There was a boy she adored. And he loved her right back. As the most unfortunate of love stories go, however, this one too had the stench of doom.
It wasn't that he was a bad sort, for that he undoubtedly was. One of those poor wretches who just can't stand a 'respectable' life and get drawn to petty crime more often than not. Oh yes, he was a bad sort. But she loved him with a quiet conviction, that is so common in a certain kind of girl, that love would transform the duckling into a swan. And he loved her back in his own reckless way.
And so they decided to get married. He was to wait for her in front of the tiny chapel. And she was to tell her commonplace but respectable parents about the impending marriage and join him either with their blessing or without. The morning of Saturday, the 25th found Jack waiting patiently in front of the courthouse. He looked at his cheap wristwatch and found that it was ten thirty, half an hour past their appointed time. He felt vaguely uneasy. She was never late.
When eleven o clock struck, he was suddenly overcome with a fleeting, almost overpowering sense of loss that left him reeling. It passed almost instantly. He waited for another half hour and decided to go over to her house. They had probably locked her up in her room, the **** (Jack used a few choice words)! Well he..they wouldn't stand for it. It was their life wasn't it.
With an anger that grew by the minute, he finally reached her front door. And suddenly, it hit him again, that bewildering sense of despair. He blinked a few times and shook his head to clear it. He took a deep breath and knocked. He had barely raised his hand again, when the door was opened by her mother. Her mother. She had passed on her fine bone structure and that slightly tilted nose to her only daughter. The resemblance was uncanny. As his eyes travelled up her face, he got a sudden shock. Instead of the familiar soft brown eyes in the otherwise warmly familiar face, staring back at him were cold light blue eyes. He shivered involuntarily. Not because of the coldness of the gaze, but because the eyes were completely blank. It was like looking into a familiar house where lived a stranger.
He asked for Jill. She told him that Jill had gone to the city with her godmother, to enrol in a school there. The voice was flat, unemotional. He felt a rising anger and took a step towards the threshold. "I don't believe it", he said, "She would have let me know." Jill's mother looked at him silently. He suddenly shivered again. How could a pair of eyes make one face so different from the other. The laughing, warm face of the girl he loved was green meadows, poetry and happiness. What he was looking at was a moor, grey, lost. He asked if he could come in. Surprisingly, she stepped aside. He went in to the drawing room and saw a man sitting there. Her father. Jill's father didn't get up from the wicker chair. He stared at the young man standing at the door, hesitant but determined. He said "You must be Jill's young man. She's not here I'm afraid." He got up then and came towards him with a piece of paper. "She left you a letter. There's nothing for you here."
Jack took the letter. The handwriting was undoubtedly Jill's. It said I am leaving here because I will never be happy with what you want from me. I know I gave you my word but that was before all this happened and I realised where my true destiny lay. Please don't hate me for I will always love you. Jill
He felt bewildered, incredulous. He turned and started walking away. Something occurred to him and he turned instinctively. Jill's father was staring after him with a smile on his face. The smile was pained, feral, not quite sane. He felt a scream welling up inside him, senseless as the realisation that hit him. He drifted out of the front door out into the garden and his feet took him to the oak tree which had been her favourite. The earth at the root of the tree was loose, freshly dug up. He fell to his knees. He screamed but only a whisper escaped his parched lips. He whispered her name once.
The ground soaked up the whisper as did the oak tree, which had been her favourite.
It wasn't that he was a bad sort, for that he undoubtedly was. One of those poor wretches who just can't stand a 'respectable' life and get drawn to petty crime more often than not. Oh yes, he was a bad sort. But she loved him with a quiet conviction, that is so common in a certain kind of girl, that love would transform the duckling into a swan. And he loved her back in his own reckless way.
And so they decided to get married. He was to wait for her in front of the tiny chapel. And she was to tell her commonplace but respectable parents about the impending marriage and join him either with their blessing or without. The morning of Saturday, the 25th found Jack waiting patiently in front of the courthouse. He looked at his cheap wristwatch and found that it was ten thirty, half an hour past their appointed time. He felt vaguely uneasy. She was never late.
When eleven o clock struck, he was suddenly overcome with a fleeting, almost overpowering sense of loss that left him reeling. It passed almost instantly. He waited for another half hour and decided to go over to her house. They had probably locked her up in her room, the **** (Jack used a few choice words)! Well he..they wouldn't stand for it. It was their life wasn't it.
With an anger that grew by the minute, he finally reached her front door. And suddenly, it hit him again, that bewildering sense of despair. He blinked a few times and shook his head to clear it. He took a deep breath and knocked. He had barely raised his hand again, when the door was opened by her mother. Her mother. She had passed on her fine bone structure and that slightly tilted nose to her only daughter. The resemblance was uncanny. As his eyes travelled up her face, he got a sudden shock. Instead of the familiar soft brown eyes in the otherwise warmly familiar face, staring back at him were cold light blue eyes. He shivered involuntarily. Not because of the coldness of the gaze, but because the eyes were completely blank. It was like looking into a familiar house where lived a stranger.
He asked for Jill. She told him that Jill had gone to the city with her godmother, to enrol in a school there. The voice was flat, unemotional. He felt a rising anger and took a step towards the threshold. "I don't believe it", he said, "She would have let me know." Jill's mother looked at him silently. He suddenly shivered again. How could a pair of eyes make one face so different from the other. The laughing, warm face of the girl he loved was green meadows, poetry and happiness. What he was looking at was a moor, grey, lost. He asked if he could come in. Surprisingly, she stepped aside. He went in to the drawing room and saw a man sitting there. Her father. Jill's father didn't get up from the wicker chair. He stared at the young man standing at the door, hesitant but determined. He said "You must be Jill's young man. She's not here I'm afraid." He got up then and came towards him with a piece of paper. "She left you a letter. There's nothing for you here."
Jack took the letter. The handwriting was undoubtedly Jill's. It said I am leaving here because I will never be happy with what you want from me. I know I gave you my word but that was before all this happened and I realised where my true destiny lay. Please don't hate me for I will always love you. Jill
He felt bewildered, incredulous. He turned and started walking away. Something occurred to him and he turned instinctively. Jill's father was staring after him with a smile on his face. The smile was pained, feral, not quite sane. He felt a scream welling up inside him, senseless as the realisation that hit him. He drifted out of the front door out into the garden and his feet took him to the oak tree which had been her favourite. The earth at the root of the tree was loose, freshly dug up. He fell to his knees. He screamed but only a whisper escaped his parched lips. He whispered her name once.
The ground soaked up the whisper as did the oak tree, which had been her favourite.
