Susanne Gervay - Heroes of the Secret Underground

From the ashes come heroes.

To Verushka and Zoltan,
who always hold my heart.

Banging shakes the foundations of the house.

The professor rises and nods at Mamma to stay in her seat. He signals everyone to be very quiet while he walks towards the front door. The girl, their daughter Verushka, watches as still as alabaster. Her friend, the boy Zoltan, presses his hands to the back of Verushkas chair.

Heavy black boots stamp down the hallway. The ceiling pendants vibrate, flinging broken bronze beams through the sitting room. Four men march inside, wearing uniforms with spider arrows on their arms, guns in their belts.

The Lieutenant holds out his notebook. We are making a record of everything here in this house. He grins. To take away for safe keeping.

The soldiers study the walls filled with paintings of mythical Greek gods, fields of honey and gold, generations of portraits. One soldier picks up the golden candelabra with its seven lamps of wisdom.

No not our candelabra the light Mamma cries.

The professor grabs her hands. Leave it. You must leave it.

Verushka whispers, Shush, Mamma. They may take the candelabra, but they cant take the light. That is always ours.

Mamma leans back in her armchair. Her eyes cloud over as the soldier steals the candelabra. The silence is lead as the Lieutenant continues to write his inventory. He writes the list of all the precious things that make up their home. He threatens, Do not think of hiding anything. Otherwise He points to a soldier. We will be back with a truck. Hell wait at the front door.

The Lieutenant snaps his notebook shut. He looks over at Verushka, with her soft hair tied into a waterfall of white satin ribbons. He walks towards her. The boy leans over Verushkas chair. The Lieutenant laughs. Hey, boy, so youre protecting her?

The Lieutenant bends down so close that his hot, sticky breath clings to Verushka like paste. As he reaches for Verushka, she jerks backwards. The boy jumps in front of her. The Lieutenant shoves him to the floor. He points at her necklace. Give that to me, girl.

Verushka cradles the locket in her hands. I cant. Please, it belongs to my family. Her voice peters out as she watches his mocking smile.

Family? He scoffs. When I say give it to me, you give it.

She holds it tighter.

His slap cracks the air, leaving a glaring handprint across her face. The boy scrambles to her side. Her parents reach out to her. The soldiers raise their guns.

Verushkas eyes become greener than the most precious emeralds. She calls out, The lockets yours. Here. Here. She unclips the rose-gold chain with its robin clasps. Forcing her hands to be still, she holds it out. The locket swings like a noose as she drops it into the Lieutenants hand. He shoves the locket deep into the blackness of his army pocket.

Louie loves summer holidays. She whistles at the scarlet-breasted robins splashing in the fountain. They whistle back. Honey woofs, faithfully padding beside her as they pass grand mansions, tiny terraces and antique shops.

She stops to look at the ancient clocks, antiques and jewellery in Dame Cocos shop window. Theres always something amazing there. Dame Coco waves, and her crystal tiara bobs between her grey curls. Her face crinkles into a smile. Dame Coco has a secret broken heart, which makes Louie love her so much more.

Orange bird-of-paradise plants, with their exotic blue petals, peer through the wrought-iron fences. Louie loves flowers. Suddenly, she shudders. Shes on her way to collect a bouquet from Mrs Tulips Blossoms, Blooms & Buds. Mr Tulip died a long time ago, leaving Mrs Tulip with his name, antique floral jewellery and the florist shop. Mrs Tulip doesnt love flowers.

The cafes are buzzing on the street. Louie waves at her school friends eating cake, while their parents drink coffee. Dogs are tied to railings. Honey springs towards a poodle for a friendly sniff, and Louie pulls her lead. They climb the stone steps, past the pots of creamy pink magnolias and lime-green ferns, into Blossoms, Blooms & Buds.

Good afternoon, Lou-iii-sa. Mrs Tulip peers from between the displays of peace lilies on the counter. Louie flinches. No one calls her Louisa. Not like that, anyway. Ive told you before: tie up your hair or cut it off. That hair is hanging all over your face. Are you a monkey?

Monkey rings through the shop, like spit. I love monkeys. Louie defiantly pushes away her soft brown curls, willing them to bounce back. Can I have the flowers now?

Mrs Tulips jewellery clinks when she hands Louie the bouquet of flowers. Louie spins away, breathing in the sweet scent of the bouquet. It is beautiful, with daffodils and daisies dancing around a perfect red rose. Golden ribbons and transparent tissue twirl in her arms as she glides out of the florist shop, with Honey at her heels.

Mrs Tulip calls out, You be careful with that bouquet, young lady.

Louie ignores her. She doesnt understand why Mrs Tulip hates her. Hates Pa and Grandma too, although she pretends to like them. Louies Pa and Grandma are good customers and buy flowers from her shop. Is that why she pretends? Grandma grows magnolias with the largest hearts. More beautiful than Mrs Tulips magnolias. Is that why she hates them? Mrs Tulip sells peace lilies, for the International Year for the Culture of Peace. Everyone buys her lilies. She pretends she cares about the world. But shes ugly inside.

Louie is relieved as Blossoms, Blooms & Buds disappears around the corner. She looks up at the sky. Snowy-white cockatoos with golden crowns are flying home to the park. Louie treads carefully. There are huge twisted tree roots along this street that make the pathway rough. Some people complain about the trees and cracked paths and the leaves that cover the ground. They want to cut the trees down, but Louie loves them. She hums as she breathes in the scent of the flowers. Music is always in her head.

A Yahoo! booms between the huge trees, making Louie start and stumble. The flowers nearly slip through her fingers as she looks up. Her brother Bert bounds down the street with four-year-old Teddy flying after him.

Grandma needs the flowers for the Manor Room before the guests arrive. Not after, Bert puffs.

Teddy and Honey tussle, until Teddys splashy red hair is enmeshed in Honeys caramel fur. Pulling them apart, Bert swings Teddy onto his back. Louie, are you coming?

Just go. Ill be there in a minute. Go away. Louie straightens the ribbons in her hair when theres a snippy gust. Bert, she protests angrily. But its not Bert. Louie stares at old-fashioned white schoolgirl shoes, with leather ties. She looks up. Its a girl. Her long honey-brown hair sweeps around her face, like camouflage. The girls grey eyes reach into Louies brown eyes. Does the girl know her? Instinctively, Louie presses the flowers against her heart, then cries out as a thorn from the red rose pierces her finger. In slow motion, a droplet of blood moves through the air. Mesmerised, Louie watches it fall to the footpath. She catches her breath at a strange glow at her feet. Lying there, an old rose-gold locket with a rose-gold chain and diamond robin clasps reflects the sunlight.

Louie crouches to study it. Holding it in the palm of her right hand, she looks up for the girl. But the girl has already turned away, tripping between trees and roots. A white shoe has slipped off one of her feet. Louie waves the locket in the air, calling out, Hey, hey. Is this yours?