fit or build up of phlegm.
"Nell?" Ellie probed.
The child hummed in response, folding the wet rag.
"D'you," here Ellie interrupted herself with a wince while Nell dabbed and cleaned her temple, so she repeated "D'you feel alright, sweetheart?"
The child tinkled her little laugh. "I should be the one asking that."
Ellie quirked a half smile in response, but wasn't dissuaded. "It's just that you look ill - not a shade off me, I'm sure, but..."
Nell stiffened and a look of realization passed over her. She pressed her lips into the making of a smile but managed to look even more uncomfortable. "Oh it's just a summer cold. T'isn't serious."
Ellie conceded and they lapsed into silence. Awkward and restless in the quiet void, she absently flexed her hands. Her fingers brushed over worn flannel.
Flannel? She picked at the seams discreetly.
Trousers. Where's my nightgown?
Nell noticed her fidgeting. "Your clothes are outside drying, Miss. Dripping you were. T'wouldn't be proper to have you rest like that."
Ellie felt crimson at the implication. She shot looks between the child and the shut door.
Nell added lightly, "I used to change me cousin's clothes often - she was sickly you see - I didn't need another's help."
The girl was barely taller than a bed post. Ellie didn't know if she believed that.
A spluttered coughing from beyond the door further belied the child's statement, ratcheting Ellie's humiliation.
Nell's head swung toward it and she spat in a thickened accent, "Ye didn't see nothin'! Don't be makin' tails."
There was a snicker in response. Nell stepped back and retrieved a box from under the bed and shook it at Finn's unseen form. "Off with ye. She needs no more of yer nonsense."
There was a rueful shifting of the floorboards in the hall. "Won't happen again," he mumbled.
Nell pursed her lips but she didn't push it. She fiddled with the latch on her box, which was white, reminiscent of a first aid kit, but instead of a red cross there was a black clover symbol. She got it open and plucked out a small jam jar. The contents of the jam jar were olive in color. Twisting the lid, scents of rosemary and pine with a spicy nutmeg undertone wafted out. Nell re-folded the cloth for a fresh corner and rubbed the cloth around in it.
"Now this will keep it from infection, but it may hurt," the girl warned softly. Setting the jar aside, she made for something just beyond Ellie's head. "Bunny's a wonderful friend in times like this."
A small teddy bear came into view. Nell tucked him into Ellie's arms and bent toward the wound once more.
Ellie knew the sting of iodine, but this was much worse. She clamped down on a yelp, and fought the urge to squirm, squeezing the bear. Nell smeared quickly and had the job done in a blink. She blew on it for the burning to stop.
Packing the jar back into her box, she commented, "That'll do for now... You'll need to have it looked at though, I think. Maybe stitches."
Ellie blurted, "You didn't have to do this much, really. Thank you."
Nell's eyes went wide. "Oh yes we did. Tis only right."
Ellie was about to deny it, but Finn interrupted from his post in the hall with some snark. "Yes, everybody's grateful. C'mon girls. Let's get a move on."
Nell sent a withering look towards the door. "Go and see about her bike."
Finally, he flounced off.
Once his feet had traveled enough distance away, the child huffed, "I swear."
This prompted Ellie to wonder...
Were they related? They certainly squabbled with the familiarity that bonds of blood made. But while Nell was most definitely Irish, Finn had the sensible, no nonsense tone of The North.
Ellie lifted a sympathetic smile and decided to chance it. "Siblings, eh?"
Nell's little head bobbed emphatically, but she didn't go into it.
Confirmation. It prompted Ellie to wonder about their parents, and, where the cousin mentioned earlier was.
Nell's next mission was to get the patient mobile. Which failed miserably. The girl didn't have the strength to hoist Ellie. The elder raised a halting palm. Taking a deep breath, Ellie got her hands under herself and pushed up with the groan of a dying hippopotamus, slowly aiming to prop against the headboard.
And she made it.
Breathless, lightheaded, and dignity abandoned, she was upright. Sweat adhesed the heavy night clothes to her breasts and back. The only sound was of her ragged breaths, which was embarrassing in and of itself.
Nell hovered. "Water?"
Did she want water? Cool, sustaining, water?
Ellie mustered a weak nod. Nell scampered off.
Wheezing, she wiped her sweaty face with her tartan flannel sleeve. It caught her eye. Tartan? She squinted at the textile and turned her wrist over, examining the weave. It was an average tartan, slightly faded from many washes, and pearling from many years of use. It struck her as looking familiar. Why?
She picked at the front, focusing on the buttons. The third from the top was different from the rest. Green as opposed to the white of the others, having been stitched slightly out of place. Ellie squinted at the button. She brought it to her nose, studying it.
Nell appeared in the doorway. "Something wrong?"
Ellie dropped it. "Fine!"
Nell blinked at her doubtfully. Ellie chirped a laugh, choked on her own dry mouth, and went into a coughing fit. Beating her chest, she fought to quiet herself.
What more will I do to embarrass myself?
Nell hurried with the water, pressing the rim of a chipped mug to her lips. The ceramic bit, but Ellie didn't say a word. The water was strangely sweet and minty.
Nell patted her shoulder, apologizing and commiserating. After she calmed, Ellie wiped her watery eyes and cracked a daft, nervous smile.
A loud metallic clang and clatter came from the first floor, followed by a hissed, "Shite on a shamrock."
Nell shot a pale look over her shoulder and offered a shrill, "Finn?"
There was no response. Nell handed off the mug, apologizing once more, and picked up her skirt as she skittered off. Watching her go, Ellie gnawed her still sore lip. She fingered a rough crack in the mug and took another sip. The liquid cooled her throat as it went down.
Nell could be heard admonishing her brother in hushed tones. Her brother sulked back defensively.
Ellie's gaze wandered as she listened, noticing for the first time the peeling wallpaper. Yellowed, stained, decades old papering of a rusty toile print. Cobwebs made a canopy of the rafters, draping from joist to joist. The floor looked like it hadn't been washed in decades, bits of crumpled leaves and shriveled bugs laying where they'd swept in and died.
Ellie grimaced. The only clean things around her were the bed linens and the bear in her lap. Now paranoid, she turned her inspection on the mug. The drink was clear, and while it sported rough use, it held no appearance of filth. She sniffed it. Nothing came to her beside the mint and mineral smell of fresh water. And it tasted just fine.
The argument below rose in fierceness. It spurred Ellie to sit forward. Draining the last of her water, she relinquished the mug on the joint nightstand of both beds. Uncovering her legs, she wiggled to swing her feet out. Scooting to the edge, she hesitated, doubtful of her steadiness. She rested the pads of her feet upon the gritty boards and flexed her toes, tensing her knees.
She could do this.
In one valiant effort, she surged to her feet, stumbled, and caught herself on the opposing bed's foot post. She'd kicked up a puff of dust in her wake, inducing another coughing fit. Ellie's thigh stung with the strain, sharp pains niggling deep into the muscle. Shifting her weight, she eyed the aching leg, remembering the thorns. There was a doctor visit in her future. Grammy would make sure of it.
As she hobbled for the door, the bickering grew to intelligible heights.
Nell countered, "Then you should've just fixed it!"
"I did fix it!" Finn defended, which quickly switched to gloating, "In fact, I made it better. She'll be happy. I know it."
The landing was just as decrepit as the room. Dust powdered each side where the walls met the floor, stopping where there was foot traffic. No pictures anywhere. Pieces of the floor were missing, prompting Ellie to watch where she placed her naked feet. It'd be just her luck to step on a rusty nail.
If she thought about it, with her hand guiding along the wall, the house had a hollow, neglected feeling. As if those two hadn't been here that long.
She reached the stairs. Peaking around the corner at the top, she had the view of the living room. She didn't know which was stranger, that they had no furniture to speak of, or that they glared at each other over her bicycle that now sported a motor.
Gripping the rickety handrail, she went as fast as she dared, shuffling one foot at a time.
About halfway down, she squeaked, "What's all this?"
Proud, he hooked his thumbs under his bracers. "I gave it a tune up."
She pointed at it, squinting. "Is that an engine?"
"Yup." He bounced.
Nell raised a hand and clarified, "Which he can remove if you prefer."
Indignation flashed in Ellie's eyes. They'd just met, and he was mucking around with her things. He didn't ask for her permission and went right along as he pleased.
She thumped down the steps double time. Goggling her most precious possession, her mouth pinched to lash out. However, as she grew closer and surveyed the elements of his handy work...
It was small, probably recycled from a lawn mower or some such. He'd rigged it up under the seat with the chain attached, but took off the pedals. She guessed it ran on petrol, by the pull cord at the back.
Begrudgingly impressed, Ellie met neither of their gazes. The design was a solid notion, and not the first time she'd seen similar contraptions. During the war many were forced to repair their homes and appliances with what they had on hand, and some implemented ambitious designs for transport or alarm systems for the community.
She bit her lip and slid a sidelong glance at him. He'd seemed very intent on her being gone, and now he's done something nice?
He beamed, expecting praise.
Secretly, she was charmed by that grin. She was bothered that she was. Before she allowed herself to be charmed by anyone, she should know more about them, and their motives.
She flicked the bike another glance. Nell was about to intervene on her behalf when he spoke up again.
"Based on your weight, the power of the motor; my calculation put it up to twenty miles an hour, give or take."
He calculated her weight eh? When? While he was holding her? That was an uncomfortable thought.
Ellie hummed an acknowledgment, "On these dirt roads that's a sure way to get a broken neck."
His brow furrowed, surprised. "You don't like it?"
"It's an idea, in theory. But I'm not one for stunts. And after last night, I'd prefer not to take another tumble any time soon."
"Aw, it's not dangerous," with a twinkle of mischief, he tapped the seat. "C'mon, let's give it a go and I'll show you."
That look in his eye, it winked at her and the pit of her stomach did a somersault. His bare chest wasn't helping either.
She darted her gaze away and farther down the room. It wasn't entirely empty. Mounds of various objects cluttered the end.
The first closest pile consisted of wooden objects such as broken picture frames, sticks, carved figurines, a chair, and a cricket bat. To the side of that, was a much larger collection of metallic objects; car parts, doorknobs, frame pieces, a steering wheel, parking brake, headlights, rusty bonnet ornaments, rebar, sheet metal, a collection of nails and screws and spoons...
Across from those were gathered stacks of paper bits, made special by the separation of each article category. Loose papers were protected against scattering by being bound in twine. These were newspapers, flyers, and documents. Then there were tender selections of both paperback and hardback books, alphabetized by title and set in a series of upright wooden crates, not unlike mini bookshelves. She noticed some serious materials on the sciences, culture, botany, and biology. There were also many works of fiction; popular and famous titles ranging from somber to the romantic.
Finn was most likely the hand behind their culmination. Why did she assume Finn? Because little girls as sensible as Nell didn't gather things in messy piles. But, although they were messy, they'd been organized by size and material.
Ellie felt the most surprised by the little library, and yet, not. The boy shifted from extremely versatile and learned, to callous and rough. Whatever his mood dictated, she supposed.
Lastly, at the far end was a makeshift workbench of a few odd mismatched planks nailed together and a ratty stool. The seat of that stool was ripped as a spring spired free from the padding. The bench dubiously supported more delicate items atop it. She spied clock parts, bulbs, wires, radios and their subsequent gutted parts, and many other tiny things she couldn't place. But amongst them was one that held her attention. Namely, her wrist watch.
"Is that-?"
"Yeah," he fetched it. Stooping to her height, he turned it over for her, displaying the smashed glass. "The inside's just fine. But this? Ruined. Nothing I can do to fix this bit." He paused and quirked his noggin to the side, wheels turning, thinking better of that statement, "Well, maybe if I had a few days I could work something out. Can't be too hard to find a prism."
She glanced at him. He was so close she could smell his earthy cologne of sweat, clay and fresh cut grass. And she even noticed sun freckles on his shoulders.
"A regular Mr. Fixit you are," she mused.
He tugged one of his flappy ears, not one bit modest. "Yeah."
They'd locked eyes again. Ellie found herself wandering in his blue gaze.
A strong breeze whistled through just then, agitating the trees to murmur and rustle. It brought the smell of decay and a cold draft through the thin walls. A curtain of shade fell over their shack and Ellie was suddenly struck with uneasiness.
But before she could process the change, while her gaze flickered to a window nearby, Nell hiccupped. That might not've been so strange except it wasn't an ordinary, inhaled-the-wrong-way or laughed-too-much hiccup. It was a shocked yelping noise like the child had been hit in the gut.
Ellie immediately jerked her attention to the girl. Nell'd clapped both hands over her mouth and had hunched over.
Alarmed, Ellie reached for her. "Nell?"
The girl shuddered and flung herself toward the front exit. There wasn't a door to stand in her way, as it had long fallen off its hinges and lay propped against the wall. She stumbled over the crooked threshold and fell into the high grass outside. Then she wretched.
~~~~