Cecily Dearest

“Cecily dearest,” Maude said to me, “I’m afraid the family’s investments are no longer gaining the return to which we are accustomed.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means, young lady, that we are financially constricted.”

“Financially constricted?”

“We will have to let go of the domestics; the maid, the nurse, Lottie and the gardener.”

“But Lottie’s my best friend,” I said.

“Tut, she is just staff. You should make friends of your own standing.”

Maude paused, while the world around her tried to keep up.

“There is one more thing,” she said.

“Yes?”

“You will have to marry Adrian Barton.”

“Adrian! But he smells of farts and moth balls.”

“Nevertheless, you must marry him, otherwise it will be the workhouse for all of us. We face ruination without the Barton’s money. Ruination.”

I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.

Hearing my laughter, Maude joined in.

Maude had two skills I really admired. She could listen and she could hide. As a consequence she happened to overhear every conversation of note that took place in our neighbourhood. It wasn't just gossip, it was actual reenactments of every scandal.

Her dual abilities of hiding and listening gave us an insight into the secret adult world. We learned of all sorts that were forbidden to know. She would engage me in these reenactments of overheard conversations, letting me ad lib a reaction. 

We were nine years old.

Other times she would play both roles.

“I have found a doctor who specializes in these things, Cecily,” she would say. “You are to go to him and he will take care of everything. We will tell people you are visiting your aunt in Somerset.”

“But I don’t want to go,” she would reply to herself, in a squeaky voice this time.

“You must, Cecily. You HAVE NO CHOICE.”

“I do have a choice mother,” she squarked. “I could have the baby.”

“Don’t ever let me hear you say that again. It would bring shame on the family. Ruination. Our only girl, with a bairn out of wedlock.”

“It doesn’t have to be out of wedlock,” Maude squeaked. “James has proposed to me.”

“Has he now. By God, the cheek of the boy. And you would marry a poor, lowly groom would you. And how would you live on a groom’s wage, with yourself and a bairn to care for.”

“I, er, er,” the squeaker cried.

Around the time of this particular reenactment, our friend Olivia’s older sister, Andrea, went away unexpectedly to stay with an aunt in Somerset.”

“We didn’t know you had an aunt in Somerset,” said Maude.

“Neither did I,” said Olivia.

We were twelve years old.

Every world-changing event in the neighbourhood was somehow overheard by Maude, and immediately turned into a performance for my own satisfaction. We knew far more than we were supposed to about every family in the district, even if many of the things I knew I didn’t actually understand.

“Cecily,” Maude said to me one day. “We are in a worrisome fiscal situation.”

“A worrisome fiscal situation?”

“One of the trustees has run off with a large sum of money.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means, Cecily, that we shall to rent out the Grange.”

I laughed. The Grange was the former gardener’s residence at the East side of our house.

“Oh we can’t have people in the Grange,” I said. “They would see everything going on in the house."

Shortly after the conversation, mother called me into the study.

“This is Redbury,” said mother, introducing a middle aged man in beard and jumper. “He and his colleagues will be staying at the Grange.”

“Why?” I asked.

“For the owls,” said Redbury.

“Owls?” I said.

“There are seven different breeds of owl in the woods at the back of your house,” Redbury explained.

“So you are …” I said, searching for the correct word.

“We’re natural scientists,” said Redbury. “We’re carrying out a comprehensive  study of British bird-life.”

There were five men altogether, I assume they all had names, but I never met any bar Redbury. They mostly slept during the day and watched owls at nights. Unless you were paying particular attention you would never know they were there.

The issue of money was never mentioned to me.

We were fourteen years old.

Maude remained my best friend throughout my childhood. When we were young we saw each other every day, but gradually I saw her less frequently. We had financial hardships, I was told by my mother (a conversation I enacted for Maude) and I was no longer to take a carriage to visit Maude, I could only see her if she visited me.  Nor was there money for me to attend balls and events. Maude grew up faster than I did.

Maude left for university, the first girl in our area to have done so.

“I shall miss our little theatre, Maude.” I said.

“Nonsense Cecily, I will have more theatre to enact for you than ever before.”

Shortly after Maude left, mother called me into the lounge.

“Cecily dearest,” mother said to me, “I’m afraid the family’s investments are no longer gaining the return to which we are accustomed.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means, young lady, that we will have to make some changes.”

“What changes?” I asked.

“You will have to marry Adrian Barton.”

“Adrian! But he smells of farts and moth balls.”

“Nevertheless, you must marry him, otherwise it will be the workhouse for all of us. We face ruination without the Barton’s money. Ruination.”

I was seventeen years old.