Sisters and Stabbings

Chapter Eight: Annabelle

“Hello sis!” Amanda cried.
“Hey!” croaked Annabelle. In case you were wondering, Annabelle is Amanda’s 9 year old sister, she has the flu.

“You remember Maisy, don’t you?”
“Hi Annabelle,” I introduced myself, “I’m Maisy, are you feeling ok?”
“Hello” Annabelle repeated twice until I could hear her.
“Sis! Use the notebook! No more talking! You know mum would kill me!”
“Ok.”
“Answer Maisy’s question please.”
Ok sis, I am fine but I wish I could go to the theatre tonight.

“Oh! Why is that, Annabelle? We are dreading it.” I asked.
Because it’s creepy in here at night – especilly arfter the mades have left.
“There’s an ‘a’ in especially, no ‘r’ in after and maids is spelt m-a-i-d-s; but why is it creepy?” Amanda lectured.

I don’t know, but I never feel safe.

Annabelle coughed violently and I subconsciously winced.
Amanda said “Poor you, oh dear, well, you look a lot better; maybe you should go.”
Really?
“Yes, of course,” I continued. “Just play along that we are...”
“...sick” Amanda finished.
Ok, can I ask you something?
“Of course, sis.”
Be careful, won’t you?
“Yes,” I lied.
“Why ever would you ask me that? This is our house!”
I don’t know, I just know that you are imporetant, sorry – important.
“Ah,” I said.
“Thanks sis.”

“Girls! All three of you – living room now, please!” Mrs Adley called.
“Coming,” Amanda yelled, before turning to help her sister up.
As we walked up the stairs, Annabelle croaked and then said: “Could you get my notebook,
please?”
“Of course, I’ll meet you in there.” I said, running back in.
“Thanks Maisy!” Amanda shouted back.

***

In the room there were five beds, each laid neatly with a bedside table, and then there was Annabelle’s. It had dolls from top to bottom, the duvet was strewn across the floor, the lamp on the bedside table was covered in a pink sheet so it let off a pink glow – and the only thing neatly placed was the notebook.
I picked it up, placed it on the next bed and pushed the bed together with another to make
Annabelle a double bed. I then made the duvet sit neatly, arranged the dolls – and left, with the notebook in hand.

***

As I walked towards the living room I saw the cats running across the landing. Misty tripped me and I was flat on my stomach by the time Lucy the maid walked through with tea.

“Oh dear!” she cried. “Are you ok, Maisy?”
“I- I well my arm hurts, but I should be fine.”
“Oh, Don’t move, I’ll get the nurse and she can check. Amanda!”

“What?” Came that pleasant Amanda voice.
“Maisy fell down the stairs of the infirmary. I’m getting the nurse.”
“Wo Sen!” Amanda cried. “Are you ok? What took you so long?”
“I was making the bed in order to look like Annabelle was able to do things, so she could go.”
“That’s sweet!” Amanda giggled.
“Well now at least I can’t go.” I said, looking at my arm.
“Oh my gosh!” Amanda screamed.
“What? It’s only bruised.”
“Hello, I’m Belle,” the nurse said.
“Hello Belle, this is Maisy and obviously you know me because you’re my nurse.”
“Yes, thank you Amanda.”

***

After ten minutes of me lying on the floor Belle said: “Can you stand, please.”
“Of course.”
“Ok, let me see. Well, this is a pity,” she began. “I suppose you are lucky it is only a wrist sprain I believe, but no theatre for you tonight.”

“Oh!” I said, trying to sound disappointed.
“What is it?” Amanda asked coming back into the landing with some ice for me. Really, how sweet.
“A wrist sprain,” Belle answered solemnly.