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It was too hot, Goneril decided. Simply too hot. How on earth could she be expected to stay indoors when it was stifling?
She threw aside the book she was supposed to be reading and fell back onto the bed with a sigh. Her clothes were too thick and heavy for this weather; the window of her room had been thrown wide open but it provided little relief from the oppressive heat.
Deciding that enough was enough, she rolled off the bed, landing with a soft ‘smack’ on to the floor. She wriggled her arm and shoulder into the gap between the bed and the floor, grasping blindly until her fingers closed around the drawstring of a canvas bag. She yanked it out and tipped the contents out onto the bed. Hurriedly, she began peeling off the heavy dress that was currently sticking uncomfortably to her skin. It fell with a thump to the floor. Goneril took a moment to appreciate the brief relief of fleeting cool before rifling through the crumpled pile on the bed to redress in a loose, short sleeved shirt and breeches. Cheap cotton; a tad scratchy but much more breathable than any of the finery tucked away in her wardrobe.
She pulled on a pair of worn and supple boots and fled her room and burst through the door of her sister’s adjoining bedroom.
Regan was sat primly by her window, sewing with a methodical patience. She looked up briefly from her task as her door banged against the wall with her sister’s ferocious entrance.
“What on earth are you wearing?”
“Clothes. It was too hot in that dress. Besides, I like these.”
Regan just shrugged and turned back to her sewing.
“Come on, put that down and let’s go play.” Goneril whined, draping herself over Regan’s shoulders.
“I can’t. And you can’t either. What if father catches us?”
“He won’t. Come on, Regan, please? We could go down to the beach to find mermaids or go dragon hunting or build a den. Anything’s better than being stuck here all day.”
Regan nibbled at her nails, uncertainty written all over her face.
“We won’t get in trouble, will we? We won’t get caught?”
“Don’t be silly! Have I ever let you get into trouble before?”
Regan gave a small shake of the head before giving Goneril a wide smile.
“All right then. Let’s go!”
With a short stop off to collect Cordelia the sisters quickly and quietly snuck through the servants’ quarters and into the kitchens. The kitchens were always a hub of noise and activity; no-one paid any attention to anything that wasn’t a dish in progress or a pot to be washed, making it exceptionally easy for the children to run through to the door that would lead them straight out to the courtyard and the great outdoors.
Once they were safely out, Goneril gently let Cordelia to the ground (she had been carried on her back to quicken their journey through the busy kitchens). She began striding across the cobbled courtyard with her sisters in hot pursuit.
“Where are we going to go then?” Regan asked.
“Well, we could go over the cliffs and then head down to the beach?”
Cordelia squealed excitedly.
“Crabbing!”
“No, Delia, we can’t go crabbing today, we haven’t any lines or bait,” Regan explained, “We don’t have any food for ourselves actually. And it is getting close to lunch time.”
“Well sorry for trying to have a bit of fun,” Goneril sighed, “Fine, why don’t you two wait in the pony paddock and I’ll go and find us something for a picnic. Okay?”
Without waiting for a reply, she turned about and jogged back to the closed door. Regan took hold of Cordelia’s hand and gently tugged her towards the direction of the paddock.
“Come along then, if we sit under the trees we can have a bit of shade.”
The two girls squeezed under the lowest railing of the wooden fence that bordered the paddock where three ponies were lazily grazing. The dappled grey raised his head to watch them for a moment but lost interest quickly in favour of the sweet grass.
Regan primly sat herself beneath the large tree in the corner of the paddock, spreading her skirt neatly around her. She plucked a nearby daisy from the ground and pushed her nail through the stalk and started making a daisy chain. Cordelia sat opposite her, watching attentively with wide eyes.
“Why does Goneril dress like a boy?” she asked suddenly.
“She doesn’t.”
“Yes she does, sometimes. She’s wearing boy clothes today. She’s done it before. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Regan snapped, “She just thinks they’re comfortable I think.”
Cordelia nodded and fell silent, her brow furrowed as she mulled it over in her mind.
“Does Goneril want to be a boy?”
Regan put down the chain she was working on and held her arms open as an invitation for Cordelia to climb into her lap. She idly began putting small plaits into her fine hair, trying to put into words something neither she, nor Goneril herself, fully understood.
“Goneril doesn’t want to be a boy. Not all the time anyway … it’s just ….sometimes she’s a girl and sometimes she’s a boy.”
“Oh. Okay. Can you teach me how to make daisy chains please?”
By the time they saw Goneril hoisting herself over the fence they had used nearly all the daisies in the immediate area. Cordelia jumped up and ran over to her eldest sister, holding out a chain in her outstretched hands.
“Goneril! Goneril! I made you this! Regan showed me how to make it and it’s for you!” she called out breathlessly.
“Oh wow, Delia! That’s great! Thank you! Here, put it on me.” She bent down so that Cordelia could drape the chain around her neck.
“Why have you got so much stuff?” Regan asked, having followed Cordelia at a more leisurely pace.
“Well, we have food,” Goneril lifted up a wicker picnic basket, “And if we’re going to go crabbing, we need lines, don’t we?”
Cordelia laughed brightly, clapping her hands together as she ran in circles chanting: “We’re going crabbing! We’re going crabbing!” until Regan grabbed her and clamped a hand over her mouth.
The sun was at its height as the three made their way over the cliffs towards the stretch of secluded beach. A windy and narrow path down the cliff face was the only means of reaching the sands below. Goneril scrambled down first with their belongings. She found a small outcrop of low rocks to use as a landmark, laid down their belongings and climbed back up the path to where her sisters were waiting patiently.
She knelt down to allow Cordelia to climb up onto her back, her small arms grasped tightly around Goneril’s neck.
The first step down the slope was a little steep and Goneril stumbled with the added weight. The arms about her neck tightened suddenly and Cordelia squealed whilst Goneril gasped, her head jerking back.
“Delia! Don’t do that!” she scolded, “It’s fine, I’m not going to drop you!”
“Sorry.” Cordelia whispered plaintively, pressing a small kiss of apology to her sister’s cheek.
“Well … it’s fine. Just stay still from now on.” Goneril grumbled as she steadily resumed her descent.
Regan followed with trepidation, having always hated that this was the only route down to the beach. She very delicately tested the solidity of the ground with each step with her toes before committing her foot to the step. Her eyes were firmly set on her feet with her arms stretched out at her sides for balance.
Eventually they were all happily tucking into the ‘last minute picnic’ that as it turned out consisted of nothing but a variety of cakes and a couple of large bottles of pink lemonade.
“I can’t believe you forgot the cups.” Regan said, wrinkling her nose at having to take a drink directly from the bottle. Goneril just shrugged.
“It’s more to carry. We didn’t need them,” she explained.
“It’s not polite to drink from the bottle.”
“Well no-one’s around to see, are they? Just drink it or go thirsty!”
The two glared at each other for a moment in stony silence which Regan was the first to break with a perturbed huff.
“Can we go crabbing now?” Cordelia asked very softly, gently tugging on Goneril’s sleeve.
“Yes, let’s go have some fun!”
They gathered their lines and bait and buckets and began trekking over the sands. At the far end of the beach was a natural pool hidden within the rocks. When the tide washed in it covered the rocks completely but when it receded it left still, salty waters contained in what was essentially a giant rock pool. Ideal for swimming and perfect for crabbing.
The girls sat at the edge of the pool, feet dangling into the warm water; Cordelia watching the ripples with fascination whilst Goneril fixed pieces of bacon to the hooks and Regan scooped up water into their buckets.
“Now, Delia, do you want to sit on my lap and help me catch some crabs?” Goneril asked, knowing that her sister was too little to do so on her own. The last time she had tried her fingers had become tangled in the line and it had taken forever to undo all the mysterious knots she had managed to create. Cordelia also remembered this all too clearly, so she readily crawled into her eldest sister’s lap and leant against her chest, hoping to get a bit of a cuddle out of the arrangement.
Together they cast the line and felt the weight at the end drag their hook to the bottom. After a minute or two, Cordelia, whose hand was around Goneril’s holding the line, gasped.
“We got one!”
“You think so? Is it tugging?”
“Yes! Yes!” she giggled delightedly.
“Alright then, get off me and I’ll pull it up.”
Goneril began to wind the line up around itself and moments later a small, green bellied crab appeared, legs curling in the open air.
“Quick! Quick! Here’s the bucket!” Regan prompted.
As gently as she could, Goneril lowered the little crab into the water. The three girls loomed over the bucket, casting it into shadow as they gaped at the creature scuttling around his temporary home.
“He looks like Mr Kent.” Cordelia chuckled.
“Cordelia!” Regan gasped, appalled, as Goneril threw her head back and laughed raucously, “You mustn’t say such things.”
“Why not? It’s funny!” Goneril roared, “Besides, I think he looks more like Mr Glouecester.”
“I suppose he does a bit,” Regan conceded, her lips pursing in an attempt not to smile, “Let’s see if we can find one that looks like Edmund. All cross and red!”
“And he pinches.” Cordelia pouted.
The laughter of the three little girls carried out across the sands, ringing out amidst the rocks. The day was hot and stifling. It was the perfect day to sneak out and find crabs that looked like mean little boys; nothing could have been finer.