My Secret, Chapter 10

Chapter 10:
Parting gifts

'I want you to',

The words came out of my mouth in a throaty whisper, with so much wanting and desire. I could hardly believe that I was saying them, that we were here, alone, in the secret garden.
Dickon was leaning over me, one hand on the hooks of my corset. Very gently I felt his fingers unhook one of the clasps, and then another. I felt myself sigh in anticipation of his touch. I wanted him, I wanted this, more than anything.

'Is tha sure?' he whispered, pausing.

'Please Dickon, please do it, I wa- ' we were interrupted by the sound of footsteps hurrying down the outside path of the garden.

'Dickon!' I hissed. 'Someone has found out, quick - '

The situation would have been hilarious if it had not been so serious. The two of us flew apart – Dickon reaching for his discarded shirt and pulling it over his head, me struggling with my dress.

'God, who is it?' I heard him whisper.

I found myself shaking in fear where I had felt so safe only a few seconds ago.

'I don't know, just go Dickon! please!'

I was near tears and he reached down to hug me tightly for a brief second.

'I have something for tha', he whispered, reaching to the ground and picking up an object I hadn't seen before. He gently slipped it into my hands.

'Thank you', I whispered, my voice giving away the emotion I could barely control. My heart racing as we listened to the approaching footsteps. Yes, they had found out, and they were coming.

'I love thee', he said softly. 'Don't ever forget it.'

'I love you too, Dickon.' I reached up to kiss him one last time. 'Now go, while you still can.'
He melted into the shadows, his last words lingering in my mind. 'I'll be seeing tha, if only in my dreams.' Then he was gone, and I was alone.

I hurried to button up my dress, pausing to slip the strange parcel down the front where it would be safe. I heard the garden door open, and heard Dickon running down the path towards his cottage. The other set of footsteps gained, and then only a few seconds later, the door of the garden burst open – and in came a figure I had not expected to see, Sarah.

'Miss Mary!'

She came towards me, obviously in a panic, she was puffing, short of breath, and her usually neat and immaculate appearance had been replaced by hair that was plastered against her forehead, and a crumpled dress, which had obviously been slept in.

'You're got to come Miss, there's no time to lose. They've found out you're not in tha bed... quick Miss!'

I didn't say a word, but just followed her silently, my blood running cold in my veins. They had found me out? but how? all I could think of was Dickon, and hoped that he had got back safely to his bed without waking Ben or without being seen by anyone. God, Dickon... what would they do if they found out?

'But Sarah, how did they know?' we were hurrying now, I was finding it difficult to run in my tightly laced corset and was having trouble keeping up. We ran across the lawn of the garden and then out into the shaded walkway, our footsteps crunching upon the gravel. I felt the parcel Dickon had gave me and was relieved that it was well hidden. I knew that I would probably have some explaining to do, and the less that point to his association with me, the better.

'They found out when Mrs Medlock got up. She walked past your door and noticed it open, she knows that you always keep it shut. So she looked in and noticed you weren't there. Oh Miss, I came as fast as I could. Tha' whole house is in an uproar, everyone is up looking for thee. I knew I had to find tha and warn tha.'

Dull acceptance of the situation began to creep into my mind.

'Well, I suppose there's nothing that can be done but go back and try to think of a good story as to where I was.' I said, as we hurried down the walkway. Then panic rose within me. 'But what can I possibly say?'

'I don't know Miss, but I do know one thing – the Mistress is not happy.'

'Oh Sarah, thank you so much for coming.' I grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight, if only to find reassurance from another person. She must have felt my need because she replied 'Its alright Miss, I like tha' and I don't want to see tha' in the firing range of that old Dragon. Come on,' she tugged my hand 'we must hurry.'

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'And just what do you think you were doing, wandering around in the night?' Mrs Medlock grabbed my arm and whirled me around to face her. Her face was livid with anger, and her grip was tight and hurt me. I winced and tried not to cry out. 'Just where have you been, hmmm? answer me, girl!'

'I just, I just wanted to take a stroll', I replied desperately.

'A stroll?!' she gasped, almost laughing, but with her eyes blazing. 'In the middle of the night?!'

'Only a short walk... I just had to see the gardens one final time. That's all, I swear.'

'What kind of lady goes wandering around at this hour?' she demanded. 'Haven't these last few weeks meant anything to you? I have been trying to teach you proper decorum and how to act as a lady should, and this is how you repay me? by rebelling and acting in an indecent manner? You should be ashamed of yourself!'

'I never wanted your training in the first place!' I cried, struggling to free myself from her cruel grip. 'I never wanted to go to London, nor to be trained to be 'a lady', especially by you.'

'Your Uncle will hear about his in the morning.' she snapped 'what an insolent child you are, how you continue to defy his wishes and mine!.'

'He knows what I want!' I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks. 'I want to stay here. I don't want to go to London. This is my home! why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?'

'Save your pathetic pleas for a more sympathetic audience.' she said coldly. 'Quite frankly, I've had enough of the lies and the deceit – going to look at the gardens indeed.' Her gaze swept over me then, as it had when I came in – noting my dishevelled appearance, tangled hair and crumpled dress. 'If I didn't know better, I'd say you went to those gardens for a different purpose altogether. Revolting behaviour...'

She lead me along the dark corridor, carrying her lantern in her free hand, her other hand still gripping tightly into the soft flesh of my upper arm. I watched it cast its light on the gloomy walls, leaving long, frightening shadows around the corners. We reached my room and she thrust me in, and then turned to Sarah, who had followed us silently down the corridor. She too, was weeping.

'And as for you,' she whispered loudly, 'I've got a good mind to send you home without a shilling to your name. You knew where she was going and you kept it from me!' I heard the slap of Mrs Medlock's hand against Sarah's face and heard her cry out. 'Now go to your room and don't you dare come back here.'

I heard her sobbing as she ran away down the dark corridoor, and I imagined her with one hand over her smarting cheek. I felt a surge of anger so strong rise up in me that felt as though it would burst and overflow. I wanted to turn to Mrs Medlock and shake her and shake her. I struggled to keep myself under control.

'How could you?' I hissed. 'None of this was her fault.'

'Don't you dare tell me what I can and cannot do, my girl. I am head housekeeper here, and what goes on in this house is my responsibility. I will not be told what I should do and what I shouldn't, especially by one like yourself.'

'What do you mean “one like myself”?' I spat back, not even trying to keep my voice down.

'I know the kind of girl you are... and I know why girls like you sneak out of their beds at night. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.'

I did not say anything, but looked up to meet her gaze, my eyes full of fire.

'I would rather be who I am than be someone I'm not.' I replied evenly. 'all you are interested in is in turning me into someone I hate - and god forbid I should end up all bitter and twisted like you.'

'That's enough!' she spun around, and pushed me towards my bed. 'I have had to deal with enough insolence tonight and I refuse to deal with any more. Now get those clothes off and get into bed where you should be.'

She turned and left me, striding towards the door. Then stopped, turning to face me again, her face glowing sinisterly in the light of the lantern.

'You will leave for London first thing in the morning – and in case you should fancy another 'stroll through the garden' or whatever you'd like to call it, I will be locking the door behind me.'

I heard the door latch behind her, and the key turn in the lock. I was trapped. I collapsed on my bed, my body wracked with sobs. I cried out, for some human comfort, but nobody came. I cried for Dickon, for the Secret Garden, for the only home I knew, that I would be leaving behind. I cried for what could have been and for what I knew was to be. I held Dickon's package close to my heart, desperate to hold on to the last part of him that I might ever have.

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The carriage began to move, and I sat still, silent, no tears welling in my eyes, only dry sorrow. Mrs Medlock and my Uncle were sitting opposite me, yet I could not bring myself to look in their direction – I could not face the disappointed look in my Uncle's eyes, nor the obvious disapproving pleasure in Mrs Medlocks. Instead, I took in the house and the gardens for what felt like the last time. I thought of the Secret Garden. Who will tend it now? I wondered. I know that Dickon will, he will always tend it, but who will be there to enjoy it with him? The driver whipped the horses, and the coach began to move faster, as we made our way down the driveway to the house. The gardens flew past us in a blur of green. There's the kitchen gardens, I thought, and there's Ben's herb garden – and the gardener's cottage... My heart sank as I saw the cottage on our way past, as it brought back feelings of Dickon and how our night had ended – and just what I would be leaving behind. The carriage rattled it's way down the stony drive, to where the gardens gave way to moors, the lovely lonely moors that Dickon so loved. I almost didn't see the solitary figure standing upon the moor, illuminated in the colours of the dawn. From far off he raised his hand and waved farewell. I turned from the window and tried to control the tears that threatened to break free. Oh Dickon, I thought sadly. What will become of us?

Now we were standing on the platform at the train station – a place that I hadn't set foot in for almost six years. Six long years... I had arrived here as a lonely orphan, unsure about her future and with no hope for what lay ahead. Now I was once again being turned out into the world, to follow a different path, but this time I was leaving behind a home, friends, and a man that I loved.The train was ready and waiting – bound for London, and I was preparing to board. I had never dreaded a journey so much as I had this one, and my heart felt as heavy as lead. I stiffly farewelled Mrs Medlock, then turned to my Uncle and let him take my hands in his.

'Farewell Child, may your journey be a pleasant one. I am sure that the Sutherlands will make you feel very welcome.' Despite the disappointment in me that he obviously felt, having heard all about my midnight wanderings, I heard kindness in his voice.

'Goodbye Uncle', I said, trying to hold my voice steady, then, reached up and hugged him. I felt him stiffen at first, then his arms gave way and hugged me back.

'Life will be very dull without you, you know', he whispered to me, then stood up, breaking away from me. I walked towards the door of the train, and I looked around. My Uncle was standing next to Mrs Medlock, and I could see the barest hint of a smile on his face. It was in stark contrast to her stony expression. I saw my Uncle tip his hat at me, in a gesture of respect then lift his hand and wave. I waved back from the door of the train, and then stepped inside, using every bit of willpower I had not to jump from the train and run back to where I knew I belonged – and to the man I loved.

It wasn't until the train was moving, and I was safely away that I reached into my travelling case and found the package that Dickon had given me. I drew it out, and examined it freely for the first time. It was something rectangular and hard, and was wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. I smiled thinking how like Dickon the parcel was – with no pretences whatsoever. I slowly untied the string, curiosity building as to what was inside. I opened up the paper and gasped at what I saw.

It was a pencil sketch of a young girl, asleep under an apple tree. Her hair framed her face and her lashes were long and dark. She had a small smile upon her lips as she slept peacefully, immersed in nature. The drawing was simple, yet detailed, and captured the mood of the moment. When he was watching me sleep, I thought, thinking back to a much happier time. I felt the tears rise to my eyes and then fall. The pain in my heart increasing as the train took me further and further away.

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It was dark when we reached London.

It had been dark for some time outside, but not after we had begun to approach a steadying amount of villages. The train made many stops along the way, and I couldn't remember when I had last felt so tired and drained of emotion. When the train stopped for the final time, and it was announced that we had reached London, I got up with the others, but did not hurry to exit. I was really here. Already Misselthwaite seemed like a dream, something that was far, far, away. I vowed that I would not cry, that I couldn't cry, not ever again. I was here now and I had to be strong. I knew I could wait, and I hoped that he would wait for me.

I clutched my travelling case close to me and followed the crowd of weary people out of the carriage and into the rank and bitter night air. As I stepped down from the train I marvelled at the sheer number of people. They were everywhere, surrounding me, pressing against me, raising their voices and calling out to others. I felt overwhelmed, and struggled not to show it.
Just then I looked up and noticed a familiar face coming towards me through the crowd – a tall young man with dark brown hair and a smiling face, striding freely, with an ease that betrayed the fact that it hadn't been six years since he had learnt to walk. 'Mary!' I heard him call, 'over here!' He was grinning wildly and waving at me, pushing past people in his hurry to reach me. He was followed by an older gentleman, who I assumed was Dr Sullivan. Now it is really happening, I thought, and Misselthwaite is so far, far away. I thought of Dickon's picture safe in my travelling case - I thought of his lovely face and how much I would miss him. I thought of our secret garden, and all the happy days we had spent there. It must be endured, I have to endure it. I thought. What else could I do? I mustered a smile and headed through the crowds, preparing to greet my cousin - and begin my new life in London.