Read Online Black Spring by Alison Croggon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alison Croggon
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face of every rebuke and punishment; there was not one moment when she wavered from her obdurate hostility. I have sometimes wondered whether that week showed the first sign of her powers, because when she walked into a room, everyone flinched against the turbid energy she brought with her. Even when my mother, her patience tried to breaking point by Lina’s perversity, whipped her with a belt and locked her in her room without meals for a whole day, she shouted and screamed for hours until her voice was hoarse, hammering on the door so her knuckles bled. My mother only let her out because she was afraid that she would make herself ill, and I vividly remember the flash of triumph in Lina’s eyes as she stalked out. And then the first thing she did was to find Damek and slap his face for causing her to be locked up.
I confess that although in those first days I could not like Damek, I admired how he bore Lina’s persecution. Even when she threw porridge at him, he didn’t react; he merely stared at her expressionlessly and wiped it out of his eyes. He never once attempted to hit her back and never answered any of the horrible names she called him nor complained to anyone. Once or twice I saw a flash in his eyes that hinted at a dangerous and implacable anger, but he suppressed it at once. I have since wondered where he learned such stoicism; I suppose he must have come from a place where he suffered much cruelty. This lack of response, as I think he knew, only irritated Lina to further extremes: she pinched him until his arms were mottled black and green and kicked him in the shins and pulled out chunks of his hair. Nothing my mother could say or do abated Lina’s behavior. Used as I was to her, I was shocked: this was different in kind from her tantrums. It was unforgiving and bitter, with no swift, following laughter to clear the sky.
Without warning, when all of us were limp with exhaustion and despair, the oppression lifted. Lina came down late to breakfast, her face set in her now habitual scowl, and as she sat down, a beam of sunshine broke through the clouds and shafted across the table. It scattered a spectrum of colors over the white cloth as the beam broke through the glass decanter and struck fiery sparkles from the silver cutlery. As it glanced on Lina’s face, she looked up with a sudden luminous delight, her dark mood ambushed and destroyed by this stray sunbeam; by chance her eyes met Damek’s, and she stopped, arrested. I don’t know what passed between them in that moment; I remember her sitting in the room, as still as if she had been caught out of time, the smile lingering on her lips, her eyes serious and dark, but quite without hostility. She looked most of all as if she were remembering something important that she had forgotten.
I’ve often wondered what happened when Lina was ambushed by that stray sunbeam. It was such a tiny thing, but it changed all our lives. She would never tell me, even when I asked her directly; she would simply laugh and say that someone like me would never understand. I’m not sure that even she could explain it. I surmise that in her unguarded joy, her soul flung open its doors, permitting her to see Damek for the first time. But what did she see? A brother, perhaps, moved by the same passions as she was, a wild kindred soul who chafed as she did against the mean laws in which we lived, a will as stubborn and obdurate as her own? I never realized until much later how lonely Lina was. Even I, who was closer to her than anybody else, often failed to comprehend her. It may be that her sense of isolation sparked her childish rages: while every human being desires to be loved, perhaps we crave understanding more.
For the first time for days, breakfast passed peaceably. Lina was atypically demure and polite; she was playing the southern-born lady again and said please and thank you, instead of haughtily demanding my service and trying to slap me if I was too slow. (Not
I confess that although in those first days I could not like Damek, I admired how he bore Lina’s persecution. Even when she threw porridge at him, he didn’t react; he merely stared at her expressionlessly and wiped it out of his eyes. He never once attempted to hit her back and never answered any of the horrible names she called him nor complained to anyone. Once or twice I saw a flash in his eyes that hinted at a dangerous and implacable anger, but he suppressed it at once. I have since wondered where he learned such stoicism; I suppose he must have come from a place where he suffered much cruelty. This lack of response, as I think he knew, only irritated Lina to further extremes: she pinched him until his arms were mottled black and green and kicked him in the shins and pulled out chunks of his hair. Nothing my mother could say or do abated Lina’s behavior. Used as I was to her, I was shocked: this was different in kind from her tantrums. It was unforgiving and bitter, with no swift, following laughter to clear the sky.
Without warning, when all of us were limp with exhaustion and despair, the oppression lifted. Lina came down late to breakfast, her face set in her now habitual scowl, and as she sat down, a beam of sunshine broke through the clouds and shafted across the table. It scattered a spectrum of colors over the white cloth as the beam broke through the glass decanter and struck fiery sparkles from the silver cutlery. As it glanced on Lina’s face, she looked up with a sudden luminous delight, her dark mood ambushed and destroyed by this stray sunbeam; by chance her eyes met Damek’s, and she stopped, arrested. I don’t know what passed between them in that moment; I remember her sitting in the room, as still as if she had been caught out of time, the smile lingering on her lips, her eyes serious and dark, but quite without hostility. She looked most of all as if she were remembering something important that she had forgotten.
I’ve often wondered what happened when Lina was ambushed by that stray sunbeam. It was such a tiny thing, but it changed all our lives. She would never tell me, even when I asked her directly; she would simply laugh and say that someone like me would never understand. I’m not sure that even she could explain it. I surmise that in her unguarded joy, her soul flung open its doors, permitting her to see Damek for the first time. But what did she see? A brother, perhaps, moved by the same passions as she was, a wild kindred soul who chafed as she did against the mean laws in which we lived, a will as stubborn and obdurate as her own? I never realized until much later how lonely Lina was. Even I, who was closer to her than anybody else, often failed to comprehend her. It may be that her sense of isolation sparked her childish rages: while every human being desires to be loved, perhaps we crave understanding more.
For the first time for days, breakfast passed peaceably. Lina was atypically demure and polite; she was playing the southern-born lady again and said please and thank you, instead of haughtily demanding my service and trying to slap me if I was too slow. (Not
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