'If the highest aim of a captain were to preserve his ship, he would keep it in port forever.'
- Thomas Aquinas
With each doorstep they passed and each doorbell they left behind Emma Durant could feel the queasy sense of realisation swamping her, gluing her to the seat of an unfamiliar car. She would never step over a familiar threshhold again and her ring would never be answered by the face she wanted to see most. She was an exile, a traitor, a... A killer.
With an empty heart and a now empty house, it had been decided Emma must be carted off to the other end of the country. Albeit a short distance in retrospect but, to Emma, within the space of a few hours, it felt like years had been put between her and her past. But the memories were still fresh, and they didn't show any sign of fading.
Emma squeezed her eyes shut for a long second, temporarily dispelling thoughts of her recent past and instead settling for the weightless space where reality lost its grip. She breathed and her heart obliged her a steady beat. Headphones were put in at just the right volume: not inconsiderately loud, not quiet enough to loose the base.
Miles flew under the little car's wheels and minutes soon stretched into hours.
"Emmy."
She stirred in her seat.
"Em, Emma."
She blinked, reaching up to rub the sleep from her eyes.
"We're here Emmy, your new home." The man in the driver's seat had twisted round and the car was no longer moving.
She nodded silently, offering her uncle a small smile - he needed it more than she did.
"Right," he acknowledged her smile, and offered a small, sad one back. "I'll grab your stuff from the boot and follow you in in a minute, you go on in," he said, twisting back to wedge open the slightly rusty door of his green mini. "Mum and Dad'll want to see you right away."
Emma nodded again and proceeded to collect her things on the backseat, a small satchel wound its way onto her shoulder and a pillow was clutched in her arms as she clambered out of the cramped vehicle. She took a deep breath and inhaled the new air; seasalt and jasmine greeted her senses and an overwhelming nostalgia consumed her.
It had been four years, she was barely twelve and they'd made the journey up especially for Christmas. Even now, the small cottage had barely changed. The tiny garden was well kept and lined by a low wall, inlaid with seashells and bits of driftwood. The jasmine was still flourishing and the pride of the garden. The old fisherman's cottage was whitewashed and not a single bit of paint had been allowed to peel; without the snow, Emma could now see the weather vane perched precariously atop the roof, a rusty rooster rather out of place in the seaside village.
Before anymore memories could resurface, the cottage door flew open and with it, a small, slightly plump elderly woman came rushing out to engulf Emma in a rib-cracking hug.
"Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, it's so good to see you Emmy! My, my haven't you grown, you're taller than me! Oh it is good to see you, but my, my, after such a long journey you must be exhausted! And driving all the way from London too! I'll tell you what you need, you need a good cup of tea and a good filling meal inside of you. That you do. My, my, I must put the kettle on! Come on in dear, come on in, make yourself at home! Oh it's so good to see you."
Emma put on her best smile. "It's good to see you too Nana."
She was in Heysham now, and there was no going back.
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Here you go, the first chapter, finally in writing rather than rattling around my head like it has been for the past year or so. This isn't edited so if there are any mistakes I would appreciate it if you didn't send me death threats; constructive criticism is generally preferred. If you have any queries or qualms about the story so far and in the future, feel free to message me and I'll get back to you as long as it doesn't ruin the story. Yep, I think that's it. 466Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA44L4WlNQl
Wishing you prosperity in your literary endeavours,
- a m u n e t t e .
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