Celeste

6.

The next day passed extraordinarily fast, and it wasn't long before the carriage pulled up.

led by two piebald brown horses who whinnied softly at the drivers affections and offers of sugar cubes, manes silky in the afternoon sun. The driver is a large round man, who had trouble getting down, carrage visibly rocking as he did so.

Gloria didn't giggle, only sadly staring at the carriage itself.
It's a gorgeous silky brown, accented with a white trim. My father and the driver heave my many trunks into there, grunting with effort.

Meanwhile matron newt is tutting over my bursting bag to have in the coach.
"Really, Celeste? You shall gain weight if you eat all this! And "travel guides"? Are you driving the coach now?"

I don't care to argue, so I stare miserably out of the window. The summer still shines on despite my predicament.

My room lays baren and naked now. Clothes neatly packed, room cleaned, bed striped to naught but a mattress. My pictures drawn at fairs and markets line the bin due to an arguement with matron newt.

It's the strangest feeling, staring at the raw flesh of a room you grew up in. I leave before i start to cry.

Downstairs, my father and the driver are talking about the route and expenses when I walk in.

I'm wearing a fairly dull blue dress matched with the star necalace Eli got me. I feel I can have a part of him with me, and the dress is one that has many memories, baking with Gloria, painting with my mother, long summer evening in the dawn, hand in hand with Eli...

"Celeste, this is Bert, the carrage driver who will take you to highbrow."

I give a weak thin-lipped smile and shake his clammy large hand.
"Tis a pleasure, miss. The prosecsion leaves soon, so we aught tah be off."

"Yes, of course." I say dryly. The procession is one I've seen before, about five carriages travelling in a row, to offer protection and company on hefty trips inland.

We leave the house in a gaggle of voices, matron newt scolding my choice of clothes, Gloria talking about how much she'll miss me, even Bert blabbering about highbrow.

My father and I are in a still locked silence, only cutting glances at one another.

The carriage is ready to go, and Bert hauls open a door, revealing brown leather seats. I clutch my bag harder.

A warm hug from Gloria.
"Good luck, cel. I will miss ya so much..." she starts to cry.

"Come now, Celeste. It is time." My fathers gruff voice says.
I have a split second before I lunge at him, my hard, cold father, and squeeze him into a hug.

He always smells of paper, fine and dusky, despite his time away. He plants a kiss on my head. "I'll miss you too, dear daughter." . I want to hug him forever, to imprint the papery smell like a ducking onto myself. But he lets go.

I stumble into the carriage at Bert's cough, the seats squeaking in protest. I open the window as the door shuts with a finalising click.
My father passes something to me, an envelope, as Bert clambers up onto the front seat, carriage lurching.

I give him a questioning look, and he simply says "it's from both of us."

The click of teeth, and the horses begin to move. "I love you! Goodbye!" I shout.
They all yell farewell as the carriage trundles out of sight. I feel the same pinching hollowness now as I did when I lost my mother. I can't help but cry a little, before pulling myself together to look at the envelope in my shaking hand.

It's old, I can tell by the yellowed pages, curled with time. I undo the seal, and pull out a thin folded sheet of paper. I open it.

My darling Celeste,

Never feel unloved, for I am in your heart, and your father is at your side. I write this on a ship. A pirate ship. I was captured whilst riding near the docks, looking for your fathers vessel. I am so glad I left you at home no matter how you begged. I love you. Your father loves you too.

May we meet in the pearly gates,
Lucy.

Celeste. I found this tucked into her bodice. Good luck on your travels.

I stared at the looping writing of my mother, brain whirling. Why didn't father show me this before?

I numbly watched out the window as the streets thinned. The sharp smell of manure made my nose scrunch, and I hastily closed the window.
Why did they just find her clothes?

I still remembered her dress as father clutched it, deep red against his pale skin, ripped through and through, white lines of under layer poking like torn clouds. We buried it at her grave, the body was most likely cast into the sea, the police said gravely.

I eye the bag of pastries so lovingly made this morning with Gloria.

The sea is still in view, the docks becoming more and more ragged with every stride the horses take. The sun sets on the sea, sending golden clouds in a halo above it. Dark outlines of ships glide on the honeyed sea, destination unknown.

I watch transfixed as the sun sinks below the horizon, igniting a few brave stars to gleam in the gloom. I try to watch some more of the night, but clouds blot out the better part, and I huff, yanking the curtains closed.

Oh, right. It's dark in here also.

I fumble around until I find a swinging glass lantern and a matchbox. I light it as best I can, blowing out the match and tossing it out the window once it was extinguished. I close the latch.

Grinning, I rummage into my bag, finding the travel guide matron newt so despised. Highbrow and beyond. I find my place, and continue reading as the lantern sends flickering light, and the carriage continues further into the dark.