Old Nichol

“Hannah dear, come away from the doorway. You’ll catch cold.”

            Hannah’s entranced gaze through the slum’s open threshold broke away with a mist of entangled hairs and settled emphatically upon her mother. The London rain was a far more appealing sight than her mother’s chilled groveling, but Hannah obeyed as she normally did and retreated playfully to the dark corner her mother occupied. As she approached, unraveled skeletal arms covered by tattered cloth entangled her neck and dragged it down with feeble desperation until Hannah lay secure upon her mother’s lap.

            “I love you my dear. More than you know.” Mother’s warm words misted through the cold air and faded delicately atop Hannah’s crinkled nose. She knew her mother was telling the truth in part and embraced her mother’s grasp around her body with a tight squeeze of approval and shaken words.

            “Love you too mummy.”

             Mother never did like the rain and often complained about it. Hannah knew it wasn’t the rain’s fault though, because mother would complain about everything. She would always complain and never bother to do anything about it. She supposed it was because there wasn’t really much she could do. That’s how Hope, her younger sister, stayed so sick for so long. And all mother did was grovel.

            “Where’s papa mummy? Work should be over and it is getting dark.”

             Hannah looked upward attempting to meet mother’s dark, troubled eyes. A small tear surfaced and trickled down mother’s smudged cheek into Hannah’s knotted hair. Mother squeezed Hannah tighter and gulped her bruised throat against Hannah’s head. Hannah already knew the answer to her question and didn’t expect mother to answer it. She regretted asking it. She hated the way father treated mother. He never cared for mother and Hannah always knew it to be so. It was in the way he spoke to her. Mother always used to shush Hannah’s judgments until Hope’s death. That was what confirmed it. That was when he stopped coming home before dark, before he started hurting mother.

            A cold breeze flung moist air through the door-less entrance and wafted through the wretched house, sending a shiver down its spine. The spray coated its walls and forced its inhabitants to cover their faces.

            “We need to get that doorway covered dear.”

            Hannah nodded her head in compliance against her mother’s damp shawl. She knew it would never happen though. Only her father could do it and he never would. She didn’t mind it though, the door not being there. She loved it when the rain came in. It had a way of making everything look and smell new. She loved watching the drops trickle down the swaying, billysweet walls and wash all the black away.

            The only problem Hannah had with the rain was when it went away. She hated whenever it left because it was her only friend. When it was there it comforted and calmed her in its pattering lullaby and when it was gone everything got worse. She was confident the world felt the same way. After it left the stench grew, disease claimed more victims, and the vermin increased; an act of revenge upon a disgraceful betrayal. Hannah would think to herself,

            ‘If only the rain knew how much we all missed it. All of us except mother of course.’

            But Hannah never let the sun rise on her anger. She knew the rain would always return, mostly because it always did.

            Hannah noticed the room had darkened and returned her gaze toward the glowing doorway. The silhouette of a slouched man propped itself against the doorway’s rickety frame mumbling profanity under its breath at the weather. It was Hannah’s father. Hannah turned her gaze again toward her mother and saw fear flickering in her eyes. Mother’s grip tightened against Hannah’s chest causing her to cough for breath.

            “Where’s Hope you bloody witches?!”

Her father slurred while stumbling toward them. As he approached he grabbed a handful of Hannah’s hair and tore her forcefully away from her mother’s delicate hold. Mother returned to her groveling as he pinned Hannah suspended against the saturated wall by her hair.

            “Now I’m not going to ask again! Where’s my Hope? What have you done with her?”

            His breath smelt and tasted of hard liquor as his spittle leapt from his mouth and found refuge within Hannah’s, now locked ajar by pain.

            “N- Nothing! S- She’s dead! Remember?”

            Her father dropped her and wiped the blood from her scalp upon his work pants while fixing his gaze upon his shivering wife.

            “You know! Don’t you my wife? Where is she? Where’s my girl?”

            As he approached mother, Hannah locked eyes with her. Mother tried to say something, but could only manage mouthing to Hannah, “G-get out. G-get out. Run.”

Hannah obeyed as she normally did and fled hastily into the rainy night down Old Nichol Street until her lungs breathed copper. She thought of screaming, of telling people, but no one would listen. She had tried that before and no one cared. They too had dead. They too hated their fathers.

            Hannah sat down under an eave and bundled tight against the house’s slouched frame attempting to catch her breath. The rain was still falling so she closed her eyes and tried to forget. After a little while she opened them to see the rain. Thoughts of Hope cluttered her mind and blurred her eyes. She wanted to tell someone, but no one would care, so she began talking to the rain. It was always a good friend to her while it was around.

            “Mother told me once that my name was after someone in the Bible. She told me that it was a nice lady.”

            Hannah rubbed her eyes clean and wiped the muck seeping from her nose.

            “She told me that that Hannah couldn’t have a child until she asked nicely for one.

            Hannah stood up on her feet and paced slowly into the rain.

            “Well, I’d like one someday. Her name will be Hope, just like my sister. She’ll be strong. And I’ll follow her out of this place and then we’ll change things. We’ll listen to people. We’ll care.”