To Splinter A Soul

Chapter 7- Pendant

Monday 2nd November 1992- Becca

"And its congratulations again to Boys II Men, who keep hold of the number one spot for the second week running with this track ...."

Becca woke to the breakfast show DJ listing the UK's new top ten. As the boy band began to croon, she reached over and thumped the off-button on the radio-alarm clock.

"That's the end of the road for you," she grumbled.

The blankets were twisted around her body and from the heavy, fuzzy feeling in her head, she knew she'd not slept well at all. If she had dreamt, she couldn't recall. Her mind then went back to the dinner the day before. She had an odd sense that something unusual had happened, but nothing would come into focus.

Becca pulled the curtain back and looked out at the cold autumn morning. The leaves on the large oak had nearly all dropped and were being blown around the base of the tree, while a low mist hung over the fields behind the vicarage. It was a denim dungarees and thick, plaid shirt, kind of day. Reluctantly, she climbed out of bed into the frigid room. Her uncle's strict control over the thermostat meant that the heating came on for long enough to heat some water but not enough to provide a level of warm comfort.

With only thirty minutes to spare, she bolted for the bathroom, teeth chattering and cast a longing glance at the deep, roll-top bath. She couldn't help imagining herself neck-deep in hot, strawberry-scented water, but those too were also a thing of the past as her uncle favoured economical, two-minute showers. With a sigh, she reached over to turn on the water and noticed at once, her wrist. It was still thankfully numb as she pressed around it, but she made a mental note to call the local doctor later that morning, concerned it looked redder and deeper than before.

Once dried and dressed, Beccca tied her hair back and applied a swipe of mascara, trying to ignore her dull complexion and puffy, reddened eyes in the mirror. Grabbing her bag and Walkman, she selected her Nirvana cassette, purposefully co-ordinating her music choice with her grey, Kurt Cobain-print sweater she wore beneath dungarees, and headed down to breakfast.

Downstairs, the silence was deafening. She imagined him sitting at the table waiting, poised ready to launch into a tirade at her. She remembered arriving late at the church and remembered Ben walking her home, but everything else had gone. What the hell had she taken at the rave that could cause her to have such memory loss? Did she dare mention it to the doctor, when she saw him about her wrist?

The door to the kitchen was slightly ajar, so she paused for a moment and took a deep breath. She had just thirteen minutes in which to leave the house to get to the bus stop in time, so she decided to go on the offensive with the offer of a quick apology. As she pushed the opened, inwards she found and empty room and a note written on a St Saviour's embossed pad, in the centre of the table.

Rebecca, I have had to leave early on a matter of urgent parish business. Margaret has left some freshly baked teacakes for your breakfast. I will be back late again tonight, so please fix yourself some supper.

In an odd way, Becca felt a little disappointed by his absence. Yes, she'd avoided a lecture, but now the house felt colder and lonelier, not helping her background anxiety, that she was trying to pretend didn't exist. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted up to her nose. She lifted the muslin cloth on the table and found the plate of teacakes, still warm. They were the size of saucers and the surface burnished with a glossy-brown, sugary crust. Pieces of dried fruit and chopped peel bulged out from the sweet dough. Ravenous, she grabbed one and stuffed it into her mouth. It tasted as good as it looked and the sticky-sweet, cinnamon-spiced bun was gone within four mouthfuls. She grabbed another and munched her way through it as she laced up her boots. She chugged back a glass of milk then grabbed her coat, leaving the house, buoyed by the sugar intake and feeling a little more relaxed.