[guide.chat] chapter eight in mysterious ways
- From: vanessa <qwerty1234567a@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: "GUIDE CHAT" <guide.chat@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Tue, 19 Mar 2013 22:51:51 -0000
IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
Chapter 8
Christmas was coming and the weather was getting worse every day. But if it
didn't exactly pour down, Ilse and I would take our small charge and the dogs,
and go for a walk in the woods. These ancient deciduous forests were quite
near, but it had taken us a while to discover them. Now we went there most
days, and if Elisabeth got tired we carried her on our shoulders, which she
loved, though even more she enjoyed running free with the dogs.
The woods were a source of delight to us - so very different from the forests
back home at this time of year. In the winter, in Austria - apart from a few
evergreens and various fir trees - the vegetation died off almost completely
because of the snow and the ice. All the colours changed - they were frozen -
what was left were shades of white-beige and grey-brown, covered with ice and
thick snow. Back home, only a pine forest would still show a sprinkle of green
under the covering snow.
But here, in spite of December, the forest remained green - in variations and
shades of deep and dark green, with patches of beige or light brown from died
off bracken and other dead plants, and brown soggy earth in between. But
unless you looked closer, everything appeared green, even the trunks of the
trees and the twigs on the ground - back home, they were brown. But because of
the moss and the lichen, the trunks and even the branches were green. And the
rain, which lately always came down, nourished it all.
Though sometimes, if we were lucky, there was just a drizzle in the air, and
the mist, lingering in patches. The sky - usually in vague shades of grey -
seemed to disappear when we entered the wood, and this beautiful green
enveloped us. To Ilse and me, used to living in a city, it was sheer magic.
It was nice getting away from the Manor and Jane's problems, and her fear,
which she could not quite release. But at least we felt free of it all here in
this forest. Usually my friend and I talked, following the dogs and Elisabeth.
But occasionally we were quiet, and our walks became a window to experience
the peace of this wood. It also was a good time to think, of taking things
apart and putting them together again, seeing everything from a new
perspective. And sometimes these walks became a time of realisation for me,
where I found my own place in this magic wood, and this magical world.
One day, as Ilse and I walked in the wood, she remarked suddenly and quite out
of the blue: "It's incredible what has happened in such a short time."
She was right, it was incredible. Just two months ago I had worked in my
office, and found Peter's letter when I came home. Only two months ago our
lives had begun changing drastically, especially for me. What started as a
simple holiday had turned out quite differently - at least for Ilse and me.
Veronika and Franz had returned home after two weeks in Belgium, to continue
their lives as before. Nothing had really changed for them.
But Ilse's life had altered enormously from her ordered life in Vienna, where
she had gone to work early each morning, to come home to her parents' flat in
the evening. I had been in this flat many times, even spending a weekend
occasionally. Her mother had cooked for us, spoiling us in every way possible,
with her father supporting Ilse in whatever she did. They had made no fuss
whatsoever when she wrote and told them she'd be staying in England. Ilse
could return to her old life, and, on the whole, it would be as before.
But my life had changed beyond recognition - nothing was the same anymore - and
not just because I lived a different life in a strange country. For me, the
bottom had fallen out of my world when Peter betrayed me. That's how I still
felt even now. He should not have blamed me for the actions of my mother, but
stood on my side. And perhaps he might have considered how difficult my life
had been with such a mother. But he had only thought of his own feelings, and
his own family. In spite of being engaged, we had not shared our problems. My
lover and I had never joined into a 'we.'
I could not return to my old life, because Peter had been my life, and was
still my love.
And sometimes when I was hurting too much, then I thought perhaps I should have
stayed with him, regardless. If I had been patient and rode the storm of his
anger, we would still be together. And that was probably true. But I did not
want a boyfriend - or a husband for that matter - who didn't support me when
things got tough. We should have both stood together on one side, against his
parents, and my mother. Instead he had shoved me over to her, to stand
righteously on the other side of the dividing wall with his perfect and
well-to-do parents. Perhaps there was a hidden but effective class system in
Austria after all, and it had much to do with position and money.
Well, however it may have been - Peter could stay where he was, I was better
off rid of him. But whatever I told myself, I was still hurting - though there
were times in between, when I began to feel better again.
Talking endlessly with Ilse eased the pain a little; let some of it seep out
from the confinement in my chest and from my whole being, where it still had
its place. But too much was still left, and walking in this magic wood helped
ease my pain a little. Somehow, these ancient trees had the power to calm me,
to make me feel just a little bit better. They gave me the feeling, if I
relaxed and just stood my ground, and rode all the storms of my emotions -
weathering the winter and the cold and the frost and the ice like they did -
then the spring would come in my life again too, bringing sunshine and warmth.
One day, as Ilse and I walked in the forest, I was so deep in my thoughts I
hardly noticed she was talking to me - as usual, she needed little
encouragement except an occasional grunt of agreement. But it wasn't fair to
treat my friend in this way, so I pushed my thoughts away, giving her my full
attention.
Ilse was talking about Christmas; we had noticed more and more signs of its
approach lately. The shops in the nearby town were full of decorations and
Christmas presents, and coloured lights sparkled everywhere.
With only a few more days to go, Mrs Ashworth also had put some glittering
stuff in strategic places. For the children, she said - aware of the risk of
overdoing it and looking common, which must be avoided at all costs.
Christmas cards arrived, and had to be put on the sideboard or on top of other
suitable pieces of furniture, but elegantly and discretely in the way we had
been instructed. To appear common was still the greatest of crimes, just as
being working class was. But then, the two belonged together usually, though
not necessarily always, as we had already learnt.
Although more recently Mrs Ashworth didn't talk much about pure blood and
breeding anymore. Her preoccupation with the 'mad evil woman' was at least
partly the reason, but perhaps it was also because of Christmas and good will
to all men.
Since confiding in us, Jane had become our friend. She had stopped her
insinuations and nasty remarks; there wasn't even a hint that we couldn't
attract any men. Somehow, Jane had become 'nice' again, almost like she had
been when we first came. Although suspicious at first, soon we relaxed and let
our guard down, looking forward to Christmas.
An enormous tree had been delivered and put up in the dining room, and Ilse and
I had helped decorating it. To us, it seemed strange to decorate this tree
now, several days before Christmas.
But this was how it was done here in England, so Mrs Ashworth informed us, as
she hung the mistletoe over the entrance to the dining room, explaining the
traditions and customs around this ancient mystical creeper and the
significance of its strategic placement.
Everything was so different here in England, especially at this time of year.
Ilse and I began to feel homesick, the first time since leaving Vienna.
Back home, only the decorations in the shop windows would herald Christmas.
The trees wouldn't be decorated yet - they were bare, for sale at street
corners or in parks. And with another five days to go, it would not look so
Christmassy everywhere.
In Austria, Christmas was still simple, though it did change with the years.
But no Father Christmas had been introduced to us yet; instead, 'das
Christkindl,' the Christ-child, would come in the early evening of Christmas
Eve, just as it got dark. Like a small angel it would fly through the air, and
some children could see it - or at least they saw the golden sparkle left
trailing behind.
One family member - perhaps an older brother or sister - would take the younger
children for a walk. When they came home a bell would ring, and as if by magic
the door to the living room opened. Here was the Christmas tree, decorated
with beautiful glass spheres, and chocolates and many other delicious things.
Real candles would be on the branches, already lit. The Christkindl had
brought it, as well as all the presents under the tree, wrapped in bright
coloured paper. But before unwrapping anything, 'Stille Nacht' had to be sung,
the ancient carol of silent night.
Not that I had experienced a family Christmas like that for a long time, even
as children we didn't get many presents. But once the war had been over, we
did have a small tree and some presents - at least, until I was twelve. Then
my mother had declared I was too old for Christmas - no tree and no presents.
I pretended to my school friends that I too had presents, so they wouldn't feel
sorry for me.
A few years later, as an apprentice and earning a little money, I bought a
small tree, determined to bring Christmas back to us. But I couldn't afford
much, so my tree was lopsided - and in the end my brother's teasing became too
much for me. I threw the tree out and we ignored Christmas, just as we had for
the last years.
I was working two years later, and earned just enough to go to the mountains
for as few days. It had been lovely, my first Christmas in the mountains. And
every year thereafter, at Christmas I had gone to the mountains.
Being in a mountain-hut was always full of enchantment for me, but on Christmas
Eve it was magic. Almost everyone stayed at home with their loved ones on this
special day, so the few people in the hut would become close like a happy
family - at least that's how I imagined a happy family to be, with everyone
talking and laughing. There was always someone to play the guitar, and we'd
all sing. Sometimes a zither player took the instrument from the wall to play
Christmas songs. People would listen and sing along, and of course we'd all
have a drink.
Later during the night I would go for a walk - with the moon shining down and
the stars beckoning, and no other human around, only me. Everything was always
crisp and bright, and it was very cold. Next morning the sun might shine, or
maybe the snow would fall in thick flakes from a laden sky, but it was always
magic for me, being in the mountains at Christmas.
Reminiscing this way, Ilse and I walked in the pre-Christmas woods here in
England, before taking the dripping wet dogs and Elisabeth back to the Manor,
where Mrs Ashworth prepared for a different kind of Christmas - a traditional
English Manor House Christmas.
Her two sons would come home from boarding school, so we needed to get their
rooms ready and aired. I was surprised how few personal possessions were in
these rooms considering they belonged to two children. There hardly were any
toys, just as Elisabeth didn't seem to possess any. When I asked Mrs Ashworth,
she said, but of course the children had toys, they just broke most things.
And their personal treasures were at school with them - which didn't explain
where Elisabeth's personal treasures were. But Christmas would surely change
this, and there would be new toys.
Finally the two boys arrived. Anthony, at fifteen, was a tall well built
youth, already developing into the upper class man his mother had shaped him to
be. But little David was a different kettle of fish altogether, he was only
seven, a small puny boy, obviously very glad he was home - and even more so, to
be away from his school, which he hated.
Both children were easy to look after - if one could call looking after what
Ilse and I did. We just cooked more, used the washing machine almost daily,
and occasionally ironed, especially shirts for the boys and their trousers.
There was more washing up, but after all, there were two of us and we didn't
mind a little extra work, especially as usually we did very little.
Mrs Ashworth let us carry on as we pleased; she seemed glad we didn't bother
her with questions about what we should do. She spent no more time with David
than with Elisabeth, but with Anthony she was different. Already he was
treated as the man of the house - at least by his mother - spending his first
evening in the dining room with her, sipping whisky. But on the second night,
when Jane had visitors and she changed into her negligee in spite of her son
being present, Anthony left the dining room to join us in the kitchen. He was
extremely upset.
He didn't know what to say to us, and we didn't know how to help him, so we
tried to divert him, talking about his school and what he did there, and about
his interests - ignoring what happened in the dining room, not to embarrass him
even more. This was probably the right approach, because from then on when
guests arrived in the evening, Anthony followed us to the kitchen and stayed
with us, sipping his whisky, and intermittently pouring generous amounts in our
glasses too.
Two days before Christmas Mrs Ashworth announced she had invited two boys from
the flying club for the Christmas season - with boys she meant men, we soon
realised. And they were for Ilse and me. We should have fun at Christmas, she
declared.
Now we told her that we had enough fun already and didn't want any more, but
she disagreed, saying Christmas was different. She insisted on having guests
staying in the house. That's how it should be at Christmas - it was tradition.
There was no stopping her. She had invited a Dutch aircraft mechanic named
Hans, and Phillip, a young English pilot - just for Ilse and me, she kept
insisting. 'Darling Hugh' had left for Scotland only a week ago and Jane did
not want anyone for herself.
She took no notice that I didn't want anyone either. What Ilse wanted, even I
was not sure of. Since my break-up with Peter, my friend said she wasn't
really interested - but I knew, at other times she had enjoyed having a man
around. So I suspected she had come out in sympathy with me or tried doing me
a favour, and when the opportunity arrived with two handsome men staying over
the holiday, she would change her mind. But as it turned out, although the two
young men were quite nice, and good-looking in their own ways, Ilse showed
little interest. And for me it was far too soon, I still preferred licking my
wounds.
It was strange, Jane inviting these men for us, especially as she had so often
said, we couldn't attract any. If she believed this - what was the point? But
perhaps she meant to be kind, wanting to help us along, and Phillip and Hans
were a sort of Christmas present.
Finally Christmas arrived, and we enjoyed all of it: the carol service in the
old church, and the midnight mass, where I felt guilty, having had a few
drinks. Because of my catholic upbringing I felt guilty - in spite of Jane's
assurance, that drinking was o.k. here in England. Everyone would have had a
drink or two before going to church, so she said. It was tradition.
So I put my conscience to rest, telling myself other rules applied here.
We all were at peace at Highmoor Manor, and this peace lasted over the whole
Christmas season and into the New Year. Jane was nice again. She had stopped
criticising for a while now, and her attempts to improve us had ceased. She
really had changed since confiding in us about 'this mad evil woman.' Or
perhaps she was kind because of the Christmas spirit and goodwill to all men -
but it could also have been, that she was just too occupied with Christmas.
Ilse and I enjoyed it all: the ongoing drinking which lasted for days, and the
festive food we had prepared following Jane's instructions - and the presents,
of course. Anthony had a watch, the two younger children did get some toys,
and they all had new clothes.
We had bought Mrs Ashworth a silk scarf, books for the boys, and a big teddy
bear for Elisabeth which she adored the minute she set eyes on it. From that
day on she dragged this bear around with her. We would see it squashed between
her and the dogs when she lay down with them - which she still did on times,
sucking her bottle, and twisting a blond curl around one small finger, before
falling asleep on the floor, cushioned by the dogs.
Ilse and I received money in posh scented envelopes from Jane. We appreciated
this gift very much, especially knowing of her financial difficulties. By
agreement, we had bought each other pullovers and trousers. We needed more
clothes, having only brought enough for a holiday.
Christmas dinner - or luncheon as Jane called it - was scrumptious. We enjoyed
the turkey with all the trimmings, Christmas pudding with Brandy sauce, and the
mince pies. Jane had supervised our cooking, showing us how to cook a
traditional Christmas dinner, and between us, it turned out a great success.
There was much more to do with all the extra people in the house, but Hans and
Phillip helped, and it was fun really - especially as someone always filled up
our glasses. But drinking large quantities of alcohol seemed to be part of it
all.
It was fun, learning about a typical English Christmas - about plum pudding and
brightly coloured paper hats, mince pies and sweet sherry, and playing games
like charade - and how to avoid the mistletoe if Hans or Phillip were near, or
one of Mrs Ashworth's open-house guests.
It was a traditional English Christmas and very different from home, but it was
fun, and we had a good time.
But as soon as Christmas was past, strange, spooky things began to happen. At
first I suspected Hans and Phillip, or possibly even Anthony. But these
peculiar things did not stop after the men left, not even when David and
Anthony returned to their boarding schools.
The atmosphere in the house changed, I could feel it. Though Ilse said she had
sensed something strange from the beginning, it had always been peculiar and
downright weird here at the Manor.
from
Vanessa The Google Girl.
my skype name is rainbowstar123
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