i. The Gathering

In Marigold Haven, Nell is entangled in an ancient ritual grappling with an unyielding force, delving into the timeless obsession that distorts morality, uncover the seeds of love and legacy.

Five more then me.

Nell Brown stood in her Nana’s cloak and veil, the damp sand freezing her toes, her nervous breaths counterpoint to the the drum’s dizzying rhythm.

The blonde girls of Marigold Haven dubbed the "Goldies", formed a loose line in front of a huge fire that popped and spat glowing debris high into the moonless September night.

The five girls before Nell were approached by the village elders, de-robed and sent off in nothing but their white veils to circle the fire, clapping and stamping their feet in a dance with the drum.   

Great. Nell didn’t know she was supposed to be naked under the robe. 

She’d snuck onto the back of the Marigold line as it trudged over the dark dunes from the village and down to the fire at the the waters edge, unable to believe for a starry second everyone in Marigold could keep a secret about an annual ritual.

She fidgeted in line, digging at the robe to unhook her knickers from bony hips and sending them to the floor, carefully stepping out of her underwear, using her numb toes to push the discarded cloth deep into the sand. Nell didn’t wear a bra, there was no point. Just then a taller girl, to Nell’s right, looked down at Nell’s feet.

“Bloody freezing.” Nell said. Swapping her weight from side to side and brushing over the hole with sand. 

Deep breath’s, deep breath’s.

The girl looked back to the approaching dignitaries.

Growing up in Marigold Haven, Nell’s world revolved around the Ember Cove. She’d spent all her 12 summers in this one place. After her mum drown in the bay, dad had insisted she have therapy; all the rage in the modern world. Like all the able bodied men of Marigold, he was a bearded fisherman, away most of the year, back for a couple weeks before heading out again. 

That meant a train trip to the city with Nana, who disapproved with tuts at the dirt and chaos of the towns. She wore black felt driving gloves the whole time and preferred to stand rather than sit at the therapist's office.

“Well that was a waste of your father’s money,” she said dragging Nell back the station. “Why on earth would you take advise from a fat woman.” 

And that was that.

Mum was dead the year before, the world was broken and we weren’t to speak of it. Her pictures came down, tucked away in a shoe box "under the sowing machine at the back of Nana’s closet where Nell had found the itchy white robe she was now standing in.

The veil kept her identity a secret from the thirty or so women gathered on the beach, but Nell never expected she'd have to join in with the ritual. Usually, ceremonies were simple; stand, bow, collect your certificate, and be on your way. But tonight was different, out of the ordinary. Something felt amiss in this place; behind the smiles of Marigold sat a scathing jury silently judging that Nell had been oblivious of until after her mum's disappearance, but once you've sensed it, there's no turning back. Nell told herself her mum was just missing because saying dead aloud was so final.

The flaming heat combined with the heavy cloak greased Nell’s lower back with sweat. She wanted to remove the costume but it’s long sleeves and dragging bottom were the only place to hide, the thing had fused to her. It smelled homely around the collar, not of Nana’s perfume but something soft. She sniffed the fabric over and over as if she were a reptile that could taste the air.

Nell’s friend, Sarah, was here somewhere, hidden beneath her own veil or dancing naked around the fire like a savage. That was how Nell found out about the gathering. 

How much Sarah had changed in a year, but not so much she could keep a secret. Only last summer they’d been so close but a cold fog had blown across life, it wasn’t just Sarah, everyone’s eyes swayed with pity for Nell; pity was so painful.

By autumn Sarah was a no longer a girl but mother-natured had transformed into a new species. It wasn’t just the way she looked; all swollen chest and clenched waist. It was the way she talked about things, or more accurately didn’t talk about things.

They used to walk around the cove, arm in arm, a lazy salute at any lone magpie, for good luck. Their own silly ritual.

  ‘Morning Mr Magpie, how’s the wife and family.’ 

Chirping back an imaginary answer then they’d chase him up the lane flapping their arms and laughing. But last time, Nell had set off with her arms going Sarah hung back, smiling at Nell like a parent pretending to be impress by finger painting.

“Come on! He’s getting away.”

“I’m not really dressed for all that, and in these shoes? Let’s just go back.”

Those shoes were the thin end of a wedge.  “I love how you stick to what feels comfortable, Nell. It’s cute.” 

Cute? Who wanted to be cute. Puppy’s were cute, friends were supposed to be loyal and fierce and…friendly.

That night, Nell hunted for old pictures of her mum, wishing for more than a date written on the back. She longed for a survival manual or a coded message from the past assuring her everything would be alright. Yet, all it revealed was: Marigold, Sept '81.

Maria Hadley, from the village shop, donned a shiny new cloak of deep emerald with a hood rather than a veil. She tried to walk slowly but her weight pressed forward on her toes, lifting her heels from the sand, as if desperate for the toilet. She was Beaming at Nell, revealing in her short-lived ascendency.

“And you have bled?” She asked, sounding out each word.

Nell hid her lie with a convincing nod, eyes down.

“Then it is my honour, as host of my first gathering, to welcome you. It will soon be your time to join our number.” She said it enthusiastically. “From this day, hence forth…” That made Nell cringe, Maria wasn’t much older than Sarah. “You are a woman of Marigold-Haven.” She continued but only after a dramatic pause. “Your voice carries one vote in all matters, and a living will be provided for you. You are bound by your word and oath. Do you give yourself freely?”

Nell said she did.

“Speak up. Do you understand what this means? You’re a child no more.”

Nell pulled her shoulders square, resisting the urge to call Maria a jumped-up till girl. Instead, she raised her chin to speak clearly, finding it challenging to stay still as her robe was pulled free. Instinctively, she pressed her arms to her chest, covering her tiny bee stings. Biting down hard on her indignity, her mothers voice trying to convince her; she’s was as good as anyone else.

The September equinox was a grand celebration in the village: The harvest feast. Bunting adorned the buildings, and tables on the village green were laden with cakes, pastries, and wine�"village wine. Nell refrained from touching the stuff for obvious reasons, although the girls approaching the turn were encouraged to drink heartily. Nell wasn't there for wine; she wanted answers.

*

Her mum died this time last year. 

Something happened, she was a good swimmer, turning her face in the water turning every other stroke for a disciplined breath. There was no way she’d drown and she didn’t even like wine, the coroners report was a weird gibberish. 

It had taken Nell many frustrating weeks to decipher the coroner’s account. She’d starting off almost by accident, just looking up the word Asphyxiation in the dictionary, but that soon prickled her mind, forcing her further into the report, line by line sometimes word by word. She hated feeling stupid, it was infuriating at first but slowly, it started to make sense until she’d uncovered every last word.

Evidence of pulmonary edema, indicating fluid accumulation in the lungs.

That meant her mums lungs had filled with water�"why didn’t they say that?

Signs of aspiration, suggestive of inhalation of fluid into the respiratory system.

…..she breathed the water in.

Presence of hypoxia in lung tissues, indicating inadequate oxygen supply

… there wasn't enough air in her mums body to survive.

Indications of respiratory distress, potentially exacerbated by alcohol intoxication.

Her mum choked and it was made worse by drinking alcohol. 

But mum didn’t drink, she was a health nut.

   Observations of alveolar damage, reflecting potential complications related to drowning.

The coroner saw Damage in the small air sacs of the lungs, linked to drowning.

Asphyxiation due to submersion in water., Contributing Factors, Secondary complications. Cardiopulmonary arrest resulting from near-drowning.

It was like discovering an accent language, lost to civilisation.

Autopsy Results: 

so her mother body was defiantly examined.

   Post-mortem examination reveals signs consistent with drowning

   No evidence of external trauma contributing to the cause of death.

Time of Death: estimated to coincide with the incident of submersion.

But her mum could swam way past the boay that marked the narrow channel protecting the cove. It didn’t make sense.

The day of her funeral the entire village massed in the church yard, the ground covered was with the village name sake, on their second bloom of the year. As the coffin was lowered into the ground there was grateful applause. Nell had never been to a funeral before it was wrong to clap but there was nothing much right with that day. Nell’s Nana didn’t seem upset, but it was so hard to tell with that generation. Everyone past cards of condolences and handed us envelops full of cash. So much cash. 

After Maria Hadley there came another two slender figures to inspect Nell, observing her like a market sow; the veil masking her discomfort. Without her cloak the fire was turning Nell’s skin to Sunday crackling.

The first of the two women was Mrs. Storer, late forties, wrapped in a ginger cloak. She was the policeman’s second wife, a good deal younger than he, residing on the outskirts of Marigold at the old gatehouse on the main road where Nell and Sarah had chased the magpie. She didn’t speak, not wanting to steal thunder from the enthusiastic younger women; she simply smiled and moved on.

The next wraithlike figure wore faded black. She was much older, moving slowly. The hem of her cloak was stained with tide marks from many gatherings. A gloved hand reached for Nell, lifting her eyes to meet the phantom's gaze.

“Shh! Don’t embarrass me here.” The stoic gaze of an older generation, her voice laced with that grumbling tone of impatience, made Nell shiver. Only a comet impact could melt that glacier.

“Nana?”

The hooded wraith nodded, picking up Nell’s white robe. 

“It was your mothers. I’ll keep it until after. hurry, join the others “we’ll talk soon.”

Nell breath was snatched away, her spaghetti legs almost gave out. Reaching for the robe, it suddenly endowed with significance, she wanted it back more than anything, to press it’s fabric into her face to recover the scent of her mum. Nell kicked herself for not recognising the smell sooner, it wasn’t a homely smell, it was home. 

Just one year and her mum was already fading away.

“Go!” Her Nana shoved her hard towards the fire, towards the slowly turning circle of naked veiled girls who were singing, old shanty’s.

Oh we’d we all right, if the wind was in our sails.

The Haunting melody coerced Nell to link arms with the other girls; only they weren’t really girls, they were young woman.

The beat intensified, shrieks through wagging tongues like tribal hunters, clapping and whooping. Then the singing stopped abruptly and a low hum began, gradually climbing in pitch and volume like a football match. 

As the circle whirled at a dizzying speed, Nell was stretched like a speeding ice skater on the outer edge of a long line.

Frantic dancing. 

Hot breath steamed in the cool air as Nell was dragged, faster and faster, around the fire until the climbing tension reached an unknown apex and the cry’s came from the elders.

“Sails! Sails!” 

The girls broke rank, sprinting from the warmth of the fire, their feet kicking up sand as they ran in dizzy zig-zagged, stumbling a moonless path to the cold ocean. Nell followed, possessed by new madness that overpowered her fear of the water. Laughing maniacally until She fell hard into the shallows, grunting as her face hit the cold slab of earth hidden beneath the waves. Nell emerged, spitting a mouthful of fishy phlegm, and thumbing the grit from her teeth.

The foaming wake stripped away reason with its biting salty claws. All the girls had to be fully submerged, if only for a second. Then, and only then, they could return to the fire, thumping youthful heels retracing the zigzags back to their robes. Back to the closeness of the blinding fire and the elders who smiled and waved triumphantly, even Nell’s Nana managed smirk with something like pride that didn’t suit her stern face.

With the drums silent, the bay was left to doze, it’s mighty arms wrapped around the quay a handful of small boat rubbing against one another. Shivering bodies huddled by the dying fire, Nell stood off to one side In her mothers robe. She turned her nose to the cloth inhaling deeply and almost wept as her mother face flooded into her mind; smiling, close and scrunched up, smoothing Nell with Eskimo kisses before pulling the duvet over them both, hidden from the world.

That’s when a new sound jumped from the darkness like a predator, the metal grating of a boat dropping anchor.

“It not possible.” Maria said spinning to the ocean then looking back at the others women. “It too soon.”

“Oh No!” They swooped around Nell’s Nana in disbelief. Hands pressed to their mouths. “Oh my god!” 

“Nana, what’s going on?” Nell could see the blinking red light on the tip of a large mast somewhere out in the ashy black.

Nell’s Nana, so proud moments before, slumped to her knees, chopped off at the spine. A long forlorn cry of anguish chased itself round the bay. She slapped the sand in a flood of emotion that Nell had never seen before, terrifyingly exposed as if some blade had gouged open her heart, the kind of outpouring Nell had expected a year ago at the grave side.

“I’m so sorry, Nell.” It was Sarah her veil gone. “Your mum.”

Old news. Nell lips curled with disgusted confusion.

The other girls were around her, hugging Nell as if she just found out he mum was dead. This was all a year too late and Nell held he hands out to ward them off.

Before she could work out what was going on the bay lit up with painful white light that burned your eyes. The Misty glare thrown high into the sky extinguishing the stars, over-exposing the whole bay. A magnificent yacht had somehow navigated through the narrows under the cover of night.

Nell wasn't sure who spoke but the words came quickly, hurried, with a brutalising truth. 

“If the boats returned again so soon, it means the last one chosen has died.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Nell said she was looking around but no one met her gaze.

Then a broken voice dragged its body upright, it was Nell’s Nana.

“She didn’t drown Nell, she was chosen.”

“No! You’re lying…chosen for…? I saw the report...the coroners�"” 

“It doesn’t matter now.” Nana had regained herself as her grief was all let out in that one scream and the only thing left was a bow-wave of anger. 

“Did you know?” Nell spun to Sarah who eyes were glassy, reflecting the fire.

  “Did you all know?” Nell was spinning again, but this time alone.

“We were under oath.” Maria said. “I know it’s hard to"

“To hell with your oaths.”

Nell’s nana was trying to console her but Nell was lost and too overwhelmed to understand.

Then came the biting confusion of an impact that sent Nell crashing to her kneels. Her Nana stood over her pointing and vicious.

“Dam you for you father weakness, this isn’t about you. Stupid little girl.” She hissing like an alley.

“You gave your word, and I mean to hold you to it. Get on you feet, you spoiled little b***h, and join the gathering. Before we’re all condemned.”

Nell was beside herself she’d never been hit before much less across the face, she could feel the defiance building.

“I’m not going to…” 

Another huge thwack sent Nell back down to the sand. Her face a fiery mess. Blinking over and over until the ringing stopped and the world came back into focus.

Sarah turned as Nell looked around for help; none came.

Her Nana was fixing to give her another, Nell could let by her white eyes. She held up her hands in surrender and was pulled to her feet and frog marched to the line of prospects.

The mothers and elders retreating to the soft dunes.

“Stay in line.” The elders shouted.

*

Author's Note

Be brutal…

Reviews

[Secretpoet]

Minor adjustments in pacing and clarity in certain sections could enhance the overall impact of the story. Otherwise, it a strong piece of literature