Kraal

Chapter 2: Rose

The green countryside whipped by in a blur, my new life hurtling towards me at a speed that I was powerless to stop. I ignored the churn of my stomach as my mother raced along the motorway, barely bothering to check her mirrors when she changed lanes.

The boxes of our belongings rustled on the backseat alongside our plaid-patterned luggage. Mum said we had to just bring the essentials, so the only furniture we brought was her therapy table.

She used to be a Beauty Therapist, before she met Dad. She kept all of her equipment stored in the attic, like she knew her time with him was temporary and one day she'd have to start earning a living again. 

I pushed my earphones further in to drown out her ongoing monologue that had started somewhere near Lancashire and had continued for the last three hours. I turned up the volume on my iPod as she continued to criticise my father, repeating everything she had said to him over the last few months and all of the things she wished she had said when she found out he was sleeping with his secretary.

"Hey," Mum leaned across and pulled the wire so that the earphones tumbled in to my lap. "Rose, I'm talking to you."

I rolled my eyes.

"I know this is a big change for you," Mum continued, despite my obvious indifference. "But you'll adore Westwood Falls. You'll make new friends and you'll love Gran's farm."

She smiled at me and I responded with a sarcastic grimace.

"Aw come on, Rosie, you love animals." Mum's face is dappled with freckles, just like mine, and her mouth naturally turns up at the sides. It hides her sadness.

"Yeah, like cute fluffy animals. Not cows, and sheep, and who knows what else."

"It's only temporary," She sighed. "As soon as the divorce is finalised and I get my settlement, we'll buy our own place."

I shoved one of the earphones back in place, sliding it under the curtain of my hair so Mum wouldn't notice. She continued on with her verbal tour of Westwood Falls – the high street of boutiques and vintage bookshops, the orchard out the back of Gran's farm and the stream that runs behind it, the acres of woodland that cuts the town off from the rest of civilisation. I couldn't even feign excitement. I had a choice about moving of course, I was sixteen. I could have stayed with my Father, stayed at my old school, kept my old friends, but when he announced that he was moving her in, my decision was easy. I would have rather spent the rest of my life living in a shed in the countryside, up to my knees in cowpat, than spend one day under the same roof as the woman I had affectionately named 'Home Wrecker'.

"The countryside is so beautiful up North; you'll be able to take lots of photographs." Mum readjusted the sunglasses on her face. I couldn't see her eyes, but I knew they were ringed with red.

My hands twitched reflexively around the bag in my lap. My camera was a gift for my sixteenth birthday; my parents gave it to me to cushion the blow of their impending separation. It was my most cherished possession and the most expensive thing I owned.

"Do they even have a photography class at that college?"

"No," Mum said, somewhat impatiently. "But they do have Art classes."

"Great."

Mum peered at me over the top of her Ray-Bans and I caught sight of her pale, uncoated eyelashes. A driver in a sleek, red sports car swerved to miss us, beeping his horn peevishly as our car drifted into the middle lane. I gasped and drew my knees up to my chest.

Mum waved her middle finger at the driver. "MASOGINISTIC PIG! Thinks he owns the motorway."

"Mother! Will you please keep your eyes on the road?"