Family Togetherness

Chapter 1- Abby

Abby was fourteen, and right in the middle of the family.
She didn't bother with most
of her siblings- boring, selfish, and frankly not worth the time- but was able to tolerate Luke, who was two years her junior. He was quiet, and she quite definitely was not.

"There's no point in it," she told him. "A journalist has to be able to ask the right questions. It's our job to be nosy."

Abby had been a journalist for as long as she could remember. She wrote for the neighbourhood newsletter, made regular trips to the local Press Office, and got about 300 weekly hits on her website; which she kept track on in the red diary she'd taken to carrying around with her.

Lately though, there hadn't been any interesting stories. Last week it had been the new train station- not her idea, of course, but she accepted all suggestions- and the week before that it was a debate on dangerous dogs. As if the lack of news around town wasn't bad enough, her website's weekly view total had dropped right down to just 268. Abby needed a story, and she needed it right away.

"Alright, think!" She paced up and down the box room that she shared with Victoria. "Not animals this time. Something different! Something that people will actually read."

Her older sister wasn't in the room. Nobody wanted to be stuck in a room alone with Victoria. Well, unless you were deaf, and Abby most certainly wasn't deaf. She was the first to hear any gossip, be it an incredible rumour from school or the quavering tale told by Mrs Mason across the road about her cat's poorly leg. That one didn't even make her blog.

"Maybe there just isn't much going on right now," Luke shrugged. "Honestly, this place is boring even when there is something happening."

"There is always something going on," his sister replied crossly. "You just need to go out and look for it!"

And so they did. Sophie had gone out to see a friend; an activity that seemed to leave her in a far better mood than did a day spent with her children; so the car wasn't an option.
But that didn't matter. Abby had always preferred to travel using public transport.
Better for the environment, better for hearing gossip.

"First, we can stop at the Daily Telegraph office," she decided, pushing her glasses further up her nose.

Abby didn't need glasses. Her eyesight was perfect, and the school sports coach had even suggested she train to become a pilot. But she had conducted a surprising survey a few months ago which showed her that reporters wearing glasses were 70% more likely to be taken seriously in interviews. And Abby had to be taken seriously, so that meant it was on with the spectacles. She quite liked them, actually. There was something about glasses that made one feel more intelligent; and only Luke had noticed when she started wearing them, so she never had to answer any questions.

"You two!" A voice sounded out from across the bus aisle.
Automatically, Abby turned around in her seat. Sometimes local people recognised her from the picture in the newsletter and came up to congratulate her or recommend more article ideas. One time, a little boy had actually asked for her autograph.

"It's the blog really," she had told her friends at school. "The website only gets that many hits because people are trying to get to my blog."

But this time it was just old Mrs Mason from across the street, and it didn't look as though she was after an autograph.

"I didn't think the train article was up to your usual standards," she frowned, her disapproving gaze resting on Abby for a few seconds before sliding over to Luke.

"Sorry, Mrs Mason." For the first time in years, Abby found herself apologising for something she'd written.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind," the old woman said stiffly. "It's just that you don't see much big talent from young folk around the neighbourhood so much anymore. And I, well, I really enjoy reading your articles. When they're up to scratch."

Abby was taken aback. Flattered, that an older woman thought she had big talent. Indignant, that her last article hadn't been "up to scratch," and surprised. Surprised that people she barely knew seemed to understand her so well. Viewer numbers on a screen didn't seem real, but old ladies on buses most certainly were. Maybe, as a journalist, it was her duty to connect with them.

She shot a glance at Luke, but he was inspecting the driver's booth ahead of them. Probably trying to figure out how the mechanics worked.

"I see," she addressed Mrs Mason again. "I'm sorry you didn't like the writing. I guess I was a bit distracted. But it won't happen again."

Her neighbour smiled, eyes lighting up behind the thin-rimmed spectacles. "Then I look forward to reading your next piece of work."

And with that, the sluggish vehicle grinded to a halt, and Mrs Mason hobbled outside onto the pavement; her plastic cane clutched tightly in two bony hands.

"We've got it," Abby hissed to her brother as soon as the bus doors swung shut.

"What?"

"The story!"

Luke raised his eyebrows. "An old lady not liking your work?"

"No! She said I had big talent, didn't you hear?"

"Actually," he pointed out, "she said that there isn't much big ta-"

"The story," she interrupted frustratedly, "is about her! Mrs Mason herself." She glanced wildly about the bus and gestured to the middle aged man sitting ahead of them. "About him! About the driver. That little girl with the balloon... Luke, how well do we know the people in this town?"

"Not very well, considering most of them are at least thirty years older than we are."

"Right," Abby agreed. "They're mysterious. Enigmatic. I'm thinking that there needs to be a side column, a gossip column, talking about the huge things that our unseemly neighbours are hiding."

Luke looked properly interested for the first time. He gazed up at her. "Would it even be published? What kind of secrets?"

"That," she said airily, "is for us to discover and for me to write up. But first, let's write down everything we already know about our neighbours."

They had set out to find a story and ended up returning with a whole weekly column sketchily planned out. Safe in the abandoned fortress, they set to work writing notes. An average page looked a little like this:

Neighbourhood Watch- new gossip column by Abby Fairfield.
(Co-written by Luke Fairfield)
-Mr Singh:
- Always travels by bike- perhaps has witnessed/been a part of a car accident?
- Often seen hanging around pet shop, but is known to work at the Dentist's. Does he know someone working there? Possible secret relationship? Affair? Is this secret from Mrs Singh?
- Has a daughter at University. Why does she never visit home? Family problems?

If he was honest with himself, Luke thought that they were making utterly ridiculous assumptions. And he suspected that Mr Singh rode a bicycle because he believed in using eco-friendly sources of travel, not because he'd been involved in a dangerous road accident back in his shady past.

But he wouldn't dare say anything to Abby; not now that she was so excited. Better the press team break her high hopes than himself; and he knew that his older sister would definitely listen to them more than she would to him when it came to writing advice.

And so that evening, Abby set out with her red notebook and clear-glass spectacles to find more information on the people she'd known since babyhood.

This would be easy. She had everything under control.