The Three Lives of Aila Douglas Book 2

by Lei R. Tasker

  “Get the doctor up here,” her father said to Matilda, “And Eddy, get her off my couch, won’t you? It’s getting soaked through.”

  Edmund raised his eyes but nodded, scooping Aila, his jacket and the blanket up and heading to the door to find her room on the next floor up.

  “Don’t worry, he won’t be angry long,” Edmund said, “He loves you.”

  “He loves me,” Aila repeated sleepily.

  Meet Atropa belladonna, more popularly known as deadly nightshade. The plant looks harmless enough, as its leaves are green, and it grows up to 4 feet high. The nightshade’s blackberries have a waxy sheen, and those reddish-brown flowers have pretty bell shapes. Deadly nightshade belongs in the Garden of Eden on appearances alone.

  Ruminant animals, ones with more than one stomach and who graze a lot, consume this plant like crazy. Horses, cattle, sheep and goats munch on the deadly nightshade without a problem. Rabbits can also handle this visually beautiful plant.

  The deadly nightshade lives up to its reputation once humans eat it. Ingesting just two to four berries can kill a human child. Ten to twenty berries can kill an adult. Even chewing on just one leaf can lead to a dirt nap.

  Milder symptoms of deadly nightshade poisoning include delirium and hallucinations, which appear quickly once ingested. If you’re not close to a hospital and you have deadly nightshade poisoning, best of luck to you

  Chapter Three

  August 1990

  Aila had been home-schooled her entire life. Her mother acted as her first teacher before her death, showing her how to read and write, paint and play the piano.

  John, despite his ruthlessness as a businessman, was exceptionally lazy when it came to Aila’s upbringing, only exacerbated by his wife’s death. Matilda had been Aila’s nanny since she was a baby, and so extending her responsibilities to Aila’s education seemed like an efficient and natural step for John.

  This was one of very few of her father’s decisions that Aila approved of – she adored Matilda, finding a comfortable solace in her soft voice and sharp intelligence. She wasn’t her mother, but she still felt like home.

  Despite her fondness for her nanny, now tutor, Aila longed to go to school in the village. She was approaching her twelfth birthday, and her peers were now in secondary school.

  She didn’t have many friends from the village, as a result of her father’s uppity views, but Iona, who attended the local primary school, brought her friends round. They all regarded Aila with a mixture of awe and disdain, more so than Iona as Aila was due to inherit the castle. She made no effort to engage with them – they were babies in her mind, stupid children peering in at her life like visitors at a zoo. There was a small part of her that wanted their friendship. She saw how Iona was surrounded by friends, having sleepovers, playing games and reading and wished she could have that. It felt like a distant reality.

  “It’s the princess in the tower,” Emma, one of Iona’s friends said, her lisp tripping over the two ‘s’es, causing Aila to smirk unkindly.

  Aila and Matilda were walking out of the rose garden and across the orchard, where Iona and three of her friends were sat under the apple trees wearing summer dresses that matched each of the dolls they had on their laps. Aila marked that Fenella’s china set, passed down to her from one of their Victorian ancestors, was out on the grass and she saw a hint of guilt in Iona’s face as they met eyes. She knew Fenella hadn’t given her permission to take it out of the china cupboard. Perfect blackmail ammunition for later if Iona acted up.

  “That’s unkind,” Matilda responded on Aila’s behalf, noticing her silence in the face of her mocker. In truth, Aila hadn’t taken much notice of the comment besides the lisp.

  “It’s true,” Emma said dramatically, “Iona said Mr. Douglas locks her in her bedroom at night like Rapunzel.”

  Now she had Aila’s attention. Iona was bright red and Aila enjoyed watching her squirm, knowing that Aila would get her back after her friends left.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you to keep your thoughts to yourself?” Matilda said with genuine hurt, but the softness of her tone didn’t carry the force she may have intended. Aila put a hand on her forearm to say it’s okay.

  Aila tugged a little on Matilda’s sleeve to indicate that they should keep walking. She knew there was no point arguing with Iona’s friends. Matilda obliged with a sad smile and they headed into the woodland.

  “I want to continue your Latin lessons while we walk Aila,” Matilda said as they headed down the pathway towards the river. Matilda had learnt long ago that although Aila was bright, she concentrated on academic subjects when a more practical approach was applied.

  “Let’s start with some flower names,” Matilda said, “And then we can build some short sentences with the verbs I taught you.”

  “What’s this one in Latin?” Aila said, pointing to a blackberry bush. She plucked the fruit and squished it between her thumb and forefinger so that the purple juice bled across her skin.

  “Rubus,” Matilda replied, “Now ‘I like blackberries’.”

  Aila thought for a moment, putting the words together from her previous lessons.

  “Rubus… amo…” Aila tried, shaking off her hands to get rid of the chunks of fruit.

  “Amo rubus,” Matilda corrected.

  “What about this one?” Aila said, not bothering to repeat the corrected phrase – she wouldn’t remember it anyway. She grabbed a leaf from a juvenile oak tree in the ditch that ran alongside the track.

  “Quercus,” Matilda said, “Now ‘she saves the oak’.”

  “Uh, serv… quercus…” Aila mumbled half-heartedly, speeding along the path looking for another plant.

  Along the ditch was a purple flower, shaped like a bell and hanging delicately among the other plants. She reached out to pick it, but Matilda’s hand grabbed her wrist before she could.

  “Atropa belladonna - beautiful lady,” Matilda said sternly, “You mustn’t touch.”

  “Beautiful lady?” Aila looked back at the innocent-looking purple petals in confusion.

  “Also known as deadly nightshade.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s very poisonous,” Matilda explained.

  Aila was mesmerised at the thought of something so small and pretty being dangerous.

  “The berries especially,” Matilda continued, “They’re small, purple and shiny. You’ll see them in the autumn, around the same time as blackberries, but you mustn’t pick them.”

  “What happens if you eat them?” Aila said, curiosity piqued.

  Matilda was silent for a moment, “I don’t know,” she replied, “They would make you very ill.”

  They continued the path and Matilda moved on from plant names to making Aila recite the first conjugation of Latin verbs, much to her displeasure.

  Aila scuffed her feet along the stony pathway as she tried to recite the verbs in order, stumbling over every word.

  “… paro… parat…. paramus…”

  “Good to see you’re keeping up with your Latin,” a voice came from behind them.

  They turned to see John and Edmund walking up towards them, a springer spaniel bounding at their feet and a rifle open over each of their right arms. It wasn’t the season for shooting grouse so Aila knew they were off to the top field to practice on tin cans. Edmund had let her have a go once, when her father was away. She would much rather be learning something practical, something she would need in running the estate like shooting a rifle, than learning Latin.

  “She’s a smart lass,” Matilda said with a smile, “Her Latin is coming on very well indeed.”

  “As she should be,” John said as they approached and started to overtake, “Keep going.”

  Aila tapped Matilda’s arm and they shared a look. Matilda pursed her lips. She knew what the signal meant.

  “Mr. Douglas?” Matilda said softly.

  “Yes?” He said, stopping and turning, Edmund doing the same.

 
“We were hoping you might give some thought to the idea of Aila attending Dunmistle Comprehensive in the autumn,” Matilda said, a slight quiver in her voice the only sign that she found the conversation daunting.

  “Did you, now?” John said, his gaze only falling on Aila. He knew that she would have been alone in pushing for this.

  “Yes,” Aila said defiantly, “I’ve learnt everything Matilda can teach me.”

  She knew that wasn’t true, and she felt Matilda deflate a little next to her. She felt a pang of shame for hurting her tutor’s feelings, but she was determined that this time her father would listen to her.

  “Ha!” John said, looking to Edmund for support but not seeing any in his friend’s face, “No, Aila,” he replied firmly, “You’re not ready.”

  Chapter Four

  November 1984

  “How old are you, sweetheart?”

  “Five,” Aila replied quietly, holding her teddy bear against her chest. She was sat on Matilda’s lap in the living room of her parent’s quarters. A detective from the local police department was sat opposite them on an armchair, a notebook and pen in hand.

  Aila would often think back to this conversation, as patchy as it was in her memory. To her, he had seemed kind and concerned about her mother, but she often wondered if she had done all he could.

  “I’m DI Hill,” he said in a gentle voice, leaning forward on his elbows, the notebook in his left hand, “I need to find out what happened to your mummy.”

  Aila didn’t say anything, just nuzzled into Matilda’s chest.

  “She said she heard her mother screaming,” Matilda said.

  “I know, just give her a chance to speak for herself,” DI Hill said with some impatience. Aila noticed with some fear the way he changed as he talked to her and Matilda. She wondered why adults spoke so unkindly to each other, “Aila, did you see your mummy yesterday when you were playing in the garden?”

  Aila kept her face hidden against Matilda but nodded her head.

  “Where did you see your mummy?” DI Hill asked.

  “In the trees,” Aila whispered.

  “In the trees?” DI Hill clarified.

  Aila nodded again, turning her face slightly towards DI Hill. He was a plump man with a thin moustache that made him look cartoonish to her. She met his eyes briefly before hugging her face into her stuffed toy.

  “Was she scared?” DI Hill said.

  “Yes,” Aila said, “Mummy cried.”

  “She was crying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” DI Hill said, leaning back into the armchair, “I know it’s nearly bedtime so I just have one more question to ask you now, is that alright?”

  Aila nodded again.

  “Was there anyone else with your mummy in the trees?” He lowered his head to try to meet her eyes. Aila buried her face deeper into the teddy bear. She wished he wouldn’t try to look her in the eyes.

  She was silent and DI Hill playfully moved the teddy bear’s legs to try and get her to engage with him. She didn’t like that either.

  “Was there another person with your mummy when you saw her in the trees, Aila?” He asked again, a kind smile on his face.

  He touched her forearm, a gesture which made Matilda hug Aila more tightly involuntarily.

  It was in that moment that Aila decided not to tell DI Hill about the man in the raincoat. She didn’t trust the detective and she didn’t understand why she had to tell him anything about her mother.

  She had the overwhelming feeling that she shouldn’t say anything until she could ask her mother’s permission, a thought that she would later come to regret – at that time, she hadn’t realised she would never see her mother again.

  “Answer the detective Aila, it’s okay,” Matilda said to her, lowering her face down and kissing her on the forehead. Then she added to DI Hill, “She didn’t mention anyone else being there.”

  “I know, but I have to hear her answers myself,” DI Hill said, “Please stop speaking for her.”

  Aila scowled as she noted some unkindness in his words, not fully understanding the seriousness of the situation. All she knew was that he was unkind to Matilda.

  “Aila, sweetie,” he tried again, “Did you see someone else with your mother in the trees yesterday? When she was crying?”

  Aila met his eyes again and shook her head from side to side.

  Chapter Five

  September 1991

  “Ed, leave it!” John bellowed, turning his back on his friend. Aila sat silently watching the conversation which had started over dinner. Edmund and Matilda often ate with the family at the table in the dining room, an allowance John had made after Aila’s mother’s death. He clearly saw how close she had become to them and was happy to let them parent her so that he didn’t have to.

  “Come on John, she’s a smart girl, she needs to do exams, be challenged. She could go to university,” Edmund said, standing up from the table as well, trying to square up to his friend.

  “Iona is very happy not to be home schooled anymore,” Fenella chimed in, “Aren’t you?” she asked the ten-year-old.

  Iona was silent, staring vacantly at her mother. Aila snorted and shook her head.

  “And who will guide her through her exams, hm?” John said, “I’m too busy with the business, managing this estate, to sit through trigonometry revision!” He was increasingly exasperated – he knew his argument was weak. Aila suspected the real reason that he didn’t want her to go to school in the village was that she would talk about him to the other kids and parents. And she certainly wouldn’t have nice things to say about him. At least keeping her here, he could hide her from the world, and keep up his appearance as a dignified businessman to the locals.

  “I will!” Edmund shouted back, true anger burning at the edge of his voice. They both stared at each other as the phrase hung in the air, some tension dissipating, “I will,” he said again, more softly and firmly, “And I’m sure Matilda will too, won’t you?”

  “Of course!” Matilda said.

  “And me!” Horace added pompously, met with a simple nod from John and silence from everyone else.

  “And Matilda can continue teaching her about gardening, music, painting - everything she’s already been doing - in the evenings and at weekends,” Edmund said, “It’s best for everyone, including you.”

  Aila knew Edmund’s final appeal to John’s selfishness would seal the deal. Anything that made her father’s life more comfortable would be immediately attractive to him.

  “You know, Ed, if it had come from anyone other than you…” John said, sitting back down at the table and grasping his glass of whiskey. Edmund gingerly sat back down too, shooting Aila a hopeful look.

  “I will sort this John,” Edmund said sincerely.

  “Fine,” Aila’s father held up his hands in acceptance, “Fine.”

  Although it had taken nearly a year for Edmund, Matilda and Aila to convince John to allow her to attend the secondary school in the village, once he was made aware of the benefits, he was all for it. In a rare fit of fatherly duty, he even took her shopping to get her uniform fitted and arranged for a car to take her to and from school each day. She would have preferred to walk or catch the bus with the rest of her classmates, but she appreciated that he was accepting her decision.

  On her first day, John’s driver pulled the car into the courtyard and opened the door.

  “Is my father coming?” Aila said.

  “I don’t think so,” Edmund said, sharing a glance with Matilda, “He’s working in his study.”

  “Okay,” Aila said. She had expected that reply, but even so, it hurt a little. She was uncharacteristically nervous and would have appreciated her father’s support, even his cold and gruff version of it.

  “We’ll come in the car, see you to the gate,” Matilda said, and she and Edmund helped her put her bag in the boot.

  “Wait,” her father appeared from the front door of his living quarters, br
andishing something in his right hand.

  “Da’?” Aila said, hope leaping in her chest.

  “You left this on my desk,” he said. It was the map of the school that had been posted to her.

  “Thank you,” she said. She thought for a moment that he might hug her, but he handed her the map and stood up straight again, gave her a slight nod and headed back towards the castle.

  “You’re new,” an older boy with black hair and a wonky tie said to Aila as she waited outside the school’s front door for her teacher to come and get her.

  “Yep,” she said coldly.

  He sniggered, “You’re the one from the castle. Snooty McDougal.”

  “Douglas,” Aila snapped.

  “The home-schooled kid?” He laughed

  “Shut it,” Aila said, walking a little further towards the door to get away from him.

  “You must be really dumb if you’ve never been to school before,” he said.

  “Leave me alone,” Aila said again. She noticed another group of boys on the steps and wondered if she should head inside. Iona had told her that people at her school were nice, but that secondary schools were full of bullies. She fiddled in her jacket pocket for a pencil, wondering if she could defend herself with it if needed.

  “Did you even bring the right books?” the boy said. He was far taller than her, two years older at least, and she started to feel intimidated, “My Da’ says that castle is full of inbred weirdos.”

  He tugged on the strap of her bag to take it off of her shoulder, but she pulled back sharply with a shrugging motion to keep it from him, sending it upwards and her elbow into his nose. She immediately feigned surprise as he clutched his nose, but she had intended to hurt him, to protect herself.

  “Oh god!” the boy shouted as his nose started to bleed.

  “I didn’t mean to!” Aila put on a pleading voice, encouraging a tear down her face. The boy lunged at her in anger and she got ready to hit him again, tightening her right hand’s grip on the pencil in her pocket.

  An arm grabbed the boy and pulled him back. Another boy with curly brown hair, taller than both of them but around the same age as Aila, came up the steps and stood between them.