Short Fiction
Issue #2
Katherine Mansfield's 'Bliss': What Happened Next?
IALS winner of the Katherine Mansfield creative writing competition
A dash of movement across the garden caught Bertha’s eye, and she almost immediately felt herself becoming welcomely distracted from the despair at hand. A small black cat, no more than a kitten, had dropped gracefully from the garden wall and darted towards the pear tree. Skilfully ascending vertically around the tree’s narrow trunk the kitten came to rest amongst the golden pears. Bertha had seen the kitten before, and although she appreciated the nature in her garden, she couldn’t help wonder what damage it’s frequent visits were doing to her lovely still pear tree- how long could she go without acing before the damage was irreversible?
‘Everything alright dear?’ Harry had re-entered the room. They were alone now.
‘Oh, Harry,’ Bertha wanted so dearly to confront him, but her voice was lost, buried beneath an unmovable pile, consisting mainly of doubt, fear and memories of what had already been.
‘What is it?’ He asked with a steely concern, his cool retained.
Bertha turned to face him, her expression rigid for fear that if she allowed it to relax for even a moment it would crack and smash into a thousand tear drops.
‘Miss Fulton,’ she managed to utter, part question, part accusation. Harry frowned, Bertha couldn’t decide- was he angry? He looked as though he was going to shout.
‘Did you see? Just then, in the hallway?’ He asked, his voice now a fearsome monotone.
Bertha nodded, almost afraid to admit her own intelligence for fear of what it might provoke. Is this the end? A moment passed.
Suddenly, as spry as the kitten in the garden, Harry’s frown was splintered from within, replaced by a mischievous grin, reminding Bertha of his usual boyous self- the man child she’d fallen for all those years ago.
‘That was nothing,’ he smiled, ‘nothing more than a reassurance.’ Bertha looked on, confused. ‘I felt bad for treating her so coldly, I was less than hospitable. It was this for which I was trying to repent.’
Bertha felt a wave of relief pulse through her. Her body, previously pulsing with tension, relaxed suddenly, drained of angst. She felt her self smile, a lazy smile of respite. Harry stepped forward and held her in a firm embrace. This made sense. Things would be alright now. However, even though this is what she told herself, Bertha retained an inkling of doubt. It seemed to easy a solution – could this really be so? Bertha pushed it aside- things would be alright now. She rested her head upon his shoulder, and he turned her slightly, allowing her gaze to once again fall out of the window, into the garden and onto the pear tree. Amongst it’s branches the kitten remained, only now it had acquired one of the riper pears, and was greedily devouring the fresh fruit. That wouldn’t do, it looked- untidy. Bertha wondered once again – how long could she for without acting before the damage was irreversible?