The Last Philosopher

A stroll into the hanging tree

Like a retreating soldier, Charlie took cover on the porch. Smoothing down the tangles of her brown hair, she peered through the window. She escaped in the nick of time. Earl was about to launch into one of his 'do as I say, not as I do'-lectures. Even so, the familiar sight of his holey socks up on the desk — with the drawer-knobs she'd hand-carved — was a viewing pleasure. In Charlie's mind not much could compete with toes peeking out of socks for that homey touch.

Ambling across the square, she straightened her beige dress as she headed for the ladyship's mansion. The big house was the only one in Stagna that could claim the title. Sure, the courthouse had the rare stone staircase, but the mansion was built all in stone. But with three levels for two people, it was just showing off. It was the tallest building in town. There was even a stone wall surrounding the place. It was just high enough to make people get up on their tippy-toes to glimpse the flower garden beyond. In these parts, any garden that wasn't producing food was a luxury.

Charlie thought the big house must be the grandest building in Agalaland. It outshone the courthouse by far. And the last light church — or old shabby as it was also known — wasn't even a shack by comparison. It'd once been white, but the collections that Reverend Muke took never seemed to make it all the way to upkeep. By the size of his stomach it got caught in his mouth. Even with the little it would take to white-wash over the worst stains.

She walked slow on purpose. It gave her dress a chance dry a bit in the sun. Also, she needed a minute to steel herself before facing the walking bun of tight grey hair. Ms Skvosip never failed to complain, and being late at least gave her a reason. Besides a little resistance was good for Charlie's mental well-being.

Still, she couldn't help but respect the old lady. She was big on style, and the only one she knew who used an honorific. Most of the townsfolk wouldn't know manners from a doorknob. If it wasn't for the high-and-mighty attitude, she could've been someone to look up to. Manners had to be good for something.

With her absent-minded strolling, she almost walked head first into the hanging tree. Usually, she avoided getting too close. The big oak always sent shivers down her spine. Even now, close to midsummer, it was barely green. Like it survived on death alone. The town's history claimed the gnarled, sinister tree had been there before Bern's. On a thick branch, a piece of old rope dangled in the soft wind. Charlie forced herself not to run. Even so, she reached the gate to the mansion faster than intended.

Looking back, she considered that the huge tree would be great for climbing. But no kids ever dared, not even the ones who climbed down wells for fun. Lifting the latch and opening the decorative black-iron gate, she lifted it to avoid the scraping sound. Then she skulked along the flower bed to the backdoor. Before knocking, Charlie stopped and took a deep breath. If Patrick answered she might not have to face Ms Skvosip at all. Pulling the rope to the doorbell, the chime put a little knot in her stomach.

"Patrick! Open the door! That useless girl is late again!" Ms Skvosip had a special tone she reserved for talking to her lessers, which was everyone.

"Yes Madame." Charlie heard his lethargic voice reply.

As the black door opened, Patrick was looking down at her with his patented expressionless stare. There was a large sack by the kitchen table behind him.

"I'll just grab the washin' then and be on mi way?"

"Yes, Ms Skvosip asked me to tell you to do a better job than last week, or she will be docking your pay."

"That's fine." The woman still paid more than anyone else in town. "But hey, Da needs the horse?"

"Yes, as long as you ask first."

"Which I jus' did?"

"Yes."

"So... does tha' mean yes?

"Yes." Patrick handed her the heavy sack and politely shut the door in her face.

As she bent forward, sack across her shoulder, she felt light as a feather. She'd avoided facing the ladyship, and with that the real weight had lifted. She even skipped out of the gate.

"Ya look 'appy for someone carryin' that woman's washin'," Fannie shouted from Bern's porch.

"Hey Fannie, can't stop and chat, she went easy on mi today. So, I figured I'd try ta finish quick."

"Okay hun, but if'in it takes too long, ya go ahead and dump it in the river, I need 'elp with the grub!"

Passing behind Maguire's ale-house and out of earshot, Charlie missed that last part. The blond woman was her best friend and surrogate mother. Fannie was almost twenty years her senior, but in a small town you couldn't pick and choose who you liked.

Updated: 23.10.2023