Gretel by Niamh Murphy

Author:Niamh Murphy [Murphy, Niamh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NIM Publishing
Published: 2013-07-04T04:00:00+00:00

THE ROOM HAD GONE COLD.

But cuddled beneath the blankets she was warm. Curled up next to Maeve she felt the warmth of her body hot against her legs. Maeve’s hair swept across the pillows and the scent of it filled Gretel’s nostrils as she watched her sleep. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay where she was, listening to Maeve’s gentle breathing. In the dim morning light that crept through cracks in the shutters, Gretel could see the outline of her forehead, the gentle curve of her cheeks and her slightly parted lips. She could watch her sleep forever.

She started to wonder about the woman who Maeve had loved, what she had looked like, how it happened, how they knew, what it had been like to kiss. She looked at Maeve’s lips and wondered what it would feel like to kiss those lips, to feel the softness beneath her own.

Then Maeve turned, slowly opening her eyes and smiling shyly as she saw her. But Gretel pulled back, embarrassed at being caught watching her.

“Morning,” Maeve whispered sleepily.

“I should check on Hans,” Gretel said, sliding out from beneath the covers and quickly getting dressed in the cold air, hoping that Maeve hadn’t seen her watching, and wouldn’t guess what she had been thinking.

She left the room without saying anything further, but gasped when she saw the chair by the fire was empty. Hans was gone.

She started forward, wondering what could have happened to him, thinking he must have fallen to the floor in a feverish sleep, but he was nowhere to be found. She started to panic, thinking perhaps the wolves could have dragged him away, or he might have limped off in the night. She rushed to the door, thinking he might be struggling somewhere in the woods; he could be unconscious and dying, but the door swung open before she reached it.

“Morning!” Hans said as he saw her. He closed the door with his elbow as his arms were stacked full of firewood. “This is the last of it,” he said. “I’ll have to go out and chop some more today.” He moved to the fire and began tending to it as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Hans!” Gretel managed to say. “You’re walking!”

“Well spotted!” he laughed. He stood and walked over to her, turning about like a bride in a new dress. “It’s still a little sore, but it is very well healed.”

“This is wonderful!” she said, truly delighted to see him so well and so happy.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, a little sheepishly, and suddenly Gretel was reminded of their argument, of Maeve and of what it meant now that Hans could walk.

“That’s alright,” she said, but the words stung in her throat, as she realised her time here was almost over.

“You’re walking!” Maeve said, coming into the kitchen. She smiled at Hans, but didn’t look at Gretel.

Gretel wondered if she’d offended Maeve by backing away like she had.

“Yes!” he said, smiling at Maeve for the first time since they had met.

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