As soon as I saw him, I knew I was dreaming. Fred. The fact that I managed to keep my head was also a clue as to the fantasy of the dream. He was sitting on the front steps of the manor, dressed in Victorianera clothing, which was refreshingly familiar. He glanced up as I approached, offering me a warm smile.
“Fred!” I sobbed, throwing my arms around him in a hug and joining him on the steps. It was then I realized that I was wearing what had been my favourite lavender gown, with my hair long once again.
“Shhh, it’s all right,” he soothed, holding me tightly. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“You can say that again,” I half laughed, half cried. “Oh, Fred, I’ve missed you.”
“Have you, though?” He pulled away, studying my face. “You’ve tried to forget me. You haven’t done anything to try to bring me back. They nearly gave up on you, Evelyn.”
“I’m scared,” I admitted, wiping my eyes and shifting around to take in the grounds. A heavy fog had obscured most of it from view, but I knew what was there; the rhododendron bushes at the manor’s foot, the rolling lawns where we had played our games, the sunken graveyard, the eerie woods, which I had always disliked, nearly as much as Penny had loved them. As each image crept into my mind, the fog thinned, revealing more and more of the estate.
“See?” Fred squeezed my hand. “It’s still there. You’ve still got it.”
“I can’t.” I shook my head frantically. The fog crept back.
“Yes, you can. I always believed in you, Evelyn. The only thing holding you back is yourself. I’m not asking you to be fearless, no one can do that, but you do need to be strong. We’re all backing you. We’re still waiting for you.”
I picked myself up off the steps, letting the soft material of my gown ripple over my fingers. How I had missed this life.
“Madon came to the house where I’m staying,” I blurted. “Beatrix’s son. I still can’t believe that.”
Fred said nothing, waiting for me to continue letting go of all the things I so desperately needed to tell someone.
“He said that D whoever they are…are after me. It seemed they wanted Penny to win. It’s funny, imagine how much easier it would have been if everything had gone according to their plan?”
I trailed my finger over the rough bricks of the wall behind me, wanting to soak up as much of Boundary as I could, knowing that eventually I would have to wake up.
“Help me, Fred.” I bit my lip, pivoting around. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Stop hiding, for one thing. Madon had that right. Pretending we don’t exist isn’t going to get anyone anywhere. You’re a clever girl; you’ll figure things out. Don’t let people convince you otherwise.”
I gulped through the lump in my throat, and nodded.
“Is everyone else here?” I asked, peering around. “Can we go inside?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He chuckled. “This is only a dream, after all.”
I flopped back down again, cool woody breeze blowing my ringlets across my eyes. I had missed feeling like this, feeling like myself. The other me, with my short hair and scandalous clothing, was just unnatural.
“Can’t I just stay here?” I asked desperately. “Does this have to be only a dream?”
“Does it matter?” Fred shrugged. “The facts still stand the same. We can’t stay here forever.”
I hesitated, and he pulled me into another hug, stroking my back as I buried my face into his shoulder.
“No more tears,” he whispered into my ear. “I’ll be seeing you again soon, all right?”
I sniffed, wiping my cheeks dry. “Do you really think I can do this?”
“Oh, Evelyn.” He smiled sadly, holding me at arm’s length. “I know you can. I never doubted you.”
We sat there for a long moment more, surrounded by the thick fog and moist air, until somewhere far away, I was shaken awake.
“Rise an’ shine,” Kitty screeched in my ear.
I lay for a minute, trying to bring back the dream, but it was gone. The message, however, was there. I had squandered too long feeling sorry for myself and building a wall against my memories. Now, I was going to break down that wall, brick by brick, even if that took me another hundred years. Perhaps there wasn’t anything I could do yet to free my friends, but I wasn’t going to keep hiding. Eventually, hopefully, the answer would find me.
“Mind tellin’ me what that was all about last night?” she asked, peering into the mirror in able to fluff her hair more efficiently. “Apparently Aunt Jule found you cryin’ in the hay barn.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I gritted my teeth, eyes straining against the bright morning light.
I never doubted you.
In return, I wouldn’t give him any reason to. Madon had said it himself; he couldn’t hurt me here. There was nothing to fear.
After a quick, cold bath to wash away the excess nostalgia, I pulled on my blouse and skirt, curled my hair, and went downstairs for breakfast again. Julia told me that I’d be helping Andrew and Kitty with the animals.
“You might want to put somethin’ else on.” Kitty observed my neat outfit. I saw she was wearing baggy trousers tucked over her shirt, and a part of me died. I had worn dresses for my entire childhood, and getting me into a skirt had been difficult enough—this was madness.
“I’ll be fine,” I tried to argue.
“Really, Evelyn, she’s right,” Julia put in. “You’ll ruin that lovely skirt. I’ve got some upstairs you can borrow if you’d like.”
That was how I found myself wearing both wellies and trousers as I prepared for a day of mucking about in horse stalls.
“Nice boots.” Andrew winked, appearing in overalls and a sun-bleached shirt that set off the gold in his hair. “You look uncomfortable, though.”
“It isn’t decent!” I defended myself crossly, not in the best of moods. “Imagine if you had to embroider cushions in a dress, would you not feel terribly out of place?”
“Well, since you put it that way.” He laughed. “Don’t be too upset, though, the entire women’s land army is probably living in dungarees. Times are changing.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to,” I muttered, pulling on a jacket and trying to ignore Julia’s hidden smile behind my back as she scolded James for putting too much butter on his toast (“Don’t forget rationing!”).
Outside, the morning was grey and silent. The frosted tips of grass peaked up timidly underfoot, the bare tree branches seeming like black cracks in the void. A crow cawed, breaking the silence, and I realized Andrew was beside me, staring, but not at the scenery.
“You seem absolutely mesmerized.” He smiled when I jumped, but not in that half-mocking tone I had been used to.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” I shrugged, shifting on my feet. There had been something intense his eyes that I wasn’t quite comfortable with. “The school was in the middle of the city, and Boundary didn’t have any fields.”
“Boundary?” Andrew frowned, and I realized my mistake.
Kitty saved me from explanation by galumphing in on us, kerchief tied around her ears and singing an awful song.
“Did I interrupt somethin’?” She raised an eyebrow.
“No,” I said hastily, only making her smirk increase.
“Right.” She winked. “I believe you.”
“Not that she needs your approval.” Andrew jostled her. “Come on then, let’s go shovel some straw. You know you want to.”
Kitty flashed us one last smug, knowing grin, then jogged ahead.
The trousers felt awkward, as did the boots, but luckily Andrew could not walk very fast and I could easily keep pace with him. The ground crackled with each step, but even the frost couldn’t mask the awful stench of manure as we approached the barns.
“This smell is really quite foul.” I wrinkled my nose, sounding like my old self for once.
“Yeah,” Kitty agreed, hands on hips as she surveyed the area. “The animals smell bad too.”
I didn’t see the joke until Andrew batted her over the head, at which point I laughed, embarrassed at the delayed response.
Andrew pushed open the doors to the horse stalls and limped inside. Kitty and I followed. But no sooner was I in, I was running back out again and gasping with panic.
Horses. I had never been in a small space with them before, and I hadn’t realized just how enormous they were! Great, powerful legs stomping around in the straw, swaying heads thicker than I was, and I was supposed to be working with them?
“Evelyn?” Andrew came back out in alarm. “What on earth is the matter?”
“Don’t make me work with those,” I begged, pointing a trembling finger at the horses. “Please, Andrew, don’t make me. I’ll do anything else, absolutely anything, but those things are just an accident waiting to happen, and I wouldn’t know where to start anyway. Please say that I don’t—”
“Steady there.” He raised a hand to stop my ramble, his face gentle. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. How about you bring us the fresh straw from the barn, and Kitty can help me do all the dirty work inside?”
“I’m sorry.” My head fell forward, ashamed. “I don’t know why the headmistress sent me here, when really I’m no help and afraid of everything.”
“No, no, you’re helping,” he insisted. “It’s strenuous work. I can barely do it myself at times.”
I smiled shyly.
“Just use the pitchfork, load the bales into the wheelbarrow, and bring them over to us,” he instructed clearly. “Got it?”
I nodded unconvincingly, but went over to the loft to give it my best shot. Horses…I shuddered at the thought.
The barn seemed friendlier in the daylight, for even the weak, clouded sunshine we had today made the grassy contents glow a soft bronze. The pigeons had flown away to do whatever birds spent their time doing, and it was oddly peaceful inside. The presence from the previous night had disappeared as well.
Self-consciously, I took hold of what resembled a giant fork, and testily prodded the straw with it. A rusty red wheelbarrow waited by the doorway, frost shimmering upon the peeling paint as if laughing at my weak attempts. After several stabs, I found I couldn’t lift the bale. I gritted my teeth and tried again, determined not to mess this one simple chore up as I has all the others.
“We’re ready for the fresh straw!” Kitty called from the stalls. “You doin’ all right?”
“Fine!” I shouted back, blowing a sweaty strand of hair out of my eyes. If I was going to wear trousers, then I might as well go all the way.
I threw down the pitchfork and dragged down the straw bale, heaving it up and throwing it heavily into the wheelbarrow. Fragments stuck to my clothes and itched terribly, but I merely took a deep breath and dived right back in for more. I managed to lift a second one on and was ready to go.
Now I had to figure out how that worked. Push or pull?
I groaned in irritation. For the moment I had tried to lift the contraption, it had buckled over sideways and spewed the contents of my labour all over the ground.
You’re a clever girl, you’ll figure things out.
Would I, though? Think, Evelyn, think. The wheelbarrow had one small wheel at the front, and two legs at the back for stability, right underneath the long, wide handles. This made it very steadfast when immobile, but wobbly when moving. All I had to do was find the balance. Well, that and patience. I at last managed it, though feeling embarrassed at the length of time it was taking.
“Not bad, not bad.” Andrew wiped his dirty brow as I came stumbling in, arms straining to hold the weight of the wheelbarrow. He took it off me and my arms fell limply to my sides. I watched carefully as he opened the bale and dumped the contents into the stall of a horse, and observed how his muscular arms handled the pitchfork as he spread it evenly around. Kitty held the horse’s bridle as he did this, cooing to it as if it were human, as she had with the dogs.
Then, Kitty handed the wheelbarrow back to me, and I went back to the barn to repeat the tedious process.
We worked like this for a couple of hours, until James came out to bring us a sandwich that Julia had made for us.
“Is this it?” Kitty wrinkled her nose. “What’s in the sandwich, vomit?”
“Blackberry jam,” James said anxiously, as if it were his reputation on the chopping block. “The last of it for now. Mummy said that because of the rationing, we have to use all the odd bits of food up.”
“They’re lovely.” Andrew took a big bite just to prove it.
James beamed at his brother.
After the quick break, Kitty skipped off with Charlie, leaving only two of us to cover the remaining animals.
“You’re doing chickens,” Andrew told me. “I’ll do pigs. Just sprinkle the feed around and collect the eggs.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut in, “Or are you too scared?”
“Of course not,” I spluttered, but I didn’t believe myself.
“Good. I’ll see you when you’re done.” Chickens, it turned out, were actually not that bad, as they did nothing more than flap about and never flew. They seemed just as confused and panicked as I was, perhaps it was the almost human intelligence I had seen in certain animal eyes that had scared me, that or a wildness lurking just behind a thin layer of trained control. The chickens’ tiny eyes held nothing of these qualities, and I found myself laughing as they strutted around and bumped into the mesh fence in haste to get out of my way. Some of them even had pretty coloured feathers, and the clucking noises they made were quite funny.
The smell was awful, but I was used to it by now. I took a handful of the seed given to me and gently sprinkled it over the ground, laughing out loud as the chickens began pecking at it like clockwork toys. Inside the henhouse, the stench went from really bad to really really bad. I had to hold my breath and fumble around for the smooth, speckled eggs before withdrawing, inhaling some fresh air, and then diving back in again.
“Golly, that smells.” I gagged, having finally taking the last egg. “There’s poo everywhere! For such precise little creatures, I’d expect you to take better care of your personal hygiene!”
They clucked indignantly.
I glanced down at my outfit, smeared with muck, chicken excrement, and straw. “All right, perhaps that was a bit hypocritical of me. Friends?”
They clucked again, and I giggled to myself. I was sixteen, acting about eight, but that was beside the point; I had just completed a farm task involving animals without any error.
“See, Fred.” I smiled, gathering my basket of eggs and stepping out of the coop, an action made much easier by my trousers. “You were right.”
I handed the basket to Andrew proudly, feeling a flush of satisfaction at the surprise on his face that I had entered a pen of feathers and beaks without disaster.