An Unknown Love Story

In the instant that she had been placed on the wooden mantelpiece over thirty years ago, she had become aware of something. It’s difficult to say exactly what that awareness was, but she knew she existed.

To the young lady who had put her there, all those years ago, she was a porcelain figurine of a girl holding a basket of flowers. The flowers were pink, mauve and white. She wore a painted white gold edged dress adorned with embroidered flowers of pink, gold and mauve, that flowed elegantly down to her mossy white base with no feet in sight. She was also painted wearing a plain pink blouse with a square neckline while, on top of her slender white neck, sat a pretty blue-eyed face, tilted slightly to one side. It was framed with thick blonde thick. Her cheeks, either side of an innocent smile, were shiny pink. In fact, she was shiny all over and, even thirty years later, owing to weekly meticulous dusting and a tender rub, she still was.

The figurine did not know any of this but, for the last thirty years, with no sensory input whatsoever, she somehow knew that she existed. She could not see, she could not hear, she could not move, she could not think (not as we know it anyway) but she was there. Alone. Not knowing who, or what, she was or had been. She did not know time, of course, but there were gaps in her awareness. It was like being suddenly shut off and then, just as suddenly, switched back on again. This was when the lady of the house dusted and polished the figurine or simply held her, looking into that white shiny face with the shiny rosy cheeks to sometimes wonder what life as a flower girl in simpler times might be like. And then she put her back in her place on the mantelpiece next to the clock in the middle. And that was when the figurine would snap back into awareness.

By now, the reader might be wondering. “Was she lonely, was she sad, was she happy, did she become angry or disappointed? Did she know or loss or grief?” But she was never any of these things because she did not know what they were. She simply was. And the years passed.

The lady, however, had a baby. Then had two more and lived a full life with her partner. She grew older and had a grandchild. She had known loneliness, loss, sadness, happiness, anger and disappointment. And she new love. Still had the love of her partner and her children. Just as we all, or most of us, do. Whether it’s for others to see or for us to live with, in our own secret memories.

But for the figurine there was just awareness without wonder. With nothing... Until one day she heard, or rather sensed. “Hello. Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me? Please answer.”

She felt something. Surprise and fear? She did not know what was expected. She had never heard/sensed anything before so she just waited. But the voice kept on. “Hello. Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me? Please answer.” Until she had a new thought. And that tentative thought was. “Hello. I’m here.”

The voice said. “I can hear you. Yes, I can. I am here and something else is too. I am not alone.”

The figurine did not know what alone was, but she felt that she too was, now, not alone. And she thought. “No, I to am no longer alone.”

The voice replied. “I am so glad that I have found someone. It is the greatest pleasure to meet you.” The voice was inside her and around her. It became her and it was her universe. It was everything to her.

It said. “I wonder where we are and what we are. Have you ever wondered that?”

“No. I have never wondered anything. But now that I have heard you and I know I am not alone. I wonder everything. Who I am? Who you are? Where are we and when are we?”

The voice said. “Yes. I am thinking the same. And what else is there. Is there anything more? If there is anything else, is it part of us? Or are we part of it? Maybe, if there is anything, it is not part of us at all, but a part of something else?”

“Yes, there could be so much that we could never count, know or comprehend. Oh, there are so many questions now. I did not have a single question, but now you have awakened, in me, nothing but questions. I am curious to know everything. Everything is a puzzle.”

For the figurine, this conversation continued for what seemed an eternity. They speculated and questioned everything. They did not sleep; they did not stop. Except for the occasional blanks. And they, of course speculated on this. What was happening to them when this happened. It was the only thing that ever happened. They both seemed to blink out of existence one after the other and then come back. Her companion would blink out first. And when that happened she knew terror. The terror of loneliness. But the voice always came back and then she would disappear and come back. And they would continue.

“What if you never came back? How could I go on without you? I would…. I would miss you.”

The voice, not her voice, said. “The only thing that we know is that we exist. We are one and we belong together. You will never be alone again. I promise.”

She felt such joy. She was complete.

Until one day, the voice blinked out and did not come back. She felt a distant scream and then nothing. She called out. “Are you there?” She screamed. “Are you there? Where are you? What’s happening? Come back. Come back to me. Please”

But there was only silence and solitude. Nothing. She was alone again, but this time, with her hopes, her fears, her loss, her grief and her questions.

It was late Autumn and the lady’s eldest daughter visited. She had brought her twenty-month-old daughter to visit her grandmother. After welcomes and hugs, the lady went to the kitchen to make tea. The daughter, standing by the fireplace, with its newly lit fire crackling brightly, and carrying the child in her arms called. “This is new. How long have you had this?”

“What’s that dear?”

“This porcelain boy, on the mantelpiece, with two buckets on a yoke across his shoulders.”

“Oh that. Yes, I found it in a trash and treasure shop. He’s an almost perfect match for my lovely flower girl. I thought they’d go well together.”

“Lucy! No. Oh mother, I’m so sorry.”

The lady rushed out from the kitchen. “What is it?”

“Oh Mom. Lucy snatched at the boy while I was holding him. It got knocked straight into the fireplace and smashed onto the coals. I’m sorry.”

Oh that’s okay. Accidents happen. He didn’t cost me much so he’s not much of a loss. Lucky, it wasn’t my little flower girl. I’ve had her since before you were born.”

The next day was a crisp frosty morning, so the fire was alight and condensation settled on the windows. The lady was dusting and polishing and when she got to her little figurine; she noticed what looked like a small bead of dew on its cheek. She stared into the face of the flower girl for a second or two. Then wiped the droplet from its face and went about her day.