by Bella James
I cannot stand there listening any more and run down the lane from Elm Tree praying that this will stop; praying that this was a mistake and my father couldn’t possibly be such a monster. ‘I would have known!’ I scream into the darkness. ‘I would have known.’ I fall to my knees and let the cold air wash over me, wondering how anything could ever be good again.
Chapter Eight:
The One You Feed
‘Sit still on the carpet, Anna!’ I am surprised to hear the exasperated sound of my alternative Sunday school teacher, Mr Thomas. He looks exactly how I remember him; the dog collar worn over a tie-dyed T shirt, strange harem trousers, and open-toed sandals. His long hair is neatly pulled into a ponytail, and his blue eyes are sparkling with mischief.
As I look around I am sitting in a neat circle with my peers while he stands at the front of the room. Rather than looking straight through me in the fashion to which I am now accustomed, he is staring right at me so I quickly cross my legs and realise that I am a little girl once more as I look at my shiny, patent leather shoes.
‘So.’ He seems satisfied and gets back to his story. ‘We all have two wolves fighting inside us. A good wolf and a bad wolf … and the battle is ferocious!’ He says the last part with great enthusiasm and we all giggle.
‘What, little ones, do we think the good wolf might be fighting for?’ He had told us this popular old fable many times and a few of the boys piped up.
‘Courage! Mr Thomas! And love, and kindness!’
‘Excellent, you have remembered so well! What else might he be fighting for? Anna, can you think of something good worth fighting for?’
I was tempted to say Cadbury’s Creme Eggs but I am enjoying this happy memory of a simpler time, so I shout out eagerly, ‘Honesty and happiness and hope, Mr Thomas!’
He chuckles, then his face darkens and our eyes pop like saucers. ‘But what, children, do we think the baaaad wolf inside you is fighting for?’
We must all be looking a little too disconcerted because he stops snarling quite so aggressively and raises his eyebrows for an answer.
‘Greed!’ shouts a brave soul to the left of me, inspiring us all to join in.
‘And hatred and jealousy and evil!’
Mr Thomas claps his hands as the church bells ring, indicating we can join our parents now their sermons are over. As we run out, he calls after us, ‘Remember, my little fledglings; the wolf that wins is the one that you feed!’
None of us hear him, and as I look back through my seventeen-year-old eyes, I wonder if perhaps he does look a little stoned.
***
I walk out of the church and sense that I have returned to my present state. I feel a little calmer for the happy reverie, and a bird singing beautifully restores my faith that perhaps I can find some peace here. I desperately miss Michael, and I need to find a way to tell my mother that I’m sorry for being such a terrible daughter, now I knew she had sacrificed her life to give us things she never had. I never would have wanted that. How could she have loved Elm Tree so much? It would have made more sense to me had she hated her beautiful prison.
If I had ever known of her silent anguish I would have told her to leave him. Why did she not run away like she used to when she was twelve? Perhaps it was through fear for our safety if she left us with him, or at his anger if she had tried to take us with her. I sigh sadly and wonder how such things could have happened without us knowing. No wonder Elm Tree was so lifeless, another beautiful shell with no soul.
As I walk by myself down the wandering lanes, I start to recall wisps of memories from my younger years. Turning music up loud so Izzy could not hear him shouting at her, drinking vodka at sixteen when I realised it helped to forget. Had I really buried so much without knowing? I feel a great heaviness surrounding me as I understand there is nothing I can do for her now. And the cold hand of fear grips my heart once more as I remember she is with him still and I have left her behind.
***
The sky darkens in keeping with my mood and the shimmering dark wolf suddenly emerges at my side, beckoning me to follow him to what appears to be a derelict building. He leaves me to tread carefully through the bricks and debris and as I see more similar ruins ahead, I sense that I am walking through the ghost of a town that has been torn apart by war. The buildings that remain have had their insides blown out, leaving shards and shatters of glass beneath my feet.
‘Is anyone here?’ I call out, feeling more destitute than ever.
My voice breaks into a lonely echo and I shiver in the dust and decay. I close my eyes and try to imagine the comfort of home, but all I see is the lie I have lived. My parent’s discord, my mother’s quest to suffer in silence as her two spoiled girls laughed and sang, oblivious. I dispel the dark thoughts and search my soul for a memory of Michael to save me. My heart lifts as I see his face, then disintegrates as the image vanishes and I know that he belongs to another world.
The only angel watching over me now is dark and of despair, and had I encompassed the power to end the anguish, I would have done so now without a moment’s hesitation.
A noise at my feet brings my head reluctantly up from my knees, and I see an emerging black beetle tunnelling upwards from the dust and dry earth. I watch him for a few moments busying around in the decay, and instantly feel a little better that I am not the only one sent to this dire place. I watch, fascinated, as he comes closer to me, making a slow but persistent trail to the stack of rubble I have lain against. I cannot help but think that although he is my only companion, I have never liked bugs and find him rather ugly.
Vibrations pick up between us and I am embarrassed to find that he may have read my mind.
‘I am Hope,’ he tells me and I look at him dubiously.
‘There is hope here?’ I ask him.
‘Of course,’ he replies, scuttling away from me now with more purpose than ever, ‘Where there is life, Anna, there is Hope.’
I feel he may have been laughing at me, yet I cannot help but smile as I realise it is time for me to progress, and I thank the little beetle before turning in the opposite direction. As we move further away from each other and our vibrations begin to weaken, I am certain I feel him whisper, ‘Remember me.’
***
I walk in solitude before noticing a remarkably tall man ahead of me, wearing a white linen suit and a Panama hat.
‘Anna! At last, my goodness, I have been waiting for you!’ I like him immediately and run shyly towards him, falling alongside his meandering pace. ‘Well, what do you think of it here? Like it?’ His British accent is very old-fashioned and although he is no longer made up of dazzling lights, I recognise him as my Guide.
‘No!’ I cry out to him. ‘I do not like what I’ve seen!’
‘Did you not like to see Benji and Maria?’
‘Well, yes. That part was nice.’
‘And your Great Grandmother?’
I turn to face him so he will understand the seriousness of how distraught I am.
‘Yes! Of course I wanted to see her but she showed me terrible things. My mother …’ My voice trails away and he pats my shoulder gently.
‘Anna, did you not need to know why your mother was so sad? Are you not glad that you can see how much she loved you? She sacrificed her happiness so you could grow up in a beautiful house, and have the stability she never had.’
‘I didn’t need any of that! She should have left him and we would have had a proper chance to be happy.’ I cry silently and his strident voice startles me.
‘Anna, you have so much to learn. Come and sit with me.’ A fallen log offers its service.
‘I have watched over you for many years, and see the way you are all too willing to let negative influences in. It is almost as though you are drawn to self-destructive emotion.’
I frown crossly as he continues. ‘You’ve had countless opportunity to live at a higher level, and yet you always bury your head in the sand with your silly outlets.’
&
nbsp; I look at his irritatingly serene expression, my features so scrunched up in annoyance that my face turns pink.
‘Anna, you look displeased. Can you not agree that for all your mother was desperately unhappy, her sacrifices blessed you with many fortuitous options? She took your father’s temper away from you and Isabel. You were safe and loved, attended the best schools, dance classes, birthday parties … so why were you such an unsatisfied little thing?’
I think for a moment and tell him, ‘I can remember being happy. Before Izzy was born and I was still little, my mother and I spent a lot of time together and I’m sure I was happy.’
I close my eyes and consciously allow him to share a memory of my mother and I visiting a beautiful estate in Buckingham. The rambling old manor had housed noble families and entertained visiting kings and queens from as far back as the grandiose Tudor Courtiers. I loved her telling me stories of King Henry as he had slept in a certain room while guards stood by the heavy panelled doors of his chambers. She told me he wanted sons as heirs to his throne, and how wicked he was to his queens when they delivered only baby girls. There were various artefacts from each era and I had breathed excitedly over every display cabinet, my eyes wide as she told me intriguing stories of people that sounded to me more like fairy tale characters.
A ruthless king beheading his queen, young princes locked in towers, and armies fighting for titles and power. She told me of a beautiful Scottish princess, born into great power and becoming Queen at just six days old, and showed me her portrait as a young woman fighting to keep her country from the grasp of men. I remember my mother’s face in great detail, how beautiful and animated it was as she spoke of how women had to be brave.
Bending down. I watched her avidly as she held onto my shoulders and told me to listen. ‘Never let someone rule over you, Anna. You must always be brave and strong. Stand up for yourself and what you believe in.’
I nodded furiously, thinking she was just like the beautiful queens and princesses of her stories.
My memory is so vivid I am taken away on the strength of its recollection. I am holding my mother’s hand as we walk happily towards the car. She is singing to me a nursery rhyme and I skip along enjoying the sun on my face.
As she fastens her seatbelt, I see she is heavily pregnant, and find I am an observer once more, no longer a participant of the pretty scene before me. We sing all the way along the winding roads until I stop abruptly and tell her I need ice cream.
‘Darling, we don’t have time for ice cream. I told your father we would be back in the house by four and it is almost quarter past five. I have to prepare dinner.’
I recognise the scrunched up face of disappointment, and even I see myself as spoilt when my bottom lip begins to tremble.
‘Oh. All right, Anna. I’ll stop at the next village and see if we can find some.’ She laughs as my face transforms into a cheerful grin and pats her tummy. ‘Perhaps your little brother or sister would like some too.’
Before we reach the village, Lillian sees an ice cream van with a small queue in the car park of a country pub. ‘Perfect,’ she says, and pulls in quickly, telling me to wait in the car as she pulls alongside it.
I must have forgotten what happens next but as she returns with two ice cream cones, my mother’s smiling face turns to confusion as her eyes fall upon a man and a much younger brunette kissing and laughing together at a table in the beer garden. She stands still for only a moment then runs to the car, dropping her dessert on the ground, and almost throwing mine at me. As she hastily pulls on her seat belt and starts the engine I see myself ask her, ‘What’s wrong, Mummy?’ Then my little worried face turns to look to see my father running towards us as she screeches away.
Despite my mother’s attempts at reassurance, I sit quietly for the journey, as children do when they sense something is wrong. She detours from Elm Tree to my grandparents’ house and leaves me there crying and begging to go home with her.
‘I have to go to the shops for more ice cream, darling,’ she tells me, but I do not want more ice cream and her lie is too transparent for my sharp senses. ‘Be good for Grandma and I will be back soon.’
I am ushered into the living room while my Grandma runs after her as she heads back to the car. ‘Lilly, whatever is wrong, dear? You shouldn’t be so worked up, the baby is due in a few weeks. Come in and have a cool drink. I’m worried about you.’
My mother just pulls away and says, ‘It is true. I have seen it with my own eyes today. So much for a new baby and a new beginning, I am such a hypocrite telling Anna to be brave and strong when I can’t even walk away from a man who treats me this way. Why do I give him this power?’ She sounds bewildered, as if this is happening to somebody else and is beyond her comprehension. My grandma reaches for her once more, but Lillian pulls away the way I have seen myself do to her.
‘I will leave this time, Mother. I have been hiding some money. I will get things for the baby and Anna’s clothes, then I will be back. I am going to take them as far away from him as I can.’ She suddenly smiles and I find myself crying at the hope in her beautiful face. ‘I can do this – for them. I won’t be afraid of him any more.’
The next time I saw my mother was nine days later. She brought Izzy home from hospital, her face bruised and her arm broken.
***
Love radiates from my Guide and I rest my head on his shoulders. ‘I don’t remember Father being so mean,’ I say quietly.
He nods and rests his head against mine. ‘She protected you, but all of those vibrations around you were so inharmonious, you picked up much negativity and carried it with you. By the time Isabel was born, your parents had settled into quiet discontentment. She turned a blind eye to his affairs and tried to avoid his temper at all costs. Your sister did not suffer the same tumultuous vibrations that you did.’
‘Is that why she is so happy and I’m not?’
He paused for a second, treading carefully. ‘Isabel is of a different nature, she has less of a journey to travel than you do, Anna. She is no more or less good, just at a different stage in her development.’
I try to read between the lines as he smiles and continues, ‘Every soul will progress to exactly the same level. We will all reach a point when we become one with our Higher Self. In that state we are enlightened and fully evolved. It usually happens over a number of lifetimes, within each one learning new attributes and progressing further. It is up to each of us how far we travel. Of course, the faster we learn to live with joy, the faster we become our Higher Selves. The road is more difficult for some, but that does not make it less extraordinary or beautiful or worthwhile. Some people experience extreme grief, or have to live through turbulent years, and face illness or disability. Just try to remember that our journeys may be very different but our destinations are all the same.’ He gives a satisfied nod while I am left angry and confused.
He stands up to leave me, removing the Panama hat and smoothing down his white hair.
‘Isabel is equal to you, as we all are to each other, but she has progressed further than you at this time. She has learned contentment over her evolvement; she is peaceful and has faith in others. It may have taken her time to find tranquillity but it will come to us all eventually.’ He looks at me with sparkling eyes. ‘It will come to you too. You will find a time in your life when you learn to love unconditionally. Your anger will simply dissipate and you will be quite selfless.’ His mouth twitches into a smile at his last drop of wisdom.
I look at him wryly, hating to point out the obvious. ‘Not in this lifetime, though. I might come back as Mother-bloody-Teresa in the next one but for now, Anna Winters in all her messed up glory, is left for dead on an operating table. I can’t go back and save my mother from her misery, I can’t learn to love my sister without envy, I can’t do good things for other people …’ My voice trails away as I think of Michael. I won’t see the golden horse he spoke about, or be able to love unconditionally as I desperately wa
nted. ‘I won’t grow old with him.’
The Guide must have seen enough self-pity, for he smiles and walks away.
Although it should have shocked or surprised me tremendously, I find I am quite undeterred when his body transforms into the white wolf, bowing his head before vanishing.
***
I feel I have been walking for hours before my surroundings become reassuringly familiar. I recognise the lake by which my journey began and run to the shore where Benji is waiting.
‘Well?’ he asks in greeting.
‘I feel a thousand years older, Ben. I’ve seen the worst and most beautiful sights of my lifetime, and have been left alone to contemplate how it is too late for me put anything right.’
‘Oh, Anna you never listen. That is the whole point of progression, you do not stand still. Not ever! Make a decision to either put things right or advance on a different journey. Whatever you decide, you will carry with you a new knowledge. It may sometimes feel like a little voice in your ear, a moment in your conscience, or a feeling in your heart. We are so institutionalised as earth-bound beings we ignore many of these messages, but you must remember to listen to them. Recognise when you are being guided and you will begin to make different choices as you have learned from your old ones. Listen to your inner voice and follow the path of your higher self.’
I look back along the road which brought me here.
‘Well?’ he laughs, as if the answer is so obvious and in the space of a second, a thousand visions flash before me. I feel my birth, the powerful force of maternal love, and the unending confidence in the intuition we are born with. I feel the confidence ebb and wane as life influences me. I see Izzy as a little girl, running towards me, her eyes full of adoration for her big sister. I am growing. I am making mistakes but I am learning. I am falling in love. I see Michael in the hospital corridor and start running towards his image at great speed, with all the determined power of my human body I am hurtling back to him.