Sweet Satisfaction - Thirty

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Thirty

Yeovil, Somerset, England

We were plain exhausted by the time we reached Yeovil. We had boarded a train to London, then Somerset after our remembrance of our holiday house, Lily Cottage – a place Mother might be. Even if she wasn’t there, we still needed to run, to hide because someone, someone, was coming after us.

The four of us stumbled back as the train whistled out of the platform. A goods train rumbled long the other side of us. Eyelids drooping and limbs aching, we made our way across the bridge, which stretched over above the tracks. From it, I could see miles of fields around us, making me really feel out in the country. Peeling, faded propaganda flapped from the wall along the end platform.

“Where do we go now?” Mary looked expectedly at me.

“Let’s ask there,” I replied, pointing at the station master’s house, which had neat, clipped bushes surrounding it. Emma, the boldest of us all, knocked. A harassed-looking woman answered, demanding in a strong country accent:

“Whadda ya want?” Emma unfazed, remained in her usual calm and collected demeanour.

“Could you give us directions to Lily Cottage, please?”

*****

“I can’t believe you took that note seriously,” Mary grumbled half an hour later as we walked along the side of the road, “This is meant to be my birthday.” The urgency of our task had faded and to be truthful, everyone had rumbling bellies and cloudy expressions. My fear had simmered down, like the setting sun, for the train journey had taken quite long.

Susanna nudged me in the rib. I looked up to see the shape of a building in the distance and a thin shape running towards us.

“Mother,” I sobbed and dropping my trunk, I careered along and smacked into her like a hurricane, knocking the breath out of both of us and spilling salty beads of love and hurt onto her.

Time had reversed, as if I had just arrived home from Ingoldisthorpe, as she was hunched, skinny and with circles rimming her eyes but she was here, with her arms around me. Mary appeared beside me.

“My girls, my girls,” Mother whispered.

I gave Susanna a fleeting look; I felt so contrite- here I was embracing my Mother when I hadn’t seen her in almost two months- but Susanna had never seen her mother in her life. Emma, meanwhile, stood on the side-lines, arms folded, head held high.

Mother stood up straight, wiping her eyes.

“Oh my girls, it’s lovely to see you- but why are you here and where is Albert?” Her anxious tone brought back my earlier trepidations.

“And why did you bring the servants with you?” Mary and I shared a quick glance, stung.

“Mary, Elsie, Mrs Kingston!” Susanna’s sudden shriek allowed us to swiftly swerve to the side of the road as an automobile skidded round and groaned to a stop. Mother shrunk back, but then smiled as Father emerged from the automobile.

“How did you know-” Mary began, voicing my thoughts but stopped at the sight of his tensed facial features. He unclenched his fists, grabbing Mother’s hands.

“C’mon, c’mon, get in the motorcar!” Exchanging alarmed looks, we all squashed into the Chevrolet. We hadn’t even shut the doors before Father was speeding along.

I usually loved the exhilaration of gliding above the ground and the wind shrieking in my ears but now I felt too frightened. we had no time to find our goggles so dust blew into our eyes left, right and centre. What was going on? 

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