You Promised

Chapter Two

As I walk, my worries return to me and I find myself running. I feel like I'm trying to stomp my fears beneath my feet as I round the corners until I find myself at home.
   Our house is old. And not as big as Adam's but it is just as dear to me. This is where my family lives. My mother, my father, my brother and myself. My sister, Jenny, used to live with us, but she left after the promise of fame and fortune in London. I have not heard from her in at least two years.
   There is a stream that flows gently around the back garden of our cottage. It babbles over a small weir that we built when we were little. The garden itself is not as well groomed as the Greens' but it's more of a wild beauty. Vines creep up the walls and makes the house look like it's being hugged by the plants that my mother nurtures from dawn to dusk. The narrow, winding path traces the edge of the grass up to the old front door.  Behind the house, giant trees loom over the house and blot out the fading sun.
    As I walk to the door I glance through the kitchen window to see my mother sitting in her chair, beside the fire, knitting yet another scarf for my sister. She sends them in the post to the last address in London we have for Jenny. We never hear anything back.
  I push the door open only time to hear my brother cursing from the garage.
    'Bloody hell!' I hear him shout. He must be trying to fix our troublesome car. We bought it last year, under the consistent urges from our neighbours Mr and Mrs Keogh whose car never seems to cause them any trouble.
   I peek into the garage. 'Hello John. Having fun?' He is lying underneath the car covered in grease.  He murmurs something to me that I can only imagine is unflattering so I leave him to it.
   I walk down the hall and knock on the door of the study.  'Come in.' From within I hear the voice of my father. I open the door and close it softly behind me. Immediately the smell of old books caresses my nose. I love books. It's a trait I definitely inherited from my father. He spends most of his time in here, as I would if I didn't have so many other things that all demanded my attention and all had equal rights to it.
  'Father?' I ask to know where in this vast labyrinth of shelves.
   'Over here.' I hear him say. His voice sounds wheezy which is no doubt a consequence of his spending so much time amount these dusty books and the cigars that he and Mr. Green share.
  I walk towards his voice and eventually find him sitting in his armchair at the back if the room.  'You know that if you want to avoid your family you can just tell us to go away, you don't have to build a maze!' I say jokingly.
   He smirks at me. 'Well you're in here. It's not working that well!' He replies.
   'How are the Greens?' He asks me.
   I pause before replying. 'Well enough. I think Mr. Green smokes as much as you now.'
   'Amelia.' He sighs. 'Smoking isn't bad for you. Stop worrying.'
   I shake my head. 'Why don't you call me Ami?' I ask him, because everyone else does.
   'Did I christen you Ami? No. You are Amelia.' He tells me firmly, sounding as official as usual.
   I laugh and sit in the floor in front of his chair. He puts down the book. I see that it's new, a book about the Titanic.
    'Cheerful reading' I tell him. He smiles and leans down to kiss my forehead. 'We must know what's going on in our world Amelia. It may effect us soon.' He tells me knowing that I hate it when he says that.
   'It already effects us' I remind him thinking, yet again, of Adam. He tilts his head to ask me what I mean. I explain to him about the soldiers asking Adam to enlist. He looks somewhat troubled at my news.
    'What did Adam say Amelia?' He says, his brow wrinkling.
    I shake my head, my hair flying about my face. 'He said no.' I tell him.
    He sits back in his armchair and starts exhaling great columns of smoke so that I start coughing.
   I pat his knee attempting to get a response from him but his expression makes me uneasy and I know that when he gets his "thinking face" I know to leave him be. I stand up and begin the surprisingly difficult task of finding my way back out of the study. I stumble over piles of old newspapers that my father hoards for 'research.'
   I enter the kitchen to see that John has given up on the car and is now sitting beside the radio. His hair is oily and his usually composed face is covered in soot. It makes his emerald eyes seem huge. Mother sits beside him, listening intently to the radio. Mary, our maid, joins us from the pile of dishes to hear the crackle of the radio.
   'What is it?' I ask
  John makes a gesture which signals for me to be quiet so we can hear the crackling noises coming from the small radio. I walk slowly to an armchair and sit on it. I recognise the voice of the King of England speaking about the fighting. The sudden silence brings my father from his study and we all sit around the box. My father comes to sit beside my mother and hugs her close to him. The words that came from it will haunt me until I die...

  "We are now at war with Germany".