Lonely Hearts

Chapter four: Emma

I hate school. I mean, there's probably nobody who loves school. I mean, really, truly loves it. Nobody skips to lessons every day and pulls out their maths book with a smile and thinks excitedly "oh wow, I'm in school!". Nobody I knew anyway. Not that I knew all that many people.

But I hate it. Particularly this one. Dull grey brick with dull grey classrooms and dull grey teachers. Even the paintings on the walls looked grey with age.

Max was lucky. She was still in the primary school. In another month or two, she would move here too, but for now, she was in the colourful classrooms where they did lessons like art and drama and science experiments.

The only thing that provided any colour here was the red of our badges. Grey and white uniforms, but bright red flowers gleamed in the corner of every one, and white writing underneath. To live is to learn is to grow was the general gist of the strange latin phrase people mocked every now and then.

I slid into my seat, dumping my bag on the floor and casting a look at my fellow classmates who were laughing and shrieking and squabbling like a family I had never quite fitted into. Story of my life. Patiently, I waited for Milly to arrive. She was the only reason I showed up every day. At least she made me giggle.

I looked up and down, wondering what Lincoln would be doing today. At school, I guess. Working towards his GCSEs or something. Was he any good at school? Certainly he couldn't be worse than me.

I loosened my tie, ignoring the glare Mr Matthews shot me.

"Do up your tie properly, Miss Johnson." He told me.

"But Sir," I protested. "It's too warm."

"I don't care, whilst in the school, we wear our ties done to the neck and our blazers straight. Is that clear?"

I pouted.

"Is that clear, Miss Johnson?"

"Yes sir." I muttered.

"I can't hear you, Miss Johnson."

"Yes sir." I said louder, gritting my teeth.

"We'll have none of that attitude today, Miss Johnson, go and wait outside until you're willing to behave like a young lady."

I sighed and left the room, the door slamming shut behind me. I knew I was supposed to stay calm. Keep my cool. But I couldn't. Not always.

It was something Lincoln had always told me. "We're always going to be seen as the bad lot, Emma. We've been in the Home. People hear stories about that place. "Know" things about the children and what they do. Have rumours they cling onto because it's all they ever get out of us. Children's homes and their residents are seen as taboo. As nightmares. Threats to tell their children. Don't ever let them try and define you that way. You're more than that. You deserve more."

He was adamant about the fact that I never let myself be ashamed of living in the Home. That I had nothing to hide.

The Home was just that. A home for those who didn't have one. But it was made to be something evil. Something undesirable. Something to be ashamed of.

I shouldn't be ashamed of it. I shouldn't let people make assumptions about me because of where I had lived. Where I belonged.

But if I shouldn't be ashamed of it, if he was so convinced that the Home was just another place to live, why did he fight so hard to keep me out of it?

I had left the Home at such a young age. Hadn't ever been in there longer than a day, and only in the office, before being shipped to a new placement. Lincoln had given everything he could to make sure we had a real home to go to. That we were safe and happy.

Why would he do that, if the Home was just another house? If the Home was just that...a home, why didn't he ever want us to stay there with him?

Did he just not want us around anymore?

Or was he hiding something?

~*~

I picked at my lunch in the corner with Milly at our usual small table. Today's menu was the usual grey unidentifiable muck and I eyed Milly's sandwiches enviously. She pushed the tray towards me and I picked up a ham sandwich gratefully.

"Mum always overpacks lunch anyway." She said, smiling.

She doesn't. Milly just doesn't eat a lot. I worry about her sometimes, but I know it's none of my business. Besides, she could have a really big dinner for all I know. It's not like we're close enough that we go over to each other's houses often, though Amelié is constantly encouraging me to invite friends around, offering to host tea parties or take us to the cinema to see a film. She wants me to settle in, act as if I could make this my permanent home.

But nothing is permanent. I'd love to call a place home someday. But not here. And not with Amelié and Louis. No, the only people who could make a house feel like home were long gone. 

One day Lincoln will come back for you.

I remembered a time when I used to tell myself that every day. A time when I was nïave enough to believe it. When I still believed in happy endings and heros saving the day. I always thought my brother would be that hero. Now I wasn't so sure.

Even when I knew him, he wasn't always so heroic. Sure, he had looked after us, protected us, defended us. But he had his fair share of problems. Anger issues, struggles with grief, acceptance. Hatred. Hatred at Mummy for abandoning us, at Daddy for passing away when he needed him, at us, maybe, for being too young, too reliant. But he would never say it out loud. Wouldn't dream of it. He loved us too much. I know he did. But he hated us too. Hated us for making his life so different to how he had planned it. For being young enough to find a family whilst he waited to sign out and live alone.

I wondered if he would even still want us anymore.

"Is something wrong?" Milly asked, biting into an apple.

I shook my head, picking at my sandwich and nibbling around the edges.

"It's just been a busy week." I said, avoiding the truth.

I didn't like to talk about my life. Even with those I trusted. And Milly was one of the very few people I trusted. It felt strange to think that.

She nodded, as if in understanding, but I knew she didn't understand. How could she? She had grown up with a family. Parents who supported her. A brother who was always there, always loving, always devoted.

She had someone to not just say 'I love you' but to show her what it means. Someone to teach and protect and adore her.

She would never know what it felt like to be alone. And I was glad. No one deserved to be alone.

Especially not us.

I had considered running away before. Back in some of the truly horrendous foster homes. The ones with adults who were just in it for the money or new "siblings" who hated our guts. But I couldn't. I would never leave Max and I would never put her in danger by leaving into the unknown.

If anyone treats you like shit, Lincoln used to say, you come and tell me and I will do everything I can to get you out of there. And he always had.

We could always trust him. We knew that. Had always known that. And every time I said it wasn't working out, we would find our way back to him. However briefly.

I wish now I still had that confidence that he would be there to help us if we needed it. Before I had always believed in him. Always trusted in his ability to make things right.

But now? Now I wasn't so sure.