Jane and the Fire – Part II

Last month, I decided to give Charles Dickens’ active feedback method a sort of trial by fire (pun intended?) and this story was born. In 1958, Jane is a twelve-year-old girl who has just moved to the big city of Chicago, Illinois with her parents and cousins Billy. She misses her rural home and feels stifled by the big city. When we last left her, she was keeping an eye on her cousins, who are fast asleep.

The house is silent and peaceful – it is that quiet hour after 4 P.M. and before dinner. Jane feels at peace for the first time since they left the farm. She remembers the loud excitement of the journey to the city – even Mr. Joyce was alert and anticipatory. She remembers seeing the fields and lanes speed by and eventually falling asleep. Billy (the younger one, who’d lived with the Joyces almost since birth) had shouted in her ear to wake her when they reached the city. None of the Joyces had spoken very much as they continued to drive – there was so much to see! And they hadn’t seen very much still, reflects Jane to herself bitterly. She sits up suddenly. She’s been staring drowsily out the window for far too long, and now she can’t hear the rhythmic breathing of either Billy! Jane runs to the next room and stares in horror at the empty bunk bed. Jane is practical, so instead of panicking, she stops to listen. When in doubt, follow your ears, she remembers hearing somewhere. There is a telling crash from the kitchen region. Jane runs to the kitchen region. It appears to have snowed in the kitchen; there is a fine white layer of powder over everything. Jane looks at a half-empty sack on the counter and sighs – flour. The Billies, sprawled on the floor, are happily engaged in some mysterious form of sculpturing. Jane reaches for a dustpan. Fortunately, Mrs. Joyce, having finished preparing dinner, has gone to knit and have tea with a neighbor, old Mrs. Dunstable.

Billy (the older one, lived with the Joyces since the tender age of 2) ambles over happily.

“Hullo, Jane,” says Billy.

Jane refuses to respond. She is sweeping up large quantities of flour and granola and navigating sticky patches of honey, which the Billies evidently have used as glue for their sculptures.

“Jane,” says Billy, in a tone of astonished reproach, “are you angry? We were only making Uncle Joyce a birthday present.”

Jane looks at Billy. For a five-year-two-month old, he is very cunning and manipulative. She laughs. Evidently both Billies found it necessary to test the honey for quality and in doing so managed to spill it about their person.

The flour and granola is swept up soon and the honey is mopped up shortly after. Jane is still in a good mood. She’s grateful really to have the two Billies as cousins; it’s like having siblings because she’s an only child. Jane has a sudden brainwave. Perhaps they can go to the park for an hour before dinner? The Billies are ecstatic and they hurry to procure permission from Mrs. Joyce. But just as they reach the door, there is the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs.

Want to hear more? Stay tuned for the next edition of Spirit!