Eynhallow by Tim McGregor

Author:Tim McGregor [McGregor, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Fiction, Historical, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781947879676
Amazon: B0CVKP8Q7V
Goodreads: 202142414
Publisher: Raw Dog Screaming Press
Published: 2024-02-22T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XXI

Poor Katie. She is so uncomfortable and sick to death of being with child, and yet the stubborn babe refuses to come. I go to check on her for the second time this day to find her waddling about in a very disagreeable mood. I have to scold her to lie on the bed so I can poke and prod for any hint of birthing, only to disappoint my friend that she will have to wait a little while yet.

I brew some tea to settle her. When her discomfort lifts a little, she becomes her usual self and thanks me. Seeing with clear eyes, she tells me I look different. Happy, she remarks.

“What secret are you keeping, girl? You’re not ripe with child, too, are you?”

My face flushes hot, but my belly is a ball of ice. I am mortified by whatever mien I am exhibiting to the world. Katie laughs and calls me a silly turnip. She tries to excavate the reason for my stammering, but I refuse to budge. I cannot, even with her. A convenient excuse comes to mind, and I flee home before the woman gets her nails into me.

You stupid, stupid woman, Agnes!

Small mercies, I return to find an empty cottage. There is no one here to witness me flail about in self-loathing and confusion. Who have I become? Some trollop putting it about with her heart on her sleeve? Poor Katie, as distracted as she is with her pain, saw right through me. Saints in a rowboat.

Last night’s encounter with Victor has rendered me lightheaded and garish. I cannot stop thinking about it nor can I stop scolding myself for my behavior. I have not felt this overwhelmed since I tumbled head over heels for the penniless Jamie Grieve. But I was little more than a child then. How on earth can this happen now? Those feelings should have died on the vine long ago, shouldn’t they? I am no blushing girl. I am twenty-nine years old. A wife and mother to four children, no less. I cannot, will not, let my heart render me a simpering lovestruck idiot!

I dry my eyes and turn to the looking glass to find a puffy face. I immediately turn away. I do not know who this woman in the mirror is now. She is a stranger, fawning over some man she barely knows.

You must be careful now, Agnes. You must put these feelings away, lock them up inside your heart and suffocate them. No more acting giddy or glowing, as Katie put it. That will betray you. Wear a mask if you don’t know who you are anymore. Pretend to be Agnes if that’s what it takes to get through this. Otherwise, the consequences will be dire. You risk losing it all.

Is this what madness is like—this back-and-forth debate in my head? A splash of cold water cools my hot eyes and quiets my nattering thoughts. I get busy with the day’s chores to distract me, but as I’m tidying up the clutter, a folded piece of paper falls from my cloak.

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