The Forest of Lost Souls

Z
OE KEPT RUSHING AROUND THE
M
C
G
RAWS’ HOUSE
, frantically looking in every room. Orthon had disappeared and there was no sign of his wife Barbara or his son Mortimer. She was alone.

“Go to your room, Zoe, don’t worry,” Mortimer had told her two weeks ago. “I’ll pop up and see you in a bit.”

That was the last time she’d spoken to him. She’d waited all evening, then she’d fallen asleep, worn out with worry. The house was empty when she’d woken up. Horribly empty. Zoe had waited for hours for Orthon or Mortimer to come back, wandering from room to room and leaving worried messages on their mobiles, which had rung unanswered. Hours had turned into days. The cupboards and fridge gradually emptied, dust settled on the furniture, growing thicker by the day, and spiders’ webs formed high up on the walls. With all hope gone, she’d finally had to face facts: she’d been abandoned. She was all alone in the world with nowhere to go and no one cared if she lived or died. The house felt as if it were closing in on her like a tomb.

This unpleasant sensation shocked her into action. She packed a small bag with her most treasured possessions: the photo album documenting special events in her short life, a few birthday cards, a pendant in the shape of a clover leaf and her gran’s strange-looking flute. Then, with her bag slung over her shoulder, she walked to the Pollocks’ house without looking back, her heart in pieces.

When Dragomira opened the door she was astounded to recognize a thin, grubby Zoe gazing at her with desperate, tear-filled eyes ringed with dark circles.

“Mrs Pollock, I’m so sorry for coming here—I didn’t know where else to go…”

Then, overcome with emotion, she sank down onto the top step in front of the house. Dragomira, who was still bruised and battered from her final encounter with Orthon, summoned the Lunatrixes to help. Zoe didn’t resist, too exhausted to show any fear of these remarkable creatures. They carried her up to their mistress’s apartment and laid her on a sofa, where she immediately fell asleep.

“Misunderstanding is about to experience mending!” exclaimed the Lunatrix, even more enigmatically than ever.

“Oh, please, my Lunatrix,” said Dragomira, rebuking the small creature. “This is no time to speak in riddles!”

“Beware of judgement overflowing with errors and grudges, Old Gracious,” continued the small creature nonetheless. “Vast importance must be attributed to this girl because she contains Gracious blood…”

The Old Gracious frowned and slumped down onto the sofa opposite the one where the Lunatrixes had deposited Zoe. Despite her weakened condition and the scolding she’d just given her Lunatrix, she knew in her heart of hearts that this pitiable-looking girl was going to turn their lives upside down.

To Zoe’s great embarrassment, Dragomira was watching her when she woke up, even though she could see no hostility in Baba Pollock’s eyes.

“Hello, Zoe,” Dragomira said softly. “Are you feeling any better?”

When Zoe replied “no” in an almost inaudible whisper, Dragomira leant towards her and, gently taking her hand, murmured kindly:

“I know you’re scared. I would be too if I were in your shoes. I just want to say that I don’t mean you any harm—quite the opposite, in fact. You can trust me.”

Feeling somewhat reassured and more hopeful, Zoe glanced shyly at Dragomira.

“Why don’t you tell me everything from the beginning?” suggested the old lady.

After a brief hesitation, Zoe made up her mind. The words poured from her, tumbling over each other to get out. She sobbed as the painful memories tore her apart, making her heart ache, but once she’d started, she couldn’t stop. She kept talking through her tears while Dragomira stroked her hand, realizing the extent of the misunderstanding mentioned by the Lunatrix.

“So your father isn’t Orthon-McGraw!” gasped Baba Pollock in amazement.

“No. He’s my great-uncle, my gran was his twin sister. He took me in when she died.”

She was now speaking in a tiny voice. Startled, Dragomira looked at her even more attentively and murmured:

“Reminiscens… Reminiscens was so near to us and we didn’t realize.”

“She told me you’d known each other when you were young and that you alone could help me if I was ever in trouble. She really admired you, you know. I’ve got some photos of her, if you’d like to see them…”

“I’d love to,” whispered Dragomira.

Zoe took the photo album from her bag and handed it to Dragomira, who carefully opened it. The old lady turned the pages, her mind reeling. She kept looking from Zoe to the pictures and back again, her amazement increasing with every page.

“My gran knew a great deal about all kinds of things, particularly rocks and precious stones,” continued Zoe. “She was a diamond-cutter. She’d
always lived with me and my parents because she adored my dad. He was her only son. When he died, she focused all her energy and love on me. We both often held back tears to avoid upsetting each other. We had to be strong for each other and that was really hard. I’d lost my parents, but she’d lost her son.”

“That’s awful… Is that your dad in these photos?” asked the old lady, pointing to a page of the open album.

“Yes.”

“He was very handsome.”

Dragomira stared at the photos for a long while, her brow furrowed. Suddenly a thought struck her and the blood drained from her face.

“I’d like to ask you something, Zoe,” she said, trembling. “What was your father’s name? And do you know his date of birth?”

“My dad was born on 29th March 1953 and his name was Jan Evanvleck.”

Dragomira sank back on the sofa. All these pieces of information came together in her mind, making her head spin and sucking her into a vortex of repressed grief and untold secrets. The truth erupted like lava from a volcano.

“Leomido…” murmured Dragomira.

She looked at Zoe, her eyes full of tears.

“You haven’t lost everything, my child. When you knocked on my door, you found a family. Your own family.”

“I… I don’t understand!” stammered Zoe.

“My dear brother, Leomido, is your grandfather.”