These Hills Called Home | ONC 2024

[1] A Day's Ride

    Meet you by the pub around 3. Just head towards the town clock when you get here.

    I've missed you, Gemma. So, so much.

    A bump in the road stirred Gemma Haywood from her trance. No matter how many times she read the texts, Jacob's voice never echoed in her mind. She could never see such terse words coming from the brother that left her five years ago.

    Hi, Gemma! Wanted to wish you luck with your brother today. If you need anything more, I'm just a text away. Let me know how it goes!

    Gemma jolted in her seat at her phone's buzz, yet her eyes glossed over her support worker's message before she shoved the device into her pocket. While Virginia had been courteous enough to put her in contact with Jacob, she had only done so to get Gemma off the home's books. The system had choked her down, and now it expected her to be grateful that it was spitting her out.

    Though the horizon had barely unveiled its first cracks of sunlight when she set off, Gemma had not slept a wink since boarding the coach. The engine's low growl, the loose rattle of the coach's chassis, and strangers shuffling through the aisle had lit her nerves up over ten long, stuffy hours on the road. Her nerves over meeting Jacob had not helped, yet she had been unable to think of anything else after her headphones had hissed their last note. Following the abstract lines of the fabric coach seats had not eased her mind like music had done.

    "Milnhome?" a voice mumbled over the coach speakers, its bored tone clashing with the rapid beat of Gemma's heart. "Anyone for Milnhome? Anybody?"

    Stretching the stiffness from her limbs, Gemma's glazed hazel eyes scanned the lower deck of the coach. Few acknowledged the driver's words, and none moved an inch from their seats. As the driver moved to repeat his call, a spark of electricity seized her hand around the straps of her duffel bag. "Me, sorry! I'm getting off here."

    The driver drummed his thick fingers against the edge of his cabin's dashboard. "Knew I had one. I'd have just driven past else," he said as he watched Gemma wrestle her way down to the coach's front door. "Quiet place, this. Not many folk stop here."

    "Sounds like just what I need," Gemma said, finally slinging her bag over her shoulder. As she stepped off the coach, she paid the driver a parting nod. "Thanks for the ride."

    Milnhome lay in the heart of the Dales, a slate speck settled between sloping, sun-kissed hills. Behind the departing coach, orderly rows of ruffled leaves concealed bulging bean pods from the breeze's gentle gusts. Rough gravel-strewn trails crunched beneath Gemma's tan walking boots as she entered the village, and an air of trimmed grass and damp mud trickled over her tongue. Pulling the folds of her distressed denim jacket over her grey hoodie, she set her sights on the town clock's brassy face and quickened her step. She had suffered worse discomfort than this in her life.

    Wind rocked the bones of the buildings through the town, the soft hum of calm conversation surfacing through the creaks. From a narrow side street, a woman popped out with a large flower basket, and Gemma instinctively hid behind the curtain of her short black bob. Meeting her older brother after years of silence was enough stress without having to deal with inquisitive strangers.

    Suddenly, the clock's long spired shadow draped over her view. Gemma took a deep breath, balled her free hand into a fist, and looked up from her mud-flecked boots.

    Standing before Gemma was the town clock, a weary pub building, and an otherwise empty street. There was no sign of Jacob.

    "He's really ditched me again," Gemma whispered as she dropped her bag and fought back the first sob that climbed up her throat. A gust of breeze blew past her face, eking out the teardrops that swilled in the corners of her eyes. "Of course he has. After all this time, Jacob's still the runaway asshole, and I'm still the idiot little sister left waiting for him. I knew this was stupid!"