My Trapped Love

Chapter 1

I felt slightly carsick. The twisting and turning country roads of Cornwall and Devon had been tying irreparable knots in my stomach for the past three hours. I was also shattered, starving and bored, and the journey had made me feel greasy and uncomfortable. That's what a six hour excursion with a car full of five people and two dogs does to you.

We'd been driving since midday and the gentle August dusk was slowly descending upon us as we reached the quiet harbour town that was St. Mawes, Cornwall.

'Are we there yet?' My brat of a little brother, John inquired for the millionth time.

'We're close.' My Dad assured him, his words slightly warped due to the enormous yawn he was carrying out. My Mum supped at her coffee whilst keeping her eyes on the road. I momentarily wished I was in her place so I'd at least have something to do.

There was a slight pause before John whined,

'What about now?'

'Shut up, John.' My grumpy older brother, Sean, grumbled from my left. I was surprised he could hear what was going on because of the deafening heavy metal he was blasting through his headphones.

'Don't talk to your brother like that.' My Mum turned around instantaneously, rolling her eyes, but Sean had gone back to being enveloped in his music. He wasn't listening.

After about ten minutes of driving we pulled up to our grandmother's large blue house. I loved it here; my childhood basically revolved around glorious summers spent in this house. I closed my eyes as I lovingly and nostalgically pictured the beautiful 7 bedrooms, each individual in their design; some fit for a Queen, some seemed like paradise for a five-year-old. The enormous study on the ground floor seemed to stretch for miles, my Grandma's life documented in each leaf of paper left lying around in piles the same height as me. The huge typical country kitchen, complete with a five metres-square island and a huge aga led in to the dining room and through a beautiful white archway was a proactive child's heaven. A huge playroom, the walls lined with any film or VCR you could ever think of. I smiled lovingly when I remembered that Grandma watched her vast collection of blockbusters on a tin box-sized TV she hadn't updated in ten years. There was a staircase on each side of the house leading to the first floor. The enormous decking out the back stretched in to a balcony from which you could see all the way across the estuary and to the island on the other side, the little white hut always being something of a mystery to me. If you squinted your eyes on a sunny day you could see where the estuary met the sea, which of course was far more easy to see from the actual village. On the left of the house was a small square garden with a jungle gym that I'd practically spent my childhood in. Below the long balcony out the back door were changing rooms and an enormous swimming pool, with huge stretches of grass and flowers beyond it. At the end of the garden were stairs and a gate leading on to the quay and the sandy beach below.

I could hear thumping, loud party music in the distance, coming from the direction of the quay. I wondered what it was before I realised; the notorious quay party. Every teenager or person in their early twenties would flock to the quay one night a year to celebrate the end of summer, and tonight must've been the night.

Suddenly my attention was drawn away from the thought of the party by the beefy removals men driving their huge white van with the words 'Hadley's Removals' supposedly penned neatly across the plastic sheeting of the outside of the lorry. They pulled in to the enormous two-sided drive as my amazing Grandmother stepped out of her house, her arthritis limiting her walk to a slow hobble.

'My darlings!' My Grandma cried, sweeping me as much as she could manage in to an enormous bear hug, 'How are you? I did insist that you needn't have moved down here but your father seems to think that I can't manage by myself!'

'You can't.' My Dad jokingly insisted, although I know he loved his Mum and hated the idea of her being lonely in any way. She slapped his arm affectionately before kissing his cheek and then going on to greet my mother and my brothers. I watched her as she moved. She was looking more and more frail every time I saw her. She'd had a fall and had to have her jaw and hip replaced, and my Dad saw that as the last straw. We had to move down here to help her. My parents were both writers, so it wouldn't be the worst thing to move from London to a quieter area for them. However, it really felt as if me and my brothers had been severely uprooted.

Sean was about to begin university so he had the least reasoning to be grumpy about the move because he'd be out of here and heading to Oxford to study medicine in two weeks. He'd only visit in the holidays, and anyway he loved sailing and he'd be able to do a lot of that down here.

My little brother was about to start year 6, and at ten years old, he was as boisterous as ever. He had absolutely adored London, and had made sure that we'd only come down to Grandma's for about two weeks at a time per summer. But now we were moving down here, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Out of the three of us, I think I was in the middle for the quantity of complaining about the move. I mean, it's not like I was top bitch at school, but I had a group of friends I was reluctant to leave behind. For a seventeen-year-old a six hour car journey and a five hour train journey seemed a little far to visit your friend for a day. To be fair, I was looking forward to the fresh start and I really didn't want to see Grandma struggling alone. Another plus side would be the person who I'd been happy to get away from most - Gus King.

'Come on, darlings!' My Grandma clucked, ushering us all inside, 'You can unload all your things after I've put some food inside of you.

We were going to be severely spoiled by Grandma's Olympic cooking skills. Her vegetable lasagne was honestly to die for.

When we'd had dinner and I'd managed to drag my stuff up to my new room, I flopped on to my comfy bed. This had always essentially been my room. It had been my Dad's sister's but I had always stayed here in the summer holidays. It was blue mostly, and had a little traditional ensuite bathroom with a little two minute tooth timer that had been there for as long as I could remember. I continued to lay on my bed, musing philosophically at the ceiling before suddenly deciding to pull myself together and to get to work. I unpacked endless piles of general crap for about three hours before wearily but satisfyingly chucking the last empty box in to the recycling.

And that was when it hit me. I actually lived here now...

I freshened up by jumping in the shower. The massive house was silent, so I figured everyone was in bed. It was such a relief to feel the cold water drumming against my skin and rinse through my hair. I hopped out of the shower and grabbed the nearest towel when I was done and moved in to my room. I pulled on a pair of shorts and a worn grey vest top with pretty beading on the front.

I didn't feel ready to go to bed yet. I suppose it could've had something to do with the fact that I could still hear the quiet thudding of party music echoing off the quay and wondered quickly what was happening there, before my mind flitted back to Gus.

And, as if by psychic ability, my phone flashed up with his name. I read the message, rolling my eyes and tossing my phone on to my bed and refusing to cry.

I'M SORRY. PLEASE CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS.

Suddenly a knock at the door made me jump, before I noticed Sean's tall silhouette through the gloom of my bedroom standing at my door.

'Hey, Katie, are you busy?' He asked me.

'Do I look busy?' I laughed, looking up at him from my bed.

'Let's go to the quay party. Mum, Dad and Grandma have gone to bed.' He suggested devilishly. For a supposed adult about to go off to university, even if he wasn't going to get in trouble for sneaking out, I reckon he still acted like he did for the adrenaline kick.

I deliberated his suggestion for a second before thinking - why not?

'I'll meet you by the back door in ten minutes.' I informed him, leaping up off my bed and ushering him out of my room. I then moved toward my dressing table and stroked on some mascara. I then changed my top in to something a bit less slobby. My long hair was close to drying now so I let it hang loose over my shoulders. I gave my self a once-over, feeling pre-party nerves fluttering in my stomach before scarpering downstairs towards the back door to meet my brother.