Free Flower by Irene N.Watts Page A

wind sings, sounding almost human.
    It’s her–the girl in my dream. She’s watching the storm too. Her arms hug her skinny body. I slide out of bed and stand beside her.
    Gran bursts in, holding a flashlight. “Good gracious, Katie, what are you doing out of bed?”
Honestly, what kind of question is that?
Gran shuts the window, and flings her arm around me. “Fierce, isn’t it? I just wanted to check that you’re alright. I’m concerned about the wiring up here. We’ve had it looked at, but….”
    “You worry, right? I bet it’s working okay.” I switch on the light. “There, it’s fine.” I climb back into bed.
    “Good night, Katie. Sleep well.”
    “Night.”
    Gran leaves, and I turn off the light. I shut my eyes, wanting to get back into my dream. The wind’s gone quiet and I can barely hear the rain.
    Someone’s in the room; I feel it. I’m not dreaming, at least I don’t think I am. I wait a few minutes before I get up and sit on the edge of my bed.
    She’s here; she never left. The girl is in the alcove, crouched on the floor by Aunt Millicent’s trunk. Her legs are tucked under her shapeless dress; her feet are bare.
    “Hello,” I whisper, “I thought I heard you humming a little while ago.”
    “The storm was so loud I didn’t think anyone would hear. I like to sing; it reminds me of Helen. I talk to her sometimes, when I’m by myself.”
    “Who is Helen?”
We’re actually having a conversation. Will I remember it in the morning?
    “She’s someone I knew long ago. We pretended we were sisters. Helen was a skivvy, but she was aiming for something better. She gave me a picture postcard and a flower. I’m going to keep them forever. We used to sing and dance like this: Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay.” The girl gets to her feet, and holds out her hands to me.
    I take them, and we sort of polka around the room. She stops suddenly, drops my hands, shivers, and sits down on the end of my bed. I pull the quilt round her shoulders. “Helen died a long time ago. She was my mother.”
    “I’m awfully sorry. My mother’s dead too. Please, what is a skivvy?”
    “It’s what I am, bottom of the heap. First up in the morning and last to bed. I work all day long for my keep. When I’m fourteen, I’ll get paid wages.”
    “Yes, but who are you?”
    “I’m a Home girl. A pair of hands to do the chores, that’s all.”
    “That’s amazing … I mean, are you okay? Do they treat you alright?”
    “Yes and no. I’ve a roof over my head, and they don’t beat me. I get enough to eat, and that’s something to be thankful for. It’s the first time in my life I’ve had a room to myself and there’s space to stand up in it, though it’s no bigger than a broom closet. There are hooks on the wall for my things, and sheets on the bed. I’ve a window to look out of, and I talk to the rock doves when I’m lonely and bursting to speak to someone. But that’s not what I came for. It’s not what they promised.”
    “What did they promise?” I reach out my hand to her. “Who promised?”
    There is an electric feeling in the room, as though the air has been disturbed. She’s gone.
    It’s almost light. This is the first time that I dreamt I spoke to the girl, such a sad girl. I want her to be real and I want to be her friend.
    She talks to her mother too. I always thought I was the only one in the world who did that.
    The quilt is back on my bed, as though I had never moved it.
    I wake feeling as cranky as if I’d stayed up all night. It’s just after ten. I go downstairs, drink some juice, and crash out on the deck. I may as well try to get a tan.
    “Katie, did you remember to put on sunscreen?” Gran’s voice jars me.
    “Mmm?” I must have dozed off for a minute.
    “Sunscreen, and grab a sweater please. We’re going for a drive.”
    What is she talking about? I just want to be left alone.
    “Come along, Katie. Have you forgotten we’re going to Peggy’s Cove? The day will be over if