Suspended In Dusk (36 page)

“You’re taller than yesterday, I’m sure.”

“Yes,” said Slou’ha, the whispery voice warmer now, “I feel a little better, thank you.”

“Thank me? What did I do?”

“You could have told everybody about me, but you didn’t. I surely would have vanished had you done that.”

“What?” Anna was shocked at the revelation. “Really?”

Slou’ha nodded her head.

Anna couldn’t believe that, with a simple secret, she had unknowingly held this girl’s life in her hands.

“That’s why you were so frightened—you thought I might tell?”

Again Slou’ha nodded.

“But you didn’t, and that secret you kept for me helped me to feel better.”

Anna marvelled at what she was being told.

“You’re not entirely better yet are you?” but Anna already knew the answer to her question. Yesterday Slou’ha had been truly tiny and starved, ready to disappear. Today she seemed taller and healthier, but this was only by comparison. Slou’ha was still deathly thin and pale. She knew then what she must do.

“My father and my two uncles are listening to the old radio in my Grandfather’s old study, but they’re supposed to be downstairs with the other guests.”

Slou’ha looked up, slightly confused by the sudden shift in topic.

Anna continued, “My aunt Helen keeps a flask of brandy in her handbag. She’s probably three-sheets-to-the-wind already.” She wasn’t sure what the last saying actually meant, but it felt right in the context and she had heard her mother use it for drunkards before. She liked the way it sounded as she said it.

She thought quickly then started again, “My mum doesn’t like my dad to smoke, but I know he does. I saw him one morning with his pipe sneaking into the pantry. I went in afterwards. It didn’t smell like cigarettes, it was sweeter. I don’t think he knows I saw him. I never told mum.’

Slou’ha was beaming a big gleeful grin. A the self-assured type that just lit up her entire face. Spurred on by this, Anna thought of another.

“I did my friend Amy Reynolds’s essay at school last year, and she got top marks for it. We didn’t get caught.”

And another—

“When I was six I lost the class pet, he was a hamster—we called him Mr. Wiggles—and I blamed Ricky Timms for leaving the latch undone. He got sent to the corner, and no one ever suspected me. Always felt a little bad for Ricky though. No one believed him.”

And another—

“Tally Rimbald and I went skinny-dipping in her parent’s hot-tub one afternoon when her parents were out. She wasn’t allowed to go in. But we didn’t care. The bubbles felt nice, but the water was all chemically.”

The two had begun to giggle at the stories Anna was telling. They giggled a little more with each one she told, until holding their bellies and with tears in their eyes, they collapsed together in a fit.

* * *

They spent the next hour and a half talking and telling secrets the way girls do. But this was better. It was gossiping and her mother told her that it was rude to gossip. But this was for a good cause. By the time Anna snuck back out of the attic, Slou’ha already had a touch of rose to her chalky cheeks. Anna couldn’t wait to see her again tomorrow. It was supposed to be their last day in the old house, but she didn’t want to think about that right now. She hadn’t meant to spend so long up in the attic, her mother would be looking for her for sure. She’d have to think of a good excuse.

* * *

Her final day at her Grandmother’s house arrived and Anna was up early. She was sad that they had to go so soon, and sadder still that she couldn’t explain why she wanted to stay longer to her parents. Today was also the day of the funeral. They would all have to go to Ashwood Cemetery for the service and burial. It would take up so much of the day as well. She wanted to go and pay her last respects, but she didn’t think that Grandma Harris could hear her. If she could then she’d hear her anywhere, but it was more for her parents. They wanted her there, she knew that. After all Grandma Harris was her Mother’s mum. She thought about that.

Will I do the same if—
when—
mum passes on?

So Anna went with her parents and family, to Ashwood Cemetery. The service in the chapel was monotonous and long. Everyone who came up to speak said pretty much the same thing, and ended up crying. Up by the coffin were wreaths of flowers surrounding two large photographs. One of Grandma Harris as Anna had known her, perhaps a little younger. The other, for the benefit of her older friends gathered here and to illustrate the long full life she had lived; an old black and white of Ida (Jones at the time, not yet Harris) at roughly twenty. They barely looked similar. White curls in one, long black waves in the other. Anna’s mother remarked on the resemblance between Anna and the old black and white image, and told her that she would look very similar when she was twenty to the large image at the front. Anna didn’t know what to say or think about that.

Eventually, after the long boring speech by the priest and some truly awful organ music, the congregation moved outside behind the coffin. Her father was one of the pallbearers. All the adults, except her aunt Helen, had their heads down sombrely. Aunt Helen was whispering away in a gossipy fever to a reluctant family member.

They laid Grandma Harris to rest beside her husband’s grave, which Anna thought was creepy as hell. The Priest said more things Anna didn’t quite understand, and people cried and threw flowers as they lowered the coffin. Anna imagined what the Grandma Harris she had known would say about all this. No doubt she would stand for none of it. She’d think all this weeping and wailing was a waste of time and breath. Anna had liked her Grandma, and would miss her. She would always recall the mischievous wink she’d sling Anna, when the others weren’t looking. That wink reminded her a little of Slou’ha. It was the same cheeky nature.

Once the ceremony was complete, the adults spoke briefly and then filed away in their black clothes to waiting black cars. She was relieved to hear that they were heading back to Grandma’s house, something to do with lawyers and the reading of the Will.

For this her mother and father wanted her to stay in the house and to keep herself patiently amused. She couldn’t believe it—they’d given her free reign! The few adults that would also be around would all be huddled in the same room. Effectively, Anna would have the run of the house to herself. She thought of the attic and the perfect opportunity to say goodbye to her friend. Perhaps she could even persuade Slou’ha to come with them. The girl could live in their attic if she wanted. Anna would hide her in the car boot, she was so small after all. She’d fit with plenty of space left over.

* * *

The attic door pulled shut behind her. She had once again made a perfect getaway. No one had noticed her once she’d left the adults in the study. Anna the Spy was as invisible as ever. Her game made her think of the old films on television where the female spy in the wonderful dress always had a tiny silver pistol against her thigh, for emergencies. Small but deadly.

Anna tugged the cord several times, but the bulb didn’t light. It must’ve blown. She made her way to the rear end of the attic, and said hello to the kindly tailor’s mannequin with her bonnet head as she passed. This time Slou’ha was waiting for her in the small space at the very end of the attic, sitting atop the old trunk.

As Anna rushed to her friend, Slou’ha stood up. Anna stopped. Slou’ha had once again grown since last she had seen her. Now she was identical in height to Anna. That wasn’t the only thing that had changed about her either. The lacy black rags she had worn had transformed into a flowing black dress. Her hair, once all messy and dirty, was freshly combed and a shiny, glossy black wave. She smiled at Anna and took her hand. They both marvelled at her transformation.

“Wow,” Anna said, unable to contain her shock and joy. Slou’ha smiled back at her. “Is this all because of yesterday? Because of the secrets?”

Slou’ha smiled excited and giddy. She looked more like a little girl than ever before. It pleased Anna to see her friend so happy and healthy. She was also more than a little proud of herself for having something to do with it.

Then she remembered that she was going home today. It must have shown on her face, as Slou’ha with a clear soft voice—the whispers now gone—asked her, “What’s the matter?”

Anna sat on the trunk. “Today is my last day here. In a few hours my parents are taking me back home.”

“Is it far?”

Anna nodded solemnly.

“So you won’t be coming back to visit me?”

Anna shook her head.

“I was hoping that you might come with us. We could hide you. It’ll be more difficult now that you’re bigger, but I can sneak you into our attic at home. You could live with me.” Anna already knew the answer, but she had to ask. She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t.

“I can’t,” said Slou’ha, ‘If anyone were to even catch a glimpse of me… I’m still too weak. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Anna moaned. A thought occurred to her then. “Who are you going to talk to once I’m gone, who will tell you secrets?” Anna couldn’t stand the idea that her friend would wither away again to that small frightened creature she had first found. She was so beautiful now, and she wanted her to stay that way. She wanted to stay here with her too, but both things seemed impossible.

“New people will move in, I’m sure. Hopefully they’ll have someone as nice as you with them.”

“But what if they don’t, won’t you starve.” Anna was being a pessimist, but she couldn’t help it. She was angry at herself for spoiling their last day together.

“I was thinking about that, and I have an idea,” said Slou’ha with a touch of mischief. Anna couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll need your help.”

“Anything!” Anna said, excited now.

“You’ll have to give me a secret, a big one. A really big one in fact. Something so big that it’ll last me a long time, just in case no one moves in. Can you think of anything like that?”

Anna thought about it. She thought about it hard. She could think of lots more little things, but nothing huge. Not the kind of thing that she knew Slou’ha meant.

“I’ve got one.”

Anna looked up at her friend a little confused.

“You do?”

“No one knows that you’ve been coming up to the attic right?”

“No, I was careful.”

“Good, then this one will be the biggest secret of all.”

Anna didn’t know what Slou’ha was getting at, but any idea was better than nothing.

“What will?”

“Where Anna is.”

“What?”

“It’s a very big secret indeed—
where, oh where, has Anna gone?
”

Anna figured it out. “I could stay here!”

Slou’ha was in her own little world now, “Oh they’ll look and look, but no one will find her. They’ll think all kinds of crazy things, but none of them will ever know, none of them will ever suspect.”

Anna didn’t like the way she said ‘
her
’. It was as if she had forgotten Anna was even there. She wasn’t talking to Anna, she was talking to herself. It frightened her a little bit.

“What ever happened to Anna? It’ll be such a big secret!’”

Slou’ha turned to Anna now a wicked grin replacing the cute one. Her slim white hands snapped to Anna’s shoulders, holding Anna tight. Her hands were still cold to the touch.

“Wait, Slou’ha, what are you doing? Let me go!” Anna wrestled, but failed to break free from the pale girl’s iron grip. Slou’ha’s big black eyes got bigger and her smile impossibly wide. “Let go of me! You’re hurting me!”

But the Slou’ha paid no attention. Her beautiful black dress had grown and quivered in the dark like a living shadow. When she opened her mouth it opened too far, and stretched right down to her chest, like a gaping black hole. Anna screamed and kicked, but the dark tendrils of the girl’s shadow dress wrapped around her. They were the coldest things Anna had ever felt. They dragged her towards that huge mouth and wicked gleeful eyes.

Then just like that, Anna was gone. Swallowed up by the darkness in the heart of the pale little girl who lived in the attic. Slou’ha was right too; people would search and search. They would come to think the worst. But no one would ever know, none would even suspect. For years they would wonder, ‘Whatever happened to dear young Anna?’ But they would never know because it was her secret. Just hers.

Forever.

Spirits Having Flown

John Everson

It was never so sterile. So polished.

So bereft of life.

The old frame house once sighed with his tortured breath, spoke with his aching lips, stumbled from thunderstorm to snowfall with his unsteady feet.

No more.

I move from one room to the next, noting the forest green granny-square afghan folded neatly on the back of the second-hand couch, its cushions, (for the first time?) perfectly fitted together. The thick, dripping grease spots have been wiped away from the small orange and brown tiles above the Donna Reed-era Amana gas oven range, the sloppy spaghetti stains painting the wall by the garbage can scrubbed down to faded shadows. I can see the patterns in the yellowed linoleum. Bundles of daisies. Given Mac’s and my inattention to housekeeping, I’d never seen the flowers before.