Brellitine Grever and The Sea of Gelled (The Brell Trilogy Book 1) Page 2

  Timmy nodded and his face relaxed, reassured and relieved. When they got back to the cottage, Lucy begrudgingly agreed, but, being the person she was, added a few more tasks for them to do.

  Just as they were about to leave, Lisa entered the kitchen, her frizzy blonde hair secured in a brown hair band. At thirteen she was already rail-thin and had button-like eyes, but was the only person in the house who was considerate to Brell and Timmy. She went to the local girl’s school, while Brell and Timmy were home schooled with second hand books. They had just taken the final test for that year a week before, but for the two siblings, the summer holiday wasn’t even a holiday. It was work, work and more work.

  Lisa helped them out whenever her mother wasn’t looking, and Brell remembered once Lisa had slipped Timmy a couple of sandwiches in the middle of a cold winter when the poor boy was shivering from hunger and cold. She was a friendly, quiet and helpful soul. As she passed them, Lisa smiled at Brell and waved at Timmy.

  Brell walked out and squinted against the sun’s glare. She placed their lists on the grass and organized the work between them so that they would be together for the rest of the day.

  To supplement the income from the farm, Aunt Lucy ran a small tea shop in their front lawn. The cottage looked the part, with wisteria growing over the door and wild flowers that blossomed around the edges. There were six small tables with two chairs each arranged on the front lawn, and each day they would serve tea along with whatever dish she made that day. In addition to the chores they were assigned, Brell had to serve the customers that stopped by.

  That afternoon, a few couples had stopped by to take in the sights. Snowshill was a small place so those who came for the tea and food were mostly tourists. “Today’s special is raspberry cake and caramel custard.” Brell said to the Italian couple who now sat at one of the tables.

  “I think we’ll take the cake and some tea.” The Italian lady said, smiling. “You have a beautiful cottage here.”

  “Thank you.” Brell forced a smile.

  After they had paid for the food and were about to leave, the woman paused by Brell. “Here, this is for you,” she smiled, dropping a pound into Brell’s hand.

  “Oh. Gee, thanks!” she grinned.

  As the sun lazily set, sending streaks of gold and red ribbons across the soft sky, she washed the remaining dishes. Her aunt entered the kitchen.

  “I saw that lady give you the tip. Hand it over to me” she said with a scowl on her piggy face.

  Brell placed the last clean dish on the rack. “She didn’t give me anything,” she said innocently.

  “Don’t lie to me, you worm.” Lucy spat. “I saw it with my eyes.”

  “It’s mine. I earned it.” Brell said flatly. “In any other restaurant, tips are supposed to be kept by the people who get them.”

  “I have looked after you ever since your troublesome mother ran away, dumping you and your brother here, you ungrateful wretch!” Lucy marched up to her and yanked off her apron. “Where is it?” she screamed.

  “I’m not giving it to you! I’m not that child anymore, the one who you could use as you wished. I’m seventeen!”

  “And I’m your guardian.” Her aunt’s eyes glinted maliciously. “If I say give me the money, you have to. You don’t have a choice.” Aunt Lucy leaned closer, and Brell could feel her hot breath wash across her face as she tried not to flinch. “You don’t have anywhere to go to. No one wants you. Your own mother didn’t want you. Do you understand?” She reached forward and grabbed Brell’s skirt pocket, ripping it open. The coin tumbled into her meaty palm.

  “Brell?” Timmy entered the room, looking at her with scared eyes. It was clear that he had heard the entire conversation.

  “Go to the attic, Timmy,” she said, her chest heaving. “Now.” He shouldn’t be seeing this.

  “No!” Lucy bellowed. She grabbed Timothy by his neck and almost flung him at Brell. “Both of you dust and clean the living room. We have a guest coming over tomorrow. I don’t care if you have to stay awake till midnight doing this. Clean it. Or you won’t get dinner.”

  “But —” Brell began, agitated.

  “No!” Her aunt snapped her fingers and handed her a duster, cloth, and liquid cleaner.

  Brell was adamant. “We’ve been working all day!”

  Her aunt glared at her crossly. “You could be living on the streets for all I care! I’ve given you shelter and food, and I have taken you as my own after your good-for-nothing mother ran away, leaving me with the burden of you both. Now,” her voice rose an octave, “take these things and clean the living room till it sparkles or you will have absolutely no dinner!” she sliced her hands through the air as she said the last two words.

  Brell clenched her fist and exhaled slowly through her gritted teeth. Grabbing the cleaning materials, she stormed out of the room. No wonder her uncle always spent his time in his study. Who could stand a woman like that?

  “Why does she do this?” Timmy grumbled, rolling the long sleeves of his shirt up his dusty arms. They heard a sound behind them and turned around to look at Lisa.

  Her fingers were curled around a piece of a sandwich. She looked over her shoulder and quickly handed the piece to Brell, who felt the anger in her melt. She, in turn, passed it to Timmy who didn’t hesitate for a second to stuff it into this mouth.

  “Thanks.” Brell said quietly. “If your mom sees you here she will get angry.”

  Lisa looked over her shoulder again and whispered, “I know. But I had to tell you who is coming over day after tomorrow.”

  “Who’s coming over?” she asked dully, not at all interested.

  “Mrs. Madeline. Mom told me something, but I don’t understand what she meant.”

  Brell blinked, suddenly very interested. “What did Aunt Lucy say?”

  “She said that it would be difficult for you to be presentable. What does that mean?” Lisa asked, looking inquisitively at Brell.

  The loud voice of her mother made them jump. “Lisa! How many times do I have to tell you, you are not supposed to talk to them? Come here this instant!” She scurried away, and Brell let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

  Trudy Madeline was her mother’s close friend; a polished, wealthy, and sophisticated elderly lady, she lived in Knaresborough, but tried to visit every few months. Whenever she visited, Brell could see the concern in her eyes for them. She would always bring presents for the two of them when she visited, but Lucy would take them away. Brell wished she could tell Aunt Trudy not to bring presents but Lucy never left them alone with their visitor. Hence, Brell could never reveal to Aunt Trudy exactly how horrible Lucy was. Still, her visit was one of the few things Brell ever looked forward to in the farm.

  “Presentable?” Timmy asked her, his fingers finding a way into her hand as his brow furrowed.

  “She wants Mrs. Madeline to think that we are kept very nicely.” Brell had murmured, stomach sinking, and rubbed his nose. “She doesn’t know the truth, honey.”

  “Why don’t we ask her to take us with her when she goes back to Knaresborough?”

  “I think Aunt Lucy already discussed this with her. She doesn’t… want us.”

  Timmy looked crestfallen, and he slowly withdrew from her. She noticed a small tear on his cheek.

  Brell wanted to make him smile so badly. No child of eleven years should be working like he did. She wiped his tears away with her blue handkerchief and then stuffed it into his hand so he could use it later. “Timmy,” she sighed. “You know that —”

  “I understand.” He nodded, his face still solemn. “That’s just the way it is.”

  She hugged him tightly. “I’m going to make it change Timmy. I’m working on it.”

  Chapter 2: Missing

  A sudden gust of wind made Brell shiver and the ever-present melody popped back into her head, fitting her mood. She recalled the disastrous end to the night and wondered if there was anything she could have done differently.


  *

  For the next two hours they sat in the attic with second hand textbooks from their neighbours. It was the only study material they had. She would learn her stuff and even teach Timmy. Their aunt was supposed to be doing it, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen anytime in the near future.

  Aunt Lucy called them down just before bedtime. “Alright. By tomorrow evening you need to have had a bath, brushed your teeth, got rid of the grime on your skin and revised your study books. Trudy will be checking up on you both.” Her aunt said sternly, sewing a grey pillow cover. “You can tell her anything you want, but I’m just informing you that I am all that you have.”

  Timmy nodded. Brell clenched her jaw, upset. She had a plan, though. A plan she had been working on for a while. A plan to escape from this place.

  “If she gives you a present, which I’m sure she will, you will hand it over to me. Understood?”

  “Yes, Aunt Lucy.” Timmy said, looking down.

  Her Aunt stopped sewing and gazed at Brell with a suspicious eye. “And you?”

  Brell got up. “I get it.”

  “Good. Now go.” Her aunt flicked her finger in an irritated manner.

  Tired and weary from the whole day’s work, Brell clomped up the rickety stairs that led to the attic.

  “For goodness sake, don’t make such a loud racket!” her aunt screamed.

  “You’re the noise maker.” Brell muttered, too low for even Timmy to hear. Today she hadn’t even got time to play the piano. She threw herself upon her torn mattress and didn’t move.

  Brell knew that if her mother were here, she would never have let this happen. Her mother had always been her source of strength. She missed her so much; it hurt to even think about the fact that she was gone. When her mom supposedly ‘ran away’, she felt like there was this huge hole in her life that she could never get rid of. She had never felt that alone and the only person who shared her grief was Timothy. He was the only one left. Her only family.

  The small white and yellow daisy with pink-tipped petals growing on her windowsill caught her eye, and a memory came back to her as she looked at her mother’s favourite flower.

  The sky had never been prettier. Swirls of cloud drifted along the azure sky, playing a silent game with it. She was walking in a field full of yellow and white flowers, hand in hand with her mom. Her mother’s skirt rippled in the breeze, forming a dance of its own. Brell was sure her mother was the prettiest lady in the world, with her blue eyes, fair skin and shiny black hair that danced in the breeze.

  “There you go darling.” Her mother- Praline- plucked a daisy and tucked it behind Brell’s ear. She did the same for herself.

  “Why is the daisy your favourite flower? It doesn’t even have a fragrance!”

  “Well, it’s the most humble flower I have ever seen, honey. It lies low and doesn’t call for attention like other flowers with their bright, showy colours and heavy scents. It pops up almost everywhere and spreads happiness, like little drops of moonshine.”

  Brell’s little eyes gleamed with excitement. “Little drops of moonshine. That sounds magical!”

  “It is.” Praline bent down, so she was at Brell’s eye level. “This world is full of magic, my love. You just have to believe that it’s there. You have a little bit of magic in you too.”

  Little Brell squealed in delight. “I do?”

  “Yes! It’s right here.” She placed her hand on Brell’s heart. “It’s called love. Treasure it, honey. It’s the purest of all emotions.”

  Brell placed her hand over her mother’s and smiled.

  “Now,” said her mother. “Do you want to roll down the hill?”

  “Yes!”

  They both laughed and lay down on their side. A push later they were rolling down the hill, spinning faster and faster, daisies and grass tangling up in their hair.

  “I’m going to carry back some flowers to press.” Brell picked up a bunch of yellow and white flowers. “I’ll press them under books like you showed me and then we can use them to decorate paper!”

  “Of course darling. Here, I’ll pick some with you too!”

  She glanced at the daisy on her windowsill. Ever since that day, the daisy had become her favourite flower too. Whenever she would see it she would be reminded of her mother and her precious words. A cardboard box containing her mother’s things lay just below the daisy.

  She was certain that her mother wouldn’t have willingly left…there must be something that her aunt was hiding from her. A child knows what love is, and she knew her mother loved her. This was a mystery she was adamant to solve. The people in Snowshill never talked about it and if she brought it up they would hush her, saying that it was inappropriate for her to talk so openly about it.

  “Brell?” whispered Timothy.

  “Hmm.”

  “Well,” he seemed to hesitate. “Do you remember those sounds I hear at night? I’m scared that they will come again. Do you mind if I keep the lights on?”

  She looked at him, then smiled gently. “Sure.”

  He crawled onto his bed and curled up into a tight, tense ball. In his hand he clasped an old blue denim cap which once belonged to their father. “I’m frightened.” He whimpered. “Can I hold your hand, please?”

  She stretched out her arm and Timmy held onto it.

  “You don’t have to worry Timmy. Nothing will happen to you.” She leaned closer to him. “I have a plan.” She whispered. “I’ll talk to Lisa tomorrow and ask her if she can distract Aunt Lucy for a few moments. Then I’ll be able to tell Aunt Trudy that we want to stay with her.” Once she knew about the way they had been treated, she would surely agree.

  “I hope it works.”

  “It will. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier. But now sleep. Don’t worry, okay? Good night honey.”

  “Good night.”

  Brell thought about her mother; the strong, independent woman she was. She wondered if she would ever become like her mom. Another memory of her mother telling her bedtime stories popped into her head. She wove fantastical tales of mermaids and mermen who lived in a huge sea. Strange, Brell thought. I’ve remembered that after such a long time.

  Before she knew it, she was fast asleep, completely oblivious to the terrible things happening around her, dreaming of a magical sea.

  *

  A woman walked past Brell, looking at her inquisitively, and startling her out of her recollections.

  Had her brother gone to Chipping Campden? She gritted her teeth. If he had run all that distance… she shook her head and began her race to Chipping Campden, passing lavender fields on her way. She frantically searched any hiding places in the village and asked people if they had seen the boy for a half hour until she came to the painful conclusion that he was not there. Jane hadn’t seen him either. She spent another hour searching those places she knew he liked to visit but it was all in vain. No one had seen the skinny, blue-eyed kid with curly russet-coloured hair.

  With a heavy heart she returned to Snowshill and walked back heavily to the cottage. Where was her little brother? He hadn’t run away on purpose because his coat was still in his room. He would have told her if he had planned to do such a thing. If he hadn’t run away, but he was still missing, then he was probably lost. But then again, he had grown up in this area and he knew it like the back of his hand. So… the only remaining option… was he …? She froze. Kidnapped? The more she thought about it, she grew more and more worried.

  “Did you find him?” her aunt snapped the moment she stepped foot into the cottage.

  “No. I’ve searched everywhere!” she exclaimed.

  “Well you clearly haven’t searched everywhere. You’re late missy. No food for you,” her aunt sneered, her eyes glittering with apathy. “He’ll come back soon enough when he realises that he can’t survive a day without food.”

  “And what if he doesn’t?”

  Her aunt didn’t even glance up from the socks she was
mending. “Doesn’t what?”

  “What if he doesn’t come back?” She whispered, feeling like her world was collapsing around her. Her eyes were misting over. “I think he has been kidnapped.” she managed to choke out, emotions overwhelming her. She could not believe what she had just said. She didn’t think she would ever have to utter those words.

  “Oh don’t be silly. I think it’s a kid thing. He will come back. And …” she gave her a sly smile. “If he doesn’t, then we have one less mouth to feed. He doesn’t do much work anyway, compared to how much he eats.”

  Brell could almost hear the sound of her jaw hitting the ground. She was too shocked to utter a single word. All that came out of her mouth was a strangled sound. “We should be filing a missing person report!”

  “You will do no such thing. Get back to your work this instant!” The quiet, deadly warning in her aunt’s voice made Brell realise if she didn’t do exactly what her aunt wanted, she probably wouldn’t get food the next day either.

  But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus on her work. Timmy didn’t return by the end of the day. A dull gloom seemed to haunt the house. It felt eerily quiet without his constant noises.

  “I can help you find him.” Lisa had offered earlier that day while handing her a few biscuits.

  “I don’t think your mother will like it very much if she finds out.” Brell had answered with a gentle pat on Lisa shoulder.

  By the time night broke, she had nearly bitten off all her nails with worry. She had never spent so much time away from Timmy and she wasn’t prepared to spend the night that way too. Her mind darted from one place to another. All she could think about was if he was safe or not. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she tried to quiet the sobs ripping through her chest. She sat on his bed in the attic, running her fingers over the rough straw. The cottage, the stables, Chipping Camden, the church….she had searched everywhere. What had she left out? A couple of words tugged at the back of her mind. It was something Jane had been talking about the other day… She frowned, trying to remember. Something about…