Short Story: As You Really Are Now

 Dear readers,

I wrote this short story as an exercise for my current Creative Writing Diploma. Enjoy! 

- Grace Bertram :) 

The year is 1892, a small town in England.

Belinda Benson had always loved to read.

There were just so many books in the world, so many worlds to escape into, so many adventures to embark on through the written word. It was difficult to put them down once they were picked up and even harder to pick a favourite. Belinda’s family had always known she was a bookworm and her father had jokingly predicted she was destined to be a librarian. Which, consequently, became her dream.

As she grew up, she began to know more and more that providing people with literature was the best service she could give, the best pastime she could encourage, the best use of her time. Besides, as a librarian, she could read and read until she knew everything. Until she could recommend the most famous novels on the classics shelves, the most gripping thrillers or the most inspiring non-fiction currently on display. This became her dream and it was everything to her. So when it came true, it would be no surprise that Belinda Benson was one very happy, contented librarian.

One day, when Belinda was half-way through an especially tantalising romance, a young girl’s voice could be heard from beyond the counter.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

Belinda closed her book, having secured the bookmark and stood to address the needs of her customer.

“Yes, my dear?”

She was a small girl, probably around eight years of age, wearing a pink and brown patched pinafore. Her coffee-coloured eyes were large, suggesting an inquisitive and bewildered state of mind. Her features were fine, but Belinda couldn’t ignore the smudges on her cheeks or the frailness of her constitution. She was very thin.

“I was wondering if I could read a book, please, Miss,” the little girl said.

“Why, of course, my dear. But shouldn’t you be getting home soon? Your parents will be wondering where you are as school must have finished an hour ago. Come, let’s choose a book from the children’s section together and then send you on your way.” Belinda winked. “Although you’d be very welcome to come back for more.”

The little girl smiled. “Thank you, Miss.” She glanced toward the door and took a step closer. “My parents said I could come and read after school. I’m allowed to be here, they want me to read books.” She seemed a little on edge, so Belinda took her by the hand and led her to the children’s section. “Excuse me, Miss. I would rather read the classic you were reading when I came in.”

“Classic! My, that’s a big word! Well, of course, but it’s called Jane Eyre and it’s from the adult section. It’s a novel by Currer Bell, I would recommend it, but perhaps when you’re a little older. In a few years maybe…”

“Please, Miss. I can understand adult novels. I’ve read my share of Dickens, Austen and Brontë.”

Belinda gazed in amazement. “Charlotte Brontë?”

“Yes, Miss. Surely you know that’s Currer Bell’s real name?”

Bewildered, Belinda crouched before this confounding little girl.

“You are very clever, my dear, and I would be honoured to let you borrow Jane Eyre. I’ve read it before so you can have my copy, as I think we only have two in stock and the other has very small print, making it more difficult even for me. But, I must ask…” She reached out and took hold of the little girl’s hands. “What’s your name and where do you come from?”

“My name is Patricia. Mummy and Daddy live at home, which is a few streets away. It’s safe for me to walk to and fro. I study at school, but there aren’t so many books there.”

“Then how did you read Dickens, Austen and Brontë?”

As she averted her eyes and for a moment, Belinda thought she saw confusion – even panic – flash across her features.

“I… I read them at my old school, Miss. I enjoyed them, although I couldn’t understand all the words. When we moved here, I wanted to continue reading. I wanted to learn more about the words these writers used to tell their stories. Which is why I came here… to you.”

“I am very happy you did, Patricia.” Belinda stood and stretched out her hand. “Come, I’ll show you our classics shelves and then provide you with a copy of Jane Eyre. You’re welcome to sit and read here in the library, it’s warm and comfortable and I’ll just keep an eye on the time, so you can return to your home, when it’s supper time. Does your Mummy cook good food?”

Again, Patricia avoided eye contact. “Very good.”

When she was browsing the classics shelves with eager, sparkling eyes, Belinda watched the little girl and wondered whether Patricia really was so very happy at home. Whether the food really was so very good or whether she really did have a safe, loving mother and father.

Then she shook off her doubts. Perhaps they just weren’t very wealthy. She evidently didn’t have sufficient money to purchase books to read at home, hence her arrival in the library this afternoon. How special, Belinda thought, that a young eight-year-old reading enthusiast had entered her life. She had the feeling they were going to be the best of friends…

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Over the next couple of weeks, Belinda and Patricia did indeed become the best of friends. Not only did they spend hours reading together in the library, they also discussed what they had read and Patricia never failed to amaze Belinda with her comprehension, perception and enthusiasm.

When their visits had been regular and consistent for an entire fortnight, Belinda was stunned to be accosted by a bold visitor, who barged into the library one afternoon.

“Patricia Brown, you’re coming with me,” the man said.

Patricia dropped the book, whimpered and huddled behind Belinda’s skirts.

“Excuse me, sir,” Belinda wrapped a sheltering arm around her young friend. “Why should Patricia come with you?”

“She is a runaway. An escapee. From the orphanage just north of town.”

Patricia whimpered again and Belinda’s heart pounded. The man seemed to be threatening to approach them and take the little girl by force.

“Please, sir, before you do anything, let the girl explain. I think I would appreciate a private conversation with Patricia before she goes anywhere with anyone.”

The man was joined by a woman who gave Patricia an ugly stare.

“Patricia Brown, we have been hunting you down high and low! Where have you been all this time?”

Displeased with the woman’s tone, as well as her blatant disregard for the obvious, Belinda politely requested the couple to leave.

“But you will bring Miss Brown back to the orphanage?”

“Sir, this is my library. And I am asking you both to leave.” Belinda was amazed by the boldness in her own voice. “I will not ask again.”

The couple turned and left in a huff of indignation. Patricia had stopped whimpering, but still clung to Belinda’s skirts.

“You won’t take me back, will you, Miss Benson? You’ll let me stay somewhere else…”

“You didn’t tell me the truth, Patricia,” Belinda said gently, as she knelt before the little girl. “Why didn’t you trust me with it?”

“I was scared you’d take me back.”

“I can reassure you that won’t ever happen. But come, my dear. Tell me about your true story.”

“My father was really mean to my mother. I was too young to do anything to stop him. Mother passed away from pneumonia and I couldn’t stay alone with father. So I ran away from home, only to discover I was an orphan two weeks later. Father worked the mines, you see. He was caught in a fire damp explosion, I was told. Then I was forcibly admitted to an orphanage. I was there for two years, but I couldn’t cope any more, which is why I decided to try fending for myself, Miss Benson. I smuggled some food from the orphanage kitchen, which is kept me going with one meal a day for the last two weeks. But what’s fed me the most is reading books with you, Miss Benson.”

“Belinda, please. And Patricia, I have enjoyed every moment with you, too.”

“Then it won’t have to end? You won’t send me back?”

“Of course not, my dear.”

“You’ll let me live with you? You’ll look after me? You’ll be my mother?”

Belinda smiled through her tears. She felt more like a big sister, but knew the void in this child’s heart needed to be filled.

“You really miss your mother, don’t you, dear?”

Patricia nodded.

“Did she teach you to read?”

She nodded again.

“Then I will endeavour to teach you, too. Though there isn’t much more for you to be taught, you clever little scholar.”

“You’ll be my Mummy? You’ll let me stay with you?”

Belinda opened her arms and Patricia fell into them, tears running down her smudged cheeks. Belinda held the small girl tight, clutching that slender frame and stroking the soft, bronze-coloured hair over the coarse, patchwork pinafore.

“Call me whatever you want to, dear. I can be Belinda to you. Or Mummy. Whichever you’re comfortable with. Just not Miss Benson any more. You’re coming home, Patricia. You’re coming home...”

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The adoption was officially finalised and Belinda Benson became Patricia’s carer and adoptive parent. It was the best day of both of their lives. That afternoon, in Belinda’s living room, they were browsing a pile of classics from the library.

“I love reading all the more ever since you’ve been in my life, Patricia. But I must ask… where did you discover your passion for reading? Or the resources to read in the first place?”

“I was punished at the orphanage. Well, they meant to punish me. But locking me away in the library was bliss. I had a candle, so I could read. I didn’t do anything deliberately to be punished… at first. Until I discovered that reading these books could transport me far, far away. I could imagine I was in a different world entirely with different people.”

“As you really are now, my dear,” Belinda said, stroking her head. “As you really are now.”