by Janeen Brian
After shutting the storeroom door, she glanced up at the smudge of smoke that hung in the air from the chimneys in the town. The breeze had dropped. Her eyes lowered towards the great stone wall that formed a section of the orphanage’s border. Part of the orphanage’s yard had been declared out of bounds to the orphans, but Eloise never understood why. It looked exactly the same as the rest, except for the tall tree, far back, with its great spreading branches full of bright green.
But her mind was elsewhere. Fragments of what Mr Jackson had told her about the beasts flittered in and out. Beasts with horns. Holes. A pond. And water turning foul. Eloise shook herself. She hadn’t moved a step away from the storeroom.
Sister Bernard had brought the Littlies outside and was marching them up and down the yard near the side door. Clap! Clap! Clap! The sister must clap in her sleep. Eloise caught Wilfred’s eye just as Sister told him to lift his legs higher. Eloise smiled, but his return smile was nothing more than a sad, wavery line.
Sister Genevieve was hard at work in the large vegetable patch.
“Eloise,” she said, straightening and brushing at her long, dark apron. Her voice carried a note of surprise, until she saw the clapper. “I’ve just planted all these rows of spinach,” she went on brightly. “So, we need those birds kept far away.”
“Yes, Sister.” Eloise nodded with gratitude. Somehow Sister Genevieve always dodged mentioning her wrongdoings.
“I think that’s all I’ll do today, dear. The plants have had a good drink, so let’s pray they do well.” The sister raised her chin, paused, and then added, “Perhaps, Eloise, we might soon be able to return to our school lessons.”
“Really?” Elise gripped the clapper tightly.
The nun tilted her head and smiled.
In that one joyous, hopeful moment, Eloise wanted to explode and tell Sister everything! To ask her why her name hadn’t been recorded in the Register. And tell her all the things that Mr Jackson had told her. And to ask if she knew about a pond and creatures from long ago.
Her lips remained closed, however, and her hands at her sides, though her heart still pattered at the good news. Sister peeled off her gloves, picked up an empty bucket and walked off.
Eloise then bent her elbow and shook the clapper.
During the day, the smoke haze lingered but clouds drifted across the sky. A pale lemon sun kept most of its warmth to itself as it rose high above and Eloise changed the clapper from one hand to the other. Much of the time, she stared at the wall. Her gaze glided from side to side and up and down until she almost knew what stone sat where.
A flutter close by startled her. Instinctively she shook the scarer harder, but the bird didn’t swoop towards the plants. It arrowed straight to the big, green tree. Eloise checked the sun so she knew she’d worked her noontime hours. Rubbing her arms, she fixed her eyes on the bird. It landed on an outer branch, and then hopped further into the centre.
“I’ll bet it’s got a nest.” Eloise took a cautious step forward. A moment later the bird flapped away over the wall, but Eloise’s curiosity got the better of her. She climbed the branches and discovered a twiggy nest with three scantily feathered baby birds within.
Then she remembered. The tree and the back area was forbidden territory.
But by then, something even more astonishing had grabbed her attention.
From where she stood, balanced on a limb, Eloise suddenly spied a gap in the wall. It was the width of a thumb and the height of her hand, narrowing at the top. A shard of stone had perhaps fallen or weathered away. Leaning forwards, Eloise put her eye to the hole. Her chest emptied of air.
She could see outside.
In that instant Eloise’s world changed. She could see beyond the boundary of the wall towards land that was foreign to her. Plains, with occasional grassy hillocks, swept before her while far beyond a track snaked its way to a point in the distance.
To her left was a pond.
Darting birds raked at the calm, silvery surface, while those that waded sent widening ripples towards the bushes and grasses on the banks. Every other moment in Eloise’s life was lost in that moment of wonder. But there were the lunch dishes to set out and other chores after the meal. She forced herself down the tree and ran back through the yard, hugging her secret.
As she ran, she imagined a farmhouse at the end of that long track. She’d walk inside and there’d be a small room and a cosy fire. From another room, a lady would call out, “Eloise, there you are, dear. Come and give your mother a kiss and then you can give Dunlevy a few scraps of bone.” And out the back a brother and sister would be chasing each other and squealing and she’d grab an apple from a tree and munch on it while the big, black dog gnawed the bones.
Lunch that day in the orphanage was bone broth and bread.
A few days later, Eloise fetched a rag dipped in vinegar from Sully in the kitchen. It was time to clean the large grandfather clock. Eloise liked to think of the clock as a grandfather, tall and statuesque, with a lovely heartwarming chime. It stood in the hallway, outside the schoolroom. Eloise wiped the glass front, though it was rarely smeared. Wilfred had once felt the back of Sister Hortense’s hand when he’d pressed his nose to the glass to watch the pendulum swing. The rest of the Littlies soon knew to keep clear of it. Right then, they were in the schoolroom with Sister Genevieve, chanting the alphabet.
If I get every speck of dust off the glass, Eloise thought to herself, setting an imaginary bargain, then Sister will grant my wish and we’ll have a school lesson together. A wish like that needed perfection. Eloise twirled the corner of the rag and poked it into every recessed edge of the glass frame. When no more could be done, she returned the rag to a tub of soapy water in the kitchen. With fingers crossed for luck, she searched the pantry shelf for the jar of boot-cleaning mixture.
“Sully?” she called. “I can’t find the boot-cleaner.”
“Can’t you now?” Sully had the habit of either repeating a question asked or not helpfully addressing the problem straight off.
Eloise waited, eyes rolled upwards.
“That’s because I made a new batch and put it on the second shelf. So it’d be right in front of your eyes. See?”
“Oh, yes. Got it.” Now to collect dozens of boots. The Littlies were barefoot at the moment, and the Sisters each had a second pair.
“Sure you wouldn’t like to scrub these pots and pans instead?”
Eloise shook her head. Boots were tedious but at least she could sit on the outside steps and clean them. However, the steps were situated next to the outside privies. Whether it was more or less a pleasant task depended on which way the wind was blowing.
“Well, they ain’t going to do themselves,” the cook sighed, heaving a thick, heavy pan into a tub of water.
“Can I use this rag, Sully?” said Eloise.
“Leave me best ones.”
Eloise shrugged in confusion, took one from the pile on the bench and turned towards the kitchen doorway.
“There you are, Eloise,” said Sister Genevieve.
“Yes, Sister.”
“Well, about what we mentioned in the garden earlier –” she began.
Eloise’s mouth dropped open.
“You mean . . . a lesson?” A lesson! The cleaning had worked. She’d never had a wish come true.
“It would be a short lesson. And only if you could come now. But perhaps you already have a task.” Sister eyed the rag and jar in Eloise’s hands.
“I’ll work twice as hard! I’ll get the boots done, I promise.”
“Very well. Sister Bernard is about to take the Littlies on a nature walk around the yard. It’s not too chill for them to go barefoot outside. I’ll be in the schoolroom.”
“Thank you, Sister.” Eloise’s heart was bursting. “I’ll leave this stuff here, Sully, and come back for it later. Don’t go putting it in the stew or anything!” In Eloise’s excitement, the joke came easily. The problem was that most of Sully’s cooking
tasted as if she had added boot-cleaning mixture. Or worse.
“Listen to you, Miss Head-in-the-Air,” the cook laughed. “All dilly-la-la just on account of a bit of learning. Why you want more, beats me. I ain’t got a lot, and I’m just dandy.”
As Eloise walked past the grandfather clock, she reached out and gently touched the wooden casing with her fingers. “Thank you,” she breathed. Then added, “Grandfather.”
For the next half-hour Eloise forgot everything that’d happened in the past few days. All that mattered were the books and the maps that Sister Genevieve showed her and spoke about. And the stories of the lives of famous artists and explorers. She sat on a chair, her feet twined around its legs, scarcely moving a muscle, while her blood pulsed through her veins.
Sister Genevieve checked the fob watch that hung from a short chain on her belt. “Just enough time to show you this particular book, Eloise. It’s about myths and legends and features many wonderful creatures.” She held it out, at the same time flipping over a few pages. “You’ll notice that many of the tales have accompanying printed illustrations. Here, for example, is an artist’s impression of a unicorn.”
Unicorn. The word was wonderful in itself, but the picture had Eloise spellbound. It showed a horse-like animal with a horn jutting from its head, like a majestic lance.
“There’s more factual information at the back of the book as well,” said Sister with a smile. “As factual as you can get, considering we’re talking myths and legends.”
“Sister,” Eloise began, eyes shining, “can we read the story of the unicorn?”
“Sister Genevieve!” The voice sliced into the room like a hot knife through lard. “What are you doing with that child?”
“Sister Hortense.” Sister Genevieve gave a bob of her head.
“I do not recall agreeing on a lesson with this girl.”
Eloise sank back in the chair and clasped her hands.
“No, there was no agreement, Sister. However, you were resting and I didn’t wish to disturb you. I felt as if my half-hour could be well spent with a lesson –”
Sister Hortense turned her full gaze on Eloise. “Did you not bother to inform Sister Genevieve that you were committed to boot cleaning? Or was that something you conveniently forgot?”
“I did explain to Sister Genevieve, Sister. I promised I’d work hard and get them done quickly. And I will, Sister.”
Sister Hortense’s forehead creased like sudden ripples on a pond. “So, it’s promises, now, is it? Deals you’re making?” She shot a glance at both Sister Genevieve and Eloise. “Rules are rules. They are made to be adhered to, both God’s rules and those made by me in the orphanage. Is that understood?”
“We were just finishing, Sister. Weren’t we, Eloise?” Sister Genevieve placed a hand on Eloise’s shoulder.
“Yes.” Eloise rose, trembling at the ferocity in Sister Hortense’s pale face and her small, dark eyes. “I’ll do the boots now.”
A short while later, Eloise sat on the steps as the day cooled and afternoon shadows fell across the wall. Once again she’d somehow come head on with Sister Hortense. How was she to know that the lesson she’d enjoyed so much would be the source of yet more anger? Why did nothing that felt good survive?
Eloise allowed the secret of the hole in the wall to come to the forefront of her mind, so she could dwell on it and relive the thrill of its discovery.
Her imagination took hold and as she rubbed at another boot, she pictured the gap expanding until it was wide enough for her to fly through and head out into the other world. It would be to the farmhouse first, where a waggly black dog would bound up to greet her.
“Hello, Dunlevy,” she whispered, a smile creeping across her face. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Who are you talking to, Eloise?”
Eloise flinched. She stared blankly at the boot in her hand. And then at Mamie standing outside the privy. “Sister Hortense says that’s bad. You’re not allowed to talk to yourself. You’ll go to Hell if you do.”
“I’m sure she didn’t say that, Mamie.” But Eloise wasn’t certain at all.
“She did.” Mamie’s bottom lip trembled.
“It’s all right, Mamie. I won’t do it again.”
The little girl nodded and walked into the privy.
Looking at the pile of boots, Eloise sighed. “But who else can I speak to?” Her whisper was so faint she barely heard her own words.
For the rest of the day Eloise went about her chores, feeling full of new thoughts and old, but keeping them well in check. As long as she carried out her tasks in a silent, steady way she hoped to get through the day without more trouble. But what was there to look forward to?
After returning the dinner dishes to the kitchen, there were communal prayers in the hall and then she had to help the Littlies get ready for bed. First came the nightclothes, then the wiping of hands and faces, listening to prayers and finally waiting until the chamber-pots had been used and slid back under the bed.
No one was allowed out of bed at night.
Sister Bernard clomped out of the room. “No talking. Goodnight.”
Some time later one of the other nuns would do a night check, but for now the lantern light faded and the door clicked shut.
Eloise lay on her back. She spread her hands to the width of the narrow bed, palms up, and stared at the ceiling. Soon her eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was a peaceful time alone, with no chores. And then the word popped into her mind. Unicorn. She’d never heard it before. Never knew what it was or the fact that it was a sky creature. Now it was as if it belonged. The picture in the book was printed in black and white, so the creature appeared white with black outlines and markings. But was it really white? What made it so special or unusual? And what was the reason for a horn? The unicorn didn’t look a ferocious beast so perhaps it wasn’t a weapon. Whatever, it was quite entrancing.
Eloise lay in bed, listening to the waves of snuffles, moans and murmurings from the Littlies, waiting to be overcome by sleep. It didn’t come. Some time later, patterns of light and shade appeared on the high ceiling. She watched, fascinated, knowing it was because of clouds and the night sky appearing through the tall windows.
Moonlight. And stars.
Her stars were filling up the sky. Eloise could tell because the shifting clouds were allowing them space to shine.
If it were possible to stay exactly where she was, stretched out, resting, and able to gaze at the stars through a window, Eloise would’ve been content. But that was not possible. What had to be done meant risking a Littlie waking and noticing Eloise sneaking out of bed. He or she would know a rule had been broken. Added to that, Littlies’ tongues were used to chatter. They weren’t selective or cautionary about what they said. Or to whom.
Eloise had broken the rule before. She had to because without her stars, she was alone. With the stars, she had friends. Besides that, she loved them for what they were: flickers of luminescence that shone light and hope into her heart.
When Eloise felt an itch niggling, when the bedcovers felt too tight, when not even a twist of her neck helped her view the stars from her bed, Eloise knew it was time.
She peeled back the covers and let her bare feet touch the floorboards. Some boards squeaked and some didn’t. Eloise tried to lighten herself. She raised herself on her toes and held her breath. At the wall, she leaned back and looked up.
A rectangle of night stars sparkled back.
For a moment Eloise couldn’t speak. She almost couldn’t breathe. Then she whispered, “Hello,” to all the stars. She looked at one star and then another, noting differences and similarities in brightness, colour or flickerings. Some had gathered together in a cluster, like a star family, and yet others shone with single radiance.
“One night,” she whispered, “I want to walk outside and look at you all spread across the sky, not like this. Not boxed up in a window.” The words were just out of her mouth when something happened. A st
ar burst from its moorings and hurtled diagonally, from one corner of the window down to another.
“A shooting star!” Eloise gasped.
Even when the flash had gone her mouth remained open. Then a strange and sudden thought occurred. What if shooting stars were really unicorns? Or the other way around? Eloise was glad there was no one to tell. They might think her weird having such a crazy idea. She tucked the notion inside her mind where it would be safe and protected and no one else need know.
“Did you other stars see what just flew past?” she asked in a low, shivery voice.
A burst of light shone in the dim room.
Eloise froze. She hadn’t heard the door opening or the footsteps. Panic-stricken, she dived towards her bed.
“Eloise Pail!” The hushed voice hissed in the still room. And a moment later, the lantern was thrust close to her face. Sister Hortense’s features, beneath her tight-fitting skullcap, rippled with eerie shadows. “You were out of bed. I saw you. And you were talking to yourself.”
“I wasn’t talking to myself, Sister,” Eloise squeaked.
“Lies are the tongues of the Devil. And don’t tell me you were praying, because the Lord does not help those who break rules.” Sister pushed her fingers into Eloise’s shoulder. “Perhaps you’re up to something secret?”
Secret? Eloise bit her tongue.
“I’m referring to the worship of other gods, Eloise Pail. Idolatry. Which is sinful. Is that what you are, Eloise Pail? A sinful child?”
The nun gripped Eloise’s shoulder tighter and pulled, so that Eloise was forced out of bed. She stood, head low, hands at her sides.
“You wished to be out of bed,” said Sister Hortense, her voice a mockery of sweetness. “So that’s where you shall remain. Until morning.”
It wasn’t yet fully light. Eloise woke. It took a few seconds before she realised she was on the bedroom floor, stiff and cold. From where she lay, all she saw were bed legs and chamber-pots. Her mouth was thick and dry. And open. She quickly shut it and struggled to her feet.