Echoes

It was a warm spring day. The sun was shining and the birds were singing with joyful abandon. Everywhere was permeated with the freshness that heralds the start of a new cycle of life.

For nature it was a time of new beginnings - and perhaps for me also, although mine could only start through the process of self discovery and awareness. A painful prospect and one which necessitated my going back in time. A journey that was to begin - of all places - in the churchyard...

I couldn’t be certain I’d be able to break the ties which bound me to the past, but perhaps I could learn to come to terms with them and, in so doing, accept my weakness’ and insecurities whose seeds had been sown in those early years of my childhood...

Practice makes perfect

With painstaking precision, I teased my fringe down to the level of my eyelids. Then, reaching for the lacquer, I finished sealing the mass of back combing into a structure as rigid as steel wool. "There... finished!"

Catching sight of the almost empty spray bottle, I reminded myself that I would soon need to buy another 1/- refill from Woolworth. Such a pity that it was so hard to remove - so much so that it required soaking hair in water containing a bath cube...

Now my friend Shirley had no such problems removing her hairspray. Though that’s not to say that the sugar water didn’t present other difficulties. Not only did her hair resemble melting candy floss, but outings on hot summer days took on a nightmarish quality as we were often pursued by swarms of over excited wasps...

Never a swan

P****** was pretty - and I hated her...

She was, I suppose, a step-cousin; just one of an army of relatives who had been thrust upon me by my father’s remarriage. Most were nice, some weren’t, whilst one - the aforementioned P****** - was a thorn in my side!

Even to my jaundiced eyes she was physically perfect. Fair haired, with clear skin and delicate features; she was also endowed with feminine curves. Curves that amply filled the rose budded brassieres that I was so envious of. Any hint of fullness around my chest area came only from the bulkiness of my liberty bodice. I was painfully skinny - a condition which was not enhanced by my short, tightly permed hair and pink, plastic rimmed spectacles.

Buried Fears

A wave of pain hit her; and forced her back to full consciousness.

For a brief moment Ellen felt confusion, then as the smell of soot and cinders wafted through the blackness, she remembered...

It had all happened without warning. One moment the monotonous, jolting motion of the speeding train; the next, the horror of being tossed and battered in the twisting cocoon that once had been a railway carriage. All the while hearing the creaking sound of crushing metal and the breaking of glass. Then, in the swirling, stifling dust... Silence.

It was the silence which was now so unbearable. Even before the air had settled and breathing had become easier, Ellen had tried shouting - feeling certain that there must be someone nearby to answer her. However, no comforting words called back. Once she had heard faint moans and sobs; but now even they had ceased.

How long ago had that been? She was no longer able to judge the passage of time - there was nothing to measure it by...

Waiting

Moving the cup slightly to one side, she noticed the damask cloth was beginning to look less than white and rather threadbare these days.

Once this would have disturbed her and would have led to her guiltily recalling her mother’s pride in keeping a clean and tidy house.

"Costs nothing to be clean" she’d regularly remarked to young Doris- and to, not so young Doris too, as the years began to envelope them.

Mother had long gone though and only her sayings remained; etched into Doris’ mind and echoing through the ether, so that at any given time, an appropriate homily could rise up to suit the occasion.

It was almost like still having her around - although quite a bit easier.

Doris sat motionless in the chair by the table... waiting.

Hidden

In darkness we glided silently; melting into shadows until entering the crypt where more of the devout lay in wait.

We all risked death - torturous death; for no mercy would be shown if we were to be discovered... Some were fellow brothers; others craftsmen. Men whose life’s work had been given to the glorification of the building, though now their skills were needed to disguise the spaces once dazzlingly occupied.

Soon others would come... hastening to desecrate and destroy the hallowed remains of one despised and even feared. So little time to remove so few of the jewels from the casket the canopy jealously guarded. Reverently placed in leather bags, we concealed them under our garments.

Others though had a more perilous task - entrusted to replace the remains with those of another. The final resting place of the bones known only to them...unless...