How Far the World Will Bend Read online

  How Far the World Will Bend

  By Nancy Klein

  Text copyright @ 2014 Nancy V. Klein

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover art copyright @ 2014 Judy Worrall

  For Trudy, who said, “You should.”

  For Lori, who said, “Please do.”

  And for Bob, who said, “Why not?”

  (Special thanks to Judy Worrall for the beautiful cover)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1. Queen Alice

  Chapter 2. Down the Rabbit Hole

  Chapter 3. Pig and Pepper

  Chapter 4. Looking Glass House

  Chapter 5. A Caucus Race and a Long Tale

  Chapter 6. A Mad Tea Party

  Chapter 7. The Mock Turtle’s Story

  Chapter 8. The Lobster Quadrille

  Chapter 9. Shaking

  Chapter 10. Humpty Dumpty

  Chapter 11. The Lion and the Unicorn

  Chapter 12. The Garden of Live Flowers

  Chapter 13. The Pool of Tears

  Chapter 14. Who Stole the Tarts?

  Chapter 15. Alice’s Evidence

  Chapter 16. Advice from a Caterpillar

  Chapter 17. The Queen’s Croquet Ground

  Chapter 18. Wool and Water

  Chapter 19. Tweedledee and Tweedledum

  Chapter 20. The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill

  Chapter 21. Looking Glass Insects

  Chapter 22. It’s My Own Invention

  Chapter 23. Which Dreamed It?

  Chapter 24. Waking

  Chapter 25. Wonderland

  Chapter 26. Changing Direction in Mid-Air

  Chapter 27. Threading the Needle’s Eye

  Epilogue: A Crinkle in Time

  Come away, come away, death,

  And in sad cypress let me be laid;

  Fly away, fly away breath;

  I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

  My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,

  O, prepare it!

  My part of death, no one so true

  Did share it.

  Not a flower, not a flower sweet

  On my black coffin let there be strown;

  Not a friend, not a friend greet

  My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:

  A thousand thousand sighs to save,

  Lay me, O, where

  Sad true lover never find my grave,

  To weep there!

  --Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare

  Chapter 1. Queen Alice

  London, 1920

  “Meg, is that you?” The anxious voice echoed down the hallway, reaching the young woman who had entered the front door. Meg sighed, and placed her handbag and gloves on the side table near the entrance.

  “Yes, Aunt Lily, it’s me,” she replied in a clear, soft voice. She removed her hat and checked her appearance in the hall mirror, smoothing down the wisps of soft auburn hair that had escaped from the braid down her back. Her cheeks were pink from the brisk November wind and her blue eyes were brightened from the exercise of walking. She straightened her uniform and moved toward the stairs.

  Her aunt called down again. “Mother has been waiting for you—she would like you to pack her valise.”

  Meg sighed again. It had been a long day at the hospital, and now she had to pack Grandmother Armstrong’s valise. Meg longed for a few moments by herself, away from the bustle of the hospital or the busy come and go of the boarding house her aunt managed. That was obviously not going to happen today. Still, she did not mind packing for Grandmother Armstrong, or Gran as she called her. Best to do it now, Meg thought with resolution, and headed up the staircase.

  It was often difficult living in a home with people who were not your flesh and blood, Meg thought yet again. Margaret Armstrong, known as Meg to her adoptive family, had lived with the Armstrong family since her sixth birthday. During the sixteen years she had been with them, Aunt Lily had reminded her many times of the generosity and hard work that enabled Meg to continue living in this comfortable row home on the outskirts of London. It did not seem to matter that Meg worked, first as a nurse in the wards during the Great War and now at hospital, and contributed a portion of her earnings to the household income. She suspected she was often viewed by Aunt Lily as one less room available to let.

  Not that Aunt Lily treated her unkindly. She had always loved and cared for Meg, who had attended the same schools that Lily’s daughter, Amelia, attended. Meg had taken piano lessons with Amelia, had shared the same drawing instructor, and had the same number of dresses made for her, spring and fall. Meg suspected that Lily was so completely overworked and tired that she had little energy left to lavish affection on any family member. Widowed at a young age, Lily had opened her home to boarders to help pay the family’s bills. She was a plump, pretty woman who ran her boarding house with a high degree of precision and attention to every detail that left her little time to care for herself, let alone her family.

  Meg strove to remember this situation whenever her aunt was irritable or tired, and she attempted to help out in whatever way she could at the boarding house. She would play the piano and sing for boarders on the musical evenings arranged by Aunt Lily. She collected Mrs. Rawlings’ medications from the pharmacist, and read to Mr. Abernathy, whose vision was waning. Meg also checked on the health of the elderly boarders, ensuring that they took their medications on schedule and ate properly. She was well thought of by all, and Lily appreciated her efforts in her own singular way.

  Lily met Meg at the top of the stairs. “Mother has spoken of nothing but this journey the entire day. She is so happy at the thought of returning to her home town.” Her aunt fluttered her hands in a distracted gesture. “Thank you for agreeing to go with her, Meg.”

  “I am very happy to accompany her.” Indeed, Meg had long desired to see the manufacturing town in the North that was so dear to the older woman. Several weeks ago, Gran had expressed a strong desire to see the place of her birth once more before she died. Lily had opposed the trip at first; she worried that her mother was too frail to endure a train ride and the ensuing excitement. However, Gran was adamant that she wanted to go, and had insisted that Meg accompany her. She was quite attached to the young girl, and informed Lily that she would take Meg or no one. Lily eventually acquiesced, secretly relieved that neither she nor Amelia would be required to travel to the destitute little town that her mother loved so well. It was enough that Meg would watch over Gran, and that she and her daughter would not be inconvenienced by having to travel.

  Seeing the anxious look on her aunt’s face, Meg clasped Lily’s hand. “I will take good care of her, I promise you.”

  Lily patted her hand affectionately. “I know you will. You have always loved her as if she were your own grandmother.”

  As Lily hastened downstairs to prepare the evening meal, Meg stepped into the spacious bedroom and smiled at the petite woman seated in a wing chair near a large window overlooking the street.

  “Are you ready for our big adventure, Gran?”

  Gran put down her cup of tea and returned Meg’s smile. “I am ready to leave now, if you can arrange to whisk us away.”

  Meg laughed. Gran was a spry woman for her age, with a keen intellect and zest for life. Unlike her no-nonsense daughter, she took an avid interest in everything Meg did, and loved to listen to Meg’s stories about her work in the hospital or involvement in the burgeoning women’s suffrage and Peace and Prosperity movements. Meg loved Gran with all her heart, and regarded her as her savior. After all, it was Gran who had rescued her from the orphanage by adopting her.

  Stepping into the cozy, bright room, Meg saw that Gran’s well-worn valise was perched on
the end of the bed. “What would you like me to pack?”

  Gran shrugged. “Since we are staying two nights, I don’t think I will need much. Why don’t you select clothes for me?”

  Meg went through Gran’s closet and dresser drawers with efficient haste, selecting what she thought the older woman would need for two days and nights—undergarments and nightgown, toiletries, a warm robe and slippers, shirtwaists and peplums and other garments deemed necessary to outfit a fashionable women in comfort. The small bag was packed in a matter of minutes, and Gran heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Now I truly know that we will go tomorrow. Until my bag is packed, I always believe something might occur to prevent my departure. Seeing that bag reassures me that we are about to venture forth on our adventure.”

  Meg sat down on the corner of the neatly made bed. “What is it you wish to see in your hometown? From what I understand, it is largely deserted.”

  A wistful look crossed Gran’s features. “That is true. After the demand for cotton dwindled, most of the mills closed. But in my day, it was a bustling place. It seemed to me that every inhabitant was involved in manufacturing cotton cloth. All of my friends and acquaintances worked in the mills. I was the only one in my family who chose not to—I found other means of earning a wage.”

  Gran paused and sighed, lost in her memories. “My father loved our town. He would never hear of moving elsewhere, even during the strikes when jobs were scarce—”

  She broke off, and Meg looked at her inquiringly. At that moment, the dinner bell sounded, and Gran waved her hand dismissively. “I will tell you the entire story tomorrow. For now, let us go eat.”

  Meg rose from the bed and stretched out her hands to help the older woman from her chair.

  Gran clasped her hands, but rather than rising, she pulled Meg down to her. Gazing at the young woman with gratitude, Gran said, “I am so happy that you are going with me. I have ghosts that I must lay to rest. Having you with me will be such a comfort.”

  Meg cocked her head to one side and raised an expressive eyebrow in inquiry, but Gran merely smiled mysteriously and shook her head. “I will tell you soon enough, but for now let us join the others.” She stood and linked her arm about Meg’s waist, and the two women proceeded downstairs to the dining room.

  As she packed her own bag later that evening, Meg thought of the trip with rising excitement. When Meg was a young girl, Gran had told her stories about her childhood and how her family had worked in the cotton mills. Life had been unbearably difficult at times, Gran had said; still, it was her birthplace and she often reminisced about her friends and the fun they would make from nothing.

  Gran had worked in different industries as a young woman, and had plied many different trades. Meg loved to hear her stories, but the one that fascinated her most concerned the disappearance of a young woman of gentle birth whose family had relocated from a village in the south of England. The day after the family’s arrival, the young woman had left her home for the shops and had vanished. She was not seen or heard of again, and her body was never found. The girl’s mother and father died within a year or two of her disappearance, and it was assumed by the town folk that their grief had hastened their deaths.

  As a young girl, Meg shivered with ghoulish delight whenever she heard this story; she would invent fantastic tales concerning where the young woman had gone—perhaps she had run off to the Orient like Lady Hester Stanhope, or, like Alice, a character in Meg’s favorite story, had gone through a looking glass into a magical world of white rabbits, smoking caterpillars, and croquet-playing cards. Gran would smile at the girl’s fanciful ideas and shake her head. Nothing was ever known, so nothing could ever be resolved.

  Meg had never told Gran, but she had experienced frequent dreams of life in a mill town. Her dreams were filled with smoky skies and factories spewing soot, the clatter of machinery, and the sounds of men shouting and feet stamping.

  Her most frequent dream centered upon a tall, authoritative man. He appeared in different places, but most often she dreamed of him hurling invectives at some unknown entity. Meg sensed danger, and often awoke with a start to find she was standing next to her bed, having started up to do she knew not what. She believed that Gran’s home town might hold the clue to her dreams, and fervently hoped that her visit would resolve the mystery and slake her curiosity

  Once she completed her packing, Meg prepared for bed. As she undressed and did her nightly ablutions, she thought once more about her good fortune to be adopted by the Armstrong family. She had been so grateful for their love and care that she had done everything within her power to prove she was worthy of the affection and trust that her new family bestowed upon her.

  While at school, Meg had earned high marks and, at sixteen years of age, entered a nursing program at a local hospital. It proved to be a felicitous decision, as war was breaking out across Europe and the young men of England were enlisting, fighting, and returning home injured, maimed, or worse. Meg had worked at night in a private mansion that had been converted into a nursing ward while attending classes at the hospital during the day.

  She was clever and intuitive, practically knowing what a doctor wanted before being asked. Her light touch with dressings and cleansing of wounds made her popular among the patients. Any number of besotted young soldiers had impulsively asked for her hand in marriage, but she only smiled and stroked their cheek in consolation. She was content to flirt with the men, but had no intention of engaging in a serious relationship. Happily, her heart was her own. She had no time or inclination for romance; she planned to strike out on her own and make her mark upon the world.

  She dreamed of becoming a doctor, so that she might establish a clinic to serve the poorer classes of London. She recognized that becoming a doctor would be an uphill battle; the men of the world resented women intruding on their sacred brotherhood. However, her mind was quite made up. She had gone so far as to discuss the possibility of attending medical school with the chief surgeon at the hospital. While he had not been overly enthusiastic about her desire, warning her that she would have a difficult time given that men occupied the rank and file of the medical profession, he had not discouraged her; in fact, he thought that she showed great promise, and he pledged to support her in her quest. Buoyed by his counsel and support, Meg completed the initial paperwork required for acceptance into the medical training program. She fell asleep that night with hopeful thought that perhaps her life was about to unfold as she had always dreamed it might.

  In the morning, Gran and Meg arose before dawn and ate an hearty breakfast of porridge, egg and sausage, and toast. Lily served them while she fussed and fretted about all the details of the trip—were they certain they knew where their hotel was located? Did they have enough money? What would Meg do if Gran became tired or did not wish to walk about Milton? Meg answered all of her aunt’s questions to her satisfaction before announcing that it was time for them to depart.

  As the travelers donned their coats and prepared to leave for the train station, Lily had gathered both of Meg’s hands in her own. “I rely on you to take care of Mother. She forgets how frail she is, and will exhaust herself if you do not watch her carefully.”

  “I know—I promise she will not come to any harm.”

  Lily kissed Meg’s cheek with careless affection, hugged her mother, and waved them out the door and into the hired carriage.

  At the train station, Meg purchased their roundtrip tickets and took care that their baggage was stowed safely aboard the train. She settled Gran into one of the few empty train compartments, and wrapped several shawls about her legs to protect her against the chilly November draughts. She placed the basket containing the luncheon that Lily had prepared for them on the floor next to Gran’s feet, and settled herself on the opposite seat, smoothing the navy skirts of her stylish travelling suit.

  Within moments, the train pulled away from the station; they were on their way to Milton. Excited at the thought of
traveling somewhere new, Meg hugged herself with glee. She was ecstatic at the thought of an adventure, and two days away from the cares and concerns of the hospital and boarding house.

  Gran smiled in sympathy at her young companion’s excitement. “You cannot possibly be more excited than I am. I must confess, however, that I did not sleep well last night. I must be journey proud, I guess.” Gran smiled apologetically at Meg. “Would you mind if I closed my eyes and tried to sleep? I believe the rocking of the train might help me to nod off.”

  Meg assured Gran she had no objection, and helped the older woman find a more comfortable position so that she might sleep. Comfortably ensconced across the seat, Gran closed her eyes, leaving Meg to gaze out the window at the passing scenery and let her mind wander. She wondered what Aunt Lily and Amelia were doing this morning, and what was going on at the hospital. She thought about becoming a doctor and all of the hurdles she would face in her training. Most of all, she thought once more about her great good luck in being adopted by Gran; all of the blessings she had experienced throughout her life seemed to blossom from that one lucky event.

  Gran had met Meg at the orphanage while taking tea with her friend, who happened to be matron. When she met Meg by chance in the hallway, she had asked to visit with her, and decided to bring Meg home as a foster child. Before that time, Meg had held little hope of being fostered, as so many families had met and rejected her. She was left on the steps of the orphanage as a baby, just like a changeling in a fairy story. But it was no charmed life to be left in such a manner. Most of the people looking for children wanted to know something about the child’s background or history. Since nothing was known about Meg’s history, no scrap of cloth pinned to her blanket or memento tucked into her basket, adoptive families had shied away from her—until Gran arrived.

  When Gran had beckoned Meg into the parlor of the orphanage, she had pulled the young girl close and placed gentle hands on either side of her face to examine her features. After several moments’ perusal, Gran had turned to Matron and suggested that she take the girl home as a foster child. If Meg dealt well with her family and wanted to live with Gran, she would consider adopting Meg. When Meg later asked Gran why she had been chosen, Gran had replied that she did not know; she just had a feeling that Meg was the right child for her family.