22 July 2012
Chapter 1 Rhododendron Flowers
A girl was sitting on the windowsill. Just sitting, gazing out the window into the gardens beyond. The girl had long, black hair, purple-grey eyes, a white blouse, a violet apron and looked about eleven or twelve. She liked it here, in the conservatory. It was out-of-the-way, secret, deserted. No one knew, or cared about it anymore. It was just a glass room with half a roof, and a bookcase, albeit a small one. It was so secret because no one could see it from the outside, due to it being at the back of the castle, facing the woods, and half covered by wild bushes. No one could see it from the inside because it was covered by a tapas try, a rare luxury in the servants corridor that no one was allowed to touch apart from the Tapestry Cleaner, who cleaned it once a month. So no one even brushed past it, let alone lifting it up and looking behind. It was rather drab compared to the tapestries upstairs, but it was lovely all the same. The girl left her window perch, and went over to the book case. It only had three well-loved (though some may say tatty) books resting on it, leaning wearily to the old oak wood. She had got these books from the Lord of the house. He was a kind, gentle man of fifty, and she had got to know him in the library. She was a metal-polisher, so she cleaned everything from gold ornaments to pots and pans. She was cleaning lamps, in the library, and had decided to take a break, and had sat down on one if the ladders to read. When she saw him sitting at one of the many tables, reading, she was surprised. He had already seen her, and waved her over. They became good friends, and he lent her books to read. She peered from behind the tapestry, and seeing that no one was coming down the long, grey, stone corridor, snuck around the side of the large picture. As soon as she had come out, and was leaning casually against the wall, a small girl of about five running towards her, red hair flying, green eyes dotted with tears. "Rhododendron! Rhododendron!" she cried, apron all scrunched up, a red mark on her cheek. "What's the matter now Dublin?" asked Rhododendron, appearing agitated, but voice concerned. She noticed Dublin's rosy cheek. "Who hit you? Whoever hit you is going to have me to answer to." Dublin trembled. "I-i-it was C-c-c-cook. And R-r-ramble." She stuttered. "So, how did it happen?" coaxed Rhododendron. "Um, well, I was getting some plates that were too high for me to reach, and so I jumped and grabbed them, and they all fell down and smashed. Ramble slapped me, and Cook came over and whacked me with her rolling pin." Dublin erupted into fresh sobs of pain and self-pity. "It's lunch now, why don't you run along and see Lottia and Welr, how about that?" Rhododendron said soothingly. Dublin ran off in the opposite direction, and Rhododendron looked up at the servant's bells. None of the metal polishing bells were ringing. She didn't have to do much. She nodded to Hazel, her cousin, who was running past with a trolly covered with tea cups, saucers, pots of tea, and sugar. She was a tea girl. Poor Hazel, never a free minute in her life. Her stomach gave a persistent grumble, and she walked in the direction of the servant's dining room.
Oaks, Pines And Willows • Opuss № I