THE ORPHAN

Chapter 2- A New Prospect

Mrs. Evans knocked softly on the door to Mrs. Potter's office and entered the room. Andy saw a tall and expensively dressed gentleman sitting before Mrs. Potter’s desk. Mrs. Potter’s eyes narrowed a little when she saw Ms. Evans.

‘Where’s Lucy, Stephane? I thought I’d asked her to bring Andrew..’
‘Oh, she’s gone on an errand Mrs. Potter, I offered to bring Andy,’ she said smoothly. She inclined her head slightly towards the gentleman and said confidently, ‘I’m Stephane Evans, Mr. Bennington. You can say Andy’s been left in my care since the demise of his mother. I was a close friend of hers.’

She remained standing, ignoring the only unoccupied chair.

‘Come here Andrew,’ beckoned Mrs. Potter. ‘Mr. Bennington here says he’s an old friend of your father's. He has something interesting to say.’

Andy, who’d been dawdling near the door, walked awkwardly past Ms. Evans and around the broad desk towards Mrs. Potter. He looked at the gentleman for the first time. He had thick black hair and his hand was presently stroking this strong clean-shaven jaw. He had astonishingly bright black eyes, with a slight twinkle in them, as though he already knew of the animosity between the two ladies in the room.

He spoke with a clear, deep voice, ‘You look a little like your father, and especially the jaw highlights the similarity.’

Andy felt a bubble of pride in his heart, but didn’t say anything.

‘Excuse me, but can I speak to Andy alone for a few minutes?’ he addressed the two women. Ms. Evans glanced at Andy, gave the tiniest nod and walked out, and held the door open for Mrs. Potter. Mrs. Potter, on the other hand seemed slightly reluctant. She stood up slowly and heavily, while the chair made a noise on the wooden floor as it got pushed back. She slowly exited, without another glance at Andy or Mr. Bennington. Ms. Evans shut the door quickly and quietly. Andy felt that Mr. Bennington must be important if he could get Mrs. Potter to leave her own office.

Now that Andy was alone, he felt older and more responsible. He felt he could handle anything the man threw at him. Mr. Bennington, though, surveyed Andy for a while, with a small smile.

‘Would you like to come with me to Atlan, Andy?’

Andy became fully alert. He couldn’t believe his ears. He also had no recollection of this man ever coming home to visit his father, and had no idea as to trust him or not. He suspected Ms. Evans of knowing Mr. Bennington before hand, since she'd nodded, Andy thought he was supposed to say yes. Then again he’d be able to get away from Kidlington.

‘This doesn’t mean a quick getaway alright?’ he said, beginning to laugh, as though he’d read Andy’s mind. ‘This will take some planning. Though I’m pretty sure we can manage it in well within a month,’ Mr. Bennington said.

‘But why?’ Andy blurted out.

‘Why I make this offer? It’s like this: your father and I are old buddies. I was once a sailor too. Yes I was, though I may not look it,’ he added, seeing Andy’s expression of disbelief. ‘We were fine sailors. At one point of time, when we made enough money, I branched out to lead a peaceful, quiet life. Whereas he stayed on. He loved the Sea more than anyone else I know. But I heard he became virtually bankrupt after that. I heard of your mother's death,’ his voice became gentler. Andy, sensing that Mr. Bennington was about to speak few words of condolences said quickly, ‘And you’ve heard from my father?’

‘No Andy, you know it’s hard to communicate with someone who’s been out in the sea for so long; I daresay you’ve tried hard enough,’ his voice was still gentle. It was true though. It had been three years since his father’s last visit. Mr. Bennington continued, ‘That’s what I reckon should be clear. The answer to my proposal is only based on your decision. I know that you might look up to Mrs. Potter as your temporary guardian, and I will have no qualms if you do seek her advice. But I should let you know, that your father would be pleased if he knew that you would be studying in one of the most prestigious schools under my guidance.’

‘Studying?’ said Andy, quite concerned that he would be going to London to study and not on an adventure.

‘Why of course! Why else would I ask you to come to Atlan?’ Mr. Bennington smiled. ‘Well, I don’t intend to be offensive but I can hardly imagine any prosperity in this place,’ he said a little apologetically.

Andy thought of the none too exciting years he’d spent in the orphanage. He thought of Megan and his other friends, and felt sad and somehow guilty. Even Mrs. Potter seemed very kind and homely. He felt leaving all this behind just to study in some fancy school wasn’t worth it. But he wanted to think it out carefully.

‘How much time can I have to think this out?’ Andy asked.

‘Well, I’m leaving tomorrow by midday, so I’ll drop in tomorrow morning. Will you please call Mrs. Potter Andy? I really must get going.’

Andy found Mrs. Potter in the kitchen, dealing with the cook who was complaining yet again that there weren’t enough pans. Ms. Evans was nowhere to be seen.

Andy went upstairs to his room which was empty; the others were clearly still in the garden, as there were occasional screams and shouts. He climbed on top of the bedside table, he had to bend almost double so as to avoid his head hitting the low roof. He slowly pushed in one of the large wooden planks, to reveal a large black hole. He heaved himself upwards through it into the attic above. He carefully replaced the plank, cutting off the light through the temporary gap. He looked around and saw Megan with an unhappy smile as she sat about five feet away, her face illuminated by the only patch of light entering through one tiny skylight.

‘Did you listen?’ Andy whispered.

‘Every word of it.’

Just a little bit.......

It’s not always that people feel optimistic and it’s not always that optimistic assessments are premium, though I powerfully consent with the point that people are at their best only when they are optimistic as optimism in my opinion, is a synonym for feeling joyful with your “self”.
And when people are exclusively content (at least momentarily) nothing matters and nothing really can or will lug them down.
It’s kind of elevating for both the person experiencing and if I may say the people directly involved with that person.
My point is simply to highlight the importance of feeling, if not “content”, comfortable with yourself and though occasionally you really can’t do much to change things around you to get that rhythm right, it’s wise to clasp on when the situation prevails.
Now I ’am not a preacher and to be truthful the points at this juncture are purely intitutive but usually they work for other people, counting on my observations.
If your one of those people who know you’ve got what it takes but just waiting for that “one fine day” for someone to pop up in your life and provide that source of inspiration you long for, ……well……it is possible…… though the probabilities are low, and its advisable to re- strategize and move on and try to inspire yourself. On a more self addressing note I think I need to keep revising whatever I’ve written so far so as to not forget the piece of wisdom I just penned.

THE ORPHAN

Chapter 1- Introduction

Andrew was really bored. He was the adventurous type and being cooped up in a smelly old orphanage didn’t count as an adventure. He’d thought of running away a countless times. But since he was practical, he knew he didn’t have anywhere to run to.

Andrew sat on his window sill looked longingly out into the cold Sea. It was his window sill even though he shared his room with three others, as he was clearly their leader. The sun looked meek and timid, hiding behind thin mist. It looked like it was about to snow again. He decided to have one last match for the day, and went down to the garden.

Andrew Garcia was twelve and, like all children of his age in the orphanage, felt he was ready to go. Everyone knew where to go. They all wanted to leave dreary Kidlington and become sailors or pirates; they were inspired by Andrew’s tales of the Brave Spaniards who ventured out into the vast sea. His father was Spanish and mother English. The family lived happily like any other family, till it was broken. Andy’s mother had cancer and he didn’t know of it, though he knew cancer was a deadly disease. When Andy was seven, his mother died after months of suffering. Andy’s father was a sailor and as he was forced to go out to the Sea (he couldn’t earn a decent living on land), and Andy saw himself being nudged into the orphanage. It wasn’t really like an orphanage for him though. More like as though he was baby-sat by Ms. Evans, a close friend of his mother’s, for years.

Ms. Evans was quite young and very pretty. She wasn’t like the other hags who took care of them. Ms. Evans worked as a part time teacher in a school next to the church in their little village on the Sea coast. She did the dishes and the laundry, and looked into few of the Orphanage's financial aspects and in turn, Mrs. Potter, the owner, let her live there.

Ms. Evans and Mrs. Potter disliked each other heartily. For the children, of course, Ms. Evans was the goddess of everything nice and fun, and hence they supported her in every Evans versus Potter showdown that would happen once a week. On one such occasion,

'What’s this? A delivery?' Mrs. Potter was surprised. They’d never received parcels or anything of that sort before. Her tiny beady eyes took in the label "To Ms. Evans". An ugly look settled on her face as she began to rip the brown paper apart.

'Er.. Excuse me ma’am but that’s for Miss Evans,' said the delivery boy.

Mrs. Potter, short though she was, tilted her head back and glared at the boy down her nose. 'And how do you know I’m not Miss Evans hmm?'

The boy blushed a little and stammered, 'You see, er.. she bought this dress in the shop where I work, and said this had to be delivered, see?'

'No I don’t see,' snapped Mrs. Potter.

Just then, Ms. Evans came lightly down the stairs and took in everything, from the partially opened parcel in Mrs. Potter’s plump little hands to the delivery boy’s plea for help.

'Excuse me, Mrs. Potter, but I do think that you shouldn’t open someone else’s parcels,' She added a little sarcastic smile to show fake politeness.

'This parcel is addressed to the orphanage. This is not your place. Nor do you have an address to address your little dainty things.' Mrs. Potter lashed out.

'Where else was I supposed to address it to then?'

'Maybe you could buy your own place.'

'Maybe you can find someone else to pay your bills.'

Mrs. Potter glowed pink for a while, and then thrust the parcel into the trembling boy’s hands.

It was never clear why they hated each other. Of course it was always pinned on jealousy. But somehow everyone felt it wasn’t the real reason. They sensed something guarded whenever the two used to speak to each other (growl more like).

It was turning dark. And the children continued with the war they were engaged in.

SPLAT!

There were screams and giggles from the girls and shouts of glee and triumph from the boys as they were engaged in a snow-ball fight in the spacious garden. It was the boys versus the girls as usual and the leaders were Andy and Megan. Megan and Andy were fast friends, and usually the cause of mischief.

Andy was using his all-time famous and unbeatable strategy, and Megan had yet another counter attack planned, and it looked like the girls were about to win after a really long time. Just then, the side door opened and Ms. Evans stepped out. The kids halted their game momentarily and badgered Ms. Evans to come play with them. But Ms. Evans’ usually pale cheeks looked flushed, even before the cold could properly affect her.

'Come Andy, Mrs. Potter’s calling.'

'But I haven’t done anything yet!' Andy said indignantly.

'There's someone here to see you Andy,' and to the others, 'Get on with it the rest of you!'

As Ms. Evans impatiently pushed Andy towards the door, he exchanged a significant look with Megan.

My second contribution to green scum (I'd better start thinking of better titles)

It was past two in the morning and it was very dark. There were few diffused patches of light on the floor near the windows caused due to the dim street lampposts.

The two intruders crept stealthily across the hall on bare feet- not a sound was heard. They quietly slipped through the doorway and reached the stairs and looked at each other. This was it. No turning back now.

Lisa and Frances had marked down number 13 a month ago. Though the inhabitants were quite rich, they didn’t seem to be wary of burglars. Their burglary alarm was dreadfully simple to be silenced by the amateur criminals. They had the whole house under surveillance and knew every nook and corner.

Lisa first tiptoed up the stairs and glanced around. She then nodded to Frances who was waiting at the bottom and then hurried off quietly to check on the inhabitants- a Mrs. Alastor and her three month old child. The father was away on a business tour. Lisa had only one door to guard, which made things a lot easier than it was last time. She put her head near the keyhole and was satisfied to hear steady breathing. She hoped Frances would hurry up.

Frances set off and reached the huge study. He flashed his torch once around the room. The walls were lined with shelves that contained the best books on law. There were few locked windows at regular intervals. The large mahogany table and cushioned chair glared at him imperiously from across the room, as though he could never pull it off in a hundred years. He smirked and his eyes fixed upon the moderately sized safe that was on the left wall, its iron handle catching the light.

He sneaked up to the safe and put his bag gently on the floor and felt the cool metal.

“Not too long buddy, you’ll be open in a jiffy.” He set to work.

Not five minutes had passed since she last saw Frances that Lisa began to feel fidgety. She didn’t want to guard a woman who was sleeping soundly anyway. She thought she might be able to help Frances and crept back down the stairs and into the study room, where she saw him hard at work. She slipped in.

“Are you done?”

THUNK!

Frances had dropped something metal and heavy onto the well carpeted floor, but the sound was loud nonetheless.

“What do you think you’re doing? Sneaking up at me like that?” he demanded angrily.

“The woman’s asleep, might as well help you here. And don’t look at me like that. Its safe enough.”

Just then, there was an unmistakable sound of a baby wailing.

Mrs. Alastor jerked awake, and sat up on her bed slowly. She then walked a short distance to the cradle and lifted her crying baby and made soft crooning noises to comfort her. She looked sleepily at the luminous arms of the clock. It was 2:15.

Maybe her baby was hungry. It was the third time this week she’d wailed in the wee hours of the morning.

The baby stopped crying and Mrs. Alastor put her down gently into the cradle and put on her bedroom slippers. She trudged down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Then she distinctly heard a noise in the study.

“Let hope she doesn’t wake up,” whispered Frances “if she does and causes trouble it’d be your fault.”

Both listened with bated breath. For quite a while, the baby wailed and then there was nothing.

Maybe they’ve gone back to bed, thought Lisa. But suddenly, a footfall was heard on what seemed to be the bottommost stair!

Quick! Hide!, mouthed Frances. Both Frances and Lisa dived behind the desk at the same instant, resulting in a collision, Lisa yelped.

Her heart missed a beat.

What in the world-

Mrs. Alastor quickly walked to the hall and reached the side door which opened out to the garden. She saw the green light of the burglary alarm blinking innocently and heaved a small sigh of relief.

“Now that that’s working perfectly, what- ohhh”, she muttered, comprehension dawning on her.

She quickly walked to the study and her suspicions were confirmed once she saw the study door ajar. She stood at the doorway, carefully looking.

They lay hidden behind the huge desk, scared to breathe. The lady was scrutinizing the room. They heard her mutter “I must’ve been mistaken” and leave the room.

Lisa and Frances exhaled and slowly crept out of their hiding place once they’d made sure there were no more noises heard from the lady. All of a sudden, light flooded the room. The two spun around, the bright light dazzling, and saw Mrs. Alastor’s finger still on the light switch. Their hearts sank.

“What do you think you two are doing?” she enquired in a weary but stern voice.

“Nothing mum.. we were just-”

“We were sleepwalking. We just found ourselves here-”

“Yeah can you believe it? Must’ve been some shock for us eh?”

“Enough.”

The two children’s explanations were silenced at once. Mrs. Alastor looked at her children’s innocent faces and smiled inwardly. She quickly put on an impatient face though, and said, “I’ll deal with you two later on when the sun has properly risen. Till then please try not to blow up this place. Honestly, what were you two doing? Playing detectives?”