Short Story: The Doll
One
day, feeling hungrier than usual Francesco tried begging on the street,
imploring those that passed for a coin or a few hours’ work in exchange
for payment or food. When a well attired lady came along, accompanied
by a young girl and a maid, Francesco asked the same question. But
instead of dismissing him out of hand the lady examined him, asking if
he knew his bible, and could he read or write. As Francesco answered in
the affirmative the lady instructed him to come to her house the
following morning where he would be put to work alongside the gardener,
who was growing old and found it difficult to complete the tasks he was
given. To Francesco’s pleasant surprise the grand house he arrived at
was built on several levels with many windows looking out over a huge
garden in which there was a large orchard, flower beds, and cultivated
lawns with many pathways leading to quiet arbours and hidden features.
Francesco thought it resembled the Garden of Eden, but Matthew the old
gardener laughed bitterly. “An Eden maybe, but only for them as can take
pleasure in it.”
Francesco had little idea what Matthew meant but
nodded pleasantly, as he’d been instructed by his mother to do. Matthew
regarded the response with quiet reflection. “There’s no need to please
me boy, the work is hard, backbreaking at times and may appear never
ending. The Mistress demands high standards, but thinks kindly of them as does no wrong.”
Francesco
nodded his head again, repeating that he was not afraid of hard work.
So he was put to work, and though young little distinction was made
between the work he was given and what Matthew took on. At the end of a
day Francesco’s muscles ached, his back could barely straighten out and
his whole body shuddered from the excesses it had suffered. “Is it like
this every day?” Francesco asked.
This time it was Matthew who
nodded. “If you don’t like the work, don’t come back. The Mistress will
find someone else easily enough.”
Francesco knew it to be true, promising faithfully to return next morning.And
next morning, true to his word, Francesco appeared as Matthew loaded
his pipe. He regarded the boy pleasantly, giving out instructions for
what was to be done that day. Francesco did all he was asked, taking a
keen interest in the plants and bushes Matthew pointed out. He learned
also to distinguish between a flower and a weed, although to him the
difference meant little. But it seemed the Mistress and her daughter
delighted in walking the garden, taking in the scents and sights of
fresh blooms, although as Matthew warned Francesco was to afford the
ladies their privacy.
When Francesco asked why there was no Master, Matthew simply looked him in the eye and said. “You’ll learn, but not from me.” And
learn the story he did, from Lizzie the kitchen help. She was a plain
girl with a red face, caused by standing too close to the range, who
brought them a simple lunch each day. “The Master, he come from a good
family; they had money, but he was greedy and went in search across the
ocean. Somewhere I never knowed, called Polynasia or summat – sounds
like a strange place. He joined up with some others and brought back all
kinds of unusual stuff, sold in the market. He did well that first time
and thought to double his money, but he had his troubles. A ship sank
with many lives lost, and though he was saved he lost a leg. Then he
caught summat awful – out there in Polynasia. When he come home he was
wasted good and proper. He lasted a few months and died most badly,
crying out against God and the Church.”
Lizzie crossed herself
fiercely as the story concluded and then grabbed Francesco’s arm,
twisting it painfully. “You’re not to say nothing in front of the
Mistress or dear little Yvette. You hear, or you’ll get a slap from me.”
Francesco promised he wouldn’t speak a word of anything he’d heard, though he wondered why it should remain secret.
“Miss
Yvette went a bit touched – in the head.” Lizzie confided. “When her
Daddy died. You ain’t allowed to tease or cause her harm.”
‘Dear
little Yvette’, when she appeared always brought along a large doll
named Natasha, after the nurse who had first raised her and who in a fit
of spite Yvette had caused to be dismissed. Why she continued to love
the doll so passionately was beyond Francesco, who had been raised on a
bare minimum. To Francesco the girl remained an over privileged creature
who was subject to fits and outbursts of anger. Most people who worked
at the house had grown used to ignoring the tantrums, but Francesco
being new found himself the focus of attention for the deceitful child.
“Hello.” She began, catching him unawares as he employed a scythe to clear a patch of ground.
Francesco
ran a finger along the blade as he glanced sideways at the girl, who
was probably his own age, but remarkably untainted by the realities of
life. He made no answer, and continued working as the girl contemplated
him blankly as she did most things she could not comprehend.
“Why don’t you speak?” The girl insisted.
“I’m not supposed to.” Francesco answered. “I’m working.”
“Well I’m telling you not to work, but to pay attention to me.”
Francesco scrutinised her closely. “No. I take my orders from either the Mistress or Matthew, not you.”
Yvette
let out a shrill scream and slapped his arm; instinctively he placed a
hand over her mouth, but she bit painfully and he slapped her hard. She
fell to the ground too stunned to say anything at first.
“I’m sorry…” He began, extending a hand to haul her upright.
“What’s your name?” She demanded, refusing his assistance.
“Why?” He retorted.
She
continued to glare until her face turned red and hot tears emerged from
pale blue eyes. She cried copiously, but Francesco stood his ground,
partially frozen in terror at the retaliation that threatened to be
unleashed and also out of a sense of righteousness that she’d started
this quarrel. His passiveness appeared to calm her as she hugged the
doll closely to her chest.
“I don’t like you.” She snapped, waltzing back along the path towards the house.
“That was a mistake.” Matthew remarked, emerging from nearby bushes where he had remained hidden. “A girl like her never forgets, and never lets’ go. She’ll make your life miserable.”
And
that is precisely what Yvette attempted to do, inventing tales
involving rudeness and worse she then relayed to her mother. The
Mistress warned Francesco about his future conduct, and though he tried
to defend himself she refused to listen. The lies continued unabated
until the Mistress warned that one more complaint against him and she
would be forced to dismiss Francesco out of hand.
Francesco asked
Matthew what he should do, and he suggested Francesco might apologise.
Francesco saw apology as weakness, and refused to do it; it went against
his natural instinct, but what else was he supposed to do? He waited
until Yvette was on her own, approaching with head bowed and hands
clenched plaintively.
As the apology was delivered, the girl
peered at Francesco out of pale blue eyes and then laughed into his
face. “Say you’ll be my slave forever.” She insisted.
“No.” He cried. “No, I refuse.”
“Fool.” She said, fairly spitting as she spoke. “Fool of a boy. Do you think I want your apology? This is far more fun.”
And
with that she brushed Francesco aside, but he raced after, blocking the
path as he implored her to show mercy. “My family is poor and depend on
the little money I bring home. Please don’t treat me like this.”
The
girl laughed openly again, and this time Francesco lost his temper,
pushing her backwards onto her rear end. He wanted to hurt her as she
was intent on hurting him, but found a vindictive expression cross her
face as he realised she meant to get back at him. Instinctively he
picked up the doll she had dropped, flinging it hard into a patch of
briars and brambles where it hung momentarily, before slipping down to
remain lost forever.
Yvette sprang to her feet, bursting into
aggravated tears as she wrenched at his upper body while attempting to
claw his face. Francesco held her at arm’s length while her protracted
screaming attracted the attention of her mother, the maids and a scared
looking Matthew. All remained at a distance while the girl continued to
pummel Francesco; eventually her anger subsided into shuddering sobs as
her mother led her away, leaving Matthew to inflict the inevitable coup
de grace. “Go home boy, and don’t come back.”
----------------------------------------
Francesco
struggled to find alternative work, but was eventually taken on by a
merchant keen to train a willing apprentice. Francesco took to the work,
managing to succeed at all the tasks he was given. The merchant liked
Francesco and helped with his education, allowing him to acquire
knowledge and a respectable standing within the business community. The
years flowed by and Francesco prospered, earning a fortune as his
achievements grew and soon his status brought him into higher social
circles where he married a woman whose family wealth matched his own.
The marriage itself was little more than a business arrangement, but two
sons were born which enabled him to believe he had founded a dynasty.
Francesco
bought a large property in the capital city, from where he travelled
extensively on business or for pleasure. He conducted love affairs and
sought out the company of brilliant men and beautiful women, and might
have felt content but for the one thing that still niggled and which he
felt aggrieved by almost twenty years later.
On a whim Francesco
decided to travel back to the town of his birth to put matters right. He
felt he was owed an apology for the treatment he’d received, but on
arrival found the house up for sale, having grown partly derelict from
years of neglect. Francesco was able to stroll through empty rooms,
taking in the fine detail as he examined the interior. It remained a
beautiful old house, which could be brought back to life, and he was
seriously tempted to buy it.
He was speculating on this when a
sound nearby made him turn his head. A woman dressed entirely in black
stood in the doorway, with a dense mantilla veil covering her face and
upper body.
“Who are you? What do you want?” The woman’s shrill
voice sizzled in the empty room, and Francesco immediately recognised
the tone.
“Yvette? Is that you?” He asked.
The woman stared
through him, raising a walking stick she had brought with her as a
weapon. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”
Francesco smiled. “I know you very well, but it appears you have forgotten me.”
He
explained who he was and how he knew the family. All the time Yvette
remained impassively at a distance, listening but never once softening
her stance. She moved to the window, turning her back on Francesco. “The
property belongs to the bank. I have nothing now since mother died,
eking out a bare existence on the little money I received after selling
off the furniture. When the house is sold I must look for charity
elsewhere.”
Francesco pondered, considering the prospect would
remain bleak for a woman of her status. It was then she raised the veil
to reveal she had remained remarkably impervious to the effects of time.
It quite took his breath momentarily. “And you never married?”
“Mother needed me, and after she died I thought I had lost my opportunity.”
“But why…..?”
She
glanced in his direction. “I’m no longer a young girl, and the rumours
about me have kept the suitors at bay. You must have heard the stories?”
As
he nodded, Francesco was suddenly struck dumb as Yvette parted the
folds of her garments to bring forth the doll he thought had been lost
forever.
“Where did you find her?” He asked, examining the faded face and torn clothing.
“After
Mother’s death I searched for her, and I’ve been cutting at the
brambles piece by piece until she finally returned to me.”
“I’m
sorry.” Francesco apologised, and he did indeed feel sorry, wondering if
there was anything he could do to make amends, asking. “Why do you
continue to wear black?”
Yvette glanced down at herself as if only
now aware of what she had on. “Mother had my clothes made for me, but
I’ve outgrown everything. It’s all I have left to wear.”
Francesco
realised there was something positive he could do to help the woman,
insisting she accompany him into town to visit a dressmaker where she
was fitted for several outfits in the colours of the season. In addition
he promised to purchase the house so she could continue living there,
if that was her intention.
She asked why he did what he was doing, and he smiled. “I have my reasons.”
----------------------------------------
It
might be assumed Francesco meant to punish Yvette for what she had done
many years before and maybe that had been his intention at the outset,
but seeing her again had put the idea out of his mind. In fact he had
grown infatuated the moment the veil was raised; this may be hard to
imagine, but Francesco had reached an age when he was seeking something
entirely for himself. And once she realised, Yvette saw an opportunity
to turn the situation to her advantage.
Infatuation can only go so
far without reciprocation, but Francesco appeared ready to give and
soon a maid and a cook had been hired, with a man to look after the
grounds. Despite her supposed innocence Yvette had a fair idea of
Francesco’s intentions, waiting until the bulk of the work on the house
had been completed before asking the one remaining question. “Francesco,
why are you doing this – I will not become your mistress, and I cannot
remain a kept woman. I must be married, or there can be nothing between
us.”
Francesco had anticipated this situation, and sought to put
her mind at ease. “You know my position.” He replied. “I am a married
man with a family, and commitments in the capital. I ask nothing of you,
but that you think kindly towards me.”
“As your mistress?” She demanded starkly.
“Call it by any name you please. I cannot deny I find the prospect appealing, but I will never dishonour you.”
She
examined him before picking up the doll, hugging it closely against her
body. “No.” She responded. “No, I cannot agree to this and you will not
force me.”
The disagreement went on repeatedly each time he
visited, creating a rift between them, but the more they argued the
worse his condition grew as he knew he must have her or die. Eventually
his emotions got the better of him as he pleaded with his wife to grant a
divorce. She was a woman who had grown used to his frequent love
affairs believing he would return when the passion of the moment was
over. This time it felt different, and they argued fiercely, but
Francesco remained adamant. Finally, a divorce was granted, but not
before Francesco handed over a large portion of his wealth to his wife
and children.
Francesco and Yvette were quickly married, returning
to the refurbished house to begin married life. But their first night
together proved a disappointment after Yvette rejected Francesco’s
advances, declaring she ‘needed time’ to adapt. He became angry; how
much time could she need? Already it had cost him a fortune to make her
his wife and he felt certain she was delaying simply to gain a greater
advantage. In his rage he shook her violently.
She sobbed as he paced the floor. “And is that how you’ll show your love?”
He
glared, but then softened. “No, I never intended to hurt you. I’m
sorry.” He saw a blank look cross her face as she reached for the doll,
and something inside made him snap. Angrily he snatched the doll from
her, dashing it to pieces against the wall. “You’re a grown woman –
you’ve no need for childish things.”
Yvette screamed, tightly
hugging her knees. “After tonight, don’t ever ask for love from me
Francesco.” She warned. “I cannot. I’ll never forgive what you’ve done.”
“We’re married Yvette, and you’ll learn what it means to be an obedient wife even if you cannot yet love me. Do you understand?”
Yvette regarded him fiercely. “You may ask many things of me Francesco, but I’ll never be obedient and never
love you.” Yvette collected up the shattered remains of Natasha as hot
tears fell onto the face of the broken doll. “She was all I had and you
destroyed her, as you intend to destroy me.”
Francesco sighed.
“That’s madness Yvette, I love you. Tomorrow, you’ll see things
differently. You’re upset and angry, but I’m not sorry I smashed the
doll. You really don’t need her anymore when you’ve got me.”
Yvette
turned away, sheltering the doll against her body, and as she slept a
curious thing occurred as the shattered pieces re-assembled; only now
the once faded face had been brought back into pristine condition. It
was the first thing Yvette’s eye alighted upon as she woke. “You
returned to me; I knew you would.” She kissed the doll softly before
hiding it out of sight in her wardrobe. And when Francesco woke she
kissed him too, consummating the marriage with every sign of the
affection he’d been hoping for.
Two months later he was given the happy news. “We’re pregnant.”
Francesco
felt ecstatic, providing Yvette with every comfort he could obtain. A
nursery was decorated and filled with toys, a crib and bright colourful
objects to delight the senses, but as the weeks went by Francesco
observed his wife with mounting disquiet as he recalled the stages of
pregnancy his first wife had gone through. Yvette displayed no symptoms,
indeed her body remained exactly as he recalled on their wedding day
and he wondered if she had been mistaken.
One afternoon as Yvette
strolled through the garden, Francesco went in search of answers,
recalling how she spent a great deal of time in the wardrobe where her
clothes were hung, able to discover Natasha hidden there. He was
surprised to find the doll in one piece after he had seen her destroyed;
his surprise quickly turning to horror as he examined her, noticing the
swollen abdomen. Startled by the discovery Francesco laid Natasha on
the bed, raising the skirts to reveal she was as fully formed as if
she’d been a real woman.
Before he could react, he found Yvette
standing in the doorway, beaming as she took his arm. “You discovered
our little secret. Now we can truly become a family.”
He regarded her critically. “What is this travesty against nature Yvette – answer me?”
She
smiled. “We’re symbiotic Francesco – joined as one, and bound together
for life. If you ever expect love from me Francesco, you must learn to
love Natasha too.”
He gasped, unable to speak as she stroked
Natasha’s abdomen beaming up at him, and as he examined the doll found
an identical expression on Natasha’s face. Francesco felt his mind must
be dissolving and screamed, running to the kitchen to find a knife to
put an end to this madness. Yvette followed, shielding the doll against
her body.
“Destroy either one of us and the child dies.”
Francesco
stared from face to face, unable to think or to breathe, finally
sinking beneath the strain as Yvette regarded him defiantly. “How can
this be?” He asked. “It isn’t physically possible.”
Yvette turned
Natasha’s head to glance in his direction. “He doesn’t understand. He’s
just a man and doesn’t know with whom he’s been sleeping.” The smile on
Natasha’s face widened as these words were uttered, and Francesco wept,
staring into pale blue eyes as Yvette stroked her head. “We’re a family
Francesco; maybe not as others understand, but we’ll learn to love one
another. And when the child is born, we’ll love him or her equally. Say
it’s what you believe.”
He felt his choices wither, bowing his
head as Yvette danced Natasha out of the room. Life was cruel, but no
crueller than the turn of fate. Staring at the knife where it had
fallen, he wondered if he possessed sufficient strength to put an end to
this travesty before it spiralled out of control. And if he did, would
it mean his demise too; nothing made sense anymore as he started to sob,
but he picked up the knife.
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