Ben had attempted to catch Lisette alone but to no avail. It seemed to him that he just wasn't meant to discover Florence's secret.
Ben was really down to his last straw. This secret keeping game Florence was playing was like a wound that wouldn't heal. When it seemed to finally be closing up, the top was painfully ripped off again. Repeat. All the disappearing without explanation. All her distracted thoughts and her absence from conversations. All the silences and unmet gazes. His feeling of discontent couldn't be cured no matter what happened and it was rubbing his nerves in the wrong way.
Day by day, Florence could tell that Ben was growing more restless. She hoped it was just boredom, but in her heart, she knew it wasn't. It was because of her secret. He knew she was concealing something from him, something big. She couldn't ask him how much he knew, that would just confirm there was a secret. But on the other hand, she couldn't keep telling Ben that nothing was happening, that would kill him. Florence was stuck, unsure what to do or say.
So she said nothing.
Words are the greatest weapon. Sometimes silence works too.
*
It was a crisp day and the sky was naked. Space was unveiled and the earth's secrets were cloaked no longer. Florence realised something.
A war was coming.
Fast.
More and more refugees were arriving in her small town.
Each one had come with a dream.
A safer life for themselves and their families.
It was getting worse out there and it scared her. Politicians were becoming more and more confusing for Florence, she didn't understand their ideals and decisions. They were just a cluster of gloved decision makers with selfish choices. A few of the houses and shops in town were changing too. Big black Swastikas were painted in some windows, photos and paintings of the German Führer put up in others. Most of the refugees and townsfolk made an effort to avoid these buildings, Florence's family included.
An unconscious tension was building, unnoticed at first, emerging gradually. Some children didn't play together anymore, forbidden by their parents. People would walk by ignoring even the closest of friends if their politics differed. There was always an impatient and dirty glance heading your way.
No one understood much, except that something bad would emerge soon.
War.
Florence was too busy tied up in her own little world to notice much. Her opinions were almost entirely shaped on her family's opinions, no room to realise the situation of others.
She would spare next to no thought for anything except Ben, Lisette and frescreets. She went with Ben and Lisette in the sunlight hours and snuck out at night to visit the tribe, guided by moonlight.
As far as Ben was concerned, German politics were irrelevant to him. Why should he care when he had his own country to worry about? He would trudge around the town, fed up with the heavy air.
Lisette was fully aware of the dangerous times they were living in, having lived with a constant fear and worry for part of her life. Despite being the youngest of the three, her head was screwed on the straightest. She knew about the Nazis, she knew about Communists and Jews, yet despite all of that, she was still she still didn't agree with any of it. Why was there such conflict?
But above all, Lisette worried about her family.
Could they pay the rent?
Would they have dinner?
Are they safe?
Ben was preoccupied with the nearing start to his working days. There was also Florence, always sitting right in the middle of his mind.
How he longed for Florence's trust.
How he longed for her to confide in him.
How he longed to share this secret with her and take some of that deadly weight off her sagging shoulders.
Florence wasn't living up to her title of 'purine'. Sometimes Rafael would remind her; 'Factis non verbis.' She could say that she was being a good protector. She could say that she was doing everything she could. She could say that she had helped them with all there was to help with. But was she? It was her responsibility to be the tribe's messenger, guarder and hider. Right then, her ignorance towards the growing tension and the refugees was not doing wonders for the safety of the frescreets.
As Florence and Ben sat, sprawled out on the grass lost in thought, she promised herself this;
'From now on, I will be committed. I will be responsible. I will not be ignorant. I will be a purine and look after these frescreet's as if their lives depend on it, because in reality, their lives do depend on it.'
Open books with invisible letters
26th August 1938
*
As you may very well know,
on the same day of every year,
we are marked as having lived yet another year.
Another 365 days have passed since we took our first breath.
Happy Birthday.
Some of us celebrate with presents and cake,
surrounded by loving and smiling family and friends.
Many of us get nothing at all.
Florence Mele was one of the lucky ones.
*
Florence may not have received beautiful presents, wrapped in ribbon and piled high or a birthday cake with sixteen candles on it, one for each of her years. Nor did she have a birthday party with all her friends and family. But her day was just as enjoyable, without all of those luxuries.
It went a bit like this.
It was a gloomy morning, loaded clouds cloaking the sun and a sluggish kind of air, the kind that's hard to breathe. All through the town, frowns had formed upon people's brows, as if it would shield them from the cold. There was no frown upon Florence's brow. Quite the opposite.
Down in the kitchen, the whole Mele family was fidgeting restlessly, awaiting the birthday girl.
She arrived wearing her goofiest grin.
The little house, blanketed by the miserable foggy day, was alive with joy. Beautiful and bright smiles were painted upon every face.
Songs were sung and games were played.
*
I would love to say nobody thought of the food they were missing,
melting on their tongues,
resting in their bellies.
But that would be lying.
No amount of games could cease the never ending hunger.
It was better just to ignore those thoughts.
*
The day ended rather ordinarily for Florence. A few extra smiles here and there, but ordinary just the same. After having spent most of the day stuck inside, trapped with her classmates, Florence was more than ready to seek out her best friend.
An afternoon spent wandering aimlessly with him was all that she needed. All that she needed to realise three things.
Ben was suspicious.
Ben was on the verge of learning her secret.
Ben actually wanted to go back to school.
But Florence had noticed another thing. Ben was concealing something from her.
Something deep down.
Something heartfelt.
Something uncomfortably large.
She couldn't tell what it was, but it was there. Over the many years of their friendship, Florence had seen thousands of Ben's emotions. She had thought that she'd seen them all. This, however, was a new one.
She saw it in the way he had looked at her, his dark eyes searching through her's.
In the way he held himself, self-conscious, unsure and a little awkward.
In the way he talked, gently with handsome care.
She saw it, but refused to accept it.
It didn't seem right to her.
*
I personally have no idea how Florence didn't see it.
But his feelings were like an open book that day.
Available for all to read.
Yet,
not for Florence,
who saw only what she wanted to see.
Those open pages were empty to
her.
Full of invisible letters.
*
The suicidal world
9 November 1938
That first day back at school came and went, passing by just like any other day. Daily routines picked up again and life fell back into its steady rhythm. Lisette began school again, the new girl, the oddity. Finally, she realised how lucky it was that she had studied German in Orléans. She didn't stick out like a sore thumb, more like an uneven fingernail.
As always, she remained quiet, listening in silence, swallowing her questions.
As always, she became the centre of attention.
Despite her burning cheeks and flaming ears, she had always enjoyed being followed, questioned and looked up to. People had admired her social status in France, in Switzerland they all admired her difference. Her accent, her family, her seeking refuge in their country.
It was all most exciting. It was all most worrying.
The ringing of the school bell would be the beacon in Lisette's uncomfortable days. Ben and Florence would be there at the day's end and their unchanging loyalty would ease her insecurities and loneliness.
Florence returned to the Oberstufenschule, reluctant as ever. No matter how intelligent she was or how well she did in her lessons, she could never enjoy school without Ben. It just felt wrong.
No matter how much she tried, she simply didn't fit in with all the other girls. They were too giggly. Too gossipy. Too boring. They spent their breaks, gathered around the rickety wooden benches, watching the boys wrestle and play with a ball. They made stupid shrill laughs whenever they looked their way. Florence caught herself grimacing on many occasions.
After a while she couldn’t take it anymore so Florence left, bored stiff.
Instead, she spent her breaks hiding, having found shady spots under secluded trees. Whenever someone came near, she would dart up the tree trunk. It seemed Greta had taught Florence some instinctive habits. At times, she forgot that she was human too. It sounds stupid but all that hiding had gone to her head, she felt like something completely different, like a frescreet hiding from barbarians.
If she really wanted to, she could talk to Greta. But without Ben, nothing had seemed the same. It was like trying to eat a cake without sugar. Since she had no one to talk to, she found herself thinking. Overthinking. With no one to interrupt her thoughts, she often lost track of everything, even forgetting where she was. Lisette and Florence wouldn't see each other much during those hours, their age difference being too great. No one sat with her. No one even spoke to her. Florence was left alone to her overworking brain.
Without her best friend, Florence was alone.
Ben had begun working during the daytime. He was Herr Salzwedel's latest assistant.
*
Herr Salzwedel went through many assistants,
all having resigned after a month or two.
*
Why of all people, did Ben decide to work for that sour lemon? He would resign soon, too, crazed and worn down. He spent his working hours running around after the man, doing his dirty work and other jobs that the man was too lazy to do himself. Herr Salzwedel was the richest man in the town. He owned a big house with a view. Everyone despised him. He stayed away, slinking around in the shadows, but he somehow managed to play a part in every fight. The man lived for a good debate, stopping at no lengths to win every time. Despite his great sum of money, he payed Ben despicably poorly. Each day he would walk home, only a few meagre coins clinking in his pocket.
In his secluded and lonely hours spent in the mansion, he was subjected to his uninterrupted thoughts. He had hours of silence to endure in his thoughts, left alone by Herr Salzwedel. Just like Florence.
He thought about his family.
Just like Florence.
He thought about Lisette.
Just like Florence.
He thought about his town.
Just like Florence.
He thought about his canton.
Just like Florence.
He thought about his country.
Just like Florence.
But as usual, his thoughts drifted to Florence.
Unlike Florence.
Each day he spent alone, he worried more and more. His anxiety often riddled his thoughts, confusing him. This new uncertainty unsettled him.
Ben was scared of his feelings. In his hours of solitary thinking he became uncertain of his friendship with Florence. After all these years, had he grown to love her a bit too much?
*
Now I know what you're thinking,
'how can you love someone too much?'
Let me tell you,
most of you won't ever need to worry about it.
But for those of you who will,
being caught in the heartbreaking act of loving one too much is a delicate matter.
Friendships meant to stay 'un-lovey' have to stay like that,
'un-lovey'.
Stay or pay.
It's as simply complicated as that.
Don't get it?
You're not alone.
Most people don't.
*
On this day, millions of Czechoslovakians welcomed new leaders, many of them unwillingly.
It was a place of speeches. A place of change. A place of unsettled politics.
Yet life in Switzerland continued, somewhat more anxiously, but this was an era of terror. Fear was inevitable.
The tribe was in more danger every day. With each visit from Florence, their anxiety grew. Every so often she would bring an update from the outside world. These occasions only inspired fear. In the past, battles and conflict hadn't unsettled even the weakest of frescreets. Their domain had been larger, less questioned. But now, they worried. The times had changed, they had had contact with a human for the first time and their forest was shrinking. But most of all, there was a world war on the way. It was only a matter of time before the bullets flew and the bombs fell and the people would come running.
*
Lisette and Florence walked up the mountain road, the path that Florence had walked with Ben for so many years. They talked like sisters, their bond strengthening by day.
They diverged, Lisette turning left and Florence turning right. Lisette jogged the rest of the way home, eager to get out of the chilly November air.
Inside their little shack of a house, there was a surprise waiting for her on the table. She saw it as soon as she stepped inside. Rushing forward, she snatched it up, scanning her eyes over it hastily. There on the front page of the newspaper was the headline;
HITLER TAKES SUDETENLAND
Her shoulders slumped forward, dismayed. Every step taken toward the arms of war was a blow to her. Did the world really want to kill itself?
A distant onlooker
10th December 1938
With each passing day, Ben grew more and more desperately curious. He needed to share Flory's secret. Yet, as a best friend, he knew he should respect her privacy.
But, unfortunately, he couldn't.
This secret was killing him, he had to find it out.
*
You may notice the numerous times,
that Ben longed for Florence's secret.
Believe me,
I know.
So does Ben.
despite how tired of thinking about it he was,
he still longed to know it.
There were many things controlling Ben.
But none more than this secret.
*
Florence's visits to the frescreets had become more and more frequent in those past few months. With the war in sight, there was no shortage of news to convey. Since she was spending more and more time in the forest, she had less and less time to spend with Ben. She barely saw him at all.
Not during the day, she was at school.
Not during the afternoons, she was working.
Not during the nights, she was in the forest.
The o
nly time she had to see Ben was in the early mornings or late in the afternoon. Their friendship was becoming distant, despite their neighbourly homes.
Winter was whispered on the wind, its arrival nearing. The days grew shorter, the night reigned. Less street wandering was done, more coats and hats were worn.
Christmas was approaching and so was the first snow. With each of Florence's visits to the forest, there were less and less frescreets who would come out to greet her. They were huddled inside, their fires unlit till dusk. Only the most fidgety of children remained outside despite their tiny legs knocking and shivering with the cold.
Having known Rafael for just about six months, Florence was getting on well with him. He would often bring her their favourite beverage, tea of berries and dried flowers from the forest, and they would talk over their steaming cups well into the night. Despite their growing trust, Florence would often sense something strange about Rafael. Sometimes when they sat near the entrance to the village, he would stare at her. His glassy eyes would drill right into her's. It seemed absurd, but it appeared to Florence that Rafael was pulling her to pieces. Weighing up all her attributes, all inside his ancient head. It wouldn't normally have been so odd, she was a completely separate species after all, but there was something in the way his eyes never moved. No emotions. They would sit for an hour each time, at least, lost in thought and, occasionally, conversation.
Florence liked to gaze out over the clearing and imagine the quiet lives of each frescreet. What secrets had this tribe to share? What went on without human eyes upon them? She liked to imagine what went on behind the flimsy doors of each home. She imagined a small room, dark and cosy. There would be a family in the centre huddling for warmth, their porcelain-like skin covered by blankets. They would go to sleep like this, side by side, sharing dreams and nightmares alike. She imagined their homes only had one or two rooms. Their real home was outside, the rest of the clearing. Houses were just a roof, some walls and a floor. Nothing special. Most frescreets never moved homes, these things just weren't important to them.