Tuesday, 8 May 1923
Evening shift, after dinner
Despite everything else, Alice always loved the way freshly cleaned linens smelt. The hospital wing was relatively quiet, thankfully, which was fine because she had a lot on her mind. She’d found no more information about her birth mother – her search for a 'Sarah' who had met her dad long enough ago to get pregnant with her was not very fruitful. It didn’t help that Thatcher Ravenstone had a very wide portfolio of business partners through the years.
But being patient with the man who was holding everything over her head and finalizing a marriage contract was enough to drive her insane. Alice didn’t know how much longer she could bite her tongue around him. Her entire future rested in his hands and it made her sick.
Just about as sick as it made her that her sister was locked away in a mental hospital because of him.
Alice clenched her jaw shut as she dropped a fitted sheet onto one of the empty beds and looked around. She definitely preferred not to think about Everleigh, as painful as that fact was.
“Hey, come help with this,” she said after her brown eyes landed on one of the first year volunteers. Normally – before everything – she had a better sense of who everyone was, and also had more of a standing in the wing. But after the last couple of terms, everything had slipped. Including classes and her duties in the wing.
She still wanted to work at St. Mungo’s one day, but Alice didn’t think it was such a feasible goal anymore. Between feeling like she was failing at everything and literally feeling like she was a stranger to even herself, she didn't know what her future looked like or if she had any interest in the one being arranged for her.
“Hey, come help with this.”
Avery Hale hadn't realized his name had been legally changed to 'Hey'.
It seemed the way of things though. Plenty of people around here who didn't bother to learn anyone's name before they addressed them, or apparently ordered them around. Avery didn't mind being helpful. In fact it was one of his greatest desires to be, especially as it would win him the coveted title of 'Best Hospital Wing Novice' of the 1922-1923 school term.
But some people made it harder to want to help. Especially when they called him 'Hey' and ordered him around rather than asked.
Still, Avery wasn't one to turn down a task if it needed to be done.
Dropping his clipboard onto a his supply cart, the boy abandoned his restocking for the moment. He took hold of one end of the fitted sheet while the girl - Alice if he remembered right - took hold of the other. He didn't wait, tucking his end in before she could do hers, and skittered quickly to the other end. The last corner was always the hardest and since this was technically her task, she could have that part.
"Could have asked nicely," Avery said lightly as he tucked the second corner beneath the mattress. "My mum always says you win more flies with sugar than vinegar." Lots of mums said it, he supposed. He'd heard the saying a thousand times, easily, and probably needed to follow that advice, but this had been an entire year of Avery trying to be helpful and informative, and everyone just treated him like an annoyance.
Far be it for him to return their attitudes.
"I guess its true. Have you ever seen flies swarming around vinegar?" Avery shook his head before she could answer. "No one wants to be around bitterness all the time."
Alice watched the young boy drop his clipboard and come to her aid. She didn’t speak, but that didn’t mean it was silence between them. He was the talkative one, the one who didn’t know when to just be quiet. She bit her tongue. It used to not be hard to keep her mouth shut. But now she had more to say, more opinions, and felt more outspoken.
"Could have asked nicely."
In her head, Alice was already mocking him. She tucked her corner in before he moved quickly to the other one on his side.
"My mum always says you win more flies with sugar than vinegar."
His tone was light, with the innocence of a child who had yet to experience the harshness of reality. She could feel his masked annoyance for her, though, with how she’d addressed him.
Avery. That was his name. It suddenly popped in her head as she remembered some others complaining about how annoying the boy was.
"I guess its true. Have you ever seen flies swarming around vinegar? No one wants to be around bitterness all the time."
Alice tucked her second corner and then watched him momentarily. “Sugar attracts flies,” she said. “The world isn’t a jar of honey, Avery. The kinder you are, the more people take advantage of it.”
She ran her hand over the sheet, smoothing it out.
“But you’ll figure that out on your own.”
Unfortunately, it would hurt him the most.
Alice turned to a second bed. “Help with one more?” she asked, picking up another bundle of clean linen. Deciding to throw him a line, she sighed slightly. “Please?”
“The world isn’t a jar of honey, Avery. The kinder you are, the more people take advantage of it.”
"Sounds like you're surrounded by the wrong type of people." Avery didn't mean it in any sort of cruel or snarky sense. Rather, it almost sounded pitying for the boy who always needed to one-up others. Avery came from a close-knit family that watched out for and cared for one another. They were part of a small-town farming community that helped their neighbors and demonstrated kindness in hard times.
Were they perfect? No. They were rather gossipy, which lent to Avery being the chatterbox he was. But he'd never known anyone to hurt someone because they were too kind.
“But you’ll figure that out on your own.”
Avery shrugged. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. "Doesn't mean I have to be the same way," he said easily. He knew he could be what other people called annoying and he found most other people in the school the same, to be honest.
There weren't many people he found he had anything in common with. It led to him having some meaner thoughts here or there, but overall, he liked to think he was a nice person.
“Help with one more? Please?”
"Of course," the boy answered, moving to the next bed. He wasn't above doing what he could to help, especially when asked. His eyes moved to Alice again, as he tucked in the first corner of the sheet. "Was someone mean to you today?"
"Sounds like you're surrounded by the wrong type of people."
The observation was one that spoke of obvious facts. Alice knew she was surrounded by the wrong type of people. Her father was the wrong type of person. She knew that, but there was nothing she could do about it. If she wanted any information about her birth mother, she had to play his game. The problem was that she had a hard time biting her tongue around him.
There was only so much more she’d be able to take.
As Avery moved to help her with the next bed, and he spoke, she paused what she was doing.
"Was someone mean to you today?"
Not necessarily. She frowned – well, she was already frowning, so she just continued to frown. She could sense his curiosity. It was the innocent kind. The genuine kind. She looked at him and shook her head.
“No,” she responded. “Sometimes they don’t have to be. You figure out pretty quickly that being happy is overrated.”
She turned her full attention to the sheet she was fixing. She pulled it over one of the corners and moved to the next.
If Avery wasn’t careful, the world was going to bully his happiness away.
“Where do you get it? The optimism, I mean,” she asked as she pulled the second corner on her side over the mattress.
“Sometimes they don’t have to be. You figure out pretty quickly that being happy is overrated.”
Well, Avery didn't subscribe to that idea, nor would he be. There were plenty of things that made him happy, and no small amount of things that brought him joy. At no time had he felt that happiness was overrated or something to scoff at. Christmas mornings with his family, running through the hills of Westmorland with his brothers, taking care of Chloe, and learning new things all made him happier in ways he couldn't put into words.
Would he ever get sick of it? Avery didn't think he would.
“Where do you get it? The optimism, I mean.”
Avery shrugged a bit. It wasn't one root source that he could draw from like a well, he supposed. Rather, it was a bunch of little things and the world being full of opportunity that fueled his outlook on life. "I don't know," he answered honestly, one of the few times he'd ever admit to not knowing something. "My dad is a pretty upbeat bloke. Always has good things to say about situations, even hard ones."
He looked up, watching as Alice tucked in a corner of the sheet. Kathryn would have already yanked it back out and said it was wrong. "He always says, there's no great loss without some small gain, even if the gain seems ugly in a bad time." He tucked the last corner of his sheet in and stood back a bit. "Like, let's say you lose one of your sheep to a predator. It's not great and that's money lost from not being able to use that sheep for mutton or wool. But...." Avery shrugged a bit, "The gain is its one less mouth to feed." Avery stretched his spine a bit, bringing his arms over his head. "If you always try to find the positive in a situation, it's hard to only focus on the negative."
He shrugged and headed back toward his cart. "Did you need help with anything else?"
Alice listened without interrupting, silently taking in everything that the little first year said. She smoothed the last corner of the sheet flat and stood back, looking at the bed. Clean. Neat. Something fixed, at least. She found herself appreciating that more than she used to.
“There's no great loss without some small gain.”
She turned that over in her mind, not letting her thoughts show on her face. The thought of someone’s father not being the scum of the earth was almost foreign to her. How it must feel to be able to trust the first people you meet in your life. She couldn't imagine it.
Though, she realized, she hadn’t met Thatcher or Margery first. She had met some 'Sarah' woman she had no recollection of first. It felt odd knowing that the first person she had ever met was a complete stranger and had only been in her life for the first seven months she'd been alive. And then nothing.
“Did you need help with anything else?”
Alice shook her head and provided him with one of her well-practiced fake smiles. “No, that was all. Thank you, Avery.”
She turned away from him, busying herself with a pillow, contemplating the brief conversation she just had with a first year student who had always seemed unrealistically optimistic.
Maybe unrealistic optimism wasn't the worst thing to have.
|
