Young Writers Society

Chapter One

Billington Hall

Amy Billington was the youngest member of the Billington family, the owners of a large estate in Luxleigh, Sussex. She was a plain, unattractive young girl, and her family was well known around the village in which she lived.

Amy’s father, John Billington, despised Amy for an unknown reason, and was hostile and cruel to her. However, Amy’s mother, Mary Billington, loved her daughter, and gave her all the love and affection that she needed. Amy might have grown up rather differently if it wasn’t for her kind-hearted mother, but nevertheless, we must go on.

It was a quiet summer afternoon in Billington Hall. The servants were polishing the furniture and cleaning the windows, and the gardener was mowing the lawn and weeding the flowerbeds.

Amy was in her room, staring out of her clear nursery window onto the crisp green grass. The high walls around the garden were covered in roses, and the fountain looked as though it was spraying stars instead of the clear sparkling water. Suddenly, Amy’s mother called to her from the bedroom nearby.

“Amy, your father and I are going to a garden party now, so Jessica will be looking after you.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Oh, and Rebecca is always in the kitchen, if you need anything. Mrs Brown will be serving dinner in about an hour. Do not be late.”

“Of course not, Mama.” Replied Amy.

Amy was eight years old. She was a very plain child, with straight auburn hair and bright green eyes. She was very imaginative, and had a marvellous memory.

Amy turned around and surveyed her surroundings. It was an ordinary bedroom and nursery, with dull Mother Goose wallpaper and pretty embroidered rugs covering the dark mahogany floor.

When Amy was younger, her father had employed a governess, but when Amy had been taught everything she needed to know, the governess had been dismissed. Amy had liked Miss Graham’s company; the way she always laughed when Amy said something funny, the way she kissed her goodnight, and the way she always left the lamp by Amy’s bed turned on, so that only a tiny beam of light illuminated the room in the dark. Miss Graham had told her all about the fairy folk who watched over little children and made sure that they were happy and had also said that although fairies like the dark; children should always leave their lamps on, so that they could bless the children who were asleep and help the children who could not sleep to go to sleep. Amy had never heard such a magical tale and told it to everyone in the house, all except her father, and her nursery-maid, Jessica.

Jessica was Amy’s ignorant nursery maid. She was sixteen, but still thought herself very grown up, compared to that ‘little sour-faced heiress.’ She was quite lazy, and Amy disliked her, as I have said before. Mrs Brown, the cook, adored Amy, and disliked Jessica as much as Jessica disliked her. But Amy did not mind Jessica’s ignorance, and was content with her own company.

Billington Hall itself was grand, with eight bedrooms, three bathrooms and a large garden. Amy’s favourite room was surprisingly, the attic. In the attic, there was a small window that reminded Amy of a tower window, like in the Sleeping Beauty story that she had read with her governess.

At some of the grand parties that her father held for Christmas, Amy had watched the glass chandelier that hung in the hall with amazement. It was a very wide chandelier, and the glass diamonds hung like icicles as they shimmered with light. Miss Graham, the governess, had always been told to keep Amy well out of the way during these grand affairs, but Amy did not mind, for she was a well-mannered obedient child, and despite her plain looks, was loved by all. She loved to write and draw, and spent many happy hours sketching in the garden under a sunshade and parasol, which she later found out meant ‘for the sun.’ When her mother called her to kiss her goodnight, Amy always found herself looking at a little red notebook which sat on the desk in her father’s smaller and untidy study. It was adjacent to the master bedroom and bathroom, and she longed to have a notebook just like it, for her sketches, but her father never spoke to her nor gave her any affection, so she did not even dare to ask him. She knew that he longed for a son, just as she longed for a little red notebook.

So, it came as no surprise to Amy to find out that her mother was going to have another child, who would be called James if it was a boy, and Mary-May if a girl. The next summer, during the sunny month of June, Mary gave birth to a boy, who was named James. James was a delicate little boy, and John suggested that the nursery be split so that Amy had the smaller room, and James the bigger and brighter room, as of his delicate constitution. Thus, it was done, and Amy had to like it or lump it. She adapted very well to the change, even though the room was very cramped with her dolls house, rocking horse, dolls crib and many other trinkets and treasures.

Miss Graham helped her pupil to arrange everything in a neat and orderly fashion before showing her how to store things away and hang up her clothes. By the time they had finished, the room was clean, neat and tidy. For all their hard work, Mary gave Miss Graham a bonus of five pounds and her daughter a beautiful new dress with a lace bodice, pearly buttons and silks of the finest embroidery, sky-blue with a darker shade for an apron. At the end of the year, just before Christmas, Miss Graham announced that she would be leaving Billington Hall to teach another pupil twenty miles away. Amy wept for hours over her, and Miss Graham formally promised to return before Amy turned twelve. After a jolly Christmas and a formal New Year’s Celebration, Amy was kept away from James and forgotten. The servants never paid any attention to her; they were far too busy looking after Mary and James. Amy was not allowed to see her brother, as her father had asked to see her one day in his study, and he had said:

“James is no concern of yours, and if I ever hear of any mischief, you will be sent away. Is that clear?”

Amy nodded, and was taken back to her room by Jessica, who had been listening outside.

Amy was curious about her brother. She knew that having a male child was very important to her father, and she also knew that he loved James more than her. He had made this quite plain when she had heard him say to one of his friends that:

“James is my heir, he will inherit everything when I die; Amelia should be taught that she has to become a housewife, and look after her future husband, whom I will choose for her. Thomas Hedges’ son would be a good match, he is tough, firm and he will be a soldier. Yes, I think he would be an excellent match, he would discipline her, and give her the care that she requires. Oh, well, plenty of time for that, and other things.” His eyes crossed to an envelope on his desk. “Alison.” He murmured, dreamily, before assuming his ‘master of the house’ position. “Jessica is in charge of the girl.”

However, Jessica had no care for Amy, and Amy hated her, so neither obeyed Mr Billington’s wishes. Amy was never taught any of the things she had been ordered to do, so apart from the occasional darn of clothing, she had no knowledge of household work.

Sometimes, when she felt alone in her room, Amy would sit by the window and gaze out into the distance, where she could see small cottages and the church with its tall steeple and gold weathervane. She wished that she lived in a house where there was love and happiness, unfortunately, apart from the grand house and lots of money, there was nothing for Amy at Billington Hall. It was a dark, loveless place where only misery and sorrow lived. Amy had once heard someone in the village refer to the house as the ‘grim manor’ which seemed true enough.

As the Billingtons’ left the house, Amy poked her head out of the door and saw Jessica coming out of the nursery carrying a large bundle of washing, and then disappear down the stairs.

She loved her little brother, even though she had never seen him, and saw her chance there and then to see him.

She went into James’ little nursery, and crept over to his little crib. He was a very small baby, apparently sleeping quite peacefully. She reached down into the crib and stroked his hand. He did not wake up. Then, the sound of Jessica’s footsteps were heard and Amy rushed out of the room.

Jessica saw Amy rush along the corridor and went into the nursery. She picked James up, but he would not awake. She stomped along the corridor to Amy’s room, threw open the walnut door and ran over to Amy, who bolted across the room to the window, and tried to climb out, but Jessica grabbed her ankle and yanked her back in. Then she seized Amy’s plait and yanked her hard across the room where she threw her onto the bed.

“Now, you tell me, you little wretch, why you’ve killed your brother?!”

Amy stared at her, dumbfounded.

Jessica had little patience and slapped her across the face. Amy clutched her flaming red cheek and fell onto her front, sobbing. Then, just as Jessica turned around to the window, Amy jumped off the bed and rushed to the door, which was locked. Jessica, furious with herself for letting Amy get the better of her, dragged a frustrated and violent Amy back to the bed, where she threw her backwards against the wall! Amy was knocked unconscious, and lapsed into a dreamless sleep. Jessica crept out of the room, locked the door, and went straight to the telephone, where she called the home of Mr and Mrs Hedges, where the garden party was being held. Mr and Mrs Billington arrived fifteen minutes later, looking subdued and anxious.

Jessica broke the news bluntly to her master, who flushed a painful red and shook his fist in Jessica’s face.

“YOU, GIRL! GET UPSTAIRS AND BRING THAT CHILD DOWN HERE IMMEDIATELY!” He bellowed, furiously.

Jessica fled from the parlour, and ran upstairs to fetch Amy, who had recovered from her injury, but still felt in a passionate rage, so Jessica had to fetch Mr March, the gardener, and Samuel, his assistant to force Amy downstairs. She kicked, punched, poked, slapped all the way into the parlour, until John bellowed:

“STOP THAT AT ONCE! GIRL! STOP!” Amy stopped, dropped her legs to the floor, and clasped her chest. It felt so sore, with all her shouting and crying, and her green eyes were filled with tears, which appeared like little pearls, each shiny and perfect.

John let her get up, and then turned on her.

“Do you have anything to say to me?” He demanded, in a soft, but firm voice.

“No.” Amy murmured, staring at the floor.

He gave her a hard slap on the arm.

“Each time you tell a lie I shall hit you, unless you tell me the truth.”

“You have not told her what her charge is.” Muttered another maid.

“Be quiet, Lucille!” Snapped John.

“The charge?” The maid continued, fiercely.

“Lucille! You will be dismissed if you continue to rebel against me!”

Lucille kept quiet after that. As much as she felt that Amy should at least be told what she had done, she did not want to lose her job.

“Now, tell me the truth, girl, or I’ll make you so sore that you won’t be able to move!” Ordered John, pushing Amy into a chair. “Jessica, fetch the belt please, I think it’s time that this girl was taught a lesson.”

Jessica nodded, and left the room.

Amy began to sob, choking her tears and gasping in breath.

“I…I don’t understand.” Amy sobbed.

“Tell me the truth, did you kill your brother?”

“No.” Amy paused, her tear-stained face still red from her fit of rage.

John hit her twice sharply, and Amy crumpled into a heap on the floor. She tried to grab the hem of her mother’s silk floral dress, but John restrained her.

“TELL ME THE TRUTH!” Bellowed John, shaking her ferociously.

“I DID NOT KILL HIM!” Sobbed Amy, trembling with fear and fury. Her fists were clenched, and she looked ready to strike at her father. Her fear drained her face, and she became very pale. Then, staring right into her father’s face, she said:

“I have nothing to feel guilty about.” Then, as John raised his hand again, she sighed, wiped her eyes, and looked at her Grandfather’s urn, which stood above the mantelpiece.