Tabitha Aberdeen

Tabitha Aberdeen was nine when her father died. It was also at the fragile age of nine that she became an orphan. Her mother had left her five years prior, taken by fever, though she did not remember this very well. In fact, she could barely recall her mother at all.

However, she could recall her father. And it was their last memory that she kept replaying in her mind as she walked along street, the road busy with horse drawn carriages rattling through. She remembered that morning clearly, bidding him farewell as he left her at school and went to work. Never could she have known that that would be their last encounter. He had seemed so strong, so tall and dependable, in his brown jacket and old cap. To a child of her age, why he was practically immortal. Yet, now he was dead, and the last she had ever seen of him was his broad back growing smaller and disappearing round the corner.

Mr Cordova was not concerned by this. He was focused on his task, staring at the address written down on a page that he kept folding and nervously unfolding every half hour or so. His hand tightly clasped the little girl’s, pulling her along with an uncaring, “Come along, come along,” whenever she drifted too far behind. Meanwhile, now his eyes were scanning along the lined-up houses, stood so close together that they seemed more like one huge wall rather than separate little homes. He read each number, checked his paper, then shook his head with growing irritation.

This had been going on ever since they had left the train station, entering the city of Valenby and marching back and forth along the winding lanes, rushing past the damp allies that seemed too menacing to enter. They had been relentlessly searching for so long, that Tabitha felt her legs would drop off at any moment. Her little feet hurt so much, that her glances at intimidating Mr Cordova grew more frequent along with the urge to ask him to carry her.

If her father were here, he would carry her.

He would swoop her up into those muscular arms of his and carry her along for however long she liked. Or he would have crouched down on the sidewalk, not caring about the prying stares of strangers, and he would tell her to jump on his back, giving a small horse whinny when she did.

But he was not here, only Mr Cordova was. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Mr Cordova would not carry her. She didn’t even have time to ask as he pulled her helplessly after him, his fancy shoes clacking on the pavement with the severity of a schoolteacher. He wore a stiff black suit that made him look like a penguin, and his thick black hair was groomed back so pristinely that it looked like jelly wobbling on his head. His moustache was curly on its ends, and his beard consisted of a little square on his chin. It was the oddest look she had ever seen on a man, and she didn’t like it. Nevertheless, she was scared to stare because when she had done so on the train, he had immediately huffed at her and said that no one would want a child with such a sorry face.

Immediately her sights had drifted down to her hands, and now they didn’t dare rest on him for too long. Instead, she observed the pretty gardens fleeting by, watching the people pass with their noses in the air. Valenby was a strange place, she concluded, for no one ever said hello. It was big and smelly, and it was as if no one knew how to even smile. She found it quite frightening, hoping that soon they would continue past it to somewhere else, somewhere more inviting. That hope was quickly extinguished though, when they paused outside a little brown gate, leading to a sleek, modest house.

Mr Cordova squeezed her hand to keep her in place, despite her not making any attempt to escape, and squinted at the page, “… Siefton Street… Number 38… yes… yes, this is it.”

Tabitha skewed her head at his mumblings, furrowing her brows from equal curiosity and dislike. She quickly looked away when he snapped his cold glare at her.

“Come child. This is your new home… if they’ll have you. They better… I don’t have time to go about hunting for the orphanage too,” he grouchily grumbled, striding up the path and hammering at the door.

She flinched at the noise, angling herself to hide behind his weaselly frame. Then her green eyes widened when it opened, another man coming to stand in the entryway.

He was much, much different from Mr Cordova, to her greatest relief. The stranger stood before them was wearing a clean tan shirt and fine black trousers. The fabrics were not luxurious enough for a noble, but certainly not rough enough to be for a commoner. He was fixing the cuff of his sleeve, his ash brown hair, that matched hers, cheekily creeping down his forehead and prodding his eyes as he nodded respectfully, “Good morning to you… can I help you with something?”

“Are you Mr Halstead?” Mr Cordova inquired.

“Doctor Halstead, yes indeed,” the man corrected with a polite, yet tight, smile. His hands fell to his hips, and he jerked his head towards Tabitha, “Is your daughter unwell?”

“My daughter? Pshhh!” Mr Cordova shook his head in disgust. “This child is not mine. How could she be? She looks nothing like me!”

“Then who’s is she?”

“Yours, if you’ll take her.”

“Mine? Good Sir… I fear you are mistaken. I have no children, nor a wife to bear me any.”

“No, but you had a sister I do believe. Married a Mr Aberdeen, am I correct in that regard?”

Dr Halstead paused at this, looking the young girl up and down suspiciously before speaking again, “You are… but what of it?”

“This is her daughter.”

“Is it now… and what are you doing with her?”

“Delivering her to you.”

“Why?”

Mr Cordova hesitated at this, his brisk and heartless voice unnaturally softening as he sighed, “Her father has died. There is no other family to take her. You have a right to her as her only living relative… but if you do not want her then I shall have to let the orphanage have her.”

“He died?” Dr Halstead straightened in alarm. “When? I have not heard of this.”

“Less than a week ago. Last Monday, I believe. There was a tragic accident at the construction site in our town, Calvil. I am the local solicitor there, hence why I am handling these matters…” he sloppily gestured to Tabitha. “Five men died… Mr Aberdeen was one of them. Since his wife is also not with us… that leaves his daughter without a caretaker. Today was the soonest I could bring her to you with my schedule being so busy.”

The Doctor remained quiet, scrutinising the scrawny girl on his doorstep. This was all quite a shock for him, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Will you take her then?” Mr Cordova interrupted his musings, regarding him hopefully.

“…If I don’t, she goes to the orphanage?”

“I’m afraid so.”

He took a shaky inhale and shrugged, “Then I suppose I must take her… mustn’t I?”

“Very good… very… very good…” Mr Cordova gave an approving nod, dropping the girl’s luggage to the ground and turning her to him as he wonkily kneeled. “Tabitha now you- you listen… this here is your uncle… you understand child?”

Clutching the apron of her dress and wrapping it anxiously around her hands, she bobbed her head.

“Good… now you will stay with him. This is where I leave you… and I shall not be returning any more. Do you understand this too, child?”

Her head bobbed again, tears brimming her eyes.

“Good… good… you be good… and I’m sure you’ll settle in well…” he stood and turned to the Doctor for the last time. “I apologise for the abruptness… I am sure it is a lot to process. However, I must be going now. I bid you farewell.”

Tabitha’s new uncle returned the curt bow, and then Mr Cordova was gone, receding down the path like her father had on that ill-fated day. Something inside her broke at this sight, regardless of whether she liked him or not. Either way, his company had given her some comfort on the journey and through the miserable last few days. But now, he too was gone, and she was all alone with a man that she had never met.

To a child of nine, this realisation was terrifying, and even a brave young soul like hers could not withhold the tears streaking down her cheeks. All alone, in a strange new place, with a strange new man. She wanted to go home… except home would never be home again. It wasn’t hers anymore.

She tried to stifle her hiccups of despair, and she was failing terribly at it until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her tiny body jumped from fright, looking up at the looming stranger and feeling the urge to sob even more.

When he witnessed this disturbing expression, his face twisted with sympathy, Dr Halstead heaving a troubled exhale and patting her gently, “There, there now… I know, dear one, I know… this is quite new for me too. How about you come inside for now… we’ll see what to do with you.”

Sniffling uncontrollably, she followed him in. The door shut loudly behind her, the lock sealing with a metallic clack and stealing the air from her lungs, but it didn’t seem to bother her uncle. He swept back his hair with an absent mind and paced down the tight corridor to the kitchen straight on. The planks covering the floor creaked under his weight, and the worn-out walls seemed to groan at his presence. It made her quite certain that the residence was haunted, as Tabitha stood on the door mat with her heavy leather bag hanging just above her toes.

He turned to check on her before entering the room, waving a hand to call her over, “This way. Come over here.”

She did as she was told, the hall seemingly shrinking with every tread as if it wanted to swallow her whole, scaring her so ruthlessly that she felt she had to sprint the last three steps. Her miniature frame dashed past her caretaker and skidded to a halt at the square dining table laid out in the middle. There were four chairs sitting at it, and a fireplace cackling away on the right.

Dr Halstead pulled out a seat and pointed to the one opposing it, “Sit down child. Let me look at you.”

Again, she did as she was told. She sat in the seat, laying her bag at her feet that didn’t reach the floor. Her bleary gaze focused on him until she remembered not to stare, so she considered the fire instead.

Meanwhile, the man did not hesitate to gawk blatantly at her. He gaped and gaped, as if he couldn’t believe what was in front of him, then scratched his chin and cleared his throat, “So… what is your name?”

“Tabitha Aberdeen,” her delicate voice squeaked.

“Tabitha… quite an uncommon name.”

“Father used to call me Tabi… like Tabby Cat,” she murmured uncertainly.

“Did he now…” her uncle slowly nodded. “And how old are you… Tabi?”

“Nine and a half.”

“Nine and a half,” he repeated with a slight smile. “That’s almost ten.”

“Almost but not yet.”

“I see… you’re very precise, Tabi.”

“Father told me I must be honest.”

Dr Halstead paused, thinking deeply then looking away, “That is good… few people are honest these days.”

“Are you honest?” she asked, becoming confused by his laugh.

“I try to be… are you hungry, Tabi?”

“…A little… Mr Cordova only gave me a small breakfast because he said we had to hurry to the train.”

“Well, it is well past noon now,” said her uncle, standing and striding to the cupboard. “Do you like eggs?”

“Father told me I must eat everything.”

He shifted slightly to view her solemn face, so childish yet stained with a maturity that she was too young to wield. His fingers fiddled with the egg in his hand before he moved towards the stove, “Your father told you some very good things.”

She didn’t reply to this and meekly sat in her place, falling silent while she waited for her meal. It felt unreal to be in this room, searching its plain, white borders for anything even slightly familiar to put her at ease. But all of it was new, with the paint chipping away in the corners, the two tiny paintings crookedly hanging on the wall, the wilting flowers on the table that had remained there far too long. The smells were different, the window next to her let in a feeble, pallid light from the clouded sun… she wondered why it was there at all because it held no scene, only a brick wall a few metres away from the house behind. Everything felt cramped and suffocating compared to the spacious, rustic town she was accustomed to. It all made her feel a bit lightheaded as she came to terms that this would be her life henceforth.

It seemed it would be a very bland life indeed.

The clattering of the plate spooked her. She nearly jumped through the roof when she realised that she was being fed, her uncle calming her like a skittish foal, “Woah, easy there… you’re alright. Lost in thought, eh?”

Embarrassment spread along her cheeks and her sight locked on the scrambled egg on her plate.

He wouldn’t get much out of her today, Dr Halstead decided with a sigh, “Eat up. I’ll go make space for you upstairs.”

With that, he left her with her meal, his steps thumping up the staircase. The quiet was eerie, the suspense making the worms in her stomach wriggle. It made it all the more shocking when the ceiling shook with a loud bang. Footsteps then continued to shuffle about over her head, and she couldn’t help but cower like a mouse in its falling den. This place did not suit her at all.

Still, she had no choice but to follow when called, her uncle summoning her a few minutes later. He led her up to where he had been, awkwardly opening the door and stepping into a pocket-sized room. There was a window at its front, a small rectangular pane that was bare and dusty. Then in the corner there was an old, rickety bed that had a few boxes piled beside it.

He shuffled while she inspected it all, explaining, “I’ll tidy it for you tomorrow. I wasn’t expecting visitors today… or… most… days…”

Her big round eyes turned to him, and he hesitated.

“Right um… I’ll leave you for now. You organise yourself and… it’s a bit late in the day so you tell me what you need tomorrow. We can stop by the shops and get you more things… that alright?”

He wasn’t a very old man, Tabitha noted then. He was certainly much younger than Mr Cordova, yet still much older than she. Even so, there was something about his hazel gaze that kindled the familiarity she had been so desperately searching for. Maybe he had her mother’s eyes… she couldn’t remember, but they seemed to be just as lost and confused as hers, with his appearance suddenly becoming quite boyish and timid. It was rude to stare though, and with a nod she crept towards the bed.

Finding their interaction at an end, he lingered another moment and cleared his throat, “Just um… just let me know if you need anything. I’ll get us some supper before bed… I’ll call you down then…”

She placed her bag on the mattress without a word, her movement almost ghost-like.

“Alright then…” Dr Halstead breathed, backing away and shutting the door behind him.

What the hell had just happened?