Ere long I heard voices coming from the sitting room. Nothing was strange about this: the belonged to my aunt and John Reed, I knew they would contain nothing that should call my attention. It seemed that my best interest would be to diminish my existence and escape their awareness entirely. I did not regain my former position in the window seat, it held too many unpleasant memories in itself, so instead I just moved back against the wall and prayed that Bessie would return soon, so I might continue my solitary life in the nursery.
I studied the features of the room for activity but they had been examined so many times before that my memory held perfect records of them; nothing new to distract my mind and help pass the time before I was relieved from this worrying ordeal. The conversation from the other room, although dull, was impossible to blot out in the otherwise impenetrable silence: not to mention that it seemed steadily to be increasing in decibels; especially the voice who’s unseen owner was John. Still a conversation involving the two of them should have no relevance to me so I continued, best as I could, to divert my attention elsewhere.
“School!” The voice had belonged to John, louder now then at any time throughout the conversation so far. My ears were suddenly pricked, and without even making a conscious decision I began to inch closer to the door that separated me from my adopted family.
My one hope in my days of seclusion, that one dream I allowed myself was one of school. Since addressing the subject with Mr Lloyd I had conjured a vision of Aunt Reed granting me leave from this house and her family. Was this snatch of conversation what I had been waiting for?
“John,” simpered Mrs Reed. “I know you do not wish to leave your Mama, and you know that your sisters and I will be most upset when you depart but you can’t have anymore time at home.”
“Mama, it’s not fair,” the boy whined.
“Dear, dear, it is not for a while yet. You shall still have the Christmas holidays with us and then a month after that,” she explained to her son, who could still be heard grumbling in a low murmuring sulk.
I let out a silent sight to myself and moved back from the door. It had not been my leaving they had been discussing but John’s. I was disappointed but despite the fact that this news was not that which I had been eager to receive, it was still a joy to hear.
Life at Gateshead was a miserable one in any case but so much less was its burden felt with the absence of John.
Even though I had relinquished my stance by the door, the argument that continued was clearly audible, one participant more so then the other. Again trying to redirect my attention I began to watch the snow outside through a pane of glass fitted into the door. The flakes were still falling and had been for a great deal of the morning. Their fluttering dance was enchanting and I (thoughtless to th goings on around me) found myself studying their progress with apt devotion. I was entranced by their pure white flicker that obscured all else, and yet they accomplished this despite their minuscule size. They rode on the breath of the wind, gravity seemingly an irrelevant after thought, moving through twists and turns plotted unseen in the air and impossible for my eye to follow however hard I tried. It was a relaxing mood that fell over me, watching the white screen everything else from me. To just see white, not to hear, not to feel, to just see white.
A slam awakened me from my stupor, and (with my heart leaping up into my throat) I spun around to identify its cause. John had entered the breakfast room in a rage, yet halted his rampage as he surveyed me. My image added heat to the flames and I could see the intense annoyance that my presence brought to him flicker across his face.
The decision seemed to be a hard one for him to make, but eventually, after a few frozen seconds, he took a couple of lumbering steps towards me. I wanted to hit him, as I knew he intended to hit me, but I was uncomfortably aware that Mrs Reed still dwelt in the sitting room only separated from us by a door. If I was to try anything John would obtain her attention and the consequences for me would be worse. I did not want to be hit again; I did not want to go back into the red room. I cautiously retreated until my back made contact with the very door I’d been staring through moments ago.
His advance was finished and he was upon me now; there was nothing more I could do. I shut my eyes for the anticipated blow. Despite the fact that I was mentally preparing for it, I couldn’t help but dodge the slow and heavy blow. It struck hard against the wood, but I had no time for joyous thoughts. As it turned out, it would have been better if the blow had hit me. The door was just a simple affair leading to the garden. It was not well protected and the only lock upon it was an iron bolt by my shoulder. This would have been enough for it to hold up against the rattle of my cousin’s fists but for the fact hat that bolt was not across the door; someone had left it undone. The door flew open with me still leaning against it. I tumbled backwards and outside but the usual pain this would bring did not follow. The stone slabs that would have normally been my resting place were buried deep beneath many layers of snow. I sank into it and instantly had its cold bite sink into me. I was not dressed to bear this weather and those frozen jaws pierced me right down into my chest. The white panels that I had watched before suddenly surrounded me; I managed to blink through them and, although with difficulty, could make out John jeering at me, silhouetted in the doorway. Even as I stumbled to stand he pulled the door shut and, although I couldn’t hear it with the wind howling in my ears, I knew he had pulled the bolt back over.
Get to the door! That was the only thought lodged in my frozen brain. Upon reflection I could see no real point in it. I knew the door was locked, and there was no way to unlock it from the outside, but still that was all I knew; otherwise there was blankness.
It was agony trying to get to my feet: snow is simply not a substance designed for walking on. Everything beneath me seemed to be crumbling, and whenever I managed to get a foothold, a landslide of a process would take place and carry away the substance under me. I was already drenched, my body heat having melted the snow that came into contact with my skin, and this made me feel all the colder. The wind pulled my hair and pushed me in the opposite direction of that which I wanted to take. Worst was the snow that it carried: at whatever angle I stood it seemed to blow straight into my eyes and almost blinded me. It seemed best to shut my eyes and carry out my tasks sightless; even so my eyes still streamed in pain. The temperature seemed to be taking advantage of this and freezing that water, I had tracks running down my cheeks and from that on my eyelids I could no longer open my eyes even under the direst of circumstances. A great blistering pain had been in my toes, my fingers, and even that of my ears and nose, I didn’t notice when that pain subsided, I was too busy with other troubles.
There was no chance I would have made it back to the door on my own and I was lucky John wasn’t really a clever boy. For when Bessie came to collect me he had gone, intending to leave me to my cold grave, and so that may have been had not Bessie’s short search for me led her to the melted puddles upon the breakfast room floor.
She flung open the door and pulled me in with a single arm. She carried me up to the Nursery, changed my clothes and put me straight to bed. She was fussing the whole time but I heard none of it; I just remember weeping as the feeling came back to my limbs and brought with it insurmountable pain, weeping of the shock at what had just happened. Bessie fetched me a clay hot water bottle from the kitchens and soon I was sleeping. I spent a great deal of time asleep over the next few days and all of them confined to my bed. Bessie scolded me dearly for venturing outside and if she believed me when I told her John was the cause then she said nothing to me.
