1 The secret present
Later it would seem strange that a day that had begun so
ordinarily, holding so little promise of excitement or adventure, should have
ended up being the day that would change things forever.
Even though it was Sunday,
Elisha wasn't looking forward to the afternoon at all. It seemed a shame that
on such a gloriously sunny day, she probably wouldn't be able to play outside
because it was their turn to visit Great Aunt Jessie.
Aunt Jessie was
very old, maybe 90 or 100, and her grandmother's older sister. She'd had a
heart attack a year before and, although she'd recovered well, Elisha's mum
still worried about her.
'She's much
frailer than she looks,' Mrs Goodman told her husband, while packing up things
to take into a large bag of white woven straw. Elisha's father just snorted in
response.
Elisha
tried to snort too, copying him, but hers was a pale imitation. His brown eyes
twinkled as they exchanged glances.
'Don't encourage
him, Ellie,' warned her mum. 'One day you'll both be old and maybe no one will
want to go and visit you ... '
Elisha giggled.
She couldn't imagine being old but she always liked it when she and her dad
clubbed together to tease her mum. He felt more like an older brother then.
Skipping down the
garden path, she hovered by the car door, waiting for her dad to unlock it. He
had to get in first before reaching across to lift up the little knobs by the
windows on each of their doors. It was a half-hour drive in their little Austin
Maxi, which was the exact colour of the gypsy tart you had for afters at
school, and she hoped she wouldn't be sick. Sometimes she felt very ill in the
car. But there was no point taking a tablet now as it might take twenty minutes
to work. She liked the tin the Avomine™
came in – it was slim, green and yellow, with a slide-off lid - but she hated
having to swallow the pills, even though they were tiny.
Aunt Jessie lived in an old
people's home about ten miles away where everything was painted in cream, beige
and a rusty orange colour that Elisha's mother called 'burnt umber'.
Elisha looked at
the corridor walls as they walked along to the day room and thought her mother
probably meant amber, as that was a kind of orange, the type in the middle in
traffic lights.
There were lots
of old people in the day room, watching the colour TV or playing cards or
talking. Some of them were in wheelchairs but mostly they sat in big
easy-chairs with polished wooden arms. Elisha's father said some of these
chairs had loos underneath them, 'in case of accidents'. He laughed when Elisha
wrinkled her nose at this, putting her head on one side to see if she could
spot any of the giveaway white plastic bottoms.
She always
wondered what the day room turned into at night.
She couldn't see
her aunt at first and just followed her mum's khaki gabardine raincoat, trying
not to look at the old women in cardigans knitting grandchildren's clothes in
garish light greens and sickly pinks or the old bald man with the thick-lensed
spectacles that made his eyes look huge. She could hear wheezy breathing and
smell stale cigar smoke as another old man's sleeve brushed her hair in
passing.
But then she saw
Aunt Jessie, plump and cheerful, sitting on a straight ordinary chair, reading
a book at a table. Elisha felt bad. It was mean not to want to visit Aunt
Jessie because the old lady seemed to enjoy seeing them so much.
Her hair was
snow-white against a red-cheeked face; and she beamed all over to see her
relatives, setting aside her large-print romance from the mobile library.
'Oh, I'm so glad
you could make it!' she said, as if they'd fought through a raging gale outside
to get there. 'I've been looking forward to seeing you all week. Especially my
little Elisha.' Elisha was hugged to her aunt's big bosom, which smelt of clean
washing mixed with lavender. Her mother and father started to talk to Jessie,
as they unloaded magazines, boring ones like Woman’s Realm and Women’s
Weekly, satsumas, Walnut Whips (her aunt’s favourite), a
box of Milk Tray (which Elisha hoped her aunt would open straight away) and
some bubble bath (one of the pink bottles from Avon, shaped like the bubbles
were trying to break out on each side) from the straw bag.
It seemed a bit unfair that in
this way her dad took half the credit for the gifts when he’d actually had no
hand in acquiring, collecting or packing them.
'Oh, you really
shouldn't have,' said Aunt Jessie, releasing Elisha from the clench, fingering
all the goodies. 'These are splendid. You mustn’t spoil me like this.'
Elisha got a
white pear drop out of the little white paper bag her Mum handed her, inhaling
the nail-varnish smell of it before popping it into her mouth and wandering
over to the window where the sun shone brightly on a beautiful garden. Some of
the residents tended it, her mother said, and they did a very good job. Aunt
Jessie always said it was better than Kew Gardens but Elisha didn't know what
that was. It sounded like you had to wait in line to get in.
This garden was pretty though,
with irises, hydrangeas, roses and hollyhocks and a bird-feeder under frenzied
sparrow attack. Sighing, she turned her gaze back into the room and looked up
at the big wall clock, trying to tell the time.
The
heating was turned up too high in the day room and none of the windows was
open. It was much too stuffy. Elisha longed to escape into the garden and play
– but she was stuck inside with mum and dad and her aunt and lots of old
people. It wasn't fair. Returning briefly to the group, she delved in her mum's
bag and got out a bottle of Cresta. She shook it up as surreptitiously as she
could so that when she opened it, it fizzed out over her hands. She imagined it to be Babycham, the height
of grownup sophistication. ‘It’s frothy, man,’ she quoted the advert. It was
just as nice as cream soda too.
'Careful,
sweetie,' admonished her great-aunt, pursing her lips. Elisha just nodded,
licked the spillage up from her fingers and running to try the vacant
easy-chairs out, sitting in one and then another, dashing round and bumping
into things till she felt hot and tired out, and till the old men frowned at
her and tutted to themselves. Eyes back on the clock, she saw that the hour
hand had finally crept round the circle.
'Elisha darling,'
called her mother. 'Aunt Jessie wants to speak to you.'
Sulkily, Elisha
turned back to the group. Her mother pulled her over to them, smoothing down
her hair. Her brown hair was very flyaway and static, sticking out untidily
from her head. She wished she had hair more like her mother’s, which was a
honey-blonde colour, helped by a box of dye from the chemist in the high
street. It was fun searching out the reduced ones on the shelves at the back.
Everything about her mum seemed
to match – her Outdoor Girl coral lipstick, really more of a tangerine
colour, from a green plastic tube, the orange, brown and white swirl
patterns on her nylon minidress, her white vinyl boots and American Tan tights.
In fact, she
wished that she looked more like her mum altogether – the delicate features,
hazel eyes, upturned nose, generous mouth – she thought her mum was the
prettiest mum in the world. She sometimes used to copy her and smear Vaseline
on her dark eyelashes before going out.
But now she whined, 'Don't,
Mummy' and squirmed away from her grasp.
'Come to my room,
child,' said Great-Aunt Jessie. ‘I've got a secret present to give you.' She
stood up, suddenly important.
Elisha
was excited by both those words - 'secret' and 'present' - she loved surprise
gifts and secrets even more. So she more than dutifully followed her aunt through
the corridors to her small room, also painted burnt umber and beige. There was
a rusty-colour bedspread and some rust and cream striped curtains. Elisha
didn't like the room much – it was too dark – but it smelt nice. It smelt of
the Parma Violets Aunt Jessie always ate and gave her. They were proper grownup
sweets that smelt like perfume. She wondered if her aunt had collected some
more beads for her to swap with friends in the lunch hour.
'This is a very
special present, Elisha, and you must be careful with it.'
Elisha nodded
gravely as her aunt produced a dark-green M&S plastic bag. It certainly
didn't look special, she thought. It was probably a boring sweater or
something, something in those very bright, Battenburg-cake colours the old
ladies in the day room were knitting with. But maybe it was an Easter egg –
that would be ‘eggscellent’.
Aunt Jessie
breathed heavily as she pushed down the bag sides to reveal a small blue
cardboard box, before lifting it out on to the bed beside her, next to Elisha.
This looked more intriguing and, in her impatience to see what was inside,
Elisha almost pushed her aunt’s hands out of the way before stopping herself.
'Inside this box
is a magic wishing well,' the old lady said, lifting the flaps and dipping her hands
in. 'It's always given to the youngest girl in the family. My great-grandmother
gave it to me before she died. Now I'm getting old so I'm giving it to you.
Soon you will be its keeper. When you're very old, you'll have to give it to
your youngest girl relative, even if she's only a baby, when you get the sign.'
Elisha's eyes
were big and round as her aunt drew out the most amazing model well she'd ever
seen. Well, it was the only one she'd ever seen actually but still it was
perfect – wonderfully detailed and coloured, even with a little red bucket
ready to go down, hung on a delicate gold-coloured chain.
She put out her
hands to the well, as if touching it to see if it were real. It almost seemed
to glow slightly in the dim room. There was a word for that – phosphorescent or
luminous – one of those. In Elisha’s book, anything luminous was automatically
magical and special.
'If you drop a
coin into it, it turns into gold and the well will grant your wish,' said her
aunt, solemn but kindly.
This unlikely
claim distracted Elisha from the beauty of the well. Scornfully, she sneered,
'Wells can't turn stuff into gold.' While at the same time her heart did a
little jump and she hoped it was true.
Her aunt smiled
and seemed very wise. 'This one can. This is a different kind of well.'
'Hmph,' went
Elisha, exactly as her mum did when she didn't believe something Elisha had
said.
'Well, once
you've tried it, maybe you'll believe me,' said Aunt Jessie, turning to the
door just as there was a knock. She seemed like she wanted to say more but now
couldn't, just having time to whisper, ‘Remember now – it’s our secret.’
Elisha's parents
came in, a bit apologetically. 'Time to go now, darling. Oh, what's Aunt Jessie
given you? Aren't you a lucky girl?'
'Goodbye,
sweetheart.' Her aunt gave her a hug and kiss, clasping her to her and saying,
'Be generous with your wishes. Try not to be selfish.'
'Thanks, Auntie,'
said Elisha, earning a nod of approval from her mother, then pulling away and
packing the well up quickly in case her aunt changed her mind.
And when they
left a few minutes later, she insisted on carrying the green plastic bag
herself even though it was a bit heavy.
She knew it was
stupid but all the way back in the car she couldn't help thinking of things she
could wish for. Her eyes lit up at the thought of a new bike. But of course the
wishing bit couldn't really work. If it did, Aunt Jessie wouldn't be in that
horrible home. Maybe she wouldn't even be old.
2 A first wish
At home in her bedroom she carefully got the well out of the bag
and box, setting it down on the table. She walked around it, examining every
detail. Considering it must be pretty old, it looked brand new, all the colours
very bright and none of the edges chipped.
There was no water
in it, of course, or it would have gone everywhere, and it was disappointingly
shallow. Oh well, she had better try it anyway. Getting her black Lloyds Bank
horse’s head money box down from the windowsill, she delved in the back of it
for a new halfpenny. These were much smaller than in
old money but they no longer had the pretty boat on the back. She would miss
the old coins, especially the brilliant golden threepenny bit with its
portcullis and its twelve edges. Holding her breath, she dropped the tiny bright copper coin into
the well. It clattered as it landed but otherwise didn't change. Frowning,
Elisha decided to make a wish anyway. She closed her eyes tightly.
'I wish for a new
bike, better than Veronica Atkins's one,' she recited solemnly, with both hands
round the well.
She waited for a
few seconds, hoping to hear a thud as the bike landed beside her. Silence. She
opened one eye slightly and peered round the room. No sign of anything.
Perhaps she
should be holding the coin. She stuck her hand into the well and rested her
fingertip on the halfpenny. Closing her eyes again, she said, 'Please, I wish
for a new bike better than Veronica Atkins's one, please.'
When she opened
her eyes the room was just the same and no new bike had appeared.
Auntie Jessie had
been fibbing. And she had fallen for it. Now she felt stupid. First, she
thought that the old lady must be having a right laugh but then remembered that
her great-aunt had never been anything but kind. Surely she wouldn't lie to
her? She decided that Jessie must be losing her marbles.
Elisha's mother
came in then to get her school clothes ready for the next day. But the little
girl couldn't stop thinking about the well, which continued to glow slightly in
the dark, as if taunting her with a power she couldn't unleash. She was still
thinking about it when the phone rang that night.
Her mother answered it straight
away even though Elisha's digital clock said it was 1.30 in the morning. The
phone in her parents' room was on the bedside cabinet right next to her mum's
head. Elisha started wondering who could be ringing at such a time but then
fell asleep quite suddenly in the middle of a thought.
When her alarm
woke her the next morning she remembered her last dream vividly. In it she and
her Aunt Jessie were in a garden quite similar to that of the old people's home
but not quite the same, much bigger, like it stretched for miles around them.
It was very sunny but the garden was brown and white, like an old postcard. She
and her aunt were walking and holding hands. Her aunt said, 'See, this is
better than Kew Gardens, isn't it?'
And Elisha was
just about to confess that she didn't know what Kew Gardens was when they
rounded a corner to find themselves opposite the well. It was a life-size
replica of the model well and in mind-blowing colour, which made it stand out
from the rest of the garden as if proclaiming itself the only thing that wasn't
a dream.
And Elisha had to
admit that, whatever Kew Gardens was like, this had to be better. She had never
seen anything so wonderful.
They walked right
up to the well and looked down into it. The red bucket was by the side, half
full of water. Its chain wasn't pristine and gold, like the one on the model,
but a blackened silver colour, with rust patches on it. The well itself was
dark and deep. It smelt of very cold water. As she leant on the bricks, the
ones on the outside were warm from the sun but the ones on the inside were cold
and a little damp. A little further away from the rim, she could see that they were
coated in slimy dark-green stuff. Elisha squinted down into it but couldn't see
the bottom. And when she looked up again, she felt dizzy and unsteady.
Her aunt was
smiling at her as if to say, 'There, you see.' Picking up a pebble, Elisha
dropped it into the well. There was a short pause before she heard it hit the
water with a tiny, faraway, echoey plop.
Aunt Jessie
beckoned her over to the bucket. When Elisha looked in she saw the reflection
of her aunt's face in the water. But that was funny, she was the one looking
into it ...
Confused, she
glanced back across at her aunt. But Aunt Jessie was no longer there. Instead
there was a little girl who looked a lot like Elisha but was dressed completely
differently, long brown hair tied back with a blue ribbon in a neat bow, a
pretty, old-fashioned white dress with a blue sash at the waist. The girl
smiled, waved and ran off.
Elisha grasped
the bucket, breathing a little harder, and looked at her reflection again. The face looking back at her was old and
scared-looking. She was shocked to see
that the hands holding the bucket were old and wrinkly, with brown splotches on
the back. These couldn't be her hands. She had turned into Aunt Jessie! Her
heart started pounding. It couldn't be true. She touched her face and felt
coarse short hairs by the side of her mouth, like her aunt sometimes had ...
With a yelp of
horror she threw the bucket down the well. But her long white hair had got
entangled in the rope and she went down too, screaming and falling through a
dark, wet, vertical shaft, like Alice down the rabbit hole.
Just as she hit
the water she woke up. She was so relieved to find herself in bed that she gave
all her toys a special hug to show how pleased she was to see them. It had only
been a dream, thank goodness.
Her mother came
in and switched off the alarm. 'Come on, darling, time to get up. You don't
want to be late for school.'
Elisha was about
to grumble and make a fuss as she normally did so that her mother would tickle
her or something but then she noticed that her mum looked strangely sad and
serious. She checked her hands quickly to make sure they weren't Aunt Jessie's.
No, they were her own hands, complete with bitten nails and the green felt-tip
scribble marks she hadn't been able to scrub off completely in the bath the
night before.
'Is something
wrong, Mummy?' She was disturbed to see her mother wipe away a tear before
sitting down on the bed and taking her in her arms.
'I'd better tell
you, darling. It's Aunt Jessica.' Elisha had never heard her called that before
and instinctively knew something was wrong. 'The home rang last night to say
she died in her sleep.' Her mother started to cry.
'Mummy, don't
cry. Remember Aunt Jessie's in heaven now, with God and Granny.'
Elisha had learnt
when she was younger that you didn't see dead people again. After her gran had
died she'd kept expecting her to come back for a visit but she never did. And
she never sent birthday cards with badges on any more. At the time she’d
thought that the postal service from heaven must be quite bad. Either that or
heaven was so great you forgot about everyone left behind. Now she had more of
an idea of the finality of being dead and the long-term absence going to heaven
entailed.
Her mother made an effort to cheer
up and even tried a smile but it was very weak and watery. 'That's right,
darling. I'll have to remember that. Aunt Jessie's with gran now.'Wordpress version here.
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