Stella was born in 1920 in an old house built at least 30 years earlier. At Stella’s birth her name was different. A bible was used to select her name and when Cynthia found her on the doorstep of the house just a few days after her birth there was copy of the bible with the book mark and the word Glory underlined and the name written underneath in pencil ‘Gloria May.’ A letter of introduction with a confession that Gloria was conceived out of wedlock, something that was frowned upon – although no fault of the child. She was a bonny baby.
Cynthia was not going to place this find with the authorities, but would bring up the baby herself. It would be no life for the little one in the poor house. The letter also explained that the doorstep of the house would be her home and must be kept in good order until Gloria came of age. In the basket where Gloria was nestled was another envelope marked “KEYS” with an address. Included were baby clothes of different sizes and colours. Whoever had given up on facing the stigma of being chastised had not fallen short on lavishing the baby with the best that one could buy, although some of the clothing was unfamiliar with Mrs. Spring whose husband had been killed in the war that ended two years earlier.
Mrs Spring was able to hide the fact that she had a foundling as she told neighbours and friends that the baby was an orphan of her fictional sister and her husband who had received a direct hit from one those newfangled bombs. She never went into a lot of detail about it as she might trip herself up on the facts that had been printed on a card about what people should avoid touching if they came across something that was a peculiar shape or had a funny colour.
What to do about the house that came with Gloria was a bit difficult for Mrs Spring, she couldn’t send a neighbour to investigate and it would be funny to carry a baby to this other property. It would have to wait. Eventually she had managed with the authorities to get the baby registered with her as the sole parent, but being disorganised because of the war, it was agreed and she had a piece of paper which she had to sign, to say that the baby was hers.
Gloria’s new name was Stella Spring. It was a cheerful name and it was about three months later that Cynthia Spring was able to find one of her neighbours who was willing to look after the baby while she went to the old house where Gloria was born.
Mrs Spring approached the house with a dreadful premonition that somewhere hidden in the house would be Gloria’s parents in a suicide pact, not wanting to face the future. It wouldn’t have been an easy thing to do to give up something that you treasured more than life and then take your own. She shuddered she couldn’t bear the thought of doing that herself.
Cynthia stood outside the door for a few minutes just staring and she was aware that other eyes were watching her. At last she inserted the large key into the lock and turned it anticlockwise and heard two clicks. She pushed open the door and walked into a large vestibule where a grandfather clock stood soundless waiting for someone to wind it up. The most noticeable thing was the musty smell of no-one living in the house. As no housework had been done there was a layer of thick dust on every shelf and ledge.
The fireplaces were large and made up and Cynthia was wondering whether to light a fire as she shivered from the damp air that pervaded each room as she passed through them. It was a large house with twenty one rooms. The kitchen was more puzzling to look at than anything as she discovered an oven built into a cupboard and what she thought as a small flat surface to work on turned out to be a hinged glass lid with funny looking burners on it. She hadn’t seen anything like it in the shops.
Cynthia came to the twenty first room, it was locked. She had two other keys with her but she was afraid to unlock the door because she might discover something quite horrible. She decided to look through the keyhole and couldn’t understand what she saw. There was a very bright light and it blinded her. She ran away, crying as she went past each room, stumbling down the stairs and just managing to grip a newel post to stop her from falling down. It would be no good to be dead if she was going to look after a baby. She sat on the bottom stair wondering what she should do next. She managed to compose herself for the outside world beyond the front door as there would be prying eyes watching every step she made.
She decided that one fine summers day she would come back and dust and clean one room as best as could, perhaps she might even have enough time to do two rooms. But what to do about the room with the bright light? Was there a monster she would have to come to some sort of understanding with. ‘Oh what the hell?’ She yelled out loud and went back to the room and inserted one key and nothing happened and the other one and still nothing. She was furious with the keys for not opening the door she feared to open. On the door was a circular disc and inset were a further eight round smaller discs and each had a letter on them. They didn’t read any word that Cynthia knew of, it was utter gibberish. “I S A D R A P E”. It could be a sentence “Is a drape!” It didn’t make any sense to her.
Having got back to her house, she thanked her neighbour for looking after the baby and gave her two eggs as payment. The neighbour thanked her as rationing was still present and she and her husband could have bacon and egg together in the morning.
Cynthia decided to look through the nest of clothing that the baby had been wrapped in. She had taken it out of the basket in one piece. She shook each layer separately and in between the folds of the last bit of clothing fluttered down another envelope with the name Gloria written on the front. With nervous fingers she opened the envelope, there was no key. Just rhymes of words that must mean something and Cynthia read the first one:
Room One : When standing in this room, you must walk to the middle,
Stand on a chair, look North and South and you’ll find a clue to this riddle?
Cynthia was wondering if the rooms were numbered, she hadn’t noticed any numbers on the doors, there must be a map somewhere or was the answer to where room one was from the first clue.
There were eight riddles in total, so as not to confuse herself with reading another one she decided to hide this piece of paper away somewhere safe and before doing so copied out the riddle word for word and tried to solve it. If she was unable to she would have to make another visit to the house sooner rather than later. She would have to wait another month as eggs were still a top luxury.
Cynthia couldn’t wait that long. She had to go, so she placed Stella in the pram that she and her husband had bought, hoping to start a family of their own. They had married on a Tuesday and on the Wednesday he was in the army. There was no leave. They were desperate for men to fight the enemy. Joe was killed with the very first charge he made with the rest of the battalion that had been sent out. None survived.
Cynthia tried to calm herself with a hopeful and grieving heart, it was a rough time for all young widows who were not likely to get any financial assistance from the Government. It was from one of these meetings at the Town Hall that Cynthia was returning from when she came across the baby. This was the hope that changed her life.
Cynthia left early that morning, it was a half hour journey, the sun was shining and it reminded her of the room to which she now wanted to gain access. She wore a yellow dress with white cuffs, a pair of white shoes and a wide brimmed white hat with a yellow ribbon round the rim of the hat to match. She felt different, a sunny day can make a lot of difference to a person who has had a lot to put up with ever since that letter informing her about Joe arrived by special messenger.
She walked briskly, taking big breaths along the way and stopping every now and again to see if Stella was okay. She was and sound asleep.
Having arrived at the house, the steps presented another problem for getting the pram to the top. Taking Stella from the pram and walking up, she opened the door and placed her on one of the chairs and then went back to pull the the pram up. Cynthia wasn’t sure it was doing the wheels any good and stopped every now and then to inspect them. They were fine as she pushed the pram through the open door and shut it from the sunlight. She placed Stella back in the pram and pushed it into the first room on her left, but there was a room opposite. The question of which room was number one was solved quite easily as soon as Cynthia walked into the room and was amazed how clean it was and felt sure when she last visited it was thick with dust and and a few years of grime. The room felt warm, not like the first time all damp and cold. The fireplace was still made up with no sign of having been used. If Cynthia hadn’t got Stella with her, she would have run out of the house screaming. The room appeared bright, but shutters were still in place blocking the sunshine out. It was a large room with two windows situated front and side. Cynthia undid the wooden latches on the windows having to stand on a chair to do the top ones and opened up, The room came alive and was bathed in sunshine. She sat down and surveyed her surroundings.
It was Stella crying that woke her from a dream world of wonder as she looked around the room. It was obvious that Stella needed a nappy change and a feed.
‘There!’ Cynthia said, ‘You’ll be more comfortable now.’ She placed the soiled nappy in the bag she had found with the baby. She tied the handles together which sealed it from the odour that would have emanated round the room had she left it open. Cynthia walked round the room and when she got to the door and pushed it closed she saw a note pinned to the back. She was more interested in the pin than the note. To Cynthia’s gaze it seemed to be made of gold, at least the top of it was. The message was short. “This is room number one!” She was sure the note hadn’t been there the first time she had visited. Placing a chair in the middle of the room was the easy part, knowing which was North and South was a different kettle of fish, she knew they were opposite to each other. So standing precariously on the chair trying very hard to keep her balance, because she only knew that sitting on a chair was the normal practice, but she was learning new things and some were difficult to understand. She looked at one wall and then the one opposite to it. She looked round the room in small divisions until she spotted another piece of paper and using the chair and the poker she was able to flick off the paper which was balancing on the picture rail. It was another rhyming clue.
“One word is the easy part of the second word, but use all of tick,
what bird lays eggs is done to make you clever and slick.?”
Cynthia breathing heavily knew the answer straight away, it was so easy. She had deduced that by reading the first part of the sentence in sections she was able to read:
“One word is the easy. Part of the second word, but use all of tick, KITC and HEN. The answer was “the kitchen.”
The answer was to be found in the kitchen, of course it had to be the key to the secret room, but where would you hide a key of that size and what was the significance of the slotted markings on the door with letters on each section. Having mused over the letters since that day made no difference to Cynthia’s mind. It had made no sense then and none since. If she found the key, it might be different.
Cynthia didn’t find anything that pointed her way to any key and there were no clues to be found anywhere in the kitchen. She gave up hope of ever finding her paradise in this world.
” ” ”
It was nineteen years later, the year 1939. Both Cynthia and Stella huddled round the radio listening to the Prime Minister giving out the grim news that Britain was at war with Germany. Stella was now nineteen years of age and Cynthia was celebrating her forty fifth year and was already tired from having experienced one war and its outcome had been devastating, especially about her beloved Joe still strong in her heart, nineteen years may have passed by, but Joe was in her thoughts every single day. She hadn’t fancied marrying anybody else, no one could have matched Joe’s temperament and understanding and she knew, even if they were honest and true, she would always find fault with the one she had chosen and it wouldn’t have been fair to them or her to live with.
Stella knew about the house that she been left in a Will that Cynthia had drawn up with the aid of a friend who knew a solicitor and had copied down all the relevant facts because Cynthia wasn’t able to afford anything like that with the little income she had been given by the Government because Joe had been in the army. It had been a long battle to get money from them.
Stella wasn’t going to wait till she was twenty one. Now another war was raging and England was being bombed by Germany – the man in charge was called Adolf Hitler. Apparently he couldn’t speak a word of English and that’s why there was a war, because he couldn’t understand the word NO! Well that’s what Stella thought. To say she was naive was an understatement, but then political problems are difficult and this war was partly a political maelstrom. A Prime Minister taken for a ride by a dictator who wanted to conquer Europe and rid the world of imperfection.
Stella wanted Cynthia to tell her all about the last conflict. ‘Well it was announced when it was all over, a war to end all wars, but that doesn’t seem to be the case, for here we are again, fighting for our lives.’
‘But what was it like?’ Stella wanted to know and what to expect.
Cynthia couldn’t tell her as this war was going to be different from the last one and more sophisticated. The advancement over the years would mean weapons and methods of bombing were going to be something more destructive.
‘All I can tell you my darling girl is that I was more or less the same age as you when that war began.’
It was painful for Cynthia to carry on with her account of the war because of losing Joe and especially when Joe was supposed to be exempt from going to war because he had one leg shorter than the other. Apparently they were sending all sorts of men to carry on with the war and they were sending cripples to fight with little or no training. It would have been another stigma and the pointed finger. ‘That man didn’t go to war, it didn’t matter that he was a cripple in the first place and couldn’t hardly walk fast, let alone run, when running could have saved his life. There is no compensation for the loss of a loved one until you came into my life.’
A lot of people died in the first world war and with the progress they have made and with the new inventions of war material, it could mean even greater disasters occurring with this war. Tomorrow we must visit your house and see if we can find any clues where your parents are.’
The next day was sunny and the first strains of sirens were wailing far and near of an imminent attack, but followed quickly by the all clear sound. It was a rehearsal for the real thing that might happen any time.
Cynthia and Stella were sitting in the garden eating their breakfast and Cynthia looking up at the sky, said ‘What a lovely day, you wouldn’t think we were at war with anyone.’ Stella sighed, ‘Yes, such a pity and all those men volunteering to go and fight, it hardly seems fair.’
After they had finished their breakfast and washed up they left the house and walked to the other house which was some distance away, but as it was a lovely day they sauntered along as if there were no cares in the world until they reached the house. There was a notice pinned to the door that the house was to be commandeered by the army as there was no-one living there.
Cynthia tore down the notice and scribbled on the back that there are people who own the house still living and are in possession as of today, she re-pinned the notice on the door.
The door was unlocked as they entered, so it must have been forced by the authorities. Someone rushed across the street from a neighbouring house and entered through the door and spoke to Cynthia and Stella. Being out of the breath it took some time for the woman to speak. ‘They came yesterday. They didn’t speak to anyone. They just barged in and then went away and put a guard on all night. He left this morning.’ The woman spoke curtly with very short sentences and left as quickly as she had come.
Cynthia shut the front door quietly and said ‘Well I never!’ Cynthia and Stella walked into the first living room. She pointed round the room. ‘Who do they think have cleaned the house every week, a fairy?. I’ve cleaned every room in the house except one which I can’t get into and has these letters on the door on blocks that can slide in all directions, but I don’t know why.’
Cynthia took Stella up to the door and looked through the keyhole. It seemed very bright, but no light shone from any window when they approached the house; that was a mystery in itself. Stella looked at the panel of letters and started to move them around and the word that sprang into her mind was “P A R A D I S E” and she placed the letters in order and the door opened as if by magic. Cynthia and Stella were afraid and wanted the door to shut. They tried to pull it, but it wouldn’t budge. They heard noises from downstairs and people running up the stairs and with hands over hearts they walked into the room and the door closed behind them.
Cynthia saw her husband, he was sitting at a table drinking a strange looking concoction and Stella walked towards two people who had outstretched arms. She knew they were her parents. They hugged her and the parents laid her in her cradle. She had turned back to being just a baby.
Cynthia and her husband Joe were re-united. She was nineteen again.
There were lots of people in that bright room and they walked away as if it was on the ground floor and when the last the group went through this portal that had materialized from nowhere, the bright light went out and the wall built itself up. It appeared to be waiting for Cynthia and Stella to pass through.
* * *
Voices outside the room were shouting to some poor wretch. ‘Open the door and let’s see what’s behind. Corporal, you had better be right about hearing voices from this room!’ Half a dozen men rushed to the centre of the room. The bright light that had been there as they rushed in suddenly diminished and whether they were seeing things beyond their comprehension, no one was prepared to say as one of the walls started to rebuild itself.
They were silent as they left the room and locked it. They stood, each transfixed looking at the door as it transformed to this panel of letters on individual sliding blocks and the letters spelt out “P A R A D I S E” and the bright light came back. They could see it through the cracks of the door which was slowly falling to bits before their eyes. They ran down the stairs and out onto the street and the building just disappeared.