The Beginning of The End

Then there were three

Sophia

When someone you love is taken from you it hurts. I felt the same way when my dad died as I did when Scarlett and Alex left. It felt like I had been left with a huge pressure on my shoulders. No one was there to tell me how to live my life anymore. No one could give me the confidence to be myself. I had never realised how much one person meant to me until she was gone. Suddenly the 7 hours between her and America seemed too vast to be able to cross. To me, she was lost forever or so I thought back then. My hope dwindles with each blow but now I realise that without it I will never grow. I have suffered a lot in my life now and I have emerged a different person from the one I was. But at the time Scarlett's group was the centre of my life even though I was not a large or important part of it and she was at the heart of it. My heart.

***

The sadness overwhelmed me when I heard the news. The time pressures we faced were even worse than the time we were given to revise for mocks. Losing Scarlett meant losing part of myself, part of what made life bearable.

I have always been afraid of meeting new people and it is likely that I always will be, but Scarlett took me in. It would be impossible to focus without her. My first thought was nothing will ever be the same again. I was right but at the time I couldn't even manage to say goodbye - I didn't trust the words to come out correctly. I hugged her tightly hoping that for the first time she would understand me without the need for words. We were left with no choices and that meant drastic decisions were made.

They left me, Hattie and John standing there staring at the cars. I felt an angry feeling emanating from the others but I couldn't tell whether it was about being left behind or the fact that we had waited until now to find out Scarlett was moving to America. I believed that she had a good reason for her decisions and there was no way to tell us at school today so I understood the situation she found herself trapped in. My logic told me that.

But the others weren't thinking logically like I was. They were panicking about where to go from here. John's parents worked three hours away in London and normally didn't get home from work until the clock had passed 7 pm. Hattie had builders working on her house and a building site wasn't exactly a safe place to go. There was no way we could stay here. Too many memories threatened to bring me to tears and a new family was due to arrive at some point if they still thought the move to 'quiet' Stanville was a good idea or never watched the news.

That left only one place and we were going to have to go outside to reach it. Which meant a potential chance meeting with those dreadful bees. I knew my mum wouldn't mind my friends coming over. Actually, she would be thrilled. She was worried about me being lonely because I am so shy, I have no brothers or sisters and to top it all off dad died when I was 5 leaving her to raise a daughter she hardly knew on her own. That was after all why we moved here.

"My house." The others looked at me blankly. I think that was a mix of the shock of today's events and the fact that I had actually spoken with no prompts let alone the answer to the question they were thinking. I never said anything. Oh well, that was about to change today.

Suggestion's and plans were Alex's department but he wasn't here anymore. We had to stop dwelling on the past and move on. I had learned that from everything that has happened to me in the past. Loss hit me hard.

"Is that really going to be ok?" John shook off his disbelief first but he was uncertain. I had never invited anyone round to my house.

"Of course, my mum will not mind. She will probably be too busy painting to even bother us." I was trying to reassure them.

"Lead the way, Soph." Hattie had recovered. That took a long time. Oh well.

We left the house abruptly making sure the door was tightly shut and sprinted towards my house along the path that stretched between an orchard and the park hedge.

My house is a small cottage located on a cul-de-sac just off the park. Apart from 1 house on either side of mine, one with an elderly couple and the other with a couple in their 30s, I had no neighbours. It was normally quiet, calm and peaceful here, a haven for my mum's painting, but today like everywhere else it was in havoc.

Mum never answers the door so I took the key from its hiding place beneath the plant pot and unlocked the door. Replacing the key I entered flanked by Hattie and John.

We made our way to the kitchen that overlooked the back garden. It was simple with granite surfaces and wooden cupboards and a small wooden table with 4 chairs neatly tucked underneath.

I busy myself getting 3 glasses of water from the American fridge after the run I felt we deserved it. Out of habit, I checked for any notes. If mum goes out for any reason she always leaves a note attached to the fridge door which details where she has gone and the odd job that I was going to do anyway scrawled on it. She believes that if I am left on my own I might panic but I am used to raising myself. I have been self-sufficient for 10 years, ever since dad died. He was the one who had raised me in my early life and he was the one that understood me. Losing him had made me the quiet girl I was today.

Sure enough, there was a large pink post-it taped to the fridge door. It was written in thick black marker that formed artistic writing. It simply said:

I have gone to Joyce and Keith next door. We are staying in their basement in order to stay safe. Please meet me there as soon as possible. Love you, Mum x

The last part was added as an after-thought and was always stuck on the end of each note. It said the same thing on the only 7 fridge magnets scattered over the surface of the fridge. She used them more as a constant reminder to herself. We had never been close - me and mum - we just lived together and crossed paths a few times a day but she knew nothing about me. I only knew things because I went out of my way to find them out.

I looked at Hattie and John who were sat at the kitchen table. Hattie smiled back. John was looking out of the window at the devastation like it was a horror movie on TV. Interesting but harmless. I wished today was just a movie, then we could just rewind it and everything would be OK again. Even now I have to keep pinching myself to be absolutely certain I'm not dreaming.

I peeled the note of the fridge trying to cover my concern. This note made everything real. The elderly couple next door only ever had their grandson, Ethan, and daughter round at holidays and my mum hates basements. They are too dull and boring for her arty charisma and that's why we don't have one. I have never liked them either. It is probably one of the only things I share with mum but mine is for an entirely different reason. I hate to feel trapped and in a basement, there is very little room to move or even breathe.

I took the glasses over and dumped the post-it on the table. John returned his attention to inside the room and we re-read the post-it together.

Finally, after what felt like years of silence Hattie couldn't keep her mouth shut. "I think we should go down there."

"Really?" John seemed uncertain probably thinking his parents would be worried when they got home.

"What other choices do we have?" My question had no answer. Coming here had been my idea and we had nowhere else to turn.

"To the basement, it is then." John's words had an edge of finality in them. It was decided.

We ransacked the cupboards. Leaving a neat pile of books from our school bags on the kitchen table we started to fill them with tins and anything else I could find that was a good source of food. My neighbours were letting us stay there - we didn't need to disappoint them by coming without a present. Besides, there was no way they had factored in two extra people.

Our phones were recharged while we worked and our water bottles were refilled from the fridge.

I collected a few of the bottles of water we used on camping trips (the only holidays we could afford, which I loved and mum hated but it was the only tradition my family had from when my dad was still alive and I treasured every second of it).

Leaving Hattie a John sorting through the kitchen I dashed up to my room and grabbed all the blankets I had cleaned only the day before and some pillows squashing them into the oversized bag that used to contain camping equipment.

And once again I mentally prepared myself for yet another trip outside.