Linksfield

6. Stranger in the Fog

I glanced at a photograph of my siblings every night before I went to bed, staring at the faces in sepia, scared that if I didn't, I'd forget what they looked like. How young we were then, how life had not tarnished us or beaten us with its cruel hand. It hadn't touched us with the wonders of life either and we had so much to learn. Growing up we were like most brothers and sisters, fighting constantly but having each-others backs when the occasion called for it. I hadn't seen my eldest brother Joseph for the longest of all— five years in fact— so imagine my surprise when I saw him sitting at the table of the servants' quarters one ordinary morning. There was a cup of strong black tea in front of him and a slice of marmalade toast and he was happily munching away whilst all the servants sat around him as though he were a specimen at a laboratory or worse...royalty. Listening to his voice, I smiled. I'd almost forgotten how gentle it was and how all the traces of the working man's accent had been lost with time.

"Jack!" he said as he saw me. His eyes were warm and sparkling.

"Joe!" I skipped over and embraced him in a hug whilst he was still seated. "Why didn't you bloody tell me you was coming?"

"Mind your language, Jack, in front of the ladies!"

"Sorry." I held onto him for a moment longer.

"I've been visiting Jess and the children. She said I should surprise you," he said.

"Bet old sis loved seeing you and the kids. How long you in England for?"

"Until I'm reassigned. Back at my old parish temporarily."

Joe had been a Christian missionary in Africa for those past five years with his wife and children and it had been the first time I had laid eyes on him since. I'd only seen the children in photographs, having only met two of them once or twice and the third never at all. Joe looked older now and he was tanned and lined, but essentially, he hadn't changed at all— still so neat, so serious, so soft-spoken and gentle mannered.

"I hope Jack's been behaving himself." He directed the question at the matriarch of sorts Mrs. Orwell who stood by the cooking pot, stirring the soup.

Her face turned a shade of red at being asked a question of the kind but didn't exactly seem shy to answer promptly. "Well, I'll not lie to a man of the church, Mr. Boys. I'm afraid your brother is a little bit of a handful."

Joe's eyebrow rose. "Jack! You never change, you old rascal. What was it mother told you on her deathbed?"

"Told me to make her proud. You know my sins are already forgiven."

He smiled, took a sip of tea, and clasped my hand. "I'm sure she'd be very pleased with your position here. Really landed on your feet at this fine house with these delightful people you work with."

"Don't say that, they'll get big headed." I teased at the others.

It was at that moment that the master's bell rang and I was summoned upstairs to the study.

"You have to come meet Monty...that is... you have to meet the master. If you want a handful, he's it. Come with me, he won't mind."

Mrs. Orwell frowned. "See. Can't get through to him. Jack Boys, you cannot take your brother upstairs un-announced."

"No problem, Mrs. O, I'll announce him when I get there."

I grabbed my brother's arm and wrenched him from his seat, leading him up the stairs to the main house at the top of the heavy door. It had once been my prison and the dread of a morning but now it felt comfortable, familiar, more dare I say it, like home. What had become of me?