A Rose Lay on the Cold Stone Step – Keith Steventon-Green - short story

A Rose Lay on the Cold Stone Step – Keith Steventon-Green

 

 

There had been a light dusting of snow overnight, nothing severe, just enough to turn even the most drab and dreary of places into an area of sparkling diamante. There had been a full moon, as the moon was being replaced by the weak summer sun the back door to that led from the service area was opened by Hannah. Hannah had opened this door for more years than she could remember from when as a young girl her mother had dragged her screaming up the big drive to be placed into service, Hannah was of age and as a girl had nothing to offer her starving family and Hannah’s mouth was just another mouth to feed from a food supply that was never enough. As she opened the door, she looked down. She knew it would be there. A single rose, the thorns removed so as not to prick her aged arthritic fingers. She bent down to pick the rose and as she did a single tear slid down her face and dropped into the glistening snow disappearing forever. Hannah slowly stood, her back like the old service door creaking with years of age and work. Her mind as it had done every year on this day went back to her Frank, for he had been her Frank if only for one summer all those years ago. Frank, the son of the head gardener, his bright lightly freckled face, his eyes always dancing with fire in them, his face was full of laughter of under that unruly mop of the brightest copper red you had ever seen. Yes, Frank had been hers, she had snuck out to see him, spent hours cradled in his arms as he talked of their future, of running away and being free to be what they wanted to be, not what others expected them to be. They had walked for hours in the grounds and forests. Planning and laughing, oh so much laughing. She knew it was wrong, but she gave herself to him, not as a girl but as a woman. Then it all went wrong, she got caught, her belly began to grow, she kept it hidden for the whole term under aprons and cloaks, then one night in a damp dirty coal house her boy was born. She wrapped him up and took the silent little bundle to the rectory and left him on the step, she was too young to know what to do or even if he was alive. She dragged herself away from the rectory and went back to her bed and cried for hours. The next day was like any other day. Fires to lay, breakfast to serve, silver to polish. No one noticed her pain or even cared. The only difference was, Frank was gone. She heard the family talk of a baby being found and that a family had been found for the poor mite, Hannah cried silent tears and got about her work.

 

 Keith Steventon-Green