Fractured(10)

As the train’s rhythm began to slow, I realised that the two-hour journey had passed much more speedily than I would have liked and when the androgynous voice of the tannoy announced ‘The next stop is Great Bishopsford’, I was alarmed to discover I was no more ready to face my return than I had been any time in the last five years. As the train shuddered to a halt I got to my feet and reached up to retrieve my small overnight bag from the overhead rack.

‘Allow me,’ a man’s voice offered from behind me, and before I could decline, strong leather-clad arms reached up and lifted down the small case. As I looked up to thank the stranger I saw the quickly disguised look of sympathy on his face as he took in the jagged scar that became visible as I raised my head. I smiled briefly in thanks and lowered my head, allowing the thick curtain of hair to cover the worst of my marked face. It was a habit I had developed over time; it was easier to hide the scar than to have to deal with people’s reaction to it. Those who weren’t shocked into silence might be tempted to ask about its origins and I had made a decision many years ago never to speak of it if at all possible. And perhaps that was what was scaring me so badly about being back home. Because how would the old group of friends get through this weekend without speaking of something so cataclysmic that it had altered each of our lives in some way?

I caught a taxi from the station, even though it was only a short walk to the hotel where I would be staying. But the walk would have taken me past our old school, and I wasn’t prepared yet for the memories taking that route might elicit. Inside the leather-seated interior of the cab, I resolutely kept my gaze firmly fixed on my knees and the floor and tried to avoid the inevitable for a little while longer.

The hotel room was clean and impersonal. No memories here as I’d never set foot in the building before, so that was fine. It took all of three minutes to unpack my small bag. I glanced at the bedside radio alarm clock. It was nearly lunchtime and I toyed with the idea of going down to the hotel bar for a sandwich, but at the last moment lost my nerve and phoned down for room service. ‘Baby steps,’ I told myself encouragingly. ‘Just take little baby steps and you’ll be fine.’ My reflection looked back at me doubtfully from the dressing-table mirror. If I couldn’t even convince myself, how on earth was I going to get through the next seventy-two hours?

After I’d eaten, I called Sarah on my mobile to let her know I had arrived. I heard the relief in her voice and was dismayed that she had not been entirely certain I was really going to come. That strengthened my resolve to be strong, if only for her sake.

‘Come over now, I don’t want to wait till tonight to see you.’ Her enthusiasm made me smile, but then Sarah always had. I just hoped Dave realised how lucky he was, getting to spend his entire future with such a special person.

‘Maybe in a little while,’ I promised. ‘And you have me at your disposal all day tomorrow, so we’ll get plenty of time to talk before you become an old married lady.’ She groaned at my words and uttered a very unladylike phrase in response.

‘Actually,’ I continued, ‘I think I’ll take a little walk this afternoon. See if I can face up to some of those old memories after all.’

‘Fancy some company?’ I smiled at her offer. She must have a thousand and one things to do, yet I knew she’d abandon all of them in a heartbeat if I said yes.

‘No, that’s OK,’ I replied, ‘I think I might do this better on my own, and anyway I’m getting a bit of headache.’ I brought my hand up to rub distractedly between my brows, as I realised this last was true. ‘So the fresh air will do me good.’

‘Well, don’t walk so far that you’ll be too exhausted for my hen dinner tonight.’

‘As if I’d be allowed to miss that! Are you doing the L plates and tiara costume bit?’

‘No,’ came the swift response in mock indignation, ‘I told you before, this is no tacky girly shindig. This is a mixed, grown-up and sophisticated dinner with all of my oldest friends, to celebrate my departure from spinsterhood. By the way, you have arranged a stripper for me, haven’t you?’

‘Absolutely,’ I replied, and was still smiling when I hung up the phone.


The air outside was much colder than I had expected, and I was glad of my thick woollen coat and knitted scarf wound tightly about my neck. Without any conscious thought or instruction, my feet found their own rhythm and began to direct me down the twisting side roads which would lead me to my old home. I didn’t intervene. This was the first stop I needed to make and this should be the easy one. No dark memories there, only happy ones from my childhood.