Scary Stories - Twist in the Tale Series

Ella

Ella had been deadfor six months now. Nonetheless, she was still constantly inEdgar's thoughts. How could he forget the woman he had spentforty years of his life with?

He had always liked these times best. Winter evenings seated ateither side of the fire in companionable silence; he in hiscomfortable old armchair, and Ella at the other side in hers, therest of the world locked behind drawn curtains, the cracklingfire and the ticking clock the only sounds to break the quiet.After so much time they had said all they needed to say to eachother. Togetherness was what they had and all they needed.Togetherness and the contentment of two people who knew all therewas to know about the other.

Edgar settled back and gazed across at Ella's chair. Heremembered the first day they had met as if it were yesterday. Amutual friend had introduced them in the old Riverside dancehall, long since demolished. They might well have been the onlytwo people on the floor for all the notice they took of anyoneelse from that moment. Edgar had thought her the most beautifulwoman in the world and had never changed his opinion since.

How they had danced! Not the modern stuff they danced these days,but close, wrapped in each other's arms. They'd fitted togetherlike gloves. The friend had left them to it, and they hadremained glued together until the dance hall closed. He'd walkedher home then, holding hands and both chatting animatedly aboutall their hopes and dreams. She lived with her parents then andhe'd had to leave her at the doorstep, but not before he kissedher for the first time.

The kiss lasted forever. So it seemed, anyway. But it must haveended at some time because he found himself halfway to his ownhome walking on a cloud. It was difficult to sleep much thatnight, thinking of her. Ella told him after it had been the samefor her.

Edgar leaned forward and prodded the fire with the poker, theflames sending dancing reflections across the walls reminding himagain of that long-ago dance hall. He did not know if they fellin love that first night or the next, when they went dancingagain, or the night after, when they just went walking. But hedid know there had never been anyone else for him since.

They had married quite quickly; some said too quickly, that itwould never last. It had been a struggle at first - neither ofthem earned very much, so they always seemed to be scrimping -and the doubters nodded to each other. Somehow though they'dscraped through the first couple of years and proved the doubterswrong.

The first big stumbling block came when they discovered theycouldn't have children. Ella especially wanted a child; Edgartoo, would have loved a son to carry his name, but it wasn't tobe. Ella's depression upon learning the news that it wassomething inside her that precluded them from ever havingoffspring was deep and long lasting. She blamed herself and wassure Edgar must hate her, no matter how much he reassured her tothe contrary.

It was a difficult time and would have torn many other couplesapart, but they came out the other side of it stronger and evenmore close together. From then it was just the two of them. Ifthey had been inseparable before, now it would have taken acrowbar to split them.

Edgar looked wistfully across at Ella's place, the fire warm onhis face. Soon be time for bed, he thought, I'll just have a fewmore minutes. They had been such happy years. They had doneeverything together. The dancing had continued, and the walkingand talking. Then, when they'd been able to afford it, they hadbought the cottage and set about transforming it into their ownlittle Eden.

It had been what they had both always dreamed of: a place in thecountry with roses round the door. A cliché, he knew, but,still, it was what they wanted. The cottage had been rundown andneglected when they'd first moved in but they hadn't seen thedisrepair; only its potential. It took much hard work, and muchmore scrimping and saving, but in a little over a year they hadtheir dream.

It had been so perfect. Long summer days spent pottering in thegarden: he with his vegetable patch, Ella with her belovedflowers. Warm evenings sitting out until long after dark talkingand laughing, the scents of the garden heavy in the air, nightsounds the only disturbance. And of course wintertime, hisfavourite time, Ella's too. They were isolated where they were,and they seemed to have drifted away from their friends andrelations anyway. It didn't matter. Sometimes they hardly sawanother soul for months. They didn't care. It merely meant theycould devote more time to each other.

Snug by the fire, talking about the day just gone or others longgone, or just sitting quiet and happy, content. Somehow winternights seemed to be the closest times. Perhaps it was becausethere were no distractions from other people or unfinished tasksthat had to be completed.

So the years went by. Happy years. What did it matter that theysaw no one anymore? They had their cosy little nest and theirnever-lessening love for each other.

The fire was getting low, too late to stoke it up now. Anotherprod with the poker put some life back into it; he really oughtto be making a move though, it was almost midnight.

It was hard to say when it started; Ella had always been frail.That was one of the things he loved about her: her daintiness.But the poor dear had always been susceptible to any stray bugthat was going round. The slightest chill could so easily turninto flu and she would be laid up for weeks. That was why hepreferred they avoid other people and their germs.

The onset was slow and gradual, hardly perceptible at first. Theodd breakage was put down to a sudden clumsiness, the occasionalshiver to an unseasonable drop in temperature. Ella was naturallypale, so her loss of colour was unnoticeable to begin with. Eventhe steady drop in weight wasn't too obvious at first, Ella beingso slim and petite.

Over time though and, looking back, Edgar realised it must havebeen several months, the decline in his wife's health became alltoo apparent. The fact that the weight was falling off her at analarming rate was no longer possible to ignore. She trembledconstantly and had no strength, to simply move from one place toanother exhausted her. She was tired all the time and slept theday away. Edgar didn't know what to do.

He supposed he should have seen a doctor. At first he'd thoughtit passing thing, one of those unaccountable illnesses that cameand went. She'd get up one morning and be her old chirpy selfagain. As the days, then the weeks went by and she slowly becameworse it was clear that wasn't going to be the case. Somethingterrible was wrong with Ella. It broke his heart to see her soill.

Ella had always shared Edgar's dislike and distrust of doctors -one of the many things they had in common. They poked and proddedyou, filled you up with pills and potions but didn't really knowwhat they were doing. Whenever Ella had been ill, sadly all toofrequently, he had always nursed her. He had promised on theirwedding day to always take care of her, and he always had. Shehad got better before - surely she would again?

But Ella continued to get worse.

Before too long she was bedridden for most of the day. When shewanted to sit in her favourite chair by the fire Edgar had tocarry her there. It was all she could do to give him one of herbeautiful little smiles. Yes, he should have seen a doctor. Butby then he knew that if he had they would have put her inhospital and, once there, he was terrified she would never comeback home. He couldn't let them take her away from him. Besides,Ella hated hospitals.

No, he would take care of her. Just as he had promised.

Edgar did everything for her. Washed her, fed her what little shecould eat, took her to the toilet. She became so light and wastedthat, even though he wasn't as young as he used to be, he couldeasily pick her up and carry her everywhere. He loved lookingafter her, so it was no hardship. No hospital could possibly havetreated her better.
The fire had died to a few softly glowing embers, only the smalllamp on the table dimly lit the room. It was so quiet. Edgarlooked fondly to Ella's chair, now shrouded in shadow.

The end, when it came, was peaceful, almost beautiful. Onemorning he had gone to the bedroom to take her some soup, all shecould manage to keep down by then. She looked at him and her eyeshad some of their old sparkle for the first time in months.Weakly raising her hand as he bent over her she rested it at theback of his head to bring him nearer to her. In words he couldbarely hear she said, "I love you, Edgar,"

Then she was gone.

At the corners of her mouth was a little smile.

All those years together. They couldn't end just like that. Couldthey? What would he do without his Ella? How could he go on withno one to take care of?

He would have to see someone now; get a doctor. Then there wouldbe coroners and undertakers, all sorts of people invading theirquiet little home. They would want to take his Ella away from him.

No! He couldn't - wouldn't - allow it.

Besides, hadn't he promised to always look after her?

The fire had died out completely now and the room was growingchilly. No point in sitting here any longer.

Edgar rose stiffly from his chair, his old bones creaking,crossed to Ella's chair and reached down. "Come on old girl,time for bed," he said softly.

She was hardly any weight at all now; he could lift her easily;not that she'd ever been a burden. Gently and carefully hecarried Ella's body to the bedroom. There, he placed her in herside of the bed and tucked the blankets around her.

After undressing and putting on his pyjamas, heedful not todisturb her, he got into bed beside his wife. Reaching for theswitch, he turned to Ella and said, "Good night darling, seeyou in the morning," and turned off the light.