Her Violet Eyes

I was more than bored by this stage. I could feel my eyes beginning to close.
“Tommy,” Riana poked me in the ribs. “Everyone’s staring.”
“Hmm?” I opened one eye cautiously.
“You look like a fool!”
My mouth had lolled open a little way and I could feel the presence of a thin sliver of drool down the side of my mouth. I jerked myself upright.
“Right! Sorry Riana my love. Didn’t get much sleep last night!”
“Humph!”
I thanked myself that Riana was not in angrier a mood. Last time she had thrown a chair at me. At least we were in the middle of an auction where such things were prohibited.

“Lot number 543, ladies and gentlemen, a piano case. Do I hear £1000?” The auctioneer straightened his glasses. “£2000 from the lady in blue. £3000. £4500…..”
“TOMMY!”
“Hummm???”
“Wake up NOW!!” She grabbed my earlobe as I rose from a drowsy 30 second sleep and pinched hard.
“Keep your voice down dear,” I muttered.
“KEEP my voice down? Keep MY voice down? Is that an order? Do you know who you are talking too?” Riana demanded. She glared at me furiously. The words hovered at the tip of my tongue but I kept myself silent. Riana had already made it perfectly clear that she wore the boots in our household.

“Lot number 546….” The caller paused. There was a rush of muttering from the crowd. I sat up to look.
“Oh my God!” Riana exclaimed beside me.
A tiny child was standing on the stage. It appeared to be a girl from the long hair hanging over the thin face but you could not be sure. The child was positively dripping mud and filth and you could almost see the fleas jumping on the long overcoat that she wore. A sorrier spectacle you couldn’t have imagined.
“What ARE they doing?” Riana demanded of me as the auctioneers began to confer among themselves. “Don’t they even know what they are selling? It’s a child for God’s sake.”
“Hmmm,” I nodded. The auctioneer rose to speak. It appeared there had been some mistake but the auction would have to go ahead. The child had been hiding in one of the trunks, claimed she had been in there for years, though of course that was untrue. How could a child survive that long? Still, Mr Caraway had been most specific in his will. Everything was to be auctioned and any deviation from his wishes would result in the cancellation of the large donation he had made towards the Town Fund. It was just one child after all and they were sure it would have a good home. The Town Fund really was important.
I felt the excitement beginning to drop slightly as the auctioneers went on an on with excuses. A child was not a lot number! A child was not an object! What was the world coming to? I looked at the girl with more than pity in my eyes. What a miserable creature she was!
As though she heard my thoughts, she raised her head slightly as I observed her. With a trembling hand she pushed back the thick mane of hair that crossed her brow and brought her eyes up to meet mine. With a jolt of panic I clutched the back of my chair.
“TOMMY!” Riana said through gritted teeth. “Would you please just sit straight and listen to the auction for once in your miserable life!” I barely hear her. Had I dreamt it? I looked at the girl again. She had retreated behind her mane of hair and was engaged in scratching one of her long brown arms. Were those brilliant purple eyes a dream? When she had raised her head, fixed those violet eyes on mine, I had seen her soul, her raging torment of a soul. I had fallen into her eyes, into her depths, and all too suddenly fallen out.
“So Lot number 546 ladies and gentleman, “the auctioneer repeated, slightly uncomfortably, “do I hear…well….hmmm…any bids?” I looked at Riana in her stiff-starched life, shaking her head disapprovingly beside me, looked at the violet-eyed girl standing in the long overcoat and the mysteries beyond, and I raised my hand.
“£10,” the auctioneer looked at me a little curiously, “do I hear £20..?”
“What ARE you doing?” Riana glared at me furiously. “Now just you stop being so foolish Tommy Lawkins. You’ve acted up enough today. People are looking!”
I looked at her, for once really looked at her. Blonde haired, blue eyed Riana Mason in her flowery dress and the leather handbag on her knee. The perfect beauty, the great ‘catch’.
“I am not your child Riana,” I said levelly, “I am a grown man. If you are concerned about whether people are looking sit somewhere else. You don’t wear the boots in our household, Riana, whatever you may think.”
She gaped, her lipsticked mouth a perfect o. Then she shut it,
“There is no ‘household’, Mr. Lawkins,” she said with dignity, “and I think I may sit somewhere else. You can take your little scummy slum child and yourself out of my flat and find yourself a dingy hovel that will suit the both of you. You’ll remember the day you chose to walk away from Riana Mason, Tommy, and I won’t be forgiving then.”
She rose and walked away, swinging her leather purse while she walked. I looked back at the auctioneer. He shrugged.
“£50,” I said.

Word count - 922