The World That Had No Outside: III. The Room That Remembered

The voices stopped when Elian entered.

There were six people in the room.

A woman sat beside the window, sewing a piece of blue cloth. An old man was asleep in a chair. Two children were playing with wooden animals on the floor. A young man stood beside the fireplace, holding a cup.

At the table, a girl was drawing.

Elian recognised her.

She had lived three houses away, near the village well. She had been younger than Elian, and had always worn her hair in two plaits.

"Marra?"

The girl looked up.

For a moment, she seemed frightened.

Then she smiled.

"You're here."

Elian crossed the room.

"What happened to the village?"

Marra put down her pencil.

"I don't know."

"But you were there."

"Yes."

"You came through the door?"

Marra shook her head.

"I came through the window."

Elian looked around.

There was only one window in the room, and it was closed.

"Which window?"

Marra pointed.

Elian went to it.

Beyond the glass was the garden.

The pond lay beneath the apple trees. The bridge crossed it. The woman with the basket was standing on the path.

Elian turned back.

"How long have you been here?"

Marra thought.

"Since yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"Perhaps."

Elian sat beside her.

The drawing on the table showed a house.

It had a door, three windows, and a chimney. Behind it stood a wall.

Elian looked at the wall.

"Is that our wall?"

Marra nodded.

"Where is the door?"

Marra pointed to the house.

Elian looked again.

The door was drawn on the wall.

She touched the paper.

"Why did you draw it there?"

Marra picked up her pencil.

"Because that's where it was."

Elian looked towards the window.

The garden was still there.

The woman with the basket had disappeared.

"Marra," she said, "do you remember the village?"

"Of course."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Marra began to draw.

She drew the well.

Then the houses.

Then the road.

Then the wall.

When she had finished, she looked at Elian.

"There," she said.

Elian studied the drawing.

The village was complete.

But there was something missing.

The wall stood behind the houses, and the road led towards it. Yet the village had no entrance.

Elian pointed.

"How did we get in?"

Marra looked at the drawing.

Then she looked at the window.

"I don't remember."

The old man in the chair stirred.

He opened his eyes.

"Nobody remembers that," he said.

Elian turned.

"Who are you?"

The old man looked at her.

"I was the man who built the wall."

The room became quiet.

Elian looked towards Marra.

The girl had begun drawing again.

This time, she drew a door.

The old man stood.

He walked towards the table and looked at the paper.

"That's not where it was," he said.

Marra stopped drawing.

"Where was it?"

The old man took the pencil.

He drew a small square beside the wall.

"There."

Elian looked at it.

The square was on the other side.

She looked up.

"Other side of what?"

The old man put down the pencil.

"That's what I never understood."

He returned to his chair.

The girl turned the paper over.

On the back, she began to draw another village.

Elian watched.

The houses were different.

The road was different.

The wall was gone.

But the people were the same.

She recognised the woman with the basket.

She recognised the man with the white beard.

She recognised herself.

Marra looked up.

"Do you remember this one?"

Elian shook her head.

"No."

The girl smiled.

"Neither do I."

She folded the paper.

Then she handed it to Elian.

"Perhaps we should go there."