AS IF IT WERE ONLY YESTERDAY.

It was 1882 and my eighth birthday and I was in my Uncle Gabriel's garden leaning over
the garden bench watching Aunt Kathleen talking to my nine-year-old cousin, Cecil. He
sat astride the bench as if it were a horse and he posing for some imaginary artist with
that aristocratic air he possessed. Violet, who was eight-years-old, sat leaning against
her mother's back in a sulky mood because she wanted to be the rider and have her
mother's attention.

I was wearing the blue patterned dress my aunt had purchased for me some months
before, because my own dresses had become too small, and my mother had not bought
me any new ones before she departed with that strange Mr Lumpy. My father would
have bought me new ones, but he had been committed to an asylum having lost his wife,
business and his mind. The dress was one of many my aunt had bought, as if the action
of her sister( my mother) had brought about a hint of guilt and she wanted to try and
repay me for my mother's thoughtless actions.

"You must let Lillian have a ride too, Cecil," my aunt said. Cecil glanced over at me and
smiled.

"Of course I shall," Cecil said.

"What about me?" Violet said in her moaning voice.

"You too, Violet, shall have a ride," Aunt Kathleen promised. Violet sniffed and pouted
her lips. She gave me a quick look that seemed to say: I am her daughter after all; my
mother hasn't left me. Violet's green flowered dress and black silk stockings seemed
barely able to contain her frustration and moodiness.

"Cecil always has first innings at doing things," Violet moaned.

"That's because I'm a male and you're a female, Violet," Cecil stated, screwing his nose
up at his sister.

"Now, now, Cecil, don't tease your sister," Aunt Kathleen said.

"I don't mind being last," I said.

"How kind you are, Lillian," Aunt said.

"So you should be," Violet muttered. Nothing was said in reply to that. Cecil nodded his
head as he rode his imaginary horse across some vast country plain, leaving all behind
him to look and wonder at his great horsemanship.

Violet looked up at me with her greenish eyes, brushing her brown hair from her
forehead, and pulled a face at me. I shrugged my shoulders, but said nothing. Yet, in
those green eyes, in those moody greenish eyes, I sensed I wanted to hold her and shake
her and then bring her tight against me and say: We could be such good friends. We
shouldn't be like this. We ought to be...

And Violet was up and away. She left the garden bench in a fiery temper; her shiny
black shoes clipped-clopped along the garden path, and her long brown hair swung
behind her like a horse's mane. I watched her go with a certain unhappiness, as if I were
the one to blame for her sudden departure.

"Such a temper, that child," Aunt Kathleen said, staring at the departing figure of her
daughter down the path. "I must get Nanny to have a word with her."

I turned and gazed at Cecil who had pulled up his unseen horse and stared at the
vanishing back of his sister. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "I was going
to let her be next," he said.

Once Violet had disappeared from sight, Aunt Kathleen said:" You mustn't take too
much notice of Violet; she has too fiery a temper for her own good. Her father is the
same. Must be in the blood. But we are cool tempered aren't we Cecil? We are not like
them. And neither are you, dear Lillian." Aunt went on and on about temperaments and
moods and how it wouldn't do for young girls or ladies to have such tempers.

I, however, was thinking of Violet's greenish eyes and the way her long hair had flowed
behind as she stormed away. I had wanted to go after her and calm her down, but I
remained by the garden bench merely wishing I had, knowing I wouldn't, never in a
thousand years. Never in a thousand years.
******************************

It is 1902 and Cecil walks across the lawn towards the garden bench where his wife
Moiré is sitting with Violet. I watch him from the rose bed where I am cutting a few
heads for the morning room.

Violet and Moiré look up as Cecil approaches and their conversation ceases.

"Mother's settled down in bed, now. She ought to stay there until she's feeling much
better," Cecil says, giving Moiré a quick glance before transferring his gaze to Violet.

"Since Father's death she's not been her old self," informs Violet.
"But I didn't expect her to be in such a state when I returned home from France," Cecil
says. "You should have let me know how she had deteriorated."

"We were uncertain which part of France you were in," Violet says, looking across at me
by the rose bed. "Lillian thought you were near Paris, but I thought you further south."

"Paris, I told you, Paris is where I'd be," Cecil states firmly.

"Yes, at some time or other, but not precisely, when in particular, or where in Paris,"
Violet protests strongly.

Moiré taps the bench beside her." Sit down, Cecil, and relax. Mother is settled now as
you have said. Getting irate over it all helps no one."

"Do you think us uncaring?" Violet says, looking back at her brother with her green eyes
almost piercing his skin. "Lillian and I have not rested since mother was taken bad at the
Fulbright's house party."

I approach the bench and they become silent. "Your mother is not the best of patients,
Cecil. She would insist on getting up when we suggested she remain in her bed," I
inform him softly, looking over at Violet.

"Violet should still have tried to send me word," Cecil says.

"Where? How, when we didn't know where you were, could we send you word?" Violet
says moodily.

"I thought I gave you addresses of all the places we would be staying?" Cecil frowns and
looks at Moiré. "Didn't I?"

"If you did, I didn't receive it," Violet says.

"Nor I," I say, giving Cecil a vacant look.

Cecil stares ahead at the lawn and towards the rose bed. "I could have sworn I left
addresses." Cecil sits in silence for a few moments attempting to recapture his actions
prior to going to France. "Unless..."

"Unless, what, Cecil ?" Violet asks.

"Unless I left them at my club." Cecil seems to shrink into himself. "I have been
extremely busy recently. I must have left them at my club." He stands up and turns to
face his sister. "So I was wrong. And I apologise," he says.

"Nothing quite like hearing a man say he is wrong," Violet says.

Moiré smiles. Cecil pulls a face at his sister and looks at me with an uncertain gaze.
"Sorry, Lillian. I should have trusted my cousin at least," he says giving Violet a smile.

Violet nods and looks at me. In her eyes I see that sparkle that fires me with passion for
her. Her gaze seems to be saying: We shall have to be careful now how we behave. But I
still love you even if I cannot show it so readily as I did last night. She looks away from
me and stares at Cecil.

"How was France?" Violet asks. And Cecil begins a long elaborate outpouring of deeds
done, people seen and places visited, with the added discussions had with important
persons from here and there. I sit next to Moiré and listen, but my mind is on Violet and
our shared deeds and words; and the places in our minds and bodies we visited last night
when all in the house were drowned in sleep.
*******************

Violet watched Cecil and me walk together along the path leading to the pagoda at the
far end of the garden. Her green eyes followed me from her bedroom window; staring at
us both with a mixture of envy and jealousy; envious of my ability to hold Cecil's
attention and jealous of the place I seemed to occupy in Cecil thoughts. She wanted her
brother's sole attention; she wanted to occupy his thoughts to the exclusion of all others.

And why had her parents taken Lillian in and offered her a home with them? she mused
moodily, peering closer to the windowpane as we both disappeared down the path. And
why her Aunt Lily had gone off with that Mr Lumpy she couldn't understand. If her
mother had done that she'd never have forgiven her no matter what she said or did
afterwards.

She watched as Cecil and I vanished from her sight. Her green eyes closed and she
sighed loudly. And poor Uncle Edward quite off his head; so she'd heard her parents say
when she listened at their bedroom door one night. She had quite liked Uncle Edward;
he had had a generous nature. Always ready to bring her gifts or sweets when he called.
She thought it sad he had gone mad. However, it was so thoughtless of her aunt to go off
like that, leaving her to put up with her cousin Lillian, all day and everyday.
Thoughtless, she moaned against the glass window, thoughtless, thoughtless.
And the words echoed around her like murmuring demons.
**************************
"I didn't know that Mrs Brandon had left," Cecil says to Violet and me as he stands by
the pagoda. "What made her leave?"

"We had words about the menus and such things," Violet says.

"And then, what?" Cecil stiffens as he does when he is annoyed.

"She left." Violet moves away a few feet and stares across the garden.

"She left of her own accord? You didn't dismiss her?" Cecil says sternly.

"She left of her own accord," Violet says. She looks at me for confirmation of what had
happened. "Lillian will tell you that is the case."

"Yes. She left of her own accord," I say. "Words were said. She up and left."

Cecil eyes us both as if he were trying to ascertain whether we were both telling the
truth or were lying to cover up some other story. "It's not your duty to dismiss staff," he
says.

"We didn't dismiss her," Violet says moodily, turning towards her brother. "Unless you
consider us liars." She looks at me with those green eyes and I want to be close to her as
I had the night before; want to wrap my body about her.

"Well, it's a damned shame. Mrs Brandon's been here for years." Cecil makes a face of
displeasure and stares at the oaks by the ridge. "Hopefully, no one else has decided to
leave."

"There's Mrs Gabbiness now in the kitchen," I say quietly. "She's very good. She makes
lovely pastry and pies."

Cecil says nothing. He seems not the least interested in Mrs Gabbiness' pastry and pies.
He releases a huge sigh as if he were attempting to dismiss all the frustration and anger
he obviously feels.

Violet pulls a face at me, a face that seems to say: What else could we do? She would
have said things. She would have spoilt our happiness. And I know she is right. I know
Mrs Brandon would have said something eventually; would have let the proverbially
cat-out-of-the-bag. And Violet had given her a good reference after all; that is what kept
her quiet in the end. That reference was our last hold over her.

"Morton needs to get down here and deal with these shrubs; they're over grown," Cecil
says grumpily, not looking either of us. " Place goes to pieces when I'm a way. Thought
you two were up to the task while Mother is unable to get about; you must be alert to
things."

"We don't have your authority," Violet says. " We don't have quite the same eye for
detail; don't have the knack of finding fault with everything." Violet moves closer to me,
her hand touching mine behind my back. A sensation flows through me and I feel weak
about the limbs as if suddenly I would collapse in a heap on the grass.

"The staff know you have authority. You must exercise it." Cecil walks away with a
stiffness in his stride. He does not look back at us; he seems disappointed in both of us;
seems unsure about what really happened when he was away. I watch his departure in
silence. Only the sound of birds singing disturbs the chilliness of his leaving.
**********************
Violet smacked my face so hard that I thought my head would explode. Suddenly tears
filled my eyes and I felt as if I had been knocked into a parallel universe where things
were similar but not the exactly the same. Violet stood in front of me her hand held
above her head as if she might repeat her action once more, but she didn't, she lowered
her arm and brought her hand down to her side. She said nothing; just stared at me; just
stared with a compounded look of satisfaction and disbelief that she herself had actually
hit me so hard.

I ran off holding my damaged cheek trying not to give her the satisfaction of seeing me
cry. Why she hit me as she did I had no idea; my mind could find no reason to explain it.
And the pain bit into the very depth of my flesh as if it were some eating disease that
gnawed at my skin and muscle.

Violet watched me run off across the lawn down towards the pagoda. Her hand still
stung with the force of the blow and she sensed a wave of fear and anger rise in her.
What if her mother found out? What would her father do to her if he was told? She
stared down at me by the pagoda. Her green eyes swooped down upon me like some
bird of prey. She hesitated. She stood motionless unsure now what to do or say. And
what if Cecil knew about all this; what would he say and do? What would he say? What
would he do?

Eventually I gave way to tears and cried. My whole world seemed split wide open and
everything was, I felt, about to spill all over lawn like vomit. The sting seemed to vibrate
right through my skull like a drill. The pain gnawed and gnawed endlessly in my cheek;
biting deeper and deeper until I felt my whole cheek would be gone like some leprous
wound.

"You mustn't tell I hit you," Violet said standing behind me. "You must be silent or I
will never speak to you again."

I did not turn to face her; my eyes would only have seen a blurred outline of her if I had.
I closed my eyes and wanted her to hold me and say she was sorry; wanted her hands to
rub my cheek and smooth away the pain. "I won't," I muttered. A silence followed. She
said nothing more. Sheepishly she moved away up the lawn towards the house. She did
not hold me; did not rub my cheek or smooth away the pain. She left me wounded to
fight another day; to recover from the wound and know my place. To know my place.
To know. To know. To know.
*********************

Moiré watches Violet and me walk along the garden path by the roses. She stands by her
bedroom window making a divide in the curtains so she can see us both plainly. There is
something about our closeness that fascinates her; something that also disturbs her.

Cecil is out with the gamekeeper; his attention nowadays on his late father's property
which he knows he will inherit. She remembers his love-making the previous night and
smiles to herself. Her body warms at the memory of it, as if it wanted to repeat the very
act itself. Yet, the closeness between Violet and me seems something else to her; seems
something she cannot put her finger on, but knows is quite out of the ordinary.

She watches until we are both out of sight and then moves away from the window letting
the curtain fall back into place. There's more to those two than I can fathom, she muses,
more than Cecil notices, more than...
***************************
Aunt Kathleen was most annoyed with Violet and it showed in her features. She had
asked Nanny to bring her daughter to her in the Morning room. She had called me in
from the garden where I had been sitting on the garden bench.

"Why did you smack Lillian about the face?" my aunt asked Violet.

"I did no such thing," Violet replied. "Lillian is lying if she said I did."

"Lillian has said nothing," Aunt Kathleen stated. "I saw you myself from the window of
the library. I saw you quite plainly."

Violet's face reddened; her eyes lowered themselves to the carpeted floor.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself ?"

"She called me names," Violet lied. "She said horrible things."

Aunt Kathleen looked over at me by the French windows. "Is Violet telling the truth,
Lillian ?"

"I said nothing to her," I replied.

"She's a liar," Violet said. "She's no better than her mother."

"Violet!" said Aunt Kathleen. She stared at her daughter with her eyes wide and angry
looking. "I will not have you say such things. When your father returns he shall hear of
this." Then my aunt paused and looked at me again. Her eyes softened and she studied
me for a few moments. "Lillian, you may leave now and return to the garden."

I left the room and strolled out in to the garden by the French windows. I felt as if I had
been brought to trial myself, as if I and not Violet had been in the wrong. Violet would
not let this pass unpunished; would not let me think she had been prevented from
seeking revenge on me, for the punishment her mother and father thought she deserved.
I gazed back at the house, wondering what lies Violet would tell now. Yet, inwardly I
wanted no harm to come to her; wanted no punishment to bring her pain. If only Violet
would be kind to me, I mused sadly, walking towards the summer house at the far end of
the garden. If only she would, if only, if only, if only.
********************************
Violet and I walk down the garden path towards the summer house. She is in good
spirits and reaches down and touches my hand. She has news which she feels will please
me as much as it does her; news which she is bubbling over to tell me, but wants to wait
until we are somewhere quiet and where we can both be alone together out of the sight
of peering eyes.

I feel her hand touch mine and the sensation rushes through me like a gush of warm
wind. Her green eyes are so alive that I feel she could never die at that moment or any
other. She leads me in to the summer house and closes the door behind us.

"Sit down, Lillian, I've news that will lighten up our lives," Violet says excitedly.

"What news?" I ask sitting on the old wooden seat.

"Cecil has granted us the cottage down by the river which used to be set aside for
Roystons who often fished here in Father's day." Violet beams at me, her green eyes
flowing over me like a warm wave of air.

"For us?" I say.

"To live in. We can have somewhere for us. Cecil wants the house for himself and
Moiré and the children they may have." Violet stares at me, awaiting my reply.

"And what about your mother?" I ask.

"She's to stay at the house, but will have no ownership of the property. Cecil will also
retain Nanny for his own children when he has some." Violet looks away from me and
stares back at the house in the distance.

"Doesn't he wonder why we should want to be together?"

"Why should he? We are cousins after all," Violet states with a smile.

"Unmarried also. He hasn't questioned why we are unmarried?" I stand up and go to

Violet's side.

"Lillian why should he worry himself about such matters? He and Moiré are so wrapped
up in their own lives that they see nothing outside of that circle," Violet says turning
around and looking at me with her green eyes. "Aren't you happy about the news,
Lillian?"

"How shall we live? Shall we still eat at the house?" I ask.

"Of course. You worry about such small details, Lillian. We shall have an allowance,
Cecil says, until we marry. And I have the money left to me in Father's will..." Violet
pauses. She moves closer to me and kisses me on the cheek.

"I have no income of my own, Violet. My mother has disappeared from whatever good
society she once knew and my father died three years ago in the asylum. Your brother's
allowance is my only means of support, unless I work," I say softly.

"I will look after you. You and I are one as far as I am concerned." There is a look of
concern on her face. She gazes at me with a silent pause.

"And what if you should grow sick of me and want me out of your life?" I ask
anxiously.

"The sea will dry up and the Moon fall to Earth before that," Violet says in a whisper.

"Then I am happy with the news," I say. Violet kisses me again and the sun seems to
shine more brightly; the birds sing more loudly; my body almost exploding with the
many sensations that flow through me as she kisses me again and again and again.
**********************
Violet watched me standing by the river near the old cottage. She glared at me with her
green eyes blazing. She would be careful this time; make sure no one was watching her
if she decided to hit me again. She didn't want to be punished like she had been the
previous day. Her mind recalled the pain and embarrassment of it all. I will have my
revenge, she mused, I will get her for the pain and unseemliness that I suffered. She
moved nearer, moving quietly across the grass. Hiding if she thought I might turn round
and spot her.

I stared into the passing river. My thoughts on the quietness of the scenery.
I had seen nothing of Violet since the previous day; heard Nanny say that Violet had
been punished by my uncle. I wondered what Violet would say or do if she saw me by
the river. Would she hit me again? I asked myself. The memory of the smack on my face
made me shiver. I looked across the river at the woodland which seemed dark and dense.
The sudden fear of being lost there made me want to run back to the house, but just as I
was about to turn back I saw Violet standing a few yards from me.

"So here is where you are hiding," Violet said coldly.

"I came to look at the river," I replied.

"You won't get away from me that easy. I don't want you here. I want you to go back to
your mother where ever she is," Violet spat out.

"I told no one about you hitting me," I said.

"I could drown you in the river and you couldn't say a thing then could you," Violet
stated. Her green eyes moved from me to the flowing water behind me. "Just a small
push and you'd be gone."

I moved away from the river and stood staring at my cousin." I have done you no harm.
I didn't ask to be brought here. Please, Violet, don't drown me."

Violet grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the river's edge and along the over
grown path leading to the old cottage. Her fingers tightened around my arm as she
moved me along by the cottage wall. "You should be locked away like your father,"
Violet said. "You know he's mad don't you? He will never see you again; never see you
or that mother of yours."

I turned and smacked Violet's face so hard that she fell backwards on to the grass. The
violence of my action sickened me. I looked at Violet spread-eagled on the ground,
blood on her lower lip. Her green eyes wide open as if she'd been pierced by some
hidden dagger. She moved her lips, but no words came, only a babble of blood-soaked
noises, like one drowning, deeper and deeper into some dark abyss.
*************************

It is 1912 and Violet and I are standing by the bedroom window of the cottage by the
river, looking at the garden below in the moonlight.

"That's where you smacked my face and made my mouth bleed," Violet whispers,
pointing down in to the moonlit garden.

"You said such horrible things to me," I reply.

"Yes, I was such a horrible child at times," Violet says. "I was really jealous of you
being with us and the attention you seemed to acquire. Nonetheless, that smack brought
me to my senses. I never said such things to you again."

I turn to look at Violet and capture the moonlight in her green eyes. "We've been here
ten years now in this cottage. In that time your mother has died and Cecil and Moiré
have had two children," I say.

"Yes, poor mother. She never recovered from father's death as she should have done."
Violet stares up at the moon and I can see her green eyes water slightly. "And your
mother is off to New York with that Mr Lumpy on the Titanic's maiden voyage. She
really doesn't seem to care about you, Lillian."

"I don't care about her. You're the one I care about," I say softly. Violet turns and looks
at me and then suddenly kisses me on the lips. The moon seems brighter; the stars
sparkle wildly as if suddenly lit up by some hidden hand, and a memory of a garden
bench and a boy riding there, drifts away like a summer cloud, leaving only a warm
sensation flowing through me as Violet takes my hand and leads me back to the bed and
her warm caress.
****************************
THE END.