“What do you mean - we’re going home?”
Cathy stared at her mother in bewilderment.
“This is home. Here!”
Her mother beamed broadly.
“No! I don’t mean this place. We’re going home - to England.”
“But that’s not my home! This land’s where I belong.”
“But Cathy - you must’ve known we can’t stay here forever.”
Her nine-year-old daughter scowled and threw her school bag down on the hall floor.
“Well. I’m not going!”
She slammed out of the front door and grabbed her bike.
Cathy pedalled furiously, heading for her hide-out in the woods. She turned off the lane, down through the beech trees and pulled up next to an ancient tree, its roots covering the entrance to a small cave. Once in there, she flopped to the ground and hugged her knees.
“It’s not fair! Why should I have to go just because THEY want to leave. England is horrible. I want to stay here with my friends.”
She had lived there once before, just for a few months, when she was only six. Tears streamed down her face at the memory of how she had been bullied mercilessly for being an ‘outsider.’
Gradually she calmed down and looked miserably around. The earth ceiling curved protectively above her, and dried leaves carpeted the ground. An idea gradually formed in her mind. “Why don’t I live here instead of going with my parents? It would be a great adventure.” She dried her eyes and set off back home, thinking hard as she went.
Over the next few weeks, she gradually smuggled goods out of the house in her saddlebag and secreted them in her hideaway. The evening before they were due to leave, Cathy told her mother she was having one last bike ride. A tear slid down her face as she cycled off. “Such a shame it has come to this.”
A few minutes later she sat in the cave, munching a biscuit, and reading one of her favourite books. As the day dimmed, she switched on her torch. Outside, the wind began to sigh through the branches and rustle the dry leaves. Cathy began to feel cold. She pulled on an extra jumper and cuddled her teddy for comfort. She thought longingly of her warm bed and of the stories her mother would read to her at night.
“No more!” she sobbed.
The torch blinked once and then died. She sat in the darkness as strange noises disturbed her; night-time creatures were on the move. The young girl yearned for the security of her father’s protective arms. She screamed in terror as something furry ran over her legs.
She could take no more. “I want mum and dad!” Clutching Teddy, Cathy scrambled hastily out of her den and picked up her bike, cycling as fast as she could. She didn’t look back. Now she knew; the place didn’t matter so long as she could be with her loving parents. She smiled to herself. She was going home.
Author Bio:
Emmie Blake is a wife, mother, and grandmother, living in rural Wales. Much of her life has been spent working with, and campaigning for, people on the fringes of society: those with addiction problems, ex-offenders and the dispossessed. She has been active in the Anglican Church for more than forty years; initially as a Lay person and subsequently as an ordained Minister. In retirement, she enjoys gardening and walking as well as, of course, reading and writing. Some of her short stories have been published in an Anthology and online in some e-zines; work on her first novel is ongoing.
Comments