where you’m gone.’
‘They might not believe you. Everyone knows we’re best friends.’
‘I’ll just say that you wanted a new start an’ that you promised to write when you was settled. P’r’aps they’ll forget all about you in time. After all, you was never best friends with ’em like you is wi’ me. But, oh dear, Anna, I got to go.’ Her young face wrinkled with desperation. ‘I ’ates to say goodbye, Anna. You take care now.’
Anna bit on her lip as a horrible emptiness welled up inside her. ‘You look after yourself, too, Eth. And I hope everything goes on all right with you and Bert.’
The mention of her beloved Bert brought a smile to Ethel’s distraught face. ‘We certainly seems to be getting along proper fine. But … Oh, Anna! I’m going to miss you so much.’
‘Me, too.’
They found themselves clasped in each other’s tight embrace, holding on, wishing … But time was getting on.
‘I just hope it’s worth it,’ Anna murmured. ‘That where I’m going is far enough away for Dad not to find me.’
Ethel pulled away, and while the lump in Anna’s throat was choking her, she saw the tears swimming in her friend’s eyes.
‘Oh, there’ll be no reason for ’en to suspect you’m gone to live on Dartmoor. Now, I really musts go. Good luck,’ she added, beginning to walk backwards down the street. ‘An’ don’t forget to write!’
‘I won’t, I promise!’
Anna watched, her vision misted with unshed tears, as Ethel hurried along the pavement, turned at the corner to give one final wave, and was gone. Anna stood for a moment on the threshold, her heart in tatters. Her mum was dead, and now she didn’t know when she would see her dear friend again. And her dad … well. He had changed for ever, she was sure. She really mustn’t allow any feelings of regret to get in the way of her decision. Her mum had clung to the past, hadn’t she, and look where it had got her. Anna set her mouth in fierce determination and went back upstairs to finish packing.
She mustn’t be long. Just the few family photos she’d taken from the drawer downstairs and one or two knick-knacks her mum had given her. That was it. Nothing else to remind her of her previous life.
She had made her bed. The room was unchanged apart from her missing teddy bear that she had squashed into the case. And the note she had decided at the last minute to leave on the bed.
I’m sorry, Dad. I just had to get away. Look after yourself. And please don’t drink too much.
Love
Anna.
She took her gaberdine raincoat from the hallstand. Put her head round the kitchen door. So many memories. Scarf wound about her neck, wriggling her fingers into her gloves. As she bent to pick up the case, her eyes stopped on the lino where her mum had died. No, she mustn’t think like that.
She picked up the case and her umbrella as it looked like rain, and let herself out of the front door. A new life. She mustn’t look back.
‘You must not
ever
use the main stairs,’ Mrs Davenport instructed as she showed Anna up to her room. ‘Not unless you have had express permission for some specific purpose. The main stairs are only for the family and their visitors.’
Anna had been hurrying along behind the housekeeper in the narrow confines of the underground corridor she had been ushered along on the day of her interview, and up the few steps at the far end. But instead of going through the door into the impressive entrance hall, the austere woman led her directly into a small, rear hallway with a door and windows giving out onto the back of the house.
Anna had no time to dwell on the uncertainty that still gnawed at her as she followed Mrs Davenport up the endless flights of stairs that hugged the narrow stairwell right up to the attic rooms of the house. You could see right the way up, she realised with a shudder. It was a bit scary, that, because you could fall right from top to bottom aswell. It reminded her … and
‘They might not believe you. Everyone knows we’re best friends.’
‘I’ll just say that you wanted a new start an’ that you promised to write when you was settled. P’r’aps they’ll forget all about you in time. After all, you was never best friends with ’em like you is wi’ me. But, oh dear, Anna, I got to go.’ Her young face wrinkled with desperation. ‘I ’ates to say goodbye, Anna. You take care now.’
Anna bit on her lip as a horrible emptiness welled up inside her. ‘You look after yourself, too, Eth. And I hope everything goes on all right with you and Bert.’
The mention of her beloved Bert brought a smile to Ethel’s distraught face. ‘We certainly seems to be getting along proper fine. But … Oh, Anna! I’m going to miss you so much.’
‘Me, too.’
They found themselves clasped in each other’s tight embrace, holding on, wishing … But time was getting on.
‘I just hope it’s worth it,’ Anna murmured. ‘That where I’m going is far enough away for Dad not to find me.’
Ethel pulled away, and while the lump in Anna’s throat was choking her, she saw the tears swimming in her friend’s eyes.
‘Oh, there’ll be no reason for ’en to suspect you’m gone to live on Dartmoor. Now, I really musts go. Good luck,’ she added, beginning to walk backwards down the street. ‘An’ don’t forget to write!’
‘I won’t, I promise!’
Anna watched, her vision misted with unshed tears, as Ethel hurried along the pavement, turned at the corner to give one final wave, and was gone. Anna stood for a moment on the threshold, her heart in tatters. Her mum was dead, and now she didn’t know when she would see her dear friend again. And her dad … well. He had changed for ever, she was sure. She really mustn’t allow any feelings of regret to get in the way of her decision. Her mum had clung to the past, hadn’t she, and look where it had got her. Anna set her mouth in fierce determination and went back upstairs to finish packing.
She mustn’t be long. Just the few family photos she’d taken from the drawer downstairs and one or two knick-knacks her mum had given her. That was it. Nothing else to remind her of her previous life.
She had made her bed. The room was unchanged apart from her missing teddy bear that she had squashed into the case. And the note she had decided at the last minute to leave on the bed.
I’m sorry, Dad. I just had to get away. Look after yourself. And please don’t drink too much.
Love
Anna.
She took her gaberdine raincoat from the hallstand. Put her head round the kitchen door. So many memories. Scarf wound about her neck, wriggling her fingers into her gloves. As she bent to pick up the case, her eyes stopped on the lino where her mum had died. No, she mustn’t think like that.
She picked up the case and her umbrella as it looked like rain, and let herself out of the front door. A new life. She mustn’t look back.
‘You must not
ever
use the main stairs,’ Mrs Davenport instructed as she showed Anna up to her room. ‘Not unless you have had express permission for some specific purpose. The main stairs are only for the family and their visitors.’
Anna had been hurrying along behind the housekeeper in the narrow confines of the underground corridor she had been ushered along on the day of her interview, and up the few steps at the far end. But instead of going through the door into the impressive entrance hall, the austere woman led her directly into a small, rear hallway with a door and windows giving out onto the back of the house.
Anna had no time to dwell on the uncertainty that still gnawed at her as she followed Mrs Davenport up the endless flights of stairs that hugged the narrow stairwell right up to the attic rooms of the house. You could see right the way up, she realised with a shudder. It was a bit scary, that, because you could fall right from top to bottom aswell. It reminded her … and
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