Whispering Echoes - Maya Chandel (best books to read non fiction .txt) 📗

did so; a couple were dancing, her parents were dancing. She could just make out their figures amidst the hanging branches of the willow as they turned a graceful fleckerl where they stood. Settling her skirts down on the step, the little girl watched quite mesmerized. Though it seemed an odd place to be dancing, especially as there was no music; there was something special about the dance, she could sense it.

It was something about the slowness with which they moved, as though they were savouring every moment; something in the proximity in which they stood, a distance which even as she watched was growing closer and closer as they seemed to magnetically gravitate towards each other until the little girl knew… until there could be no denying… Kitty held breath as she saw their lips meet; their figures entwine to become one.

She knew she should turn away, that this was not a sight for her to be watching. It was what she always did whenever she caught glimpses of her Mama and Papa sharing a caress; however, something about this kiss was compelling and try as she might Kitty could not look away. Indeed she almost let out a cry of disappointment when all of a sudden they broke apart; and for one terrifying moment she wondered if they had seen her… they had not. They were, however, moving away from the tree and as such Kitty hastily scrambled to her feet; though not before turning her head for one last look before she left!

The scene broke abruptly as Kitty found herself jolted back to the present by the sound of a merry tune being whistled. For a fleeting moment she felt a surge of annoyance; the memory had been so vivid, the moment between her mother and father so intimate and she wished she might have been privy to the past just a little longer. Still casting another glance at her watch she supposed she really ought to head back to the house, and as such she looked about her for sign of the whistling gardener who had brought a prompt end to her mind’s jaunting; perhaps he could redeem himself by offering her a short cut back. Catching no sight of anyone in the immediate vicinity, Kitty let her ears guide her around a winding path; stopping sharply as the whistler was revealed to her!

It was no gardener at all, but rather an intruder! An intruder who was stood with his back to her, an artist’s easel set up before him where he brushed deftly light strokes upon a canvass as he whistled; so intently absorbed in his work that he did not notice Kitty at all as she crept up behind him. That was not until she rather loudly exclaimed, ‘Might I ask what you are doing here?’

He turned around in such sharp surprise that he almost knocked his easel and canvass over, his attention subsequently caught for a brief moment in steadying them; a moment which Kitty very much found herself grateful for. She had not at all expected her intruder to be so appealing to the eye as indeed he was; and as such took the afforded moment to endeavour to compose herself before she found herself once again facing his handsome countenance. She evidently had not succeeded very well she thought; her heart fluttering most uncharacteristically as those meltingly warm hazel eyes settled on her own, a sweep of lustrous golden hair casually yet quite perfectly falling into them.

‘I asked what you are doing here; I believe you are trespassing on my property?’ Kitty brought herself to say when it appeared the gentleman showed no sign of breaking the silence; indeed he was gazing at her in such a way that Kitty wondered if he had ever seen a lady before.

His reply when it eventually came was most unexpected.

‘By God it is you!’ he exclaimed, his eyes brighter than ever as a wondrous smile lit his face. ‘Kitty Watson, I am right aren’t I?’

‘Yes… though…’ Kitty was at a complete loss. She was rather certain that she should have remembered this fellow if she did know him; yet now she thought about it there was something about him. Those eyes, she knew those eyes; and there was a boyish look to him that definitely rang familiar… Then it came to her in a sudden sweep who he was; clear as the light of day.

‘Michael,’ she uttered softly, meeting his eyes with a smile in her own.

‘Michael Ellis,’ he replied with a nod of his head; gazing at her now with the oddest combination of familiarity and yet complete novelty. It was a gaze that made Kitty’s cheeks burn and made feel oddly nervous; not a feeling that she was well used to and one that she quickly sought to shrug off.

‘You still have not answered my question though,’ she said somewhat pertly.

‘Oh I apologise, I did not at all mean to intrude. It is just that I often come here; it’s my favourite place to paint,’ he replied flicking his hair out of his eyes somewhat shyly. It almost instantly fell back.

‘You are an artist?’ asked Kitty with an air of vague interest as she struck up a cigarette in the hope of resuming some of her usual confidence; or if not at least dissembling so.

‘No, my drawing is more of a past-time than a vocation,’ he said almost disappointedly, before shaking his head at her proffered cigarette. ‘I don’t smoke.’

‘Really?’ she asked in surprise. ‘That’s rather uncommon.’

‘Perhaps but I’m not really one for prevailing fashions,’ he replied, regarding her with an air of consideration. She had perched herself on the edge of a wooden swing, giving it a rather lazy sway back as she drew on her cigarette; such that she posed almost a perfect picture of the society girl image with her short dark curls and chic cotton dress. She looked very beautiful of course, however, Michael rather thought she had appeared infinitely lovelier a few moments earlier when she had been caught off guard.

‘You prefer to be a rebel then?’

‘No I prefer just to be myself,’ he smiled. ‘Anyhow, I didn’t know you were returned.’

‘Or else you would have thought twice before trespassing?’ she laughed. ‘I still don’t understand how you got here, surely you couldn’t have…’

‘From the shore below,’ he cut in. ‘It’s the way I always come.’

‘That’s not possible,’ said Kitty, eyeing the foreboding mass of rock that stretched down to the sandy shores.

‘It is if you happen to know a secret way through via the caves; not that I would suggest you trying it,’ he added hastily as he eyed her flimsy sandals.

‘Believe me I wouldn’t dream of doing so.’

‘I dare say you wouldn’t,’ he uttered, rather thinking she appeared more an indoors sort of girl. ‘So how long are you here for?’

‘Not long,’ replied Kitty. ‘We’re only here to set things in order for a sale.’

‘Sale?’ he asked in surprise. ‘You’re not keeping it then?’

‘It’s not really much use to me, too far from the city.’

‘Surely even you city lot crave some fresh air once in a while?’

‘It’s rather a distance to travel just for some fresh air.’

‘Well yes, just for the fresh air I suppose it is,’ replied Michael. ‘However, I would have thought the place might have some sentimental value for you.’

Kitty was not sure she appreciated the implied conjecture, however, really what should she care what he thought of her, or anyone else for that matter? No doubt the whole village would think her devoid of any feeling in giving the house up.

‘I don’t think it’s fair to keep the place just for memory’s sake; besides it’s surely better for the village to have some regular occupants,’ continued Kitty. ‘Though you need not worry; I shan’t make mention to the new owners of your free use of this place as a regular haunt for your past-time.’

‘I am sure I shouldn’t ever presume of doing so if the house was occupied; indeed I certainly would not be here now if I had known you were in residence.’

His tone sounded somewhat prickled and Kitty knew she had offended him; however, really he had been trespassing and after his previous comment to her she was not altogether perturbed if she had affronted him. Still she managed to bring herself to say, ‘Oh I didn’t mean anything by it; after all I know you artists are free spirits and I for one should not at all wish to hinder your creativity.’

‘I already told you that I’m not an artist,’ he replied, taking caution not to let his feelings show. She was mocking him and he knew it. ‘Anyhow you can be quite sure that I shan’t be trespassing again,’ he continued turning to pack away his easel.

Kitty rather thought she had upset him more than she had any wish to and feeling rather guilty continued in a much softer tone, ‘What is it that draws you here; you said it was your favourite place to paint?’

Michael turned back slowly to face her, hesitating a moment before saying, ’I’ve always thought it is place where the laughter and joy of yesteryear somehow lives on indefinitely; permeates the very air. It is as if it is so filled with blissful memories that it simply won’t allow any space for gloom. It is odd, but although I’m always alone here, it is almost as if I am not; indeed sometimes if I listen closely enough I can almost hear the echoes of the past whispering their secrets to me.’

Kitty found herself lost for words to reply; somehow he had captured precisely the feeling she had felt when she stepped foot in the garden herself; though she was sure she could never have phrased it so perfectly.

‘That and I suppose the stunning views and solitude,’ he added with a smile at her seemingly stunned silence. ‘Anyhow I should be on my way.’

‘Will you not come the front way?’

‘I rather like my way.’

‘Actually you would be doing me a favour, that way you could guide me back to the house. It is strange, I am sure I should know my way around London with my eyes closed, yet I am completely lost amidst these grounds,’ said Kitty jumping off the swing.

From what he judged of Kitty Watson, Michael was not sure that it seemed strange at all; however he merely smiled in reply as he turned to pick up his easel and obliged.

Chapter 7

Truro, Cornwall 1930

‘Oh come on Kit, granted you are not spoiled for choice, but I rather think it has