Imagined Lives
Sisters
Photograph found in a battered box
in a French village brocante in the North of France,
not so far very from Lille. 2009
I am the gangly one on the right with the scarf.
My little sister, Helene, was about 7 in this
photograph and it was rare to catch her standing
still. Beatrice refused to look at this photograph
in later years. I vaguely recall this day but
all was overshadowed by later events.
My little sister, Helene, was about 7 in this
photograph and it was rare to catch her standing
still. Beatrice refused to look at this photograph
in later years. I vaguely recall this day but
all was overshadowed by later events.
We lived in Roubaix in a small one up one down
house near to the textile factory where Papa, B,
our elder brother Pierre and I worked.
I can’t be sure of the date this was taken.
My memory is a little dog-earred.
I guess it was around 1912.
Pierre took this photo with his friend
Arthur’s new camera; boy was he jealous
of this funny contraption which he proclaimed
to be a Graflex “Speed Graphic”.
house near to the textile factory where Papa, B,
our elder brother Pierre and I worked.
I can’t be sure of the date this was taken.
My memory is a little dog-earred.
I guess it was around 1912.
Pierre took this photo with his friend
Arthur’s new camera; boy was he jealous
of this funny contraption which he proclaimed
to be a Graflex “Speed Graphic”.
After several intense weeks of my hounding
Arthur finally relented and promised to lend
his camera to my brother to take our
sisterly portrait after I traded him a dance
with my sister B at the annual fete.
She was so indignant and angry at me for
that I remember. Still Beatrice and I were
so excited about that dance and pored over
the dress patterns which Aunt, who lived
across the courtyard, kept in a floral fabric
faded box on the top shelf
Arthur finally relented and promised to lend
his camera to my brother to take our
sisterly portrait after I traded him a dance
with my sister B at the annual fete.
She was so indignant and angry at me for
that I remember. Still Beatrice and I were
so excited about that dance and pored over
the dress patterns which Aunt, who lived
across the courtyard, kept in a floral fabric
faded box on the top shelf
of her armoire.
B and I were close in age and shared the
responsibility of the house, Papa, Pierre
and Helene between us which suited fine
as we worked different shifts at the local
textile factory. The work was hard and
the dust stiffling but I remember much
laughter amongst the younger girls.
responsibility of the house, Papa, Pierre
and Helene between us which suited fine
as we worked different shifts at the local
textile factory. The work was hard and
the dust stiffling but I remember much
laughter amongst the younger girls.
After much consideration we settled on a
pattern and counted out our savings
in anticipation of buying the fabric
for our dance dresses. I had my heart set
on something frivolous but finally we
settled on a check fabric, the end of the bolt,
which Monsieur Boulet sold to us for a
cheap price. “2 for the price of one girls”
he boldly proclaimed “and I’ll throw in this
remnant for the little one too”.
Aunt helped us sew the 3 dresses which were
hung on the peg on the back of the pine
bedroom door a good week in advance of the dance.
I can clearly remember laying between my
sisters both deep in slumber, listening to the
heavy breathing of Pierre and the soft
snores of Papa beyond the curtain, and starring
in the darkness at the female forms of
our dresses and imagining how fine we
girls would look.
pattern and counted out our savings
in anticipation of buying the fabric
for our dance dresses. I had my heart set
on something frivolous but finally we
settled on a check fabric, the end of the bolt,
which Monsieur Boulet sold to us for a
cheap price. “2 for the price of one girls”
he boldly proclaimed “and I’ll throw in this
remnant for the little one too”.
Aunt helped us sew the 3 dresses which were
hung on the peg on the back of the pine
bedroom door a good week in advance of the dance.
I can clearly remember laying between my
sisters both deep in slumber, listening to the
heavy breathing of Pierre and the soft
snores of Papa beyond the curtain, and starring
in the darkness at the female forms of
our dresses and imagining how fine we
girls would look.
It’s rather funny really as I don’t remember
much about the actual dance except for the
fact that after his traded dance with B
Arthur managed to monopolise my sister for
the rest of the evening. They looked so happy
together and I do remember feeling a twinge
of jealousy. I was closer in age to Arthur and,
having helped him and his Maman after his
accident in the factory, had grown rather
fond of him and his roguish ways and cheeky humor.
much about the actual dance except for the
fact that after his traded dance with B
Arthur managed to monopolise my sister for
the rest of the evening. They looked so happy
together and I do remember feeling a twinge
of jealousy. I was closer in age to Arthur and,
having helped him and his Maman after his
accident in the factory, had grown rather
fond of him and his roguish ways and cheeky humor.
Several weeks later Arthur turned up as arranged
with his camera and explained the rudiments
of photography to Pierre as we girls changed
into our dance dresses. I think, looking
at the photograph today, I must have forgotten
to brush my own hair as I battled with
Helene to get her dressed whilst she hopped
around like an excited flea. She looks so sensible,
calm and demure in the photograph as if
butter wouldn’t melt but inside was a reckless
and selfish side which later led to our
shared sister demise.
with his camera and explained the rudiments
of photography to Pierre as we girls changed
into our dance dresses. I think, looking
at the photograph today, I must have forgotten
to brush my own hair as I battled with
Helene to get her dressed whilst she hopped
around like an excited flea. She looks so sensible,
calm and demure in the photograph as if
butter wouldn’t melt but inside was a reckless
and selfish side which later led to our
shared sister demise.
In 1918 Pierre left to follow basic training
in the French army. He never returned and
having fretted for weeks over his lack of
correspondence I was devastated when news finally
arrived informing us that he had been killed
in action. Papa was broken by this news and after
years of breathing fluff and dirt at the factory
took to his bed his health and spirit broken.
During these dark days we were lucky to have
the company of Arthur, who due to his earlier injury,
was deemed unfit for military service. He used
to sit and chat with Papa and help us girls
with the heavy fetching of water and the likes.
He used to flirt with B, fool around with Helene
and give me brotherly hugs and advice. Slowly
Papa coughed and choked his way to his coffin;
shortly after he died B and Arthur were
married and he and B slept together behind
the curtain.
in the French army. He never returned and
having fretted for weeks over his lack of
correspondence I was devastated when news finally
arrived informing us that he had been killed
in action. Papa was broken by this news and after
years of breathing fluff and dirt at the factory
took to his bed his health and spirit broken.
During these dark days we were lucky to have
the company of Arthur, who due to his earlier injury,
was deemed unfit for military service. He used
to sit and chat with Papa and help us girls
with the heavy fetching of water and the likes.
He used to flirt with B, fool around with Helene
and give me brotherly hugs and advice. Slowly
Papa coughed and choked his way to his coffin;
shortly after he died B and Arthur were
married and he and B slept together behind
the curtain.
In the immediate years that followed I started
to feel uncomfortable as I noticed an
inappropriate closeness start to grow between
Arthur and Helene. Whilst this gave me cause for
concern I never mentioned my fears to B as
I didn’t have any proof of indiscretion
only an intuitive feeling. I tried to talk to
Helene once or twice about my fears but she would
always have a reason to scoot out the door
leaving me feeling small minded and foolish.
to feel uncomfortable as I noticed an
inappropriate closeness start to grow between
Arthur and Helene. Whilst this gave me cause for
concern I never mentioned my fears to B as
I didn’t have any proof of indiscretion
only an intuitive feeling. I tried to talk to
Helene once or twice about my fears but she would
always have a reason to scoot out the door
leaving me feeling small minded and foolish.
It was a beautiful spring Sunday in 1922,
Arthur was out photographing a communion and
I suggested to my sisters that we go visit Aunt.
Helene explained that she had already
arranged to meet a friend and left both B and I
without so much as a backward glance.
Aunt wasn’t in and so B suggested we take a
stroll to the local park.
Arthur was out photographing a communion and
I suggested to my sisters that we go visit Aunt.
Helene explained that she had already
arranged to meet a friend and left both B and I
without so much as a backward glance.
Aunt wasn’t in and so B suggested we take a
stroll to the local park.
Today, at this point, I feel discomfort in the
remembering of our sorry story and decide
to make a pot of coffee to steady my nerves
and calm my soul. I take down the blue chipped
enamelware cafetiere and put the water to boil.
I slowly spoon the coffee into the pot’s filter. I
deliberately take a cup down from the shelf
and absently spoon the sugar into it’s stained
interior. I slowly breathe to retain my
fragile composure.
remembering of our sorry story and decide
to make a pot of coffee to steady my nerves
and calm my soul. I take down the blue chipped
enamelware cafetiere and put the water to boil.
I slowly spoon the coffee into the pot’s filter. I
deliberately take a cup down from the shelf
and absently spoon the sugar into it’s stained
interior. I slowly breathe to retain my
fragile composure.
I am jolted by the shrill pitched whistle of
the boiling kettle as I was once jolted by the
shrill pitched scream of B as we rounded the
corner to see our sister and Arthur locked in
a forbidden and passionate embrace upon the
park bench.
I told the court that things happened so quickly
that I could not be sure of the exact order of events.
At some point B was tearing towards the illicit
lovers screaming wildly. At some point Helene
defiantly rose to face B. At some point Arthur
sensing disaster tried to step between my sisters.
There was a scuffle and B shoved Helene backwards;
and then, except for the birds singing proudly
in the budding sunny branches, there was
silence and the slow seeping of lifeblood from
the cracked skull of Helene soaking into the
already red gravel pathway.
I broke down and collapsed when I told the court
that B hadn’t meant to kill our sister.
that B hadn’t meant to kill our sister.
When finally B was released from prison she
came to live with Aunt and I. A strange household
of three broken winged women. The spinster sister,
the shamed sister abandoned wife and the
widowed Aunt.
Three young women died that day. Helene moulders
underground. B shuffles around in a tormented
twilight world of reproach and regret and I
fill my days trying to deny and to forget.
came to live with Aunt and I. A strange household
of three broken winged women. The spinster sister,
the shamed sister abandoned wife and the
widowed Aunt.
Three young women died that day. Helene moulders
underground. B shuffles around in a tormented
twilight world of reproach and regret and I
fill my days trying to deny and to forget.
When, this morning I found the photograph shoved
at the back of a kitchen cabinet drawer I
hastily popped it into my apron’s pocket and
sat down calmly at the kitchen table aware that
B and aunt were off out to the market for
cheese and vegetables.
The photograph had been hastily shoved into
the drawer, many years before, when B had
unwittingly stumbled upon it and I had had to
run to fetch the doctor who heavily sedated B .
So, B and aunt are not here now as I finish my
cup of coffee and observe and note the parallel
tones of the brown coffee grain dregs and
the faded sepia photograph lying before me
on the scrubbed pine table. I have no more tears
to shed but feel a discomfort, I name grief,
in my throat and across my chest.
at the back of a kitchen cabinet drawer I
hastily popped it into my apron’s pocket and
sat down calmly at the kitchen table aware that
B and aunt were off out to the market for
cheese and vegetables.
The photograph had been hastily shoved into
the drawer, many years before, when B had
unwittingly stumbled upon it and I had had to
run to fetch the doctor who heavily sedated B .
So, B and aunt are not here now as I finish my
cup of coffee and observe and note the parallel
tones of the brown coffee grain dregs and
the faded sepia photograph lying before me
on the scrubbed pine table. I have no more tears
to shed but feel a discomfort, I name grief,
in my throat and across my chest.
We were three then as we are three now but
I am no longer gangly and Helene has been replaced
by aunt.
As I stand the chair scrapes across
the tiled floor breaking the quiet and my thoughts.
I lovingly place the photograph back in the drawer,
cross the kitchen to put my cup in the sink,
take off my floral apron and hang it over the chair.
I get my coat from the understairs cupboard,
adjust my hat in the hallway mirror and
step out into the sunshine…
I am no longer gangly and Helene has been replaced
by aunt.
As I stand the chair scrapes across
the tiled floor breaking the quiet and my thoughts.
I lovingly place the photograph back in the drawer,
cross the kitchen to put my cup in the sink,
take off my floral apron and hang it over the chair.
I get my coat from the understairs cupboard,
adjust my hat in the hallway mirror and
step out into the sunshine…
5 comments:
This was a wonderful story you look like you might need some vitamins!!!a little C
So you just whipped up this story based on the picture? If that is waht is happening then - you have serious talent!
Touched - and convinced was I that this was a true story (alhough I somehow doubted your age....!)left me wanting to reach out and give you a hug!
Image of three lovely vibrant young girls. I hope life has been kind to them.
I enjoyed this flight of imagination. A sweet old photo was the inspiration for an intriguing & captivating little story. Thanks!
I do hope the real lives of the sisters turned out a bit happier!
Just stumbled across your blog by way of etsy and had to take a moment to applaud this brilliant bit of fiction. Hope writing is something you do regularly because if not.....those of us who love to read are missing out. Thank you for sharing! Laurie
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