Secrets and Flies

Yvie stepped out of the house into the fragrant darkness of the Portuguese night. The air hummed with life and she paused outside the shack to listen to crickets singing in the weeds that clustered about the shack where she slept.

It was a beautiful, clear night and Yvie reminded herself how lucky she was, despite her aching limbs. Almost a week had passed since she’d arrived at the farm in Torres Novas, amazed at the acres of undulating land scarred with twisted fig and olive trees stretching in all directions beneath a flawless blue sky. The beaming heat was a welcome hug that banished all thoughts of the dreary English weather she’d left behind.
Julia’s welcome hadn’t been quite so warm.

“You’re younger than I expected,” she announced. “This isn’t a holiday camp.”
“I know that, and I’m willing to do my share of the work,” Yvie said.
“Good, because the top field needs clearing. If you start tomorrow at daybreak you should get it done by the end of the week.”
“The advert said I would be a farm assistant. Who will I be assisting?”
“Normally Kev and John, but they have to revise, they have exams coming up,” Julia said, nodding to her sons who were playing cards in the corner of the room.

Something about their long sinuous bodes and quick movements reminded Yvie of the yellow centipede she’d seen scuttle into a crack in the kitchen wall. They flashed the gleaming cards onto the table with a sound like a multitude of limbs pattering by.

“And Val’s more of a hindrance than a help!” Julia added, rolling her eyes, laughing as her only daughter looked up sleepily from the magazine she was flicking through, crammed with glossy photographs of women in beautiful dresses.
Yvie winced, hoping Val was as dull-witted as she seemed and unaware of Julia’s mockery.

Julia and Edmund had moved to Portugal eleven years earlier, bringing their children with them. Val was just a toddler when they left England, but somehow seemed to belong less to  Portugal’s sun- seared landscapes than the others. Her open friendliness and unquestioning acceptance of Yvie’s homesickness were a comfort to Yvie. If her elegant elder brothers were centipedes, she was clearly some kind of larvae, but so sweet-natured that her bland face seemed to grow more pleasant the better Yvie came to know her. Either that or the thirteen-year-old was about to blossom into the dragonfly her mother resembled in the photo that hung in the hall, dressed in a vivid emerald-green dress for some party years before.

Yvie wasn’t sure whether such a metamorphosis would make Julia warm to her daughter at last, or whether jealousy would simply add new venom to her attacks.
Calm, moth-like Edmund with his floppy grey hair and fluttery movements was the only person capable of dispersing Julia’s rages. More often than not they were directed at Yvie, for not working hard enough, or quick enough, or for just being too quiet. It seemed to unnerve Julia to have someone around who didn’t voice every thought.

When Julia exploded, Yvie would see the kids surreptitiously back away, leaving her to their mother’s wrath. Only Edmund was brave enough to approach, moving with the care an entomologist would engage advancing on a newly discovered insect species. A firm hand laid gently on the back on Julia’s broad neck was all it took to divert her attention, followed by a string of soothing words and a look brimming with love.

It was late and Yvie was tired of slapping away mosquitoes. She braced herself to go inside, to face the panicked scattering of lizards and beetles that would greet her as she entered. Gazing at the moon one last time, she drew in a deep breath and opened the door of the shack.
*
At four-thirty the sun was still high overhead, but Yvie didn’t care as she left the half-cleared field and headed back towards the farmhouse. She would have got on better if she hadn’t been so tired. Something had been skittering around in the rafters all night long without pause, some health-conscious lizard with an infuriating passion for step-aerobics. Despite that, she’d been working hard alone since dawn, and the happy shrieks and splashes of Julia and Edmund rising from the pool did nothing to improve her spirits.

Val, who had been loitering outside the pool gate watching a chain of ants march by, grinned as she saw Yvie approach and followed her back to the shack.

“You look knackered,” she commented.
“I am,” Yvie said, smiling at the girl lumbering beside her. “I’ve not had much sleep, Val. Something’s been dancing around the rafters after dark. Want to help me find out what?”

Val nodded, and helped Yvie climb onto the bedside table, holding it steady as Yvie reached up, sliding her fingers between the boards. Nothing held them in place other than gravity, and she edged one aside until she could fit her hand, then her arm, into the musty space above the bed. Poking her head through the gap, Yvie peered into the shadows and saw something dart towards the perimeter of the ceiling, tail flickering out of sight as she shifted her head.

“Wait,” she called, “I just want to talk to you.”
“What was it?” Val called, and the bedside table wobbled precariously as she gazed up at Yvie, who shrugged in reply. Turning slightly, Yvie saw a small, rusted tin box balanced on a narrow rafter. Curious, she lifted it back down into the room with her and prized open the lid with a nail file.
Inside were letters, and a single photograph of a young man with a crooked, embarrassed smile, a flicker of emerald-green infringing on the edge of the picture.

“Who’s that?” Val asked, peering over her shoulder curiously.
The letters were dated the summer fourteen years previously. Leafing through them, Yvie realised she was reading love notes from the young man, Geoffrey, to Julia. She was about to pass them to Val when a single line caught her eye: I need to know, are you going to keep the baby?
*
Yvie had been working in the field for two and a half hours when Julia emerged, armed with a hoe. She didn’t look happy, and Yvie was sorry not to see Edmund following.

“If you’d done a full day yesterday, I wouldn’t have to be up here today,” Julia said, swatting at the fog of flies that buzzed around them.
Yvie didn’t say anything, rolling the idea of the tin box around in her mind thoughtfully.
“Come on, put some effort into it,” Julia attacked the undergrowth savagely, “You’re half my age – you should have twice my energy.”

Yvie considered pointing she’d done half a morning’s work already, but bit it back, watching Julia struggle with the unruly weeds. She reminded Yvie of the beetle that been crawling on her bedroom wall when she woke three hours earlier; all stocky body and little stick-like legs.

“No wonder you didn’t get anywhere yesterday if that’s how slowly you work!” Julia wiped the sweat from her forehead and glared at Yvie. “What on earth are you daydreaming about?”
“I was just picturing Geoffrey. The photo only showed me he didn’t like being photographed,” Yvie watched the colour drain from Julia’s face. “What was he like? Must have been special for you to risk your relationship with Edmund for him.”
“How? Where…?” Julia flustered.
“The tin box,” Yvie said softly, swiping at a weed half-heartedly. “I didn’t mean to find it, but there it was, hidden in the rafters. Guess you’d forgotten it was there. Does Edmund know?”
“Of course not, and he’s not to find out, do you hear?”  Julia exploded, taking a step towards Yvie and gripping the hoe so tightly her fingers turned white.
Yvie stood her ground, fighting her urge to run. “And Val doesn’t know? What about Geoffrey?”
“I never told him I kept her,” Julia’s shoulders sagged and her anger seemed to evaporate. “He wanted me to get rid of her. I couldn’t do it though.”
“And Geoffrey never found out?”
“I ran away,” Julia said, smiling ruefully. “Edmund and I had already discussed leaving England, so I pushed him into letting us pack up and go. We didn’t even have anywhere to live when we first arrived, just all this land and a camper van for the five of us to squash into every night.”
“But why keep the letters? What if Edmund finds them, or someone else like me?”
“I don’t know,” Julia sighed, avoiding Yvie’s eyes, “I think I just wanted reminding that someone else once found me attractive.”

Yvie nodded, flushed suddenly with understanding. “Don’t worry, I won’t destroy your family. As you well know, I can hold my tongue.”
“Right,” Julia looked at her hard, resentment flashing in her eyes. “And what exactly do you want in return?”
“There is one small thing you could do for me,” Yvie said with a smile. “When you moved here, did you happen to bring that gorgeous dress?”
*
While Edmund and the boys played another endless game of cards, Julia led Val and Yvie upstairs.
“What are we doing?” Val asked, sprawling on her parents’ bed.

“Just wait,” Yvie said, watching as Julia rooted through the wardrobe, pushing aside Edmund’s shirts and her own voluminous skirts. A flicker of dragonfly green caught Yvie’s eye, and then Julia had it in her arms, an emerald silk dress woven through with iridescent blue.
“Try it on,” Julia said, shoving it towards Val.
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Yvie smiled into at the girl’s incredulous face.
Val wriggled out of her t-shirt and shorts, revealing underwear worn to a dusty grey and body that was just beginning to develop its womanly curves. Julia looked away from her daughter’s flesh as Val stroked the silken folds of fabric.
“Help me?” she asked Yvie, “I don’t want to tear it.”

She stood like a child, arms raised trustingly above her head as Yvie picked up the dress and pulled it over her head, down her body, feeding each hand into the narrow sleeves. Finally she drew the long snake of the zip closed and stood back. Val gazed down at herself.

“What do you think? How do I look?”
Yvie stared at the girl and realised she’d been right before, Val was on the brink of transforming, of metamorphosing from a grub to a dragonfly.
But it was Julia who spoke, beaming at her daughter without a trace of anger or jealously.

“Val,” she said, “You look beautiful.”

Smiling to herself, Yvie left them to it and wandered out of the farmhouse. Feeling the sun warm on her back, she paused for a moment, stretching her arms out wide and wondered what it would feel like to take flight; a dragonfly if only for a moment.

Judy Darley is a freelance writer and editor based in Bristol. She has been published by a broad range of travel and lifestyle magzines, including Spanish Homes Magazine where she was Features Editor until August 2008. She now divides her time between writing fiction and features. She is the founder and editor of EssentialWriters.com, a website for writers.