Captive

Prologue

Bright red like a hand shaped flame it drifted across the path, fluttering on the breeze which lifted it up and turned it over revealing the thick veins beneath that had once flowed through the leaf and stem to link it to the heartbeat of the tree. Now though, separated from its life giver it was a burst of bright colour along the drab path but finally it too would fade to brown and then grey and finally to dust, crackling beneath the feet of one of the men or women who walked up and down the path going about their business with no care for the simple joy of watching a leaf take its final journey. But one pair of eyes watched, fascinated, following the leaf's trail and wondering at the joy it must bring to drift away, go where you please and have no one tell you no or reach across to grip your arm, pinch your skin and forbid you even the slightest little freedom. The eyes were wide and innocent, as green as a meadow on a summer's day in a face that was still round and almost babyish, an upturned button nose and pink lips which were slightly parted as she watched the leaf. Chestnut curls tumbled about her shoulders, unruly and untamed, the elastic that had been holding them into a ponytail long since discarded. She reached out a hand towards the leaf and smiled as she touched it feeling how soft it still was, still fused with some of the life it had known when it was attached to the tree and a smile lit her face briefly.

"What has she picked up now?" demanded a somewhat stern voice and the child flinched, clenching her fist round the leaf, knowing it would soon be removed from her. "Oh shit Rebecca, take it off her will you? I don't need her damn mother saying I let her play with dirty leaves and made her ill."

"Come on honey, put the leaf down for Mommy Becka," said a tall, slender lady with brown eyes and black hair. The little girl clenched her fist hard and Rebecca smiled at her. "It'll be all mushed up now anyway honey. Come on, put it down. We can get you a picture of one to take home for your mom. You know Daddy doesn't like you to get dirty."

"Want that one," the little girl said but as she opened her hand she saw that Rebecca was right; she had crushed the leaf. Tears pricked her eyes when she saw what she had done. It had been so beautiful, so perfect and she had spoilt it. "S... sorry."

"Aw honey you don't need to be sorry. It was just a leaf. Michael what the hell is wrong with you that you make the child feel guilty about a damn leaf?" This was said as an aside to the tall man who had spoken before. He scowled down at her and shrugged before looking across the park to where two older boys were playing a raucous game of basketball with a group of  boys and girls. The boys were almost identical, both tall like their father one with green eyes like their younger sister and the other with brown eyes, auburn hair and athletic builds. They were dominating the basketball court, passing the ball between them and laughing up a storm with the others. Michael's eyes narrowed as he watched them and then he looked back at the little girl, his scowl fading as he watched Rebecca pick the child up and hold her close. He felt a wave of tenderness for them both, an appreciation for the willingness Rebecca had shown in allowing him to have a relationship with his daughter, the result of a brief affair he had conducted on a business trip to England some five years previously. Michael was a renowned writer who had written several non fiction books about celebrated authors, their lives and works. He had been invited to speak at a university in England where he had indulged in a brief affair with one of  the lecturers there which had resulted in his young daughter. When Rebecca found out he thought she would leave him but she calmly discussed it with him, then told him he was never to see Rachel again but he had a responsibility for his daughter and she must know her family. Michael had no contact with Rachel; the two women communicated and organised visits for the child to Canada where Michael and Rebecca lived. Michael was so grateful his wife hadn't left him that he simply agreed to her coming and did his best to maintain a good relationship with his daughter. In truth he was much fonder of the child than he had expected to be. He'd always found his sons frustrating; neither had any interest in literature preferring sports which he had no interest in but the little girl was already reading and showed some promise.