by Janeen Brian
Eloise slipped an arm around Janie’s shoulder. She couldn’t imagine what the girl was remembering. But it must be hard when you have something else to compare the orphanage with. It crossed Eloise’s mind to ask Janie there and then if she wanted to run away with her. But, would that complicate things? Would it be easier with one person? Or two?
Sully beckoned.
She handed the girls dishes containing lumpy bits of grit and charcoal dampened with water into a thick paste.
“Pots and pans need scrubbing.”
At one point, Eloise searched Janie’s face, wondering what she was thinking. But what Janie had said earlier had set her thinking. She needed to be the grit in the pan.
“We won’t give up, Janie,” she said. “We’ll ask Sister Bernard about full moons tonight, once the Littlies are in bed.”
Janie smiled. “Good.” She pointed to a hard lump firmly stuck at the bottom of the pan. “I wish I could give up on this, though.”
Once the girls had changed into their nightclothes, they walked up to Sister Bernard.
“Sister,” said Eloise, “we were wondering if you had a book about the sky. And especially about the moon.”
“And especially about full moons. And when they happen.”
“And especially when they happen this year.”
Sister folded her arms and looked at each of the girls in turn.
“And what makes you think I’d have such a book?”
Eloise ran her tongue across her teeth.
“But it so happens I do.” Sister Bernard gave a faint smile, her bulgy eyes disappearing into folds of skin. “I appreciate those who strive for extra learning. But I don’t loan books. I’ll look it up and tell you what information I find in the morning. Now, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Sister,” the girls said and climbed into bed, mouths open in amazement and delight.
Sometime later, Eloise whispered, “Janie, I need to see my stars tonight. Would you –?”
“Keep a lookout? Yes, but don’t be too late.” She yawned.
“I won’t. Thanks.”
By the next morning, Eloise felt the stars were still inside her and when Sister Bernard approached, she smiled widely.
“Well, you must’ve swallowed the morning sun, young lady,” said the nun. “Now I have some information for you. Where’s Janie?”
“Here, Sister.” Janie ducked out from behind the screen, pulling on her pinafore.
“We’ve already had two full moons this year,” said the sister, reading from her notes. “The next one, the third, will be in five days’ time.”
Eloise’s heart thumped. “Five days,” she squeaked.
“Is that a problem? I’m sure it isn’t for the moon. Now off you go. We’ll need water before breakfast.”
Sister Genevieve was outside already, taking a Littlie to the privy.
“Janie,” she said. “Sister Bernard returned that book. I’ll put it beneath your pillow. But, girls, please take care.”
“Thank you!” said the girls, darting looks at each other.
After lunch, Eloise stood guard while Janie snuck into the bedroom and wriggled the book down her front.
“To the bench,” she hissed and both girls walked straight-backed and silent until they turned the corner and then they broke into a run. They huddled close on the bench. Eloise put the book on her lap and they both carefully turned the pages.
“Wait, wait,” she cried as Janie went to turn another page. She pointed. “Look what this part says.”
It is believed that the unicorn leaves its sky homeland and descends to the Earth once every fifty years.
“That was on the paper, Eloise!” cried Janie. “And you copied it on the rock. What else?”
Eloise turned another page, wanting to both hurry and slow down at the same time.
“Here,” said Janie.
At the half-century time of their coming, the intent of the unicorn is honourable. Its arrival is to render good for the Earth.
“And this,” added Eloise.
The unicorn is particularly attracted to water and can sense pollution or poisoning. It renders good by the dipping of its horn into the water, whereby the water is cleansed and purified, allowing all that is reliant on the water to survive.
Eloise shivered. “I can hardly breathe,” she said.
“Me neither,” said Janie. “But what does that mean? There, at the bottom of the page.”
In mythology it is also believed that a unicorn can fulfil another’s heart’s desire.
“Those men want riches for themselves,” said Janie. “That’s hardly a good thing to wish for if it means cutting off the unicorn’s horn.”
Eloise nodded in agreement. She thought of the town gates. Her heart’s desire was entirely different.
“We have to write things down,” she said, scratching her head. “There’s so much.”
“Sister Genevieve said we could have paper and ink, as long as we don’t use too much.”
“I think it’s time we did, don’t you?”
“I also overheard Sister Genevieve telling Sister Bernard that Sister Hortense had gone out for a while on orphanage business.”
“Phew!” cried Eloise. “Let’s go.”
They quickly settled themselves down in the schoolroom and shut the door.
They ruled up a page and wrote Unicorn in large letters at the top. Beneath that they wrote four notes:
* comes to Earth every fifty years
* arrives on night of full moon (third full moon this year?)
* next full moon in five days’ time
* unicorn’s horn cleanses and purifies water
On another page they wrote:
* Whittering Pond is polluted/poisoned
* animals and birds are suffering
* Mr Humple and Mr Strawney possibly plan to kill/capture unicorn
* make use of horn to create substance like gold
* warn unicorn of danger – how?
* alert unicorn on night of full moon – how?
* Whittering Pond will not be purified unless unicorn dips its horn
* must not be killed or captured beforehand
* those present at the time will have their heart’s desire fulfilled
There was no need to blot the inked words. Eloise had set them out to dry in a line, so when they ran their eyes along the notes, the whole situation lay before them.
“It’s huge,” said Eloise.
“Yes,” said Janie. “It is. But we’d better get this book back to Sister Genevieve. Have we got everything written down, do you think?”
“I hope so. But now what? We’ve got to start doing something soon. Five days, Janie. That’s all we’ve got.”
“My mother always said you had more ideas after a good night’s sleep.”
“Did she? Your mother sounds lovely.”
“She is . . . was.” Janie’s mouth crinkled and Eloise heard the swallow in her throat.
“And I bet she would have taken the scissors to your fringe again by now.”
Janie smiled and deliberately huffed. “Yes. She hated it when I did that. She said I sounded like a farting cow.”
“You do. Let’s cut it. I’ll do it for you. You return the book and I’ll go and get scissors from the kitchen.”
“Not Sully’s scissors!”
“I’ll clean them.” Eloise giggled at the horrified look on Janie’s face.
On her return, Eloise said, “Now, sit still or you’ll end up with no eyebrows, like Sister Hortense. Janie! Stop laughing!”
Five minutes later, Eloise stepped back and squinted.
“Is it straight?”
“Yes.”
“Short?”
“Yes.”
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“If it’s so good,” chuckled Janie, “why don’t you cut your own?”
That pulled Eloise up. She thought about it. If she did, she could take the hair to the w
igmaker’s and get some money to squirrel away. And, if she only cut it to shoulder level, she could still tie it back and the cut wouldn’t be as noticeable.
“I will,” she said.
“You mean it?”
Eloise untied her ribbon, pulled a hank of hair over her shoulder and went to it with the scissors. A moment later a clump of reddish hair lay at her feet.
“Well, you can’t stop now,” said Janie.
Eloise kept cutting. Finally Janie clipped the back to straighten it. They both stared at the large pile of hair on the floor.
Janie giggled. “It looks like the pelt of some animal,” she said.
“It feels funny,” said Eloise and swung her hair from side to side.
When Janie didn’t say anything, Eloise looked around. Janie was rigid. Eloise shifted her glance to the doorway.
“Give me those scissors.” Sister Hortense matched her words with her strides. Click, clack went her rosary beads. Grabbing the scissors from Janie’s hands, she cried, “Who gave you permission to do this?”
“No one, Sister,” said Eloise. Janie kept close.
“No? Well, perhaps now I give permission.”
The nun began to snip and jab furiously at Eloise’s hair. Uneven chunks fell and scattered on the floor. Eloise didn’t dare move a muscle.
“Please stop, Sister,” cried Janie. Then she turned and dashed from the room. A short time later she returned with Sister Genevieve.
“Sister Hortense,” said the nun, walking slowly forward. “I think that is short enough. Perhaps a little tidying up at the back. I will help if you allow.”
“I do not allow, Sister Genevieve. And you shall not tell me what I may or may not do. I will thank you again, to remember who I am.”
A strange look came over Sister Genevieve’s face. “I do remember who you are, Sister,” she said. “And yet, I believe there is more to know about you. However, now is not the right time to discuss this issue any further. Except to say that Eloise and I plan to stitch a new cover on your old cushion soon. The one that’s just been unpicked.”
Sister Hortense glared and the hand holding the scissors fell to one side. The air stung with sharp silence. “You have no right,” the nun hissed, “to touch my things.”
“I meant no harm, Sister,” replied Sister Genevieve in a calm manner. “However, it is interesting that sewing a surprise for someone can lead to such a different, unexpected surprise.”
Sister Hortense’s eyes flickered like dark, wet pebbles. “I have finished here,” she said, with a sharp tilt of her chin. “I will be in my office.”
The moment the Head Sister left, Eloise sagged. Her shoulders fell forward and she ran a hand over her head.
“It will grow again,” said Sister Genevieve. “Meanwhile, I’ll trim it for you.” When the job was done, she added, “Now I must take charge of the Littlies from Sister Bernard. Janie, would you kindly brush Eloise down and then both of you clean up the room?”
“Yes, Sister,” both girls murmured.
“How bad does it look?” said Eloise, still too shocked to speak any louder than a whisper.
“It’s . . . different,” said Janie. “It’s . . . short.”
Carefully, Eloise scooped the hair into a cloth bag. Every bit mattered now because at least it would mean more money. After the floor was swept, Janie walked back to the kitchen with Eloise.
Sully looked up, her lips still pursed in a quiet whistle.
“Larks!” she cried, thrusting her hands on her hips. “What have you been up to? You going in for the town’s scarecrow competition or sumpthing? Oh, borrowed my scissors, did you, without asking? Well, I hope they’re nice and clean ’cos I got some pig fat to cut up later. Now, off you go. Sister Bernard wants you in the storeroom.”
Sister Bernard raised her hands as if about to clap. But she didn’t. “Eloise! What have you done? Has Sister Hortense seen this?”
“Yes, Sister.”
“Yes, well. Whatever next. Now, I need you both to get more water. I want the privy barrels filled up.”
Before they set off, Eloise clutched up the cloth bag full of hair. The wigmaker was delighted. “Lovely, lovely curls,” she gushed. “But since I didn’t do the cutting – which I would’ve done differently to give greater lengths to the hair – I will have to reduce the amount of payment. I’m sure you understand.” And she dropped one coin into Eloise’s hand.
“That’s that,” Eloise said to Janie, dropping the miserable coin into the cloth bag.
“Do you think we should tell Sister Genevieve what we know, or think we know about what’s going on?” said Janie as they pumped the water. “Show her what we’ve written?”
“Maybe wait just a bit longer. See if we can work it out ourselves.” But even as she said it, Eloise questioned herself as to whether that was the wisest thing to do.
Several days passed. Chores piled up. The girls found it nearly impossible to sort out anything else in private.
Time was running out.
Then came a small chance to re-read what they’d written earlier. They raced around to the bench. Janie began to make a list, pointing to each finger for emphasis. “So, on the night, in two days’ time, one of us will keep close watch at the pond. And the other will have to somehow disturb the men. Put them off guard somehow. If they’re there, that is. It’s absolutely vital they don’t get close to the unicorn or get a chance to harm it. The first problem is how do we get to the pond. You said the town gates are locked at night.”
“They are,” said Eloise, “but the big tree in the garden is tall enough to climb up. The top branches are the same level as the top of the wall. We’ll be all right. It’ll be a full moon, so that will help.”
“But it’ll make us more easily seen as well,” said Janie.
“I know. Perhaps we should wear our tunics. They’re darker than our nightclothes.”
“Good thinking,” said Janie. “So how do we throw the men off the scent? Get them distracted?”
“And what if they’re armed?”
Janie clasped her hands together. “We have to think, Eloise. Think.”
Polly suddenly appeared around the corner.
“You have to go to Sister Hortense’s office,” she called out.
Eloise gave a loud groan. “Now what have I done?”
“Not you, Eloise. Janie.”
“Me?” The girl pointed to herself and Polly nodded.
With a distressed backward glance, Janie walked away.
Eloise didn’t see Janie for the rest of the day. She looked everywhere. Sully hadn’t seen her and the sisters were either in their own room, or with the Littlies. Or in an office.
When Janie wasn’t at the table at dinnertime, Eloise grew anxious. She couldn’t still be with Sister Hortense because the Head Sister was at dinner. Had Janie sickened for something?
By night-time, Eloise was beside herself with concern. She had no answers as to what’d happened to her friend. She’d simply, suddenly vanished.
Eloise’s heart fluttered as she pulled back the cover on Janie’s bed and saw only a mattress. When she saw the empty bedroom cabinet, her heart thumped. Tears ran down her cheeks. Where was she? Where was Janie?
Sister Genevieve came to put the Littlies in bed and the moment they were settled, the nun moved quickly and quietly across to Eloise, who lay curled up tight in her bed.
She set the lantern on the bedside cabinet.
Eloise sat up. “Where is she, Sister?” she sobbed.
“Shhh, shhh,” whispered the nun. “I’m so sorry. Everything happened so quickly. I tried my best to let you know, but certain things were out of my hands. And believe me when I tell you, Janie had no chance to say goodbye.”
Eloise tried to speak. “But where is she?”
“She’s with a family, on a farm, some distance from here.”
Eloise shook her head. “No! She’s gone?”
“Sister Hortense had been arranging a fam
ily for her, Eloise, and they came today. It was unexpected.”
“So, she’s not . . . coming . . . back?” Her words were choking her.
“No, she’s not, dear. But they will be good to her, I’m certain of that.” The nun took Eloise’s hand in hers. “They badly wanted a daughter and were never able to have children and, it was thought that since Janie had been so recently orphaned . . . I’m sure she’ll be happy.”
So Sister Hortense had been planning this for some time and not a word to Janie. Uprooting her suddenly. Leaving a huge, hollow emptiness. A coil of anger rose in Eloise. “And so, Janie was a good match, but not me, Sister. Never me! Why have I never been offered to a family?”
Sister’s eyes twitched. “That is a different matter, Eloise.”
“Why? Am I really bad, Sister? Evil, like Sister Hortense says, so that no one would want me?”
It took several moments before Sister’s face composed itself. “Please don’t ask, Eloise, because I don’t think I can answer you truthfully. But pray for Janie, dear. Pray she’ll be happy.”
Eloise lay back. Everything had gone.
“I hope you can sleep, Eloise. I want you to know that I’ll be away for several days on family business, but I will be back. I promise you. Goodnight.”
Eloise turned over.
She had no words.
The empty bed shocked Eloise next morning. There was no Janie shape in it. Would never be again.
She had to force herself to get up, get dressed and drag on her boots. Janie’s boots. Swapped boots. A tear slid down Eloise’s cheek but she wiped it away. She didn’t want the Littlies to see her crying. For the first time, Eloise was pleased to have chores to stop the ache that gnawed at her.
But the nag of the next night persisted.
The night of the full moon.
The night she and Janie were to save the unicorn and to stop Whittering Pond from poisoning everything around it. What would happen now?
She had the coin from the wigmaker, so she could run away. Even that night.