Sweet Satisfaction (Purple UGC Winner 2014)

Sweet Satisfaction - Nineteen

Nineteen

London, England

Father was absolutely determined to get his hands on the reward money. In fact, he was so determined that he made us journey by train from Brighton to London!

I rather disliked this method of travelling, despite the fact we were seated in one of the fancy first class compartments. I hated the steam billowing past the windows, the shrieking whistle of both train and the guards waving their flags at all the stations we passed and the fear in my heart that as we turned a bend, the carriage would lean and fall off the track.

So, I was quite glad when we reached the end of the line. I stepped into Victoria Station. Everyone seemed to be rushing; I could tell by the bustle of skirts, the slamming of doors and yelling from porters.

Suddenly, Father was pulling us through into a lighter, even busier street. I heard him mutter something on the lines of the Underground Railway and Mother about staying close together because of pickpockets.

I had been to London before, of course but I didn’t remember it being so congested. The actual roads were even worse – with a mixture of motorcars and omnibuses tooting horns at horse-drawn carriages. I felt rather bewildered, carried along by the surge.

We finally reached the Underground station after seemingly an eternity and I was pleased it was more peaceful there. As if to prove that statement, we were the only people in the lift cart. A liftman slid across the lift gates, which seemed to be made up of dozens of brown metal diamonds.

I moved into the furthest corner, feeling imprisoned. However, a few little bubbles of excitement were swirling in my stomach because I was about to go underground! The lift jerked, moving downwards. Would it be all black, or would there be lighting? How did they fit the carriages down there?

Mother grabbed my wrist as a squealing sound like an abrupt tug on a pair of brakes screeched in our ears. After a cross between a shudder and a bang, the lift came to a halt.

We remained in silence for a few seconds. Surely there wasn’t meant to be nothing on the other side of the gates?

“Well,” Father said, trying to weigh out the fury seeping into his voice, “I think the old boy’s got stuck.”

I, for one, was somewhat relieved as if we missed our ‘appointment’ I would not have to go through with all the lies. On the other hand, Mother didn’t feel the same way as a mask of horror locked itself on her face.

“You mean… we’re trapped down here?” she squeaked. Trapped? My eyes widened.

“Not trapped. I’m sure this is just a fault and the engineer will be along to fix it.” Father tried to appear calm, ignoring Mother’s panicky breathing sweating palms and trembling body, pressing the emergency stopper. I stared at her; what had happened to the organised, cool and collected Mother?

By now, she was throwing herself against the gate, gasping, the flesh on her hands digging into the hard, sharp metal. She screamed, throwing punch after punch.

“Isabella!” Father hissed, grabbing her waist and dragging her backwards as she screeched. Lines of concern appeared on his forehead as Mother banged against the walls, twisting and turning in sheer panic, pupils wide with growing petal.

“Mother, please, please calm down,” I begged, realising my throat was dry and eyes full of tears. Why was Mother reacting so crazily? Why had the lift got stuck? What if we were stuck forever? I looked up to the roof of the cart. It suddenly felt very far away. Mother began wailing hysterically.

“Be quiet,” Father snapped, striding over to her, crouched in the corner and firmly slapping her round the face.

Her head banged against the wall. Hard. She slumped down. And didn’t move.