Without A Heartbeat

Master Clarke left Scarlett exposed and bleeding in the room after he was done, and she had to drag herself to bed, the pain inside her so bad she could barely walk. Scarlett lay on her side in her cot, weeping as the patch between her legs spilled blood onto the mattress. Terrified and confused, Scarlett was still lying in the same position when the other girls stirred for morning work.

It didn’t stop.

Every single day, Master Clarke would manage to find her, no matter what she did, or where she was. Even if she was with others, he would simply ask to speak with her alone and they would nod, leaving whatever room they were in with bowed heads and sympathising glances. They knew, and they were prepared to do absolutely nothing to help.

The first few days Scarlett tried to stop him, but it always made things worse. He would become even more violent, using his fists or his belt. Eventually she realised it was just better to let him do what he wanted. She contemplated running away from the manor and confessing to her father what was happening. Beyond any doubt he would have loaded up the hunting rifle he owned for rabbits and other pests, and turned it on her attacker. But then what? Master Clarke was a powerful, well-connected man. Scarlett’s father would be in prison and her family would be homeless. Master Clarke knew it too. On one occasion as he pushed her into the pantry; he grabbed her throat and spat triumphant words into her ear.

“If you breathe a word of this I will make sure your family will be homeless and penniless. I know you have a sick brother. How long do you suppose the pathetic cripple will last on the streets?”

Scarlett withdrew into herself. By the fourth day she had stopped talking to the other staff and after a while, they stopped trying to talk to her too. She performed her duties without complaint, just as Housekeeper Ellison had ordered her to. She ate her dinner cold after everyone else had gone to bed, tucked halfway down the stone steps that led to the always-locked cellar. She would eat slowly, as if every mouthful brought with it a new, painful thought that she had to work through. When she finally crawled into her cot, she would lie on her side and either stare into the darkness, or cry herself to sleep.

The single kind thing that Master Clarke did for Scarlett was permit her to have a day off for her sixteenth birthday, which fell on the second Sunday after her arrival. As the first rays of sunlight poured through the small window in the attic room, Scarlett lay staring at the swirling dust motes and tried not to burst into tears.

Her father had requested the day off for her, before she had even started and it had been a day she had been looking forward to with an almost uncontainable excitement. Now it filled her with unease. The thought of being so close to the familiarity of her own home and the comforting embrace of her family filled her with both a desperate yearning and overwhelming sadness. She would not be able to tell them what was wrong and she would be alone in her misery.

Scarlett also knew that at some point she would have to leave them and return to the awful manor.

The only outfit she had been given that wasn’t a uniform, was a plain blue frock. It was yet another reminder that she belonged to Oakley Manor and to the awful master of the house. She vowed to change them as soon as she got home.

Scarlett made her way down the servant’s staircase and into the kitchen. Bridget was there, removing food from the pantry for the servant’s breakfast. The cook avoided her gaze, which suited Scarlett just fine. She unlatched the rear door and stepped outside, shivering as the cold air wrapped itself around her. As she was about to leave, she heard Bridget call her name.

“You’ll catch a death of cold, dear. Wear this.”

Scarlett turned to see her holding a ragged shawl that she had removed from a coat hook. The girl made no motion to move, so the cook draped it over her shoulders for her. “I’m so sorry sweetheart,” she whispered. “I hate that awful man an’ the things he does, but what can I do? I av’ my own children to worry about.”

Scarlett glanced at the solemn woman. “Then pray they never have to work here.” She walked outside, leaving the cook staring down at the floor in shame.

The girl moved around the manor house, letting her hand brush against the stone of the building. It felt harsh and cold – soulless - just like everything inside its walls. One of the stable boys was leading a pony in the opposite direction, stroking its side as the beautiful creature shook out its mane. He gave Scarlett a cheeky grin, but she kept her expression blank. His smile faltered and he looked away towards the shrubs that lined the gardens.

As she walked across the courtyard, Scarlett could feel eyes on her. She glanced back towards the manor and saw Mrs Ellison framed in the landing window – resembling a ghost with her deathly complexion and dark attire. The woman had one hand pressed against the glass, as if she were trying to reach out to Scarlett. She gave a slow nod before shrinking backwards like a dissolving shadow. Scarlett shuddered and wrapped the shawl tighter around her shoulders. A house full of monsters and cowards.

Scarlett walked down the path, which lead to the main road. There was a sharp fork at the end. The right-hand route led towards Teine village, which had most of the shops that the manor needed, including a butchers and bakery – everything else was sent for from Belfast. The other direction stretched towards the potato fields, and eventually - if one had the energy and time – Belfast itself. Surrounding the road was a mass of woodlands that made up Dorcha Forest, a place that was home to towering pine trees, fern shrubs and a number of skittering creatures.

Scarlett turned left, walking slowly as if in a trance and bathed in the shadows cast by the clusters of pines that lined the route. The girl tried not to think of anything as she treaded the path home, she knew that doing so would mean remembering, and that could make what remained of her meagre strength crumble like an old statue.

“Beautiful.”

The words flowed towards her like a gust of air and Scarlett felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She whirled around to see nothing but the gently swaying trees and a single rabbit that had decided to venture from one side of the woods to the other. It’s only my mind playing a trick on me.

Scarlett quickened her step regardless, her heart pounded like a tin drum in her chest. The woodlands tapered away ahead of her, the trees felled to allow for the potato field.

“I will save you.”

The words came from her right this time, again so soft Scarlett couldn’t be sure that she heard them at all. There was a rustling from atop the trees and ice poured through her veins when she saw a large silhouette hop from one to the other. She broke into a run and the shape in the trees moved with her.

Scarlett ran straight into something hard that wrapped its arms around her. A piercing scream escaped her throat and thrashed blindly at her attacker.

“Whoa, whoa what are ya doin’ Scarlett? It’s me!”

Scarlett opened her eyes and glanced up to see Michael Granger staring back down at her. He was one of the other field workers and a good friend of the family. She collapsed against his chest as hot tears spilled down her face.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?”

“Someone is following me,” she breathed into his jacket.

“Stay here.”

Michael broke away from her, shouldering the shovel he was carrying. He was a powerful bearded man, standing over six-feet in height and threaded with taut muscles from all his labouring. If someone was following her, they would find a powerful barricade in Michael Granger.

“Show yourself!” he demanded. “I’m not feckin’ around. Get out here now!” He strode back along the path, shouting loud enough to scare the birds from the trees. Scarlett stared at the last spot where she had seen the dark shape hunkered between the thick branches of a conifer.

There was nothing there.

After a few minutes Michael walked back over. “I can’t see anyone at all, pet. It might ‘ave just been a deer, or ya might have j’st been scarin’ yourself. It’s easily done on a dark road such as this.”

Scarlett went to answer, then paused for a moment. She couldn’t say with any real certainty that she wasn’t imagining things. I’m constantly waiting for Master Clarke to attack me. The thought made her feel nauseous and she pushed it away, doing her best to smile up at Michael. “Ya probably right. Walkin’ through here on my own must ’ave given me the spooks.”

Michael smiled. “Well I wouldn’t want to be trying to follow ye, you’re ya father’s daughter.” He gave her a gentle punch on the arm. “Made of tough stuff.”

Scarlett cast her gaze away into the woods.

“Tell ye what, I was going into the village to get the handle of this shovel fixed up, but I’ll walk ye home first. How’s that sound?”

Scarlett didn’t really want company. But she also didn’t want to be alone in the woods. So she gave a nod. “I’d like that, thanks.”

The pair walked back towards the fields. Michael asked her questions about her new employment and Scarlett answered with as much conviction as she could muster. The only moment in which she almost let her guard down was when he asked if Master Clarke treated her well.

“Yes,” she lied.

The Granger’s house was right next to Scarlett’s own. Lisa Granger was washing clothes outside, dipping them in a barrel of warm, soapy water, ringing them out and then placing them on a wooden board ready for drying. She smiled at Scarlett, slipping a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Well fancy seein’ ye, I was wonderin’ when you would bring that pretty little face back to these parts.”

“Good to see ya,” replied Scarlett, and managed a genuine smile. The Granger’s were unable to have children of their own and as a result, the two had grown close over the years, Michael’s wife becoming almost like a second mother to Scarlett and Connor. Lisa gave a wink and turned her attention to her husband. “I t’ought you was goin’ to the village.”

“I was, but then I bumped into Scarlett here and thought I’d have a quick catch-up.” He made no mention of how she had been scared out of her wits, and for that, Scarlett was thankful. It would only draw more attention to her, which could lead to questions. Questions she wasn’t mentally prepared to answer.

She doubted she ever would be.

“Right I’m off now, have a good day, you.” He gave Scarlett a kiss on the head and she tensed before she could stop herself.

“Bye,” she replied.

“Come ’ere you,” he said to Lisa and puckered up for a kiss.

“Later!” she giggled, giving his shoulder a slap.

He gave a hearty laugh and sauntered off back in the direction that lead to the path.

“Your family will be glad to see ya,” said Lisa with a smile. “They’ve been missin’ you desperately so they have.”

It was those words that almost made Scarlett break down, but she held it together long enough to open the door to her little homestead. The first thing that hit Scarlett was the smell of the potato and leek soup cooking on the stove. It was a scent that would normally make her mouth water, but she was too nervous for hunger. Her mother was leaning over the scorched metal pot, tasting the contents with a large wooden ladle.

Scarlett’s father was sitting on the cot that she and Connor had once shared. He had her brother perched on his knee, a hand cradling his waist and helping him read a book. Scarlett recognised the maroon coloured cover. It was Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland – a book her father had purchased for her tenth birthday, when he had treated her to a day trip to Belfast. Everything had been so bustling and vibrant, that Scarlett had spent half the time overjoyed, the other overwhelmed.

“Only a few find the way, some don’t recognise it when they do. Some…don’t ever want to-” Connor stopped speaking and his face broke into an excited grin when he saw Scarlett. “You’re back!”

He jumped off the bed and tried his best to move over to her, dragging his bad leg behind him. Scarlett felt a wave of emotion as she ran to meet her brother, wrapping her arms tightly around him. She could feel the sting of hot tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I missed you,” he whispered from the folds of her clothes.

“I missed you too, little one,” she said, kissing the top of his head and then holding him against her.

Her father stood up, his stubble-covered face breaking into a smile. “Come see your old man.” Scarlett helped Connor back to the bed and then wrapped herself into the loving arms of her father. She pressed her face against his chest and took in the familiar scent of soil that clung to his worn shirt. Her mother joined them, wrapping her arms around them both. In the comforting embrace of her parents, for a moment Scarlett was able to forget the horrors of Oakley Manor.

For a moment.

“I have a gift for you,” Desmond said with a smile.

“Da, no! You shouldn’t be spending money we can’t afford.”

“Hush now. It’s your birthday, that doesn’t count.” He went into the bedroom and returned a moment later with a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. He handed it to her. “Happy birthday from all of us, darling.”

Scarlett took the gift and sat down on a wooden chair near the fireplace, unraveling the string and unfolding the paper. Inside was a red book. Black borders covered both covers and the spine. On the front, the title of the book was written in bold gothic lettering.

“In a Glass Darkly. Tales of Mystery & the Supernatural, by Sheridan Le Fanu.”

“It’s a new one of those horror books. Since we can’t get you to stop reading that stuff,” laughed her mother.

“Read what’s inside,” insisted Connor, sitting down on her lap.

Scarlett opened the first page. Written on the inside cover was a message which she recognised instantly as her father’s fine handwriting.

“To our wonderful Poppy. We could not be prouder to have a more beautiful, intelligent and caring daughter. You are so selfless and brave, and not a moment goes by that we don’t thank God that He blessed you with us. We will love you until the end of time itself. Ma and Da.” Scarlett’s voice cracked as she was speaking and she had to take a moment to compose herself.

“Read what I wrote!” said Connor, bobbing up and down on her knee.

Blinking back the tears that were forming, Scarlett looked down to an extra bit near the bottom of the page, written by a shaky and uncertain hand.

“To Poppy, I love you lots. Connor.”

“Da showed me how to write that,” he said with a beaming smile. Scarlett gathered her brother into a tight squeeze and planted him with dozens of kisses while he squealed with laughter.

It’s perfect.” She looked up at her parents. “It’s perfect,” she repeated. “Thank you so much.”

Scarlett suddenly remembered how the cruel Mrs Ellison had stolen The Monk from her room and her stomach knotted. To think the same thing might happen to the new one that already meant so much to her was devastating. “I can’t take this back to the manor with me.”

“That’s fine,” said her father, collecting the book from her. “I’ll keep it safe for you and you can read it when you’re here.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Desmond clapped his hands together. “Right, enough with all these horrible emotions,” he said with a grin. “I thought we could play some Draughts for a while until the sermon starts at the village church and then come back here for lunch. How does that sound?”

Scarlett didn’t answer for a moment, when she did her words slow and unsteady. “Do you mind if we don’t go to church today?”

Her father looked surprised. “Missing church on a Sunday? That’s quite unlike you. Is everything okay?”

She nodded. “Of course. It’s just that I’ve missed you all so much, I would rather stay here instead.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. The part she left out was that God had not been there when she had needed Him the most. He had abandoned her to Master Clarke, allowing him to have his foul way with her over and over, even though she had wept and prayed for Him to save her. Now she wasn’t sure that she could ever reconcile the doubts in her mind enough to have true faith once again. After all, why should she worship a god who had turned his back on her so easily?

Desmond regarded Scarlett for a while, as if trying to understand something hidden there. After a moment his face broke into his usual grin. “I’m sure God won’t mind if we take one day off to celebrate your birthday.”

The comfort Scarlett felt being back with her family was marred by the misery she felt knowing that every minute that passed took her a minute closer to the point when she would have to leave the warmth of those she loved and return to the cold embrace of Oakley Manor.

A minute closer to him.

“Poppy!”

Scarlett snapped her head up, realising that she had been lost within her own thoughts. She was lying on the cot with her red hair splayed out over the pillow and her arms wrapped around her sleeping brother.

“Sorry Da, what did you say?” she asked, carefully sitting up so as not to wake Connor. Her father was sitting on the chair by the fireplace, smoking a cigarette.

“I asked if you were okay.” He leaned forward. “You don’t seem yourself today.” He nodded towards Mary, who was clearing up the bowls from lunch. “You barely touched your ma’s food for a start.”

A lump formed in Scarlett’s throat, as if it were the words themselves waiting to spill out of her mouth. Her father knew her well; she had been a fool to think that he would not notice the difference in her behaviour. More than anything she wanted to tell him the truth and have him comfort her, but she knew it would begin a series of events that would culminate in everyone she loved suffering. So as sick as it made her feel - a sickness that bore its way right into her soul - Scarlett made the decision to keep silent.

Forcing her lips to part into a smile, she looked right into her father’s eyes. “I’m fine Da, I promise.”

“Work at the manor is not too hard?”

“It’s hard, but I can cope with it.”

“They are treating you well?”

Scarlett’s gut tightened and she smiled even wider to compensate. “They treat me as well as a scullery maid can be treated.”

“So you are sure everything is okay? There’s nothing you want to tell me?”

Scarlett took a deep breath before replying. “It’s hard work and I miss you. That’s all.”

Her father studied her face for so long that Scarlett was convinced she had somehow given everything away. He knows something isn’t right and he’ll get it out of me. I can’t lie to him for long, I just can’t!

Mary slapped Desmond’s arm with a dishrag and then climbed on the cot, putting her arm around Scarlett’s shoulder. “Will ye leave the poor lass alone? She’s fine, aren’t ya darlin?” She swayed from side to side and Scarlett couldn’t help but laugh.

Desmond’s face broke into a smile. “I missed that laugh. Quite missed the person it belongs to also.”

“We all did. Now come help me wi’ these dishes you,” said Scarlett’s mother, kissing her cheek. “Just ’cause it’s your birthday doesn’t mean ya get to be lazy.”

The mood in the homestead shifted back to one of good spirits and for that Scarlett was grateful. Things at Oakley Manor had gone so wrong so quickly that she couldn’t bear the one place she felt safe to be tainted in any way. Snatching the rag from her mother’s hands, she jumped off the cot and rushed over to the dishes. Laughing, her mother joined her, and together they finished clearing away the lunch, while her father smoked his cigarette and watched them, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

After they had cleared away, Scarlett picked up a small cloth bag she had bought home with her. Undoing the string that held it closed, she poured out seven shillings and a few pennies into her palm. She perched on the table next to her father and extended her hand.

“Is that your wages?” he asked, glancing up from the chair he was sitting on.

She nodded. “It’s what I’ve earned so far.”

Leaning forward, he took four of the shillings. “Thank you so much my darling.” He curled her hand shut. “The rest is yours.”

“No!” cried Scarlett.

Desmond looked shocked. “Poppy, it’s fine. What I’ve taken from you is enough for us to get by. I refuse to take all your wages.”

“I don’t want them!”

For Scarlett, the act of giving her wages to her family made what she was going through more bearable. She was supporting them, making it so that they could have an easier life, so that Connor could get his medicine. To keep any of that money she earned at that place made her feel unclean, as if she were some kind of harlot.

“You don’t want money?”

Scarlett tried to keep her voice calm. “Please Da, I have everything I need at Oakley Manor. They give me room and board.”

“What about books? You could save up and buy yourself some new ones.”

Scarlett shook her head. “I already told you I mustn’t have books there. The last thing we need is the people I work with asking questions about us.”

Her father sighed and took the rest of the coins from her outstretched hand. “Okay, I’ll tell you what,” he said stacking them up and pinching them between thumb and finger, “I will keep the rest here as surplus in case we need it. Otherwise, its yours whenever you want to come and collect it.”

That’s the best I’ll get from him. “Okay,” she conceded.

Her father threw the stub of his cigarette into the fire and placed an arm around her. The movement reminded her of the time in the grounds with Master Clarke and for the briefest moment she flinched. She felt him pause. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I love you, Poppy.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. And that is why I will endure whatever I must at Oakley Manor.

Mary sat on the edge of the cot and reached out, taking Scarlett’s hand and interlocking her fingers with them. No one said anything and all that could be heard was the howl of the wind slipping through the cracks in the old building and Connor’s wheezing breath as he slept.

Scarlett closed her eyes and for the first time since Master Clarke had first violated her, she did not fight sleep.

He came to her as a shifting figure formed from malice and hatred, and moving with the stiff mannerisms of Frankenstein’s monster. His face was too long and his features terrifying - hollow sockets devoid of eyeballs and a mouth that was a drooping O, hanging to his chest.

Scarlett was tied to a four-poster bed, held fast by cracked rosary beads that dug into her flesh and drew blood. A wedding dress clung to her skin, damp with a mixture of fearful sweat and her own blood. The room seemed to yawn outwards as if the walls were cloth being pulled and stretched by invisible hands. At the end of one twisted horizon stood the figure. He studied her, his long fingers tapping the air. He was so far away, yet somehow so close. Scarlett could feel terror pouring in around her like a fog, filling her lungs and choking her into submission.

“Mine…every day mine…for an eternity mine…always mine,” breathed the figure, his voice a mixture of Master Clarke’s and the harsh scrape her scouring brush made when it raked along the kitchen tiles. A large crucifix hung on the wall behind the pulsating creature. Christ was turned away, his scarred back towards Scarlett.

With a sudden movement the figure rushed forward, his shoes making sinister pattering sounds on the wood, like the excited footsteps of a child. He reached the bed in seconds and bore down on it, the joints of his too-long arms creaking as they pressed down onto the mattress. His body let out a series of sickening cracks as he twisted himself upside down, arching his legs over his back and bending his spine into a U shape. Once his feet had touched the bed, he inched himself upright, until he was perched over the terrified Scarlett.

“Always mine,” he whispered and a snakelike tongue slipped from his gaping mouth, curling down towards her.

Scarlett tried to scream, but some force had rendered her mute. She thrashed on the bed, but that only made the binds bite deeper into her flesh. Tears of fear and fury flooded from her eyes. The monster had claimed her as his own when he had no right.

“Miiiinnee.”

The figure dipped his head and the tongue found her cheek, the stench of it so nauseating Scarlett almost vomited. She turned her face to the side, screaming silently.

That was when she saw him.

Another figure perched outside the window, his silver eyes glinting.

Watching.

Scarlett fought against her attacker, screaming and crying.

“Poppy, stop!”

The sound of her nickname being used made her cease struggling. As she focused, the creature from her dream slipped away into the recesses of her mind, replaced by her father who crouched over her, pinning her arms to her sides. Her mother was standing nearby, clutching onto a terrified looking Connor.

“W-what’s happening?” Scarlett breathed.

Desmond let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the Lord you’re back to your senses.” He released Scarlett’s arms and eased her up. Groggily she looked around and discovered she had been lying on the floor of the cottage. The remains of her father’s smoking chair was scattered around her, reduced to kindling. She stared down at her hands and was shocked to discover that they were raw and bloodied. Confused, she stared up at her family. “I don’t understand.”

Mary knelt down and ran a soothing hand through Scarlett’s hair. “You was havin’ some awful kind of nightmare my sweet. Started lashin’ out at us all and then finished off this chair ’ere.”

Scarlett’s eyes went wide. “What? Please tell me I didn’t hurt anyone.” She looked over at Connor. “Are you okay sweetheart?”

He gave a slow nod, his good hand wrapped around his mother’s waist.

“We’re fine Poppy,” said her father. “It’s you I’m worried about. You were screaming like you’d seen the Devil.”

Scarlett swallowed. “Its like Ma said. I had a nightmare.”

“What was it about?”

A pause. “I don’t recall.”

“You’ve never had a nightmare like that before you started working at Oakley Manor.” Desmond’s expression became intense. “Scarlett, if something is going on up there that frightens you, you must tell us.”

“There isn’t anythin’ more important than your wellbeing,” insisted Mary. “You can be honest.”

“Nothing is wrong!” barked Scarlett, standing up so fast it shocked everyone. “Just leave me alone!”

“Scarlett!”

“I’m sorry Ma. I’ve been working from dawn until after dark every day for the last two weeks. I am tired. That’s all. I’m sorry I startled everyone, but please will you just stop worrying about me!”

No one looked particularly convinced by her words, but they made sounds of agreement anyway. “I’m sorry about your chair, Da,” she said, staring at the mess of wood scattered around the room.

“It’s just a chair Poppy, pay it no mind.” He stood up and kissed the top of her head. “I can build a new one. You, however, are irreplaceable.”

Scarlett felt a new lump form in her throat. Turning away, she stared out of the window. It was growing dark, the sky at its darkest blue before it rolled into black. The words that came out of her mouth next were some of the hardest she had ever had to utter.

“I should be getting back now.”

Scarlett gathered her family into an embrace that she held much longer than needed but far shorter than wanted. Indeed, she wished that time itself could have frozen and she could have stayed with them that way forever. However, time did not bend itself to the wishes of one girl. So after changing back into the blue frock, her mother wrapped the shawl around Scarlett’s shoulders and her father walked her back down the road until they reached the path that ran up to the manor.

“I shall be counting down the days until your next visit,” he said with a sad smile.

“Me too, Da.”

He gave her a kiss on the top of her head and let out a lingering sigh. “You are my daughter and I know when something is making you unhappy. I will never force you, but just know that when you are ready, I will always listen. Happy birthday, my sweet Poppy.”

Through blurry vision, Scarlett watched her father shrink into the distance and kept staring down the path for a long time after he had vanished into the darkness. Then she drew every last bit of courage she had left and walked towards Oakley Manor.