Rain Upon Saints
Summer, 1980
In the town of Taunton, Somerset, near a small park and away from the town centre, sat All Saints Children’s Home. The orphanage was a larger-than-average, three-story home built in the latter years of Queen Victoria’s reign. The house was adorned with a small conservatory, a large garden, and a solid tangle of ivy crawling up the west wall, which never fully died off, no matter how many attempts were made to remove it.
It was as nice a place as any to abandon a child. That is, except for the rain. The rain had persisted for a week straight in Taunton, until finally, the clouds broke on one muggy August morning.
Margaret Frethey, the directress at All Saints, stepped out onto the front porch of the children’s home, and nearly stumbled over a bundle on the steps. Peeling aside one corner of the quilted blanket revealed a baby with pink cheeks and a cap of light brown curls atop her head, sound asleep inside the bundle.
It wasn’t all that unusual for a child to be left at the doorstep—All Saints was an orphanage after all—but the one thing Miss Frethey could not explain was the perfectly circular, perfectly dry patch of stone beneath and all around the baby.
No matter how she looked at it, Miss Frethey could not rationalise what she had seen. So, naturally, she never spoke of it. Priding herself on being a rather logical individual, Miss Frethey was not inclined to discuss, or even acknowledge, anything beyond what appeared reasonable. She took the baby inside, prepared a bottle, and went about life as usual.
Taking in abandoned children was the most expected part of her job, and Miss Frethey took on her new ward without much fuss. The only thing that troubled her in those first few weeks was the mystery. The baby couldn't have been much older than a year but appeared healthy, well cared for, and rather happy natured, as far as Miss Frethey could tell. Why anyone would abandon such a lovely child was beyond her, but it wasn’t in her right to judge.
The little girl from the steps didn’t have much with her at all—no records, no name, no clue at all as to who she was or where she came from. The only thing that belonged to her with absolute certainty was the blanket she came wrapped in, which was hand-embroidered with intricate lines of ocean waves.
It was the mystery that made naming the little girl all the more difficult. That, and Miss Frethey had never actually named a child before. All the ones who came before had arrived with birth certificates already made out and stamped.
But after many days of careful thought (and perhaps a nightcap or two), Miss Frethey made a decision.
Anna Alsaint was named, in part, after the orphanage where she was found and, in part, after the Directress’ great aunt, who had willed the home to Miss Frethey upon her passing. Miss Frethey fondly recalled her departed great aunt as an odd but lovely woman.
Life within the children’s home soon settled into a quiet norm. With each passing year Miss Frethey grew more and more fond of the little girl. And with each passing year she allowed the mystery of the girl’s appearance to fade into distant memory.
For several quiet years Anna grew up in All Saints Children’s Home, watching other kids come and go. When she grew too big for the little blue blanket she’d arrived in, it was tacked onto the wall above her bed, bunk 5.
By her eleventh birthday—which was really the anniversary of her arrival at All Saints—Anna grew to be much like her namesake: odd but lovely. At least that’s what Miss Frethey said.
In the Directress’ eyes Anna was a “darling and exceptionally driven girl.” This was an opinion Miss Frethey did not extend to any other child and one that Anna loathed for how it came to be (but that’s another story entirely). Actually, Miss Frethey was fair and quite kind to all the children under her care, but she had taken a peculiar liking to Anna. Of course, this did not go unnoticed by the other kids.
Strictly speaking, Anna Alsaint was not a troublemaker…because she never got in trouble. Though she broke the rules quite often, no punishments were ever dealt out to her—a symptom of Miss Frethey’s unwarranted doting.
Anna quickly gained popularity among the kids at the orphanage. They caught on to how the Directress never said a harsh word against the girl and they used this to their full advantage. Anna was more than happy to carry out the other childrens’ misdeed, for a small fee of course. Earning spare coins was an excellent excuse to sneak around the house. And in truth, Anna craved the adventure of it. She found thrill in nicking extra food from the kitchen, stealing the janitor's keys, sneaking notes down to the boys floor, and snooping through the files in the Directress' office.
To Anna’s credit, she tried not to get caught, and most of the time she didn't. But on the rare chance she was found red-handed, the Headmistress would give Anna a reluctant talking-to and send her off with a pat on the head. And after two years of running errands for the other kids, Anna had collected a modest sum of money, kept hidden in a shoebox under the loose floorboards beneath her bed.
Despite a few odd occurrences throughout her childhood, and the ever-present curiosity about where she’d come from, Anna was content. Though, like every child at All Saints, Anna longed for something more. She didn't necessarily want a family (though she figured it wouldn't be the worst thing) but she did want something beyond the ordinary.
Anna did not yet know how extraordinary the world could be.