The Quixwood Diaries

The Quixwood Sisters

Chapter 1

The New Girl

January 15th 2012,

Dear Diary,

Last week my mother killed herself. She took a bottle of pills and tossed them all down her throat. The odd thing is, I'm not sad. I'm angry. How could she be so selfish to take her own life and leave her own sixteen-year-old daughter in the hands of an estranged, older, half sister?

At her funeral I felt oddly detached from everyone. All my friends had turned up for moral support but I could tell they'd much rather be somewhere else and who can blame them? It's a bit sadistic, going to the funeral of someone who committed suicide. I sometimes feel like she didn't deserve such a grand send off.

I'm just so uncontrollably angry. My sister came down the day before the funeral to help me pack my things. My new home was going to be a hell of a lot different from London. Then again, I guess, Edinburgh is a city. It can't be that different. But it's the people here I'm going to miss.

Abby, Jayne and Danielle all came with me to the airport this morning, again for moral support. God only knows when I'll next see them. School will be starting again soon, I'll be lucky if I get to go back home for Christmas. Although, there isn't any home here anymore. It's on the market to be sold.

Yes, I am so, so, so angry at Mum. May be one day I will grieve, may be one day I'll forgive her. But not today.

Love always, Emma Q

I was never fond of flying, and, although, we had only been up for less than an hour; I was relieved as the plane began its descent into Edinburgh airport. The suitcases that my half sister had bought me were an ugly pink colour, held shut by black bindings with my name upon them; E. O. Quixwood.

There were hardly many other cases upon the carousel when arrived and mines were easily spotted amongst the few doing the rounds. As I pushed my trolley of cases out into 'Arrivals' it was to find out almost deserted. She wasn't there. I searched for her in other parts of the airport, even inside the toilets. In the end I rang her phone but got no answer. She wasn't at the airport or waiting for me by the bus shelter or the taxi rank. I had her address, I could take a taxi to her apartment and I had a key; but I had very little money.

I trudged back over to the taxi rank and clambered into the first black cab in the line. The driver was kind enough to help me with my cases. The trip to Lauder Loan was, thankfully, short as the driver did appear to enjoy a gossip. I thought my ears would soon begin to bleed when he pulled up outside what, at first glance, looked to be an old folks home.

Again, the driver helped me out with the luggage and waited patiently as I went to dig around inside my case for my purse to pay the fare.

"Uh, so this is Lauder Loan, right?"

"No that is." He said pointing to a small foot path. "Sorry, but my cab can't fit up there. You'll have to go the rest of the way on foot."

"Great, well, thanks for the help." I sad, tugging on my cases and hoisting a bag onto my shoulder.

The street was quiet. There was only a couple other buildings on the street. I counted the building numbers as I went, looking for Zoe's house number thirteen.

"Seven, nine, eleven..." I chanted to myself.

I couldn't see thirteen anywhere. I was about to turn back to the driver for help when I saw him pull away from the end of the foot path. I was at a dead end in the lane now. Walking back to the start to count again I looked up to see a set of wrought iron gates I hadn't seen before.