Silenced

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The meadow with its grassy greenness and wild flowers had always been hers. It had not been particularly hard to make a deal with her sister; all she had to do was agree that she could have the attic room in the summer house. She would never understand how her sister could ever accept a swap like that – a boring old attic room for a meadow. But she kept quiet. After all, her sister might decide to impose further demands on her.

The meadow, overgrown and left to run wild, was beyond the boundary of their garden. When she was younger, the tallest plants had reached right up to her chin. Now she was older, they only came up to her waist. She strode through the grass with light, easy movements and searching eyes, felt the flowers and stalks grazing her bare legs. The flowers had to be picked in silence, otherwise it would not work. There had to be seven different kinds and they had to be picked on midsummer’s eve and put under her pillow. Then she would see him, the man she was going to marry.

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