by Caragh Bell
Aurora put her head to one side. She was unaccustomed to seeing her father behave like this. His head was always intent on a computer or a page; now he was beaming and speaking in a strange voice.
Maggie bustled back in and poured a cup of tea for James. He gratefully accepted it and took a sip. Then, placing the cup and saucer on the coffee table, he sauntered over to the bookshelves that lined one wall. ‘Are some of these first editions?’ he enquired, running his finger over the faded volumes stacked closely together.
‘Why, yes,’ answered Henry. ‘My father flirted with being a writer at times. He loved Thomas, Eliot and Frost in particular. He was also a good chum of Teddy Hughes.’
‘I really enjoyed your play about Cocteau.’ James pulled out a worn copy of La Machine Infernale.
Henry shrugged. ‘It was in my head for years. I just had to take the time to write it.’
‘I went to see it with Dad that time. Do you remember, Mum?’
‘Yes, I do,’ she answered sadly. ‘I took Laura to see Toy Story at the Odeon. We had ice cream afterwards.’
‘Master James,’ Maggie interrupted, ‘your apple pie’s ’ere on the table for you.’
‘Thanks, Maggie,’ said James, moving back to the coffee table.
Henry took Gloria’s hand in his own and stroked her wrist. ‘It’s odd how it can hit you sometimes – the grief. It’s almost ten years since Grace passed, but sometimes it feels like only yesterday.’ He gestured towards a huge portrait by the bay window. It was of a beautiful dark-haired woman wearing a white dress with a faraway look on her face.
All the occupants of the room gazed at it for a moment.
‘She looks just like you!’ exclaimed James, his eyes moving from Aurora to the painting. ‘It’s uncanny!’
Aurora said nothing. She was used to people saying that: she strongly resembled her mother. She often wished she could see her and touch her and hear her voice: just once.
‘Yes, Aurora looks exactly like Grace,’ agreed Henry sadly. ‘I can’t quite believe it sometimes.’
‘She was very beautiful,’ concluded Gloria.
‘Right,’ interrupted Maggie. ‘Are you two stayin’ for a bit of dinner? I ’ave stew and dumplins, followed by cherry puddin’ and cream.’
‘Sounds great,’ said James, smiling. ‘I’m famished.’
Chapter Two
James scraped the bottom of his bowl with his spoon and groaned.
‘Maggie, you’re an absolute wizard in the kitchen,’ he said, patting his belly. ‘Mum, I love you, but your cooking skills are not your greatest attribute.’
Aurora sprinkled Smarties on her ice cream. She didn’t like pies and puddings. Instead, Maggie always gave her two scoops of vanilla with sweets on top.
Henry sipped his cognac and grasped Gloria’s hand. ‘It’s so lovely to have company,’ he said. ‘This old house needs a bit of life.’
They were seated in the banquet hall. Maggie had set four places around the far end of the long mahogany table and the remainder of the polished surface stretched interminably into the darkness. Large paintings dominated the walls: Henry’s ancestors in different period costumes, all with the same expression. Aurora hated the banquet hall; she much preferred eating her meals with Maggie in the warm kitchen.
James turned to Aurora and whispered, ‘Do you like reading?’
She nodded fervently. ‘I love it. At the moment I’m reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and I’m at the best bit.’
‘When will the new book be released?’ he asked seriously.
‘J.K. Rowling said 2003, so next year, I hope. I can’t wait!’ She sighed. ‘I just loved The Goblet of Fire, but this one seems to be just as good.’
‘Laura’s very excited too. She keeps telling me that it’s Levi-oh-sa, not Levios-ah!’
Aurora laughed. ‘You’re funny.’
James refused a second helping of pudding from Maggie. ‘As delicious as it was, I’m absolutely stuffed.’
‘Ah, go on, my lovely,’ she said. ‘You’re only a skinny little thing.’
‘Oh, go on then.’ He held out his bowl and Maggie piled it high with two heaped spoonfuls of cherry pudding and a huge helping of cream.
‘I’ll pop,’ he whispered conspiratorially to Aurora before taking an enormous bite.
Aurora giggled.
‘So, why were you called Aurora?’ he asked, chewing. ‘It’s a cool name.’
‘I don’t know,’ she answered truthfully.
‘Henry?’ pursued James. ‘Why did you call her Aurora?’
Henry sipped his brandy. ‘It was her mother – she chose the name.’
‘Why?’
‘She was named for the Goddess of the Dawn. Her birth was a new beginning.’ He sighed. ‘Well, that was how it was supposed to be.’
Aurora looked stricken for a moment and James nudged her. ‘Hey, you’re a princess and a goddess. Pretty impressive.’
Her face changed immediately. ‘I’m also stars. Daddy says that I’m up in the sky.’
‘Of course!’ James clapped his hands. ‘Aurora Borealis! The Northern Lights.’
‘I suppose …’
‘Or Aurora Australis, the Southern Lights.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘We should stick to our own hemisphere, I think. Borealis it is.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That’s it! From now on, I’m going to call you that.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘You’re hereby christened Aurora Borealis Sinclair.’
Aurora gazed at him in delight. ‘No one has ever given me a nickname before.’
‘Well, that has now changed.’ He took another bite of pudding. ‘I can’t believe that you’ve lived this long without someone calling you that.’
‘I’m only nine!’
‘You’re an old lady, Aurora Borealis!’ He shook his head. ‘Practically a pensioner.’
‘You’re silly.’ She giggled and picked a yellow sweet off her now-melted ice cream.
The storm ceased later that night. Henry and Gloria busied themselves playing gin rummy by the dwindling fire as the windows stopped their rattling and peace descended on the clifftop.
James showed some of his photos to Aurora who observed them intently.
‘I really like this one,’ she commented, pointing to an old woman in a black cloak, standing still under the neon lights of Piccadilly.
‘Yes, that’s rather good,’ agreed James. ‘The crowds are blurry around her yet she’s stationary. I love the expression on her face; she seems so …’ He paused.
‘Wise?’ Aurora suggested.
‘Yes,’ he exclaimed, surprised. ‘That’s exactly it. The rat race surrounds her and she realises that it’s all utterly pointless, that rushing and running serves no one and that we should stop and enjoy life.’
Aurora frowned as she considered this.
James laughed. ‘Sorry, Aurora Borealis. I get carried away sometimes.’ He closed his portfolio. ‘So, what do you like to do? Besides reading Harry Potter, of course.’
‘Me?’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t know. I suppose I play with Princess Grace a lot.’
‘Princess Grace?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is she your neighbour?’
‘No, silly!’ She punched him playfully on the arm. ‘She’s my doll.’
‘Oh! Well, may I meet her?’
‘My doll?’
‘Why, yes. Why not?’ He got to his feet. ‘I’ve never met a real princess before.’
Aurora jumped up in excitement. ‘Oh, she’s beautiful. I did her hair today and she looks so pretty.’
‘Sounds great,’ he said, smiling. ‘Right then, lead the way.’
Aurora bounded up the stairs and led him down the dark corridor to her bedroom. Maggie had lit the fire in the grate and the flames danced merrily in the darkness.
‘My God, this place is stuck in the Dark Ages,’ observed James, staring at the old-fashioned décor and the four-poster bed. ‘I feel like I’m in a gothic ghost stor
y.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Aurora. ‘It can be scary sometimes. That’s why I have Grace here with me. She looks after me.’ She pointed to her doll who was sitting on a deck chair by a plastic palm tree. ‘Isn’t she lovely?’
James went down on one knee and kissed the doll’s hand. ‘Charmed, I’m sure, Your Highness,’ he said solemnly.
Princess Grace stared blankly back at him, her face frozen.
‘She has a lovely home,’ he continued, looking at the doll’s castle. ‘Is she married?’
‘Well, the prince rescues her and takes her away in his Ferrari,’ explained Aurora, pointing to the Barbie car parked by the bookcase. ‘But, the next day she’s back again, stuck in the house all alone.’
James said nothing. He watched the little girl smooth her doll’s hair sadly and his heart constricted. What a life for a young girl: isolated and lonely in the back end of nowhere with only an elderly woman and her father for company. It was no wonder that she lived in a fantasy world with her dolls. He thought of his own little sister, Laura. She was the total opposite to Aurora: she played volleyball and hockey, had tons of friends and a hectic social life.
‘So, where’s this prince?’ he asked and Aurora looked up.
‘He’s sitting over there,’ she said, pointing to the toy chest by the window. ‘His name is Prince Ken.’
‘Oh, it is,’ said James with a smile.
‘That was on his box when I got him,’ she explained.
‘So why did you call her Grace?’ he continued, gesturing to her doll.
Aurora’s face tightened. ‘It was my mother’s name,’ she said softly.
James wanted to kick himself. Of course, it was.
‘Look, let’s go back down,’ he suggested. ‘We could watch a film or something.’
Aurora shook her head. ‘We don’t have a television. Daddy doesn’t like them.’
‘No TV?’ gasped James incredulously.
‘Nope,’ she confirmed, shaking her head. ‘The only time I get to see anything is at Freddie’s house.’
‘Freddie?’
‘My best friend.’
‘How about internet?’ he pressed on. ‘Surely you have a computer.’
‘Daddy has an old one in his study but he doesn’t let me near it.’
‘What?’ James ran his fingers through his hair.
‘But Freddie has one. He lets me play games on it sometimes.’
James felt slight relief. At least the child had someone to play with. He felt momentarily angry with Henry Sinclair for subjecting his daughter to this medieval upbringing. From the way his mother was talking, it was likely that a wedding would be on the cards. He had been pretty indifferent to it up to now – he wasn’t bitter about her moving on after his father’s death and Henry seemed like a nice enough chap. Now, it seemed like a great idea. Aurora could grow up normally with a proper family. Laura would be a perfect companion with her army of friends and hectic social life.
‘Let’s go downstairs,’ he said, holding out his hand. She inserted her little one into his immediately and he led her out onto the landing.
The next morning Aurora woke up and stretched, momentarily disorientated. The wintry weather gave little light, so the morning was the best time to see the surrounding countryside. She pulled open the heavy drapes and rubbed the condensation from the window pane. Their house boasted huge gardens and a pathway down the cliff to the beach. The ocean glinted in the pale sunlight and a huge ship was visible on the horizon. She put on her slippers and padded over to her robe which was hanging on an ancient brass hook by the dresser.
She and James had played Scrabbleuntil after ten and then she had been sent to bed by her father.
‘You’ll see him again in the morning,’ Henry had assured her as she protested. Gloria gave her a small hug and told her to sleep well.
James had winked and given a small wave. ‘Night, Borealis,’ he mouthed with a wide grin.
Maggie was in the kitchen when she burst through the door.
‘Mornin’,’ she said warmly, kissing Aurora’s head. ‘I’m makin’ drop scones.’
Aurora took her usual seat at the large table and watched Maggie drop batter onto the skillet on the Aga. It sizzled and she expertly swirled it to create a round shape.
‘Is anyone else up, Maggie?’
‘That nice young man was in a while ago.’ She flipped the small pancake over in the pan. ‘’Ee was like a toad on a ’ot shovel, ’ee was. Drank a cup of coffee and off out to take some photographs down by the water.’
Aurora’s face creased in disappointment. She would have loved to have gone too. The only time she got to go to the beach was with Freddie.
‘Did he say when he’ll be back?’
‘’Ee’ll be back dreckly, little ’un.’ She slid the pancake onto a plate and passed Aurora the honey. ‘Now eat up. It’ll get cold.’
The little girl half-heartedly nibbled on her breakfast, her countenance gloomy. Why did he have to go out? She was hoping that they could play a game together before he had to leave.
As if on cue, the kitchen door opened and James walked in, all wrapped up in his coat and scarf. His camera was slung casually over his shoulder and his eyes were blazing.
Aurora sat up straight the minute he walked in and beamed.
‘This place is incredible,’ he enthused, placing his Nikon carefully on the table. ‘It’s so rugged and wild. I got some amazing shots of the sea crashing against the cliffs.’
‘Did you go to the beach?’ she asked.
‘Not yet,’ he answered, hanging his coat on a wooden chair. ‘You mentioned last night that you loved to go there, so I decided to wait for you.’
Aurora glowed with pleasure.
‘Breakfast, sir?’ asked Maggie, her pan poised. ‘You need to eat in the mornin’. I ’ave some drop scones, I do.’
‘I’d love one,’ he replied, sitting down opposite Aurora. ‘And call me James, please.’
‘Okey-dokey.’ Maggie pushed a plate in front of him. ‘I’ll get some coffee now.’
‘Any sign of the olds?’ he asked, munching loudly.
‘The olds?’ repeated Aurora, confused.
‘Mum and Henry,’ he explained. ‘You’ve got to learn the lingo, Borealis. This is what having no TV and internet does to you.’
She giggled. ‘They’re not down yet. They probably stayed up really late.’
‘Great. You go and get dressed and we’ll head down to the beach.’ He accepted a cup of coffee from Maggie. ‘We’d best hurry – I know Mum will be anxious to leave – it’s such a long journey and she wants to be home before dark.’
‘Okay!’ Aurora jumped up. ‘I’ll be down in a few minutes.’ She scampered off in excitement, banging the kitchen door behind her.
Maggie crossed her arms and observed James thoughtfully. ‘Ere, ’ow old are you?’
‘Nineteen,’ he answered. ‘Since last week, in fact. I’m the eldest.’
‘You’re very good to take Aurora out. She gets so lonely.’
James nodded with his mouth full. ‘I get that. I mean, she’s like a Victorian child. I swear to God, if you met my little sister Laura you’d think they were from different planets.’
‘Her older brothers never make an effort with her.’ Maggie’s face hardened. ‘They don’t visit very often, but when they do they are nasty so-and-so’s.’
‘Where do they live?’
‘London. They work in the banks, they do. George is thirty-two and Seb is thirty.’
‘Married?’
‘Just Seb. He brought ’er ’ome last Christmas. She complained from the minute she arrived. The water was too cold – the rooms were too dark.’ Maggie couldn’t hide the disdain in her voice.
‘Really?’ James shook his head. ‘They won’t want to move back here then.’
‘I ’ope not.’ Maggie shuddered. ‘She even ’ated my cooking! She don’t eat bread and meat and such things.’
James stifled a smile. ‘Did she have your cherry pudding?’
‘Nope.’ Maggie snorted. ‘She don’t eat no puddin’, she said. ‘Skinny little thing she was too.’
James scraped his plate and sat back. ‘Well, there’s no fear of me rejecting your food, Maggie. I think you’re a genius.’
Maggie blushed. ‘Ah, get out of ’ere, you!’
‘I’m serious,’ he said seriously. ‘My mother is many things but she’s not a great cook. I know KFC’s number by heart.’
‘Do you live at ’ome?’ Maggie enquired, taking a seat herself.
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’m sharing a flat near Tottenham Court Road with two other blokes. It’s safe to say there’s not much home cooking in our place either.’
‘You need a girlfriend, you do,’ concluded Maggie.
‘I’m working on it,’ he admitted. ‘She’s a waitress in our local caff but she doesn’t seem that interested.’
Maggie looked disbelieving. ‘I’m surprised to ’ear that, Master James. You seem like a lovely young man.’
‘I’ll wear her down,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Now, where can I get more coffee?’ Maggie moved to get up, but he waved her back down. ‘I can get it myself,’ he insisted. ‘Would you like some?’
‘Well, why not?’ Maggie beamed at him. ‘’Ere, I could get used to this.’
‘Oh, I’m buttering you up so that you’ll bake me more puddings.’
He winked at her and filled a cup. When he had resumed his seat, his expression became more serious.
‘So, tell me about Aurora,’ he said.
‘Aurora?’ she repeated, her expression guarded. ‘What do you want to know about ’er?’
‘What happened her mother?’
Maggie sighed. ‘Oh, Master James, there’s a tragic tale if ever there was one.’
‘Please,’ he pleaded. ‘I want to know.’
‘’Ere, you got to be quiet.’ Maggie got up, opened the door and poked her head into the corridor. There was no sign of Aurora so she sat down again. ‘We don’t ever talk about that time, Master James.’
‘But you’ve got to,’ he insisted.
‘You can’t tell anyone, mind,’ warned the old lady. ‘The master can’t abear to ’ear about it. You ’ave to promise me,’