The sister in the dark

Chapter 2

I wake up at about 5 am the next morning, sweating and thrashing, tears running silently down my cheeks. The thin blind covering the skylight is barely filtering the early morning sunshine sneaking over the hills in the distance. The shock of Rose's death is still clogging up my thoughts, making me unable to think clearly. Maybe some fresh air will help.

As I make my way to the ladder that leads to the roof, I trip over something on the uneven floorboards. My suitcase?! And then I remember. I have to go to Stowe School, the place my sister died, the place this mess all happened. Every last ounce of strength leaves my body. I don't think it would be safe to go up to the roof in this weak condition. Instead, I lie in a crumpled heap on the uncomfortable floor.

The hammering of torrential rain on the roof awakes me. My first thought: It wasn't like this earlier, but then I wonder if I imagined the earlier wakening, and then instantly dismiss it. How else would I have wound up like this on the floor? The bedroom clock says 6:44 am, almost breakfast time. My stepfather will kill me if I'm late, so I pull on my smartest blouse and skirt, a straw boater and smart black leather shoes. Almost as an afterthought I clean my face and tie a neat little ribbon around my plaits. There. Presentable.

The acrid smell of burnt toast greets me as I walk into the kitchen. Great. The last day I'm at home, breakfast is ruined. Thanks, Mother. Amazing way to send me off.

My stepfather disappears upstairs, presumably to get my suitcase. But to my surprise, he comes back with a small envelope.

"Open it only if you really need to," he says, "I may not have been the best parent over the last 9 years, but at least I loved you, even if you didn't love me back."

His short speech leaves me almost in tears. What he said was true. I often neglected his feelings, ignored all his attempts to spoil Rose and I. So if I accept this final gift, maybe I can have a small bond of family between him and I. Why did it take me so long to realise that I am not alone, that people do love me.

A sharp knock on the front door alerts me. Stepfather gives me a loving nod and dashes back upstairs to get my suitcase. Mother opens the door, kisses me on the cheek and stands back to let me go outside to where a car is waiting. I pull my suitcase out of my father's grip and give it to the chauffeur who puts it in the boot of the car.

"We love you Evelyn," Stepfather whispers, "We'll write, I promise. Good luck my darling."

"Goodbye and good luck my love," Mother murmurs, caressing my cheek.

This is it.

I'm doing this for you, Rose, I think.

And I step into the car.