Effy get y’ ‘ead out of tha’ book!! Rose, ‘ow many times ‘ave I told y’ not t’play with y’ fathers knives?!
Pa said I could!
I don’ care wha’ Pa said! Put ‘em back where y’found ‘em! Effy?! Now!
A pristine home, though without sunlight. The walls graced with an insurmountable amount of artwork, each frame perfectly straight and dusted. What stood in for a window would be a forest scene, further along a painting of the market, and further yet again, one of a lake. Every piece of art as fine as the last. She had become used to such homes, plain, unassuming doors hiding what would seem like a palace to most, yet in truth each one a decorated fortress.
Kieran? Wha’ ‘ave you got on y’face now? Is tha’ jam?! Oh an’ on y’best shirt too!
The furniture was elegant, the silver candlesticks gleamed, the flames of the candles reflecting their light a thousand times over upon every bright, highly polished surface. Fresh flowers adorned the dining table, an elaborate display of roses, irises and ivy, along with a more modest posy of daises, some of the petals a little squashed.
Look, you kiddies need t’pull your weight! Y’father ‘as enough on ‘is plate withou’ you three causin’ chaos!
Where is Pa?
‘E’s workin’ Effy.
Painting?
Aye son...now come on, you three ‘elp set the table for supper.
She hadn’t had much time to prepare the evening meal, and she only hoped that it didn’t taste as sour as her mood. She had good intentions, and she knew the minds of evil men. The boy, Tilton, had been beaten black and blue, it had not been the first time, and he was just that, a boy. Yet, as most boys his age, he thought himself to be a man, and a worldly one at that. She knew that his body would only tolerate so much, and his father had little care to hide the abuse. Her husband, a man she had known for many years, his good deeds and his ill, was his possible salvation. Yet, there was a fly in the ointment, doubt. The boy had been made a very gracious offer by her husband, the opportunity to be rid of the abuse, not only that but lodgings, employment and a guard, in fact far more than she had thought would be offered. Yet, there was a girl. A young, outspoken thing, that reminded her of herself at that age. She fed doubt into the young mans mind, a mind that was already breaking at the hands of his father....
What’s a whore?
Where did y’hear tha’ Kieran?!
Pa said tha’ th-
Righ’ tha’s enough of wha’ Pa said, I’ll be ‘avin’ words with ‘im later!
...So time passed, and the boy was yet to decide if he would accept the offer. In this time his father had approached her, a miserable, loud mouthed man that seemed hell bent upon finding his son to exact punishment upon him. Twas at this time that the man made a mistake, for he had decided upon taking out his anger on her. The only things thrown were words, yet her own made him retreat, willingly or not, she did not care. She warned the boy of the mans ire, and he left in the care of another....
Rose, ‘ow many times do I ‘ave to tell y’? Put the knives away! They aint toys!
Pa don’t mind! He’s makin’ me a target and everything!
Is he now?!
….It was not long before the object of his affection, the young girl, showed up once more. As much as she saw herself in the girl, she had become increasingly irritating to her. In her mind, the boy had been offered everything on a silver platter, yet the girl was arrogant, rude, and clearly not thinking of his best interests. The father returned, turning a torrent of abuse upon the girl, who in turn retaliated with her own words. The girl was going to be hurt, it was as clear as the pieces of crystal in her home, and so, she intervened, demanding in her own poetic way that the man leave. Again, he did, be it by her words or the girls, he left...
Awww Kieran, tha’s lovely darlin’, but now go wash y’ ‘ands, y’got more charcoal on you than the picture!
...she was angry, annoyed that this man even dare speak to her, let alone use the words he did. Moreso she was angry at the girl, a child, who thought herself to be superior in some way, yet did more harm than good for she had now become a greater target for the mans temper. She left, the whispered words of urchins and washer women guiding her to the place of safety where the boy and the woman, Silver, waited. She had decided, her part in his tale was done. She had facilitated an escape for him, yet he could not seemingly understand her ire. The girls insults had ruined any possibility of her aiding him further, and his fathers words had changed the playing field. She knew her husband, and she knew he had of late been watching, albeit from afar, by the eyes of others sometimes, his own other times. She knew it was unlikely he didn’t already know of what had occurred. Above all, the safety of his family was paramount, and any threat was dealt with harshly. What she predicted had come to pass, the girl was attacked, the boy, a love struck puppy, ran to save her and suffered as a result. The father lived. She wished nothing more to do with the self destructive pair. After angry words were spoken, she returned to the one of many homes, hidden, and dotted around the town and its surrounding area. Her children, her life blood, a beautiful mixture of their parents, waited. The home full of laughter, arguments, fine wine and boarded up windows, where children played with knives and secrets were spilled.
Finished layin’ the table Ma!!!
Oh it looks righ’ lovely Rose! See? Y’can be a proper young lady when y’want t’be!
