Garnet or Garnets Curse

questioned, turning around to face me. She folded her arms over her engorged breasts and glared at me with a puzzled look on her face. Then with a flirtatious smile, she started to approach me again. “You know tattoos have become a mark of wealth for all the crowned heads of Europe. The sailors pay me good money for their tattoos and to you I am offering my service free.”
    “I am sure it is a service of value. I am sorry; it is against my religion,” I responded, hoping to put an end to her query.
    “The natives on the island say they are magical and protect their wearers from evil spirits and curses,” Nell called out to me as I hurried down the hall. I did not respond, but her comment worried me and gave me reason to fear she might know something about the curse that haunts me.
    Once upstairs in the room assigned to me, I sat down on the bed and started to cry. Everything about this place was repulsive to me. It was damp, dirty and I was afraid of Nell. Still exhausted from my journey, I laid back on the bed and drifted off to sleep.
    When I awoke, the sun had gone down. I found myself trembling. I had a dream that Nell tied me up and tattooed a rose on my face. I jumped to my feet and ran to the mirror. I was relieved to see my face was clear.
    Tapping came at the door and I jumped. “Margo, it is me, Arlene,” came the voice from the other side. I opened the door and found her standing there with a large basket and a broom. She came in and set the basket down on the floor. “ Now, let’s see if we can clean this place up a bit, ” she said smiling.
    Her first effort was to open the window and throw out the bales of hay. She laughed as they tumbled down the side of the house. Once the cleaning was done, we slipped downstairs and stole a chair, a small table, a rug and lamp. Within an hour the loft was transformed into tolerable living quarters.
    In spite of her circumstances, Arlene was a cheery sort. She invited me to her room to play cards. I quickly agreed, which seemed to delight her. By the light of a single candle, we tiptoed down the stairs. Her dainty little feet had memorized every step; she never looked down once.
    “Shh wait here,” she said, stopping at the kitchen door. Seconds later she reappeared giggling with something tucked under her arm. She took my hand and led me down the hall. I took note of how rough her little hand felt as she pulled me inside her room. After she lit the lamp, she held up a jug of whisky. With a gleam in her eye, she poured us both a cup.
    She saw me hesitate. “Go ahead; you’ll get use to the bite. The effects dull the senses and help to make the nights a little less lonely. So, here’s to you my new friend. Cheers!” she said, and lifted the cup to her lips and emptied its contents.
    I followed her lead. The fiery liquid burned a path down my throat to the pit of my stomach. Still, I set my cup down for her to refill.
    As we drank the whisky, she talked and I listened. Eight years ago her father died and her stepmother had indentured her to Nell. She was only 14 when she came to live with Nell. She confided in me, telling me she had a secret lover who lived on the mainland. She talked freely about their lovemaking in the back of the store when Nell thought she was cleaning fish.
    I learned the portrait hanging in the parlor was Nell’s mother. Nell’s father was a wealthy ship’s captain and she had spent most of her youth aboard a ship. When her father died, Nell opened up the cafe and began catering to sailors.
    However, she clammed up when I asked what Nell was doing in her room bare chested. “I hope you don’t have to find out,” she whispered. “Two more years and my time is up. I am going as far away from here as I can, even if I have to swim. Maybe if I am lucky, I might die and get away sooner,” she said, faking a laugh. However, something told me it was not a joke. Her voice was hollow, like someone who was already dead.
    With the whisky gone, her conversation grew sleepy. I returned to my mostly clean room. I fell asleep as Garnet, the girl known in this isolated world as “ Margo. ”

    Chapter VII
    It Was Only Monday

    I was quick to learn that living that close to the sea makes everything feel thick and damp. My dress felt like it weighed a ton as I slipped it over my head the next morning.
    When my father forced this trip on me, I had only time to shove a few garments in a bag: an extra dress, a nightgown and a few