Of Scarlet Chapter Two

Esther Serone struggled to carry bundles of her daughter's picture in her arms. As she looked at each person's face when they took a leaflet, she willed someone to look her in the eye. But no one did. No one asked her what really happened on the night she last saw Scarlet.

The Maze Estate had been their home for the last three months on Doore, but living here had been enough to separate mother and daughter forever. Esther's house was the first house to the left of the entrance. She could often hear the excited shouts of children as they squeezed themselves through the cramped alleyways between the houses at night. Scarlet used to be one of those children, keeping to the lighted paths as she made her way home at dusk.

It was said that the Maze was modelled on the tunnels and crevices carved out of the rock along the Doore shoreline. There were passageways and dead-ends, crevices leading to tiny houses surrounded by nothing but other walls. It was difficult to keep anything private when windows looked out onto more windows. The only spaces were the paths that led outwards, to the sea.

Esther walked home with her hands empty of leaflets. Her right hand brushed her stomach a few times, but she kept on walking in the direction of home. The upstairs window to Scarlet's room was always open. The night light on the window sill flickered , as if the bulb was about to fizzle out. The possibility of this happening panicked Esther. The light was like a beacon, calling Scarlet home.

Once she had turned the key in the front door and wrenched it open, Esther realised that she was in real pain. Her stomach pulsed with it, her forehead was covered in sweat. Esther raced upstairs, knocking herself sideways on the nearby bannister. She struggled to get to Scarlet's bedroom door without crying out. The walls were so thin, and she tried to make as little noise as possible. In her position on the floor, Esther's right hand rested on her stomach and rubbed a point near her belly button. With an intense disappointment she realised that no one else was in the house. No one had returned while she was out.

There was a picture in a frame that had been put there by Esther, after Scarlet had disappeared. It had been placed on Esther's bedside table, and she could see it from her position in the hall. It was the photograph from the 'missing' leaflet, the one taken on Bonfire night last year. Scarlet was wearing her pink coat. Her hair, so curly it resembled ringlets, was swept up in a ponytail. Those metallic blue eyes were squinting into the camera's flash light, and there was a faint trail of a sparkler behind her in the darkness.

Everything was tied to Scarlet here, from the unicorn rug still curling under itself in her bedroom to the drawings of little children with wild hair pinned to the mirror. When Esther closed her eyes at night she could see her daughter's reflection rippling across the glass of empty shop windows.

Scarlet had disappeared on a Monday morning as Maze Estate children walked to school in packs past the Serone house. Esther followed them until she almost knocked a frightened girl into the road. She took hold of the girl's small shoulders and peered into her face. They were nose to nose before she realised that it wasn't Scarlet she was seeing. You're not her, was all Esther could think. You're not her at all.

When the bell rang in the school yard long straight lines of children stretched out in front of her. Esther waited nervously for a teacher to take her aside whilst the other children laughed and joked. Their eyes registered the state of Esther's clothes and hair. One of them repeatedly asked for Scarlet until Esther remembered covering her mouth. She remembered sitting in the school office while the police were called. She remembered the only picture she could give was the one now framed on her bedside dresser.

That day Esther had made a decision to find Scarlet. She had done everything she possibly could to show the outside world that it wasn't her fault. But guilt is a funny thing when you have it. When you feel guilty you want someone to know the root of your guilt. Esther was crying out for someone to know. She wanted them to ask, why would you do that to your daughter, if you loved her? Why would you do that to her at all?

The pain in her side was subsiding, and Esther was sick of going over the past. She walked over the threshold of her daughter's bedroom and brushed one finger across the pillow. There were a few black spots in the empty space where a head should've been: lice. Scarlet would sit and pick them from her head, squashing them like fruit flies. Dark spots of blood attached to tiny legs began to appear in the pages of her reading books. She was often sent home with a note.

Scarlet's bike had been left to rust in the yard. Post had piled up onto the mat. Handwritten notes were crammed into the letterbox demanding overdue dinner money. Maze estate children whispered they had seen Scarlet, still in the tiny corner house, tied to the staircase. Esther sometimes watched them from her doorway, staring at them as they stared back. It was hard. And now she had something else to cope with. She stood in Scarlet's room, in front of the cracked full length mirror. She lifted her jumper and smoothed one palm over her gently rounded form. By now there would be a face, even nails at the ends of its finger and toes. She expected to feel kicking soon. When that time came Esther knew she couldn't ignore it. She was pregnant again.

*****

Lila's eyes had glazed over. Her head ached, and crackled. “Leave me alone, please.”
“Alright,” Scarlet shrugged. “But I'm not going leave you here forever. Your ornament will still be replaced with mud and sand every few weeks, and he'll still be scratching at your door.”
Scarlet nodded to the glass on Lila's night-stand. “Before I go, please have a drink. I can't and it looks so good.”

The smudged glass had been sitting out for days. Lila's stomach gurgled in response as she held the cup to her lips. It tasted earthy, as if someone had tampered with it. Scarlet seemed to be satisfied with this. She raised the swollen fingers of her right hand and waved enthusiastically at Lila.
Each time Scarlet appeared to Lila there was something different about her appearance. This time there were seams unravelling on her coat, and what looked like chalk along the edges of her skirt. “Why do you change every time I see you?” Lila asked.

“I can't tell you, it's a secret.” Scarlet hid her fingers in the never-ending folds of faded pink cord. Whenever she needed more material it was like a security blanket that expanded with her mood.

“It might help me to find out why you're here, it might give me somewhere to start,” Lila said, knowing that when she had last gone to sleep, there had been no wandering. Scarlet had kept her word.
Scarlet's laughter seemed to gather and swarm like nesting bees. “Neither of us are supposed to be here. It's a mistake, like I said.”
“A mistake?” Lila jumped up from the bed. A grubby, white bra strap poked up above the neckline of her shirt. The spirit stopped. She leant forward, curious of Lila's body.
“There's not much there, not because I can't remember, because I could if you were nicer to me.”

As if proving her readiness to listen Lila moved onto the carpet and played with a chunk of pile. She was careful not to get too close, as there was a thrumming sound separating the air around them. Lila felt the pressure running along her jaw-line.
“I was supposed to come find you.”
“Why?”
“Don't ask me questions like that, you-know-I-don't-know.” Scarlet stuck out her tongue. It's rippling pink was in contrast to her creamy complexion. But inside that mouth was nothing but darkness. Lila didn't want to look too hard.
“This is useless,” Lila said, sighing.
“I need your help. Help me to find my mother to tell her that this wasn't my fault. It isn't useless, it has a purpose.” Scarlet pulled her knees up to her chest and zipped her coat over her head. There was movement from inside the coat. To Lila's alarm Scarlet had plucked out a clump of her eyelashes. She began to wave them through the air at her.

“You've picked the wrong person,” Lila said. “Nobody listens to me. You must've heard what that lady at the door said. I'm a bad omen, if I tried to help you I'd be sent away myself.”
“You don't understand. I thought you did. I thought you had a bit more promise than the rest, but you don't.”
“I do understand. I know something is wrong and you want me to do something about it.” She paused, and then the words came. “Something happened to you, and now you're expecting me to do something and I don't know what to do or if there is anything I can do.”

A single blue eye could be seen from a slit inside the fur lining of the Scarlet's coat. She pushed the hood down, flattening the fur. There was a loose ribbon, the knot unwinding itself deep within the nest of Scarlet's ringlets. It slipped down from around her neck, then re-appeared in her palm.
“This will keep you...”
“I don't wear good luck charms,” Lila interrupted. The ribbon was like nothing Lila could imagine herself wearing. It was translucent grey, and marked with the same colour pen that Scarlet had written in her palm.
Scarlet snatched it back. “It's not a good luck charm! It's mine and I choose to give it.”
The ribbon was placed gently back into Lila's hand. She tied back half of her with it, and for a moment could feel something whirring around her head. “How will this help me?”
“It's a present, it isn't going to help you. You have to do that.”
It wasn't secure. It would slip from her hair the moment she moved her head too much. Objects from Scarlet's world were too fragile to last. Lila knew she would take it out, as soon as she had the chance.
“People don't usually choose me for things,” Lila added, to clarify the situation. She wanted to stay away from anything that would put her at risk.
“Well I've chosen you,” Scarlet said. “That must mean something even if you can't see it yet.”