Uncovered

Chapter 1

Today the water was its own master, a channel of anger and fury. It moved in every which direction, carrying everything and everyone along with it. The river was a dull bleak grey, until it swirled and spluttered onto the rocks leaving great white splashes where the two had met. The sky matched the colour of the water, clouds overhead daring to drop a downpour of rain onto the people below.

Battling through the wild rapids in a pastel blue kayak was a slight, broad shouldered girl, her long brown hair flying menacingly in wisps behind her. She had large oval bluey-grey eyes, the same as the river, and a striking nose. Her skin was pale as she had lived in the English countryside her whole life, the colour was a nice comparison to her cool pink lips. She had a stern, determined look on her face, one of concentration and competitiveness.

That girl was me.

I was in training for an upcoming trial for Cooden Beach Rowing Club, the best team in the county. I'd fluked last year’s trial due to an overworked wrist, but this year I knew I was in for another chance.

I tilted my arms from side to side, brushing the water with my paddle. After just a few strokes, I escaped the rapids and began to glide across the gentler upstream of the river. 

I let out a breath, wiping my brow with the back of my hand and tilting my head back, enjoying the serenity of the moment. I shook off my sore arms and began paddling back up to the bank where my dad was waiting.

“Nice one Sophia, you’ve got that trial in the bag!” he exclaimed, offering a hand of assistance.

I smiled up at him then took his hand to haul myself back onto the bank.

“Thanks dad, but I’m not so sure. I bet the others have improved loads, I just don’t want to get my hopes up”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Think what you like dear, if you don’t get in I’ll eat my hat”

“That’s a pretty safe bet” I laughed “considering you don’t have a hat” I gently hit his stomach, then pushed past and began traipsing back to the car.

The winding rocky path scratched at my feet that were tightly wedged into my wet shoes. From all the defence they were giving, I might as well have been barefoot. The limbs on the old oak tree were hanging dangerously low, its green leaves slowly fading to amber as the temperature became chilled.

I breathed a small sigh of relief as I climbed into the car, buckling up and waiting for the heater to blast on. My cheeks were softening back to their normal colour, the crimson from the cool air now fading as my dad kicked the ignition into gear.

I liked spending time with my dad as it made me feel like a kid again, not that I was quite yet an adult, but spending most of my time at university made me feel pretty grown up. I enjoyed my new lectures at uni, English Literature and Philosophy, although I often found myself daydreaming about being back on the river. Understandable though, you might argue, as it really is my favourite thing in the world.

On the whole, university is a pretty great experience. I had quite a few friends and my courses didn't require me to stay in all the time. The University of Sussex had somewhat become my home, but still, nothing could beat my mother's cooking. That was one of the best things about not being too far away, I can often travel down for the weekend, go kayaking, eat, catch up with the family, go kayaking, spend time with old friends, and go kayaking.

I rested my head against the thawed window with my eyes closed. I'd been gone for a year, but my memory was still pristine of my childhood neighbourhood. The way the trees lined up along the pavement, how the road dividers were never quote straight, and of course, the houses. As you drove further away from the shore you came across quaint older houses, 'houses with character' was how my mum described them. They were, if I may add, a lot more expensive.

You used to find everyone on the boardwalk, enjoying the views and taking in the fresh sea air. But not so much anymore, it was almost ruined by the gloomy shadows of the council estates. A pity really, but i'm sure that all of the single mothers and downbeat dads would disagree.

My dad took the scenic route home, knowing that it's what I would've wanted. After ten minutes of village green and river estuaries, we had arrived back home. 25 Bartholomew Way, Bexhill, East Sussex, in case you were wondering.

I clambered out of the car, hobbling slightly on my stiff legs, then helped my dad untie the kayak and carry it back into the garage. The first thing I smelt as I walked into the house was roast chicken, my favourite and a traditional Sunday lunch in my parents' home.

It sounded weird calling it that, I thought. 'My parents' home', not 'our home'. It no longer belonged to me, and it never will again. I shook my head, realizing I was pressing on the matter in unnecessary depth, and wandered into the kitchen to hug my mother.

I'd say the best way to describe my mother is ditsy, harmlessly eccentric I suppose. Her frizzed hair shot out from her hair in different directions like a wild mane. She had warm eyes and a kind smile. Her skin was quite brown after spending a year cramming in all sorts of holidays to exotic places now that their only child had moved out. Cruel, I know. But they didn't mean it cold-heartedly, they just felt like they deserved a reward, like 'congratulations, you've managed not to kill your child in the 19 years of her existence and now she's even living by herself, fantastic'.

My hand was swatted away from the cutlery draw followed by being politely commanded by  my mother to go and sit down, after all, I was now a guest, not a resident. I reluctantly wandered upstairs to my old room, considering my dad was now commandeering the TV, a habit he seemed to have picked up quite quickly after I'd moved out.

In my room, there was still the odd bit of childhood tat here and there; an old blanket, a few old toys and, of course, a collection of classic Disney books that I'd brought with me from my first house. I picked one up, turning it over in my hand to take a look at the cover. Beauty and the Beast.

Before I knew it, I was perched on the end of my bed, thoroughly enjoying the timeless classic and feeling younger again. There was a light tap at the door, a gesture I was not accustomed to as my parents used to just barge in.

"Uh, come in?" I stated, presuming that was the typical thing to say. It was my dad, he poked his head round the door.

"Ah, there you are Soph, you're awfully quiet up here"

"I was just reading, mum wouldn't let me help"

He didn't reply, just nodded and hovered in the doorway for a few moments before I coughed, obviously bringing his attention back to what he had bothered me for.

"Oh yes, dinner's ready" he closed the door lightly behind him, not waiting for a reply or any sign of acknowledgement.

He had always been like this though, sometimes he was so involved it felt like he was controlling you, but at other times he felt so distant from everyone else. I wasn't sure why, I guess it had never bothered me before, but it was making the short visit even more uncomfortable.

I loved seeing my parents, I really did, it was just now that I didn't live there, I just felt like a guest. Just a guest. Like my parents had already forgotten about me. But I knew this was a selfish thought and immediately pushed it to the back of my head.

I sighed, returning the book to its dusty shelf, and toddled down the stairs.