Paige Valery swung her basket of eggs violently, as she walked through the cow-dung spotted meadow, on her way back to the farm house from the chicken coup. The cows couldn't be seen, but you could hear them mooing loudly as they were being milked in the barn.
Paige loved living on the Farm. It was tranquil, it wasn't infested with troops and it was where her family lived and it provided plenty of landscapes for her to paint. But Paige loved the idea of living in a city that didn't have troops roaming the streets and poverty plaguing the footpaths. A place where she could have her own art studio and paint whenever she liked and own a gallery, packed with exquisite pieces of art. In Canacara, women were barely allowed to do anything. They couldn't have professional jobs, couldn't have proper education and they certainly couldn't own property.
Although Paige was well aware of the restrictions the women of Canacara had to live with, she managed to remain positive. It helped that the Farm was very isolated and far away from the city and the rest of society. So, she didn't have to encounter the poverty and severe injustice that pockmarked the city. Often between her chores, Paige dreamt of the day she would make an escape from the harrowing country.
Paige skipped into the kitchen of the farm house and dropped the basket on the kitchen counter, hard enough to make her mother fret.
"Paige! Be careful! or you'll break the eggs." Her mother fussed, as she ran over to where the basket lay on the table and checked each egg for any cracks or breakages, "God knows why your father lets you take them to the market." She muttered to herself. Paige doesn't understand why her mother worries about her with the eggs. She'd only broken them once, when she tripped over her brothers lost shoe in the long grass of the cow field. Her mother stopped fussing when she found the only slightly cracked egg, which she broke into the overused, cracking fry pan she was using before.
The squeaking sound of their broken wheelbarrow was the tocsin of her brother, Elliot's entry into the kitchen. The wheel barrow was filled with various sized egg cartons and filled milk bottles. He took the basket of eggs and places it on top of a mountain of cartons and continued through the kitchen to the front door. A path of tyre tread patterned mud was left behind him like a snail trail. When Paige's mother noticed the mud, she sighed and cleaned up the tiled floor with a damp mop she left in the corner of the kitchen for such occasions. Paige followed her brother out to the driveway where he was loading the tray of their rundown, rusty ute with the contents of the wheelbarrow, wordlessly Paige helped him. Paige hopped into the passage's seat, as her brother closed and covered the tray.
#
The day drifted away slowly and turned out characterless. As the sun began its descent to the western horizon, Elliot and Paige began packing away their stall, only three eggs and a bottle of milk remained, making their day rather successful.
Paige was folding the tablecloth when she heard: "There's a boat going straight to Sherrit." The voice's owner was a small, young woman, not much older then herself. She was huddled close to another woman about the same age. Paige didn't think anyone, but themselves were supposed to hear, due to their manner, but she couldn't help but eavesdrop. "You need tickets to get on - Jason got some. We're leaving at the very end of the week." The woman continued. Paige pretended to be interested in continuing to fold the tablecloth as the woman looked around at the market, "There are still a few tickets left, you should get some. Imagine the possibilities for us in Sherrit."
"I don't know." The other woman reluctantly whispered.
"If you change your mind, the captain will be at Greenhaven Square at midnight selling tickets every night until the departure." And with those final words the women absconded.
#
That night over dinner, Paige brought up the subject of decamping to Sherrit. None of her family thought it was a good idea and strongly advised her against it.
Paige let her family's negative view on the matter, dissuade her from going to Greenhaven Square.
She had spent nights debating until late whether she should go or not. During the day, she tried to talk individually to each member of her family to persuade them to go with her. Her attempts were fruitless. At the end of the week, she knew they wouldn't come.
On the last night as she looked at the wall above the sink in the kitchen that held a clock with broken glass, which read 10:30pm. She made a spilt second decision to go. She left with hardly enough time to get to town on time to meet the captain, but it was a risk she was willing to take. She grabbed a handful of money from a glass jar in her parent's bedroom and drove, very, very fast. Every so often she'd change her mind and slow down a little bit, before speeding up again with her mind solely set on getting her ticket to freedom.
#
Paige now stood on the wharf, clutching her ratty, old suitcase tightly. Her mind changed with every breath. The wind whipped her hair as she thought of leaving her family behind and the possibility of never seeing them again. But she soothed herself with the thought that going to Sherrit will give her the opportunity to raise enough money to bring her family over. She took her final breath of her regulated life in Canacara, and walked aboard the boat.
