Chapter Two: My Recycled Soul by Lynette Ferreira
His voice is soft when he speaks, “What is it that your da
wants you to do?”
“He wants me to marry Gerard, the neighbour’s son. I do not
even know him.”
“Maybe it would not be so bad if you married him.”
I look at him appalled.
“I have seen him. He looks well brought up and he would not
treat you ill.”
“That’s not the point. I do not want to marry him.”
I feel the damp of the night air settle on my shoulders, and
I shudder as a cold shiver squeeze through me.
For a couple of nights, I dream of Devlin. We are always
sitting on a tree trunk surrounded by trees and shafts of sunlight.
I get to the point where I want to escape into my dreams,
away from the truth of moving.
In my reality everything becomes a haze and I remain in
shock and disbelief as my mum and Sean continue past me and through me, as if I
am invisible, not taking any notice of me in their busy schedule to make the
move happen without any problems.
Then one night, without any warning, I do not dream
of Devlin. I am in a small, dank room. The roof slopes down on both sides of
the room. The corners are dark and dusty. A single, metal bed stands beside a
small circular window. There is hardly any space for anything else.
Even in my dream, I feel a deep sense of loss.
I see myself stand in front of the circular window. Then I
am looking out, down to the ground far below. I recognise a man below. He is
wearing a strange jacket and pants, and he looks like a picture from one of my
history books. The man looks up at me silhouetted in the small window, as I
glare down at him with a loathing I cannot understand.
A girl appears behind me with a tray in her hands. There is
a teapot, teacup, sugar pot, small milk jug and a plate of biscuits on the
tray. She looks around, and then shrugging her shoulders faintly, she places
the tray on the wobbly bedside table.
“Where am I?”
She looks at me unsure. “The attic?”
“Why?”
“Remember? The master found you with that servant boy who
was taking advantage of you in the forest.”
“No. I leaned in and kissed him. He never ever tried
anything. It was all me.”
“It is too late now, child, Devlin is gone.”
“Where did he go? You must help me to get out of here.”
“Oh no child, your da is very, very angry with you. You best
stay here until he calms down. Besides Devlin is long gone to Dublin by now.”
“Dublin?”
“Yes, child. Devlin. He left the day your da locked you in
here.”
I sit down on the bed. My legs are unable to carry my weight
any longer. I say softly, “Devlin and I never even had a chance to say goodbye.
It feels as if he died, it is so final.”
She puckers her face and nods her head a little. “Probably
died. I think you might be right, child.”
I look up at her shocked.
She wrings her hands in the white apron tied around her
waist. “There is a great sickness on the streets of Dublin. They say people are
growing big black lumps on their skin, and their tongues are turning black.
They say it is called the Black Plague and people are just falling down dead in
the streets. Dreadful business.”
I am unable to pull a breath of air into my lungs.
Waking up, I am gasping for breath.
The next night I dream of an elderly lady who opens the door
to the dark room I am in.
The woman says, “You may leave the room now.”
Sitting on the bed, I look at the door. I have a feeling of dread,
and I do not want to walk out of the room. It feels as if I have been trapped
in the attic for a long time.
Filling my lungs with air, I get up and walk out of the
room. In the hallway, sunlight bounces throughout the space. It has been a long
time since I have felt the warmth of the sun.
I follow my feet down the stairs to a room where the sun is
shining in brightly through the large windows. The woman, who opened the door
for me, is sitting in a rocking chair facing one of the large windows.
She shocks me when she says, “Your father is dead.”
I sit down on a chair beside her. Words refuse to form on my
tongue.
“You caused a lot of problems for your father.” She says it
as if she is blaming me, as if it is my fault. I feel a deep sense of guilt.
She continues, “Surely you understand. Your father went through persecution
since that scandal you brought over this family.”
“How could it be regarded as a scandal?” I ask incredulous.
“You were in an inappropriate relationship with a servant.
How can you be so naive?”
This dream merges into another.
I am on a horse, and I do not even know how to ride a horse.
I have never even seen an actual horse in real life.
Nudging the horse, it lurches forward, starting to gallop.
My long, dark hair lifts in the air behind me, as the wind sweeps in under it.
It feels as if a weight is lifted from my shoulders as my cares and worries, my
disgruntlements, are stripped away from me. I approach a boundary wall, a stone
wall, built by peasants years ago. Turning my horse, I let it walk along the
boundary wall until I see another rider, ahead of me, on the other side of the
boundary wall.
He looks very imposing on his black stallion and as I get
nearer to him, he turns in his saddle to look at me. Immediately I like him.
The way his smouldering green eyes look at me, the way his dark hair hangs over
his eyebrows. He smiles at me and my heart jumps fiercely in my chest. I ride
past him without stopping and I can hear him following me.
He calls after me, “Are you not Eilish?”
