Autumn of Remembering

Lucy slung her heavy bag, crammed with homework and books, over her shoulder and set off on the winding path home.

The sun shone in its usual way, and the walk home from the station ought to have been pleasant. Yet the air in Hillstream always felt eerie. The village, with its handful of farms, a post office, and a single pub, could have been plucked from anywhere in Scotland.

Yet Hillstream held a secret strangeness.

There’s a secret that everyone knows, the sort of open secret that is only excluded from strangers, people who don’t understand village life. But here’s the truth: unless everyone in Hillstream remembers someone who has died, autumn never comes.

Summer sometimes lingers, unwilling to give way to autumn.

Autumn begins only when every villager’s thoughts turn to the same person.

That person is always someone who has died.

Lucy remembered Mr MacNally, the person from last year. He had blue twinkly eyes and was good fun. Once, when she took her Mum's parcel to the counter, he asked her:

“Why do cows wear bells?” His friendly face looked coy.

“I don’t know?” Lucy replied.

“Because their horns don’t work!” He guffawed with laughter. Lucy laughed, more at Mr MacNally's reaction than the joke.

Mrs MacNally was sad for a long time after he died. She always had tissues in her hand. Lucy noticed her tears as she posted a parcel for her Mum.

So we made sure to talk about Mr MacNally in our conversations.

Lucy’s Mum began one morning: “Mr MacNally would have loved a sunny morning like this! “It’s a good day for a crazy thing,” he used to say.”

“Yes, do you remember when he went to Blackpool? He came back with that weird shirt with multi-colored stripes.” Lucy laughed at the memory.

Then, autumn arrived. When the leaves fell, Lucy’s dog, Blue, darted after them, tail wagging with delight.  

The farmers were happy when their crops ripened and they could finally harvest.

“It’s a good harvest this year!” Farmer Gregor smiled at Farmer Wallis.

“Aye, it is! And here’s to many more!” Farmer Wallis waved as they passed.

But this year, everything felt different.

Outside the post office, the women huddled together, voices hushed.

“Do you know the person?” Mrs. Stewart whispered to Mrs. Campbell.

“No, I don’t have a clue.” They shook their heads, worried.

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Farmer Wallis and Farmer Gregor wore worried faces at the pub.

“What's happening? When will we harvest?”

Money grew scarce as the endless summer wore on.

Farmer Wallis reached into his pockets, searching for change for his pint. And Farmer Gregor started drinking halves instead of full pints.

School opened; the children had their sweaters and coats tucked into drawers and cupboards. By the end of September, the air was still warm. Lucy and her friends could play outside until the street lights came on, but they couldn’t shake the strange feeling. Something still felt wrong.

Lucy spent her nights tossing and turning, unable to sleep as thoughts of Amy kept coming back.

Memories kept coming into Lucy’s mind. They were memories of her sister, Amy, who was four years older and Lucy’s hero. Lucy always wanted to be with Amy and followed her everywhere. One memory led to the next.

Amy loved her sister.

“Amy! Let’s take the babies to the riding stables!”

“Okay.” Amy sat on the floor with Lucy. She took a doll from her.

Amy looked a little pale that day, and she wasn’t rushing about much. Lucy didn’t notice, caught up in her excitement about the game.

“It’s time for us to go to the stables; the horses need bringing in.”

“Can we just rest a moment?” Amy asked.

“No, Amy, the horses need to be groomed before their tea!”

Amy and Lucy spent hours playing “stables”.

But something terrible happened to the two sisters.

Amy, just twelve years old, died suddenly.

Lucy didn’t speak for months. She didn’t say a word, which frustrated her teacher and her mum. Her friends understood more. Over time, she got better, but she was never the same carefree girl, and Amy’s death stayed with her. The once chatterbox was gone.

Lucy wished someone would talk to her about her sister. It felt like Amy only existed for her. Lucy wandered around the house, holding her doll, always searching for her sister.

Lucy remembered everything clearly, but when she talked to her mum about Amy, her mum denied it all.

“Lucy,” she said, “you’ve made that up. You had an imaginary sister when you were little. You called her your friend, Amy.”

“I remember her!”Lucy shouted at her Mum, her hands in fists, her body rigid.

“I know I remember her.”

No one else would admit what Lucy knew was true, not even her Mum.

After spending hours crying in her room, Lucy decided to do something about it. She picked up her phone and wrote:

1. Ask Mrs. Ben about Amy

2. Visit the Town Hall to check records.

3. Ask the doctor about Amy.

With a plan ready, Lucy felt better and snuggled into bed. She slept deeply.

Morning arrived. Lucy woke up with more purpose and hope than she had experienced before. She wasted no time, washing and getting ready for school.

Mum didn’t say anything about the night before. She just made a cup of tea for them both, as always, and got ready for work. It was like the conversation of the night before hadn't happened.

Lucy attended Abbot High School in town, which meant she had to catch a train. She walked purposefully to the station. Her jacket, which she would need in town, made her arm sticky with sweat in the village. She boarded the train and thought again about her sister. I’ll prove us right, Amy! she promised herself.

At school, during morning break,  Lucy wasted no time. She went straight to Mrs. Ben’s office.

“Mrs. Ben?“

“Come in,” Mrs. Ben sang out.

“Mrs. Ben, did my sister go to this school? Do you have any record of her?” Mrs. Ben looked up, surprised.

“How old is your sister, Lucy? Why don’t you know which school she went to?” she replied.

“My sister died when I was young. She was twelve. She would have been in either year one or two?” Mrs. Ben frowned.

“Let me check, Lucy. Go and have your break and come back at lunchtime.”

Mrs. Ben walked over to the filing cabinet and began flipping through it. Lucy left her to it and ate her apple in the schoolyard. She smiled to herself as she munched her apple. Progress was being made!

The rest of the morning dragged for Lucy just as the first half did. Lunchtime arrived, and she rushed to Mrs. Ben’s office. She peeped through the door.

“Did you find anything, Mrs. Ben?” Her face was a picture of optimism.

Mrs. Ben shook her head. “Nothing at all. I’m sorry, Lucy.”

Lucy felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Okay, thanks, Mrs. Ben,” she said sadly.

Mrs. Ben’s heart broke for Lucy. She wondered what sort of burden the child was so obviously carrying.

Lucy ate her sandwich with her friend Lily.  

She noticed her teacher, Mrs. Trotter, walking by in a tight pencil skirt. She always wore them, unlike the other staff's relaxed clothes.

“She should have been called Mrs. Totter!”

The two girls giggled together.

As Lucy ate and drank, she confided in Lily about her sister and her plans. Lily was intrigued, but  Lucy swore her to secrecy.

“I’ll come with you to the library,” Lily offered, between bites of her biscuit.

“Thanks,” said Lucy. “That’ll be great.”

Afternoon sessions started, and Lucy tried to apply herself. Despite her best efforts, she could only think about proving her memories correct.

As the bell started ringing for the end of school, Lucy grabbed her books and shoved them into her bag, shrugging on her jacket at the same time. “Let’s go!” she thought.

Lily and Lucy made their way to the library in town.  

The librarian, known to the kids as Emily, was putting away returned books.

“How can I help you, Lucy?” she asked.

“I need to look up some records, please. I need to check birth records.”

“Mmm, I think you will need to go to the Town Hall for them. Is this a school project?”

“No.” Lucy didn’t want to say too much. “Can I look at anything about the village, Hillstream?”

“Sure,” Emily replied. “We have copies of the local paper going back about ten years. Which year do you want?”

Lucy thought.

“Can we start about six years ago, please?”

Emily went and sorted the paper files for the girls to look through. The Hillstream Gazette was a monthly paper full of very ordinary news.  

The girls looked through page after page, scanning for anything that would give them a clue.

“Amy!” Lucy saw a picture of a young girl being given a prize. The headline read Hillstream Village Fete Winners. There was just a line: “Student wins a prize awarded by Mayor Tomkins.”

“I recognize her! That’s Amy!” Lucy was thrilled to see some record of her sister.

“It’s a shame there’s no record of her name.” Lily was the voice of reason.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s proof! Now we have something; we can find more!”

The girls continued looking, more carefully this time. Emily came over and asked if they needed any help, seeing their serious faces.

“Have you thought about looking at the school paper? That will have information about kids your age who come from Hillstream. It could add a different perspective to your report.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Lucy didn’t have much hope. “Okay.”

Emily showed her where to look.

Lucy sighed and opened a page.

Hillstream Village Fete again. She held her breath.

Then, it appeared in front of her. The same image as before, but this time underneath it said: “Abbot High School student Amy Turner wins second prize at Hillstream Village Fete for her painting, Our Village.

“Look!” she showed Lily. Lily’s eyes widened. “You are right! Oh my goodness, what a mystery!” She sat back in her chair.

“This is the proof you need.” Lily glanced at her watch.

“I’m going to have to get home,” she said. “I don’t want to get into trouble with Mum and Dad. Will you carry on looking?”

“No, I don’t want Mum to think I’m up to something.” Lucy reluctantly began to put the papers away.

Emily popped over and asked if Lucy would like a photocopy of anything.

“Yes, please. May I have a copy of this photo?” Emily took the paper and made a copy for Lucy.

“Thanks so much!” Lucy felt like hugging her. She put it carefully in her bag and headed home.

As the train rocked its way to her station, Lucy thought carefully about what she was going to do next. She wanted to confront her Mum, show her the picture, and see how Mum would react. Mum must have missed Amy, just like me. So why would she deny that Amy had ever existed? Why would a parent deny a child like that?

Lucy decided not to say anything about the picture. She didn’t want Mum to get wind of her doing research into Amy’s life. It was time to keep things very quiet until she had more proof of Amy.

The train pulled into Hillstream Station, and Lucy took off her jacket. The sun was still warm as she walked home. Passing the village notice board, she saw, in big letters, Village Meeting. It was tomorrow evening! Just the right place to show this evidence and find out what has been going on.

“It doesn’t leave me much time, though,” she muttered to herself.

Mum met Lucy at the station. “How are you?” she asked. “You look a bit weary.”

“Just tired from school. And I have loads of homework.” Lucy realized it would give her an excuse to keep everything under wraps.

Back at the house, Lucy grabbed a cookie and went upstairs. She listened for Mum to start cooking dinner, then snuck the photo out of her bag. As she looked at it, memories came flooding back. Memories of that day at the village fete, Amy so thrilled to win the prize. It was a little medal for an art project Amy had painted.

“Din-ner!” Mum's singsong voice called up the stairs.

Lucy came down and started eating.

“What homework have you got then?” Mum began.

“Oh, English and Maths. Maths is difficult. It’s all about equilibriums.” Lucy replied.

“Rather you than me!” Mum had never been great at mathematics. “I’m proud of you for working so hard at school.”

“Thanks, Mum.” Lucy felt a pang of guilt.

After dinner, Lucy helped Mum clear up and then excused herself to do her homework.

The next morning she got ready for school as usual.

A quiet Lucy met up with Lily that morning.

“You haven’t said anything, have you?”

“About Amy? No.” Lily replied. “I had to tell Mum and Dad about going to the library, but I said it was for a school thing.”

“Ok,” said Lucy.

“We have to keep this a closely guarded secret.” Lily nodded. She promised not to tell anyone.

Lucy went to classes with a light heart. Although she was still nervous about the people who spoke to Mum, she knew she was right, that her memories weren’t wrong. Amy was real. Not an imaginary friend.

After school, Lucy rushed home. Her nerves jangled like bones on a skeleton. But Lucy knew this had to be done.

After dinner, Mum and Lucy walked to the village hall.

It was already full.

Lucy sat in the front row; her mum sat a few rows back.

Mayor Tomkins called the meeting to order, then asked the question on everyone's mind.

Does anyone know why autumn hasn’t arrived?

Lucy stood.

“I have something to say.”

Mayor Tomkins looked at Lucy and blinked. Lucy stood up and made her way to the rostrum.

Mayor Tomkins moved over and gave her the floor.

“I had a sister. Her name was Amy, Amy Turner.”

Faces in the room froze. Mayor Tomkins turned pale.

Mum put her head in her hands. “Not this,” she said, shaking her head sadly.

“I have proof. Look at this!” She held up the photo, then showed it to Mayor Tomkins.

Mum came to the platform, looked at the picture, and read the caption. Tears formed in her eyes, and she sat on Lucy’s vacated chair.

The room fell silent. The thought of texting Lily popped into Lucy's head.

Then, everyone turned as a chair scraped, and Doctor Townsend stood.

“Amy Turner was a young girl who died in my care. She needed a specialist. I referred her. But the old Mayor Tomkins, your father, had different ideas. He said, ‘The village can provide everything the village needs.’ ”

He sat down again.

Mrs. MacNally stood next.

“It’s true. Amy was a sweet girl, but she was sick. She would often come to the post office with her Mum. I watched her get paler and paler.“

The villagers murmured to one another, remembering Amy.

Farmer Gregor stood.

“What if it’s Amy Turner we should all be thinking of, remembering?” he said. “My wife worked in the school; she destroyed all the records of her at old Mayor Tomkins insistence.”

Lucy’s Mum said: “Mayor Tomkins, your father didn’t want to get into trouble. He knew he had done wrong. If a specialist had been brought in, maybe Amy would have lived. But your father had a lot of influence, as you know.”

Mayor Tomkins looked down at his feet, his arms dangling loosely at his sides.

“People would phone me and tell me to forget her. Forget she ever existed. Pretend to Lucy that she was a figment of her imagination. It’s been the hardest thing I have ever done. I am a woman on my own; I work for the people who told me to keep silent.

I’m sorry, Lucy. From the bottom of my heart.” Tears ran down Mum's face as she explained.

Everyone started whispering, talking, looking at each other. The older ones remembered Mayor Tomkins Senior, and they agreed he said that often, about everything staying in the village.

Lucy went down and sat next to her Mum. She leaned against her shoulder and began to cry. The emotion of the last few days wracked her body; Mum put her arms around her, and they cried together. Mourning the loss of Amy, not just through her death but through being unable to grieve her loss.

Mayor Tomkins coughed, and the villagers quietened.

“In view of what has happened tonight, my position as Mayor is untenable. I will be stepping down with immediate effect.”

He stepped off the platform and walked to the door, slipping out.

At this, the villagers stood up too, gathering themselves to leave. Lucy noticed that as they opened the door, the village had become dark.

Lucy got up and went to the door, her picture still in her hand.

She watched as people looked about, putting on jackets and talking about the weather. Near the woodland, a few leaves had fallen, blowing about.

“Lucy,” Mum caught up with her. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t want to be fired. I didn’t want to leave the village. I wanted you to have a secure childhood.”

Lucy said nothing. They kept walking together in silence. Lucy realized that Amy had been ill for a long time. Nothing she could have done would have changed that.

They turned the corner into their road, and Lucy reached out and took her Mum’s hand.

“No more secrets, Mum,” she said.

“No secrets, no lies.” Mum agreed.

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