Inside

It had been a horrible day at work. I was a Women’s Auxiliary Air Force member, and my profession required me to witness death, bloodshed, exploding bombs, and all the rest of the horrors of World War II. Let me give you some background. My name is Rachel Walker. I live in Wilmslow, in a tiny council flat that I somehow managed to buy. I have always wanted to become an author, but, it being 1943, women aren’t allowed to follow their dreams, on the account of us being ‘feeble-minded’. 

Well, I needed a job to help me scrape by, and this was the only one that would take me. So that brings me back to today. I was very tired and longing for some food and sleep. But these were far away. Finally, at 11 o’clock, I stumbled into my bedroom with a bruised face and a heavy head. I sank into bed with a sigh of relief, and at that moment, the lumpy mattress seemed like a feather bed. I closed my eyes, trying to distract my mind from the terrible situation I was in, hoping and praying that everything would just disappear. 

I opened my eyes. I was sitting at a table in a café. I jumped up in fright and gave a little gasp. Where was I? ‘Everything alright, Miss?’, asked the manager, giving me a concerned look. I turned very red when I realized that everybody inside was staring at me. ‘Y-yes’, I stammered. I looked at my reflection in the shining glass in front of me. A neat, pretty girl stared back. I could hardly believe that was me. I have always had a reputation for being a plain Jane, but now I was wearing a smart, blue tailor-made suit. I sat down and relished the atmosphere. A normal winter day without any sound of guns or fighting. Children playing, people laughing. How was everything so perfect? Suddenly, I noticed another girl, who was dressed like me. When she saw me, she smiled. I choked back a cry. It was my best friend, Nancy! She had been killed by a stray bullet 3 years ago. And now she was alive and right in front of my eyes! She came to my table. ‘Hello, Rachel. Don’t you remember me?’, she said. ‘Nancy,’ I said shakily, almost crying for joy. ‘Of course I remember you. How did you get here?

Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay.’ She came over to me and gave me a hug. I hugged back, overwhelmed with emotion. There I was, talking to my best friend, who I lost three years ago! This was too good to be true. She took a seat next to me and laughed, ‘You look like you need some explanations.’

‘I sure do’, I sighed.

‘Well, let me give them to you. What questions do you have?’

‘To start with, how did I land up here? And where is “here”?’

‘I know this may sound strange to you’, Nancy began. ‘But you’re inside your mind.’

For the second time, I jumped in my chair. ‘What!’ I spluttered. ‘That must mean that this is all a dream. Just a dream. It’s the most smashing thing that ever happened to me. With you coming back, and no sign of the war…’, I broke down into tears.

‘Now, now.’ Nancy soothed. ‘It isn’t a dream. It’s just inside your mind. All of this is real. Haven’t you heard of the concept of limbo? It’s a state where the minds of different people connect, where anything is possible. All of this is happening inside our brains.’

‘But,’ my voice dropped to a whisper. ‘When I last saw you, you were d-dead.’

‘I know,’ she said gently. ‘But I’m still there in your head. So you and I are actually having this conversation. You know, death isn’t such a bad thing. It frees the soul from the body. And where do you think mine chose to go when I died?’ she grinned.

‘Oh.’ I said in relief. ‘I don’t think I want to go back. I want to see more, more of myself. The outside world is sickening. I would rather stay here with you.’

‘I don’t think that’s possible, Rae. Think of this as an escape. An escape to your subconscious. You have delved deep into your mind. But your conscious mind is trying to find you, to get you back. So what has happened is this- the conscious and subconscious parts of your brain have switched places. You are not in control of your conscious right now.’

‘Ah,’ I ejaculated. I was slowly beginning to get the hang of this. I hadn’t even known it was possible. But, at all costs, I wanted to remain where I was. I called a waiter and ordered affogatos for me and Nancy. Soon we were sipping the delicious beverage, and catching up. Nancy had been like a sister to me, and I told her everything. All the horrific sights, measly living conditions, and death I had seen came pouring out of my mouth. She nodded her head understandingly. ‘You’ve been through a lot, Rae.’ she said. ‘Now just let go of it and enjoy this.’ She took my hand and we walked out of the café. I looked at all the other people and wondered aloud if they were just figments of my imagination. ‘Some of them are, 'Nancy replied. ‘But others are people who are very close to you, who you think about a lot.’ 

‘Where should we go first?’ I asked. ‘This is your mind. You should be telling me.’ Nancy giggled. ‘But anyway, I think we should start with the park.’ We went on until we came to a gateway, which led to a beautiful green park. It was filled with tall silver birches, towering pine trees, and majestic oaks. There were lots of families picnicking in the sunny clearings, children playing hopscotch, and people walking dogs. I spotted a signboard that read ‘Welcome to Tatton Park’. I bit back a gasp. Tatton Park! That was the center of my childhood. It had been the location of so many iconic moments, both happy and sad. It was the place where my father first met my mother. It had also been the place where they both were killed in a bomb blast. I was lost in thought, reminiscing these memories. Nancy watched me with a grin on her face. ‘Come on, Rachel. You should have understood by now.’ she said. All of a sudden, it hit me like a tidal wave. Since Nancy was there in my mind even though she was dead, would my parents be there in my subconscious’ recreation of Tatton Park? Losing them had been a traumatic and heartbreaking event in my life.

My joy would know no limits if I could see them again. I scouted the park, with Nancy jogging by my side. There were a lot of young couples, but no old people. Then a thought struck me that maybe they wouldn’t be old. Since everything there seemed to be in the bloom of growth, my parents might look just as I had always pictured them- young and full of life. Even when they had grown old, I visualized them the way I had seen them in an ancient black-and-white photograph from their honeymoon. I put my hand inside my blazer pocket absentmindedly, and surprisingly, it was there. Suddenly, Nancy tapped me on my back. I looked up, and to my complete astonishment and ecstasy, the lovely young lady and the handsome young man from my photograph were watching me. ‘Mother! Father!’, I cried, tears blinding me as I rushed towards them. They embraced me tenderly, and for five full minutes, I was unable to speak or think, lost in the delight of being together with my parents again. I took a step back and examined them. They were dressed stylishly and looked great. ‘Hello, Aunt Emma and Uncle Harry. I found Rachel, and brought her here to see you.’ said Nancy. ‘Thank you, Nancy.’ replied my mother. Nancy sat down on a bench some distance away and gave me a thumbs-up. ‘How has my little Rachie been doing ?’asked my father. ‘Terrible, 'I told him. ‘But I’m so glad you both are with me now. I don’t ever want to leave.’ 

‘I don’t want to leave you either.’ Mother said softly. ‘We’ve often seen you sleep, and you looked sick, and disheartened. But first, tell me everything that’s been happening.’

‘Oh, Mother, 'I whispered. I remembered her speaking those same words as she soothed away my nightmares when I was a little girl. Both she and my father had always comforted me and made me feel safe and secure. All the trials and sorrows that I had faced since they left me came gushing out. When I finished my tale, Father patted me on my shoulder and said nothing. It was evident that my parents were sorry for me. My mother smiled as if to shake off the melancholy mood and said, ‘Come now. Forget about your woes for a while. Let’s take a walk around the park.’ We got up, and Nancy joined us. She told my parents how I had got there, but they already seemed to know. I turned to the right and caught sight of a little boy trying to climb a tree. His back was facing me and all I could see was his curly mop of brown hair. But there was something about him that caught my eye. I was sure I had seen him before.

All of a sudden, a tall teenage boy came up to him and roughly pushed his shoulder. ‘Baby,’ the older boy teased. ‘What are you doing, trying to climb a tree? It’s too big for you. Move aside if you don’t want me to beat you up.’ I walked up to them and glared at the bully. He saw that I meant business and ran off. I helped the little boy to his feet. ‘Are you alright?’, I asked him. He looked up at me and smiled. He was my younger brother, Bill. This time, I wasn’t so surprised, but just as glad. ‘I knew you would recognize me.’ he laughed. Bill had not died. At least, he had been alive the last time I saw him. When my parents had passed away, their dying wish was for me to take care of him. He was only a baby when that had happened. He was the reason I joined the WAAF. Then he had gone missing, and I couldn’t forgive myself. He was kind, smart, loveable, and understanding. And now, he was back with me. He gave me a hug. I asked him if he was alive in the real world and if yes, where he was, so I could find him and take him home. ‘I had never gone missing, Rachel. What happened to me was the same thing that happened to you. I fell asleep and entered my subconscious mind. I’m not dead.’ I was filled with a mixture of hope, joy, and wonder. ‘You aren’t?’ I gasped. ‘Thank goodness! But if you’re in your subconscious, then how are you here? I was told that this place was my subconscious.’

‘Hasn’t Nancy told you?’ Bill asked. ‘This is a shared space where many different people can come together. One night, when the noise of the bombs and guns was deafening, I felt very frightened. You had not come home yet. I buried my face into my pillow, and when I looked up, I was in a cinema. Mother and Father were there, and Nancy came by too. Then they told me everything.’ he finished. It was all beginning to fit together in my mind, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Mother, Father, and Nancy were watching our reunion from the side of the path and smiling. I took Bill’s hand and walked over to them. Father ruffled his hair and Mother beamed at me. ‘So I see you’ve met Bill,’ she said. I nodded my head. Then, just out of curiosity, I asked her, ‘Am I going to find any more long-lost relations here?’ 

‘No, I don’t think so,’ laughed Mother. ‘But that doesn’t mean that you won’t have any more surprises.’ 

We continued our walk. It was now afternoon, and the sun was high in the sky. The events of the morning had been so sudden and extreme that I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Now that things were calmer, I suddenly realized that I was ravenous. My stomach must have rumbled loudly, because Father turned to me and said, ‘I think I heard an express train passing through.’ Then he chuckled, ‘Or maybe that’s just my hungry daughter.’ I groaned. ‘Not now, Father. I really am famished. Can we go somewhere and eat?’ 

‘Of course, Rachel,’ said Mother. The five of us strolled towards an eatery. We ordered fruit, cinnamon scones, fish and chips, steak and kidney pie, strawberries and cream, and three bottles of lemonade. Then we bought some disposable cutlery and set off to look for a sunny picnic spot. It remained a mystery as to where my parents got the money, and how they were able to afford that luxurious meal. My mouth was beginning to water. We found a pretty little clearing, Mother produced a rug from her carpet bag, and we sat down to eat. I was raised in a conservative middle-class family and had never seen, much less eaten so much food in my life. What with the war going on, I could hardly survive on the bare rations we were given. And I had a whole pre-war standard feast in front of me.

Oh, those few hours were spent in heaven. I devoured at least half of the food in twenty minutes flat. Instead of being scolded for eating so much, my parents laughed and joked at my appetite. The food showed no signs of getting over, and I showed no signs of becoming full. I’ll never forget the succulent steak or the clotted cream on the scones. It was a culinary paradise! When I had finally finished my lunch, and this took a very long time, I was in a talkative mood. Mother, Father, Nancy, and Bill chatted with me. I asked them every question that flitted into my mind and was answered patiently. Then I thought of something else. ‘Where do you live, Mother?’ I asked. ‘I’ll show you in a little while,’ she replied. ‘Your father, Nancy, Bill, and I live together.’ 

I nodded my head, not desiring a further answer. Visions of our old dirty three-room quarters came into my head. We had once had quite a nice, large house, but it had been seized by the bank when I was only a baby. But then again, since everything here was so perfect, maybe that problem would have solved itself too. I lay back on the grass and stretched my legs with a sigh of contentment. I looked up at the clouds floating in the bright blue sky, forming different shapes. It had been a favorite game of mine when I was young, making a story based on the shapes and figures of clouds. I gazed at them now, trying to bring back the extensive imagination I once had, which I pushed deep inside me during my WAAF training. Slowly I drifted off to sleep with the pleasant sound of wind in the trees, and the comfort of knowing that my family was there with me again. Just before I closed my eyes, I heard Mother whisper, ‘Open the little brown packet I gave you.’

I was awakened by the harsh trilling of an alarm clock. I groped to the side for the ‘stop’ button but accidentally pushed it right off the bedside table. I could hear the tinkle of splintering glass. I groaned and pulled my old grey duvet over my head. Suddenly my eyes were wide open. Old grey duvet! I sat up in shock. That meant that I was back in my bed in my tiny flat in the horrible, horrible outside world. ‘Mother! Father! Nancy, where are you? Bill!’ I yelped. I looked frantically around the room. The dusty curtains on the dirt-caked windows. The peeling walls and drab furniture. The bright red alarm clock that lay broken on the floor. Yes, there was no doubt about it. I was back. I dove back under the covers and shut my eyes tightly, trying to recapture the beautiful time I had, trying to go back into my subconscious where my family was waiting for me. But to no avail. It was gone, nothing more than a shattered dream, a ray of hope washed away. I buried my face into the pillow, sobbing, calling out the names of those I lost and begging them to come back. Why did they have to go so quickly? Why did they leave me alone? For a long time, I lay there, in a state of complete sorrow. I instinctively felt under my pillow for the little package of brown paper my mother gave me before she died, that I had never had the heart to open. I remembered her words, ‘Open the little brown packet I gave you.’ I stared at it, wondering what was inside. Then I slowly unraveled the crinkled paper. Two items fell onto my lap. The first was a letter, written on yellow parchment. The second was a brand-new fountain pen and ink-pot, which I set on my bedside table. I carefully unfolded the letter and read its contents.

It ran:

‘Dearest Rachel,

You are a unique, beautiful girl. Your father and I are so proud of you. You have great talent, and I know you want to be an author. You would have made a great one, but what with the war going on, it doesn’t look like fate is willing to let your dreams come true. Still, never stop trying. These times are tough. I’m not sure if we’ll last through them. But I want you to know this - that we will always be with you, no matter what happens. This terrible crisis will somehow end. And even if we aren’t there when it does, promise me that you will move on and become the person you were meant to be. Whenever you feel lonely or fatigued, overwhelmed by the endless work and suffering, think of the time that will come. You will find new strength. And above all, never forget that even if we die, our spirits will endure in you. 

Loads of love and hope from your father and I,

Your mother,

Emma Walker.’

Tears trickled down my cheeks. ‘I love you too, Mother’, I whispered. I had got to the bottom of it all. I understood the reason I managed to enter my subconscious mind and the reason I left it. I had a life to live. I wondered why I had been shrinking away from it all this while. I wiped my eyes and stood up. Gone was the pale, tired girl who was too frightened to take control of her life. I felt bold, fearless, and ready to take down the troubles that destiny threw at me. I missed my family, but they were there inside me. They loved me, and I knew that. I was going to make them proud. Encouraged by these hopeful thoughts, I strode into the poky living room with my head held high. Bill was sleeping there on a stained mattress. I smiled at him.

Within a few minutes, I was wearing my WAAF uniform. I would make it to work double-time. This war would get over, and I would be one of the people who helped it end. I could feel my parents beaming at me. I straightened my tie in the wall-mirror. This was who I was meant to be.