Authors: Ross Turner
She wanted him to kiss her.
She wanted to lean in so that he could.
And somehow, she could see that he knew it too.
But he only smiled, seemingly ever the gentleman, and after a few moments, her heart in her mouth, Jen managed to sir herself into movement and passed through the heavy wooden doorway that he still held open, and out into the cold of the night.
Her heart fluttered continuously, and she didn’t feel like she had butterflies in her stomach as much as they swarmed through her entire body, colonising in her chest it seemed.
“Oh, and, by the way…” He called calmly after her, and she turned to face him one last time.
Her cheeks flushed afresh and her heart still pounded furiously against her ribs, lust filled for the first time in her life.
“I’m Deacon…”
Memoria Lane
That night, for the first night in a long time, when she arrived home, Jen didn’t immediately race out onto the roof. When she appeared in the kitchen, pulling her hoody off over her head, her mother was pleasantly surprised to see her, especially after the incident with Caroline.
“How was work, sweetheart?” Dyra asked her youngest daughter.
“Yeah…I, good. It was good thanks. How are you?”
Immediately Dyra could tell that something wasn’t quite right.
What had happened?
Perhaps she’d come to tell her what she’d been waiting to hear for so long now, one way or another.
Hopefully.
She’d been waiting for months.
But when Jen came and sat down, perching across the table from her mother, there was something in her daughter’s eyes that Dyra had never seen before. And she had absolutely no idea what it was.
Not that that was anything new.
“Are you okay?” Dyra asked.
“Yeah, I think so…” Her daughter replied.
“You think so?” Dyra questioned immediately, concerned, as a parent always will be. “Did you get home okay? What’s happened!?”
“No, nothing, it’s fine. I got home fine.” Jen reassured her, of course knowing exactly why she was asking that.
“So what is it?” Her mother pressed.
She thought she knew what her youngest daughter’s next breath would be, but after a few more anxious moments, she realised in fact that she had been wrong. She was surprised. Pleasantly so, in fact, although she was still worried.
Taking a deep breath, Dyra decided it was time to take the plunge.
“Did you walk home with Clare?” She asked then, her tone cautious and her gaze upon her daughter warily.
“What? Oh, not in the end, no….” Came Jen’s reply, which shocked her mother even more, so much so that Dyra could find no reply.
“Oh…” Was all she managed in her surprise.
“I think I might go to bed…” Jen stated then, rising slowly, and admittedly wearily to her feet.
“Okay, sweetheart…” Her mother replied, practically jumping to her feet also, not really knowing what to say or do.
“Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.” Jen said fondly then, bidding her mother a good night and embracing her before disappearing up the stairs, leaving Dyra sat alone and shocked in the kitchen.
Jen’s sudden change of heart, even though it was only slight, left her mother dumbfounded, and she looked after her daughter as she vanished up the stairs and to her room.
“Goodnight…” She called after her, her voice trailing off somewhat.
After a few moments relief crept through Dyra’s chest and a slight smile touched her lips. Pushing herself to her feet, she wandered through into the lounge and collapsed onto the faded leather settee that sat back up against the wall closest to the kitchen.
She felt suddenly weightless and exhausted, as at least a little of the heavy anxiety that she had carried with her fell suddenly from her shoulders.
Naturally, Jen did eventually find her way up onto the rooftop, crouching and locating the spot where she was most comfortable on sea view side.
This time though she didn’t take her Walkman with her.
She had even tried briefly to fall asleep in bed, but she had not had much success.
Her thoughts still raced and her body still felt the after effects of Deacon…
“What happened?” Clare asked her, sliding carefully along the slanted rooftop in her plain, white dress, luminous in the night, crouching slowly to sit by her younger sister.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come to meet you…” Jen apologised immediately, misunderstanding Clare’s question completely.
“No, not that…” Clare replied, waving off her apology as if she’d accepted it before it had even been made. “I meant, what happened with Deacon?”
“What? Oh, erm…I…I don’t know.” Jen stumbled, phased even at the sheer mention of his name.
“See!?” Clare exclaimed then, her voice carrying perhaps further than she’d intended through the dark night from the rooftop.
But she didn’t care, and it didn’t matter anyway.
No one would have heard her.
Jen flushed again, and Clare saw it even in the dim light.
“That! See! There!” She exclaimed again. That’s exactly what I mean!” She chuckled, pointing at Jen’s furious blushing. “Even just his name!? Really!?”
“Stop it!” Jen begged, covering her ears and burying her face, though of course that made no difference whatsoever.
“How’s he done this!?” Clare laughed then. “You even wanted him to kiss you didn’t you!? Admit it!” Clare jested seriously. “You’ve never wanted that before in your life!”
“He…I…I really don’t know…” Jen floundered helplessly.
She had no answers to give.
“Jenny…” Clare said then, smirking, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head at her younger sister.
Jen looked her older sister in the eyes and knew in an instant exactly what she was thinking.
“Don’t say it…” Jen warned, though there was a pleading tone in her voice too.
But it mattered not. The words were already on Clare’s tongue.
Jen knew what they were anyway.
Either way, regardless, there was no way she could have escaped them.
Her older sister’s voice rang true like bells echoing out over the vast shoreline.
“You’ve fallen in love.”
Sleep came quickly when Jen eventually crept back down into her bedroom, but her mind did not rest, and all through the night her crazed, muddled up thoughts turned into exhausting dreams that left her feeling even more drained than before.
Jen saw herself in her dreams on Memoria Lane. She clocked the street name sign straight away. Not that she’d needed to check it, for this was the street where she always met Clare from work, and she recognised it immediately.
The streetlights were bright, but few and far between, and lit lonesome yellow spotlights all the way along the lane for as far as she could see in either direction.
Trees and shrubs and bushes lined the narrow lane on both sides, broken here and there by gaps of darkness that shrouded around harrowingly.
Usually there would have been cars flitting past, crossing paths here and there for brief, fleeting moments where the lane occasionally widened. There were crossing places, after all, but here, now, in her dream, Jen’s mind was frantic and silent all at once, and no cars passed by that night.
Next, Jen found herself walking along the lane, meandering through the darkness of the night, crossing paths every hundred paces or so with one of the yellowish spotlights. The cold did not affect her, even though she was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt, for of course that would only have been her mind playing tricks on her.
Although, what else are minds for if not for playing tricks?
Jen’s was certainly having a field day.
She rounded a corner that appeared from nowhere, still following the same lane, and continued on down towards the shop where Clare worked. It wasn’t quite in view yet, but no matter how far she walked, it never got any closer.
Regardless, she continued, knowing it would eventually appear. Either that, or beforehand she would meet her older sister on her way home from work. They usually crossed paths in the middle somewhere.
There was no real sense of time in her dream, but if she had to guess, Jen would have likely deduced that far too long had passed, and that Clare would usually had found her by now.
Perhaps she’d finished late?
Suddenly a rustle off to the side of the lane startled her, and Jen’s attention focused in on the blackness intently. She couldn’t see a thing, but the noise sounded again, forcing fear to course through her body.
Shouting for help, her voice carried far and wide through the endless night.
But nobody came to her aid.
Then, still staring in terror at the darkness before her, visible only barely by the dim reaches of the yellow light from the streetlamps, Jen saw a silhouette detach itself from the trees and bushes and undergrowth.
It was the figure of a man.
All of a sudden she was petrified, and desperately yearned to run. But, hard as she tried, her legs would not budge.
As much as she willed, her body would not listen.
It was as if she had been trapped there endlessly, unable to escape, for a very long time.
The figure approached, seeming to glide above the ground in the faint light, hazy and unclear, and as it moved, Jen’s stomach turned and lurched in terror.
But then, as the figure continued to draw ever closer, her feelings stirred anew.
She suddenly felt alive and renewed, invigorated afresh for the first time. And as the silhouette separated itself from the shadows, breaking away from the darkness, her heart lifted and her spirit soared as she saw who in fact it was.
Deacon.
He didn’t speak.
And Jen couldn’t.
She was tongue tied again.
A chill wind whipped between them, but it was not cold.
The streetlamps dimmed and blackened, but still they could see.
Jen was only human, and a barely functioning one at that, yet, now she felt as though she could fly.
It was as if she was stood back in the doorway to The Rusty Oak, seeing Deacon for the very first time, and she imagined it would always feel like that.
At the very least, she hoped it would.
Sunlit Chorus
Dyra awoke slowly, hearing the murmuring of voices in the distance that doesn’t quite startle you to consciousness, but instead rouses you gradually and leaves you groggy and confused. She blinked awake a few times, groaning inaudibly as she did so.
It was only as her senses awakened, sluggishly, one by one, that Dyra was able to gain any sense of focus whatsoever.
Light streamed in through the crack between her curtains, blinding her momentarily, but that wasn’t what grabbed her attention the most.
Straining to hear as best she could, once she’d finally realised what it was that had awoken her, Dyra cocked her ear to one side and focused intently. But it was no use. The sound was too far away and the walls were too thick. All she could hear were murmurs. She couldn’t make out any words.
Rising from beneath her quilt and swivelling round to the side, dropping her legs off the edge of the bed, she stood up and reached for her thick, grey dressing gown, pulling it on over her nightclothes.
She silently opened her bedroom door and stepped slowly out onto the landing. To her right was the stairway leading up to Jen’s bedroom, and to her left were the stairs leading down to the hall. Out on the landing she could hear more clearly the murmurs that had stirred her, and now she could tell that they were indeed only one voice.
Jennifer’s.
Pacing down onto the stairs, she moved gradually, pausing for a moment as her gaze briefly caught the picture of the three of them: herself, Clare, and Jen, all stood outside the house when they’d first moved in.
Dyra stared at it blankly for a moment, totally lost in thought, her expression unreadable.
Eventually moving on, she continued to descend the stairs, and Jennifer’s voice became clear enough to make out the occasional word, but still hers was the only voice Dyra could hear.
And then it all went quiet, and there was not a sound to be heard.
Dyra pressed on, growing only more confused.
But then, all of a sudden, just as she reached the penultimate step, about three seconds from turning the corner and entering the kitchen, the loud banging and scraping of pots and pans startled her, and it was all she could do to keep herself from crying out in shock.
Her hand came up to her mouth to conceal any escaping sound, and even as it did, she heard Jennifer’s voice again, clear as day this time, and the sound brought tears to her mother’s eyes.
Her youngest daughter burst out in song once more, perfectly in tune, singing a melody that Dyra knew all too well.
Jennifer, so troubled of late, was singing a love song! And not just any love song, but in fact, the very song that Dyra had chosen for her wedding day.
Her stomach churned and her spirits lifted enormously.
Cooking and singing!
The tears that had been welling in her eyes streamed instantly down her cheeks, and Jen’s mother retreated back upstairs, just as silently as she had come.
Feeling herself go weak at the knees, she slumped back against her bedroom door and slid down to the floor.
Great surges of relief flooded through her in enormous waves.
Perhaps everything would be alright after all…
It was another ten or fifteen minutes before Dyra had dressed and composed herself enough to venture downstairs once more.
She heard Jen’s voice again, this time even before she’d made it halfway down the staircase, and she was still singing, though now it wasn’t Dyra’s wedding song, and she managed to just about hold herself together.
“Good morning sweetheart.” She greeted her youngest daughter with a broad smile as she entered.
Jen was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, as per usual, but there was something about her that morning that made it look like the sunbeams streaming in through the window had been cast for the sole purpose of illuminating her every flowing movement.
“Morning mom!” Jen replied, breaking tune for barely a moment, tending expertly to scrambled egg with one hand and lightly buttering toast with the other.
She had always been a marvel to watch in the kitchen, Dyra thought to herself, as she observed Jen dance and juggle and sing in a display of great skill.
It was most definitely something that cannot be taught, but instead simply something that is learned only through a love of cooking.
“What’s the occasion?” Jen’s mother asked, pulling a chair up at the table and pouring herself a glass of orange juice that Jen had already laid out ready, along with placemats, cutlery, and a variety of seasonings.
“Does there have to be an occasion?” Jen asked merrily, breaking her melody and casting a quick smile over her shoulder, before picking up her song exactly where she left off, without so much as breaking a note.
Dyra still didn’t know what was happening, which clearly was something, but if she was brutally honest, at that particular point in time, she didn’t really care. She was just overjoyed to see her daughter smile again.
Within minutes breakfast was served. Eggs and sausage and bacon, fried bread, beans, toast, hash browns, and even fried tomatoes graced the table that day, and much to her mother’s delight, for the first time in months, Jen tucked well in to the lot.
Her daughter seemed to glow in the morning light as it filtered in through the open windows, and birds filled the gap in Jen’s beautiful song as she ate, bursting with a dawn chorus of their own.
“So what are your plans today, sweetheart?” Dyra asked, wiping her mouth with a serviette. “Are you working?”
Jen was mid-swig of orange juice and swallowed before she spoke.
“Later…” She replied, nodding. “I’m going into town first…”
“Oh, really?” Her mother questioned, intrigued, and Jen nodded again.
“I’m going to buy a new dress.” She explained.
“Really!?” Her mother exclaimed, in perhaps more of a shocked tone than she’d intended. “And is there no occasion for this either?” She asked slyly, eyeing her youngest daughter with an unconcealed smirk.
“I just feel like it…” Jen lied, though she failed in turn to hide a grin of her own.
“Alright then…” Dyra conceded, not wanting to push Jen too far. Especially when things seemed to be improving so.
Clare appeared behind their mother then from seemingly nowhere, and she threw Jen a smug grin that spoke a thousand and more words.
Most prominently though, it said, ‘I told you so. You’re in love.’
Jen smirked, but ignored her older sister, clearing away the plates from breakfast and starting the washing up.
Aside from everything that had happened, she couldn’t help but be excited.
Perhaps, just perhaps, Clare was right…
The morning outside proved to be a glorious one, and the perfectly clear blue sky, broken by only the odd wisp of brilliantly white cloud here and there, shone vividly above. The lanes were quiet and though the town was a fair distance away to walk, Jen felt revitalised anew, and decided it would be a waste not to enjoy the day.
“You should have told mom!” Clare teased her playfully as they strolled.
“No!” Jen exclaimed in retort. “I can’t tell her!”
“Oh go onnnn!” Clare pushed.
“I don’t want her to know!” Jen replied adamantly.
“I’ll tell her if you don’t!” Clare stated mischievously.
“You can’t…” Jen commented.
“Wanna bet?” Clare asked slyly.
“Yes, actually. I do.” Jen asserted, finding new confidence in herself that she thought she’d lost long ago. “You can’t…I won’t let you…”
Town was busy, and following their little spate, Clare and Jen hadn’t really spoken the rest of the way.
It wasn’t really much of a shopping hub, for in the grand scheme of things, it was little more than an oversized village. However, it was where the vast majority of the locals went for their everyday needs: clothes, food and the like, and so, as expected, there were enough people there, and enough people who knew her, for Jen’s unexpected appearance to be noted.
Many who hadn’t seen or spoken to her for months stopped to say hello and asked how she was, and were all pleasantly surprised when they got a conversation out of her, and a happy one at that.
Before long, Clare and Jen had been in four different shops, Jen had tried on nine different dresses and, having been heavily critiqued by her grumpy older sister, still hadn’t made a decision.
They had virtually exhausted all their options, and still, as seemed to always be the case, in perhaps more ways than anyone could possibly ever know, Clare was forever casting doubt into Jen’s thoughts.
“Oh will you just make up your mind!” Clare demanded, exasperated, throwing her arms up in the air.
“Can you just leave me alone for two minutes!?” Jen practically begged of her sister.
Onlookers walked past with concerned, confused expressions on their faces, especially those who had spoken to Jen only an hour or two ago, when she had seemed so happy and carefree.
“Fine!” Clare cried, raising her voice so much that Jen visibly winced. “If you don’t want me, that’s just fine!”
“No…Clare…” Jen started, but it was too late.
In an instant, Clare was gone.
Jen could only watch as in one moment she was there beside her, and in the next she wasn’t, fading away into the distance between the crowds.
Jen sighed as she watched her sister go, and felt the eyes of all those around upon her much more keenly that she would have liked.
Desperate to divert from the attention, and barely able to control the emotions welling up inside of her from the knowledge of what she’d just done, intentionally or not, she turned and headed immediately back into the nearest shop.
Moments later she found herself locked in a changing room with three dresses that she couldn’t even have told you the colours of, her head buried in her hands and her chest heaving.
However, for some reason, after a few more minutes, she had recovered considerably, and it seemed that the argument had taken much less out of her than she’d originally thought.
Only ten minutes later, now making wholly her own decisions, Jen had made up her mind: a sleek, black dress lined with lace and a handful of tastefully placed sequins.
By the time she left the shop, already wearing her new purchase, though still with her trainers on admittedly, which looked for the most part quite comical, Jen was feeling strangely free and uplifted.
Still, people were eyeing her cautiously as she walked by, but at that point she didn’t care.
Now she had only one thing in mind, and one destination in view.