Chapter 2 #2
Maisie took her hand without a second thought and they started down the cobbled street.
The houses leaned close together, painted in soft, weathered hues of white, blue, and grey, their facades streaked with salt from years of briny sea air.
A stiff breeze carried the tang of the ocean, and Erica shivered, already regretting her choice of outfit.
The streets were eerily still, save for the distant cry of gulls overhead.
Erica glanced down at Maisie, who was humming to herself as they walked, utterly at ease in her little world.
This place was charming, in its own way.
Quiet enough that she felt like she should be whispering, just in case she disturbed something ancient.
“Maisie,” she began hesitantly, “your school … it’s not too far, is it?”
Maisie giggled. “No, Auntie Eri. You’ll see – it’s just down the hill.”
Erica let out a small sigh of relief, but the lump in her throat remained.
“Do you like it here?” Maisie asked suddenly.
Erica hesitated. “I’ve only been here … what, twelve hours?”
“That’s enough,” Maisie said confidently. “I knew I didn’t like broccoli straight away.”
The walk to school was mercifully short, though Erica couldn’t help but feel a pang of inadequacy as they arrived at the gates of a large Victorian stone building.
The school sat on a patch of tarmac with chalk-drawn hopscotch grids, a faded netball hoop, and a modest square of grass bordered by wildflowers.
Parents milled about, waving their children off with a mix of affection and efficiency.
Maisie hung back, standing close to Erica as if waiting for some signal.
Erica swallowed, watching the other parents’ cheery waves, quick kisses, easy goodbyes.
It seemed so seamless for them, as natural as breathing.
For Erica, it felt like performing a play where no one had bothered to give her the script.
She crouched down to Maisie’s level, brushing a stray wisp of hair from the girl’s face. “Alright, Maisie,” she said, trying to inject some warmth into her voice. “Have the best day of your life, crocodile.”
Maisie’s brow furrowed, her lips parting in a small O of confusion. “Crocodile?” she repeated, tilting her head.
Erica flushed, the words hanging awkwardly in the air. Her mother used to say that to her before school, a silly little phrase that had stuck somewhere, even now.
But before Maisie could say more, a loud bell rang, cutting through the chilly morning air. It sent the gathered children into a frenzy of movement. Maisie, caught in the current, turned back to wave at Erica.
“Bye, Auntie Eri!” she called out, her voice bright and carefree, before disappearing into the tide of bobbing backpacks and tiny feet.
Erica stayed where she was, blinking at the gates as the last of the children funnelled inside. The parents began to drift away, chatting in low murmurs or heading back to their cars. Soon, Erica was left alone.
She stuffed her hands into her pockets, staring at the now-quiet playground. The cheerful chaos had dissolved, leaving behind an eerie stillness that pressed in on her.
With a sigh, she turned and started back down the quiet street. The cold air sliced through her sweater, making her shiver. She didn’t try to brace against it. Instead, she let the chill seep in, her breath rising in soft clouds as she walked.
By the time she reached the house, the ache in her chest had deepened into a dull throb.
She let herself in, shutting the door behind her with a heavy click.
The grey, fluffy seagull sat in the same spot on the rooftop opposite, its beady eyes fixed on her with an unsettling intensity.
Its gaze felt like an accusation, though she couldn’t begin to guess why.
“Go away,” she muttered, as she fumbled with the chain lock, relieved that there was some way to shut out the outside world.
The house was quiet, save for the faint creaks of its old bones.
Erica leaned against the door for a moment, closing her eyes.
The silence pressed against her, its emptiness louder than she could bear.
She stomped upstairs, her feet heavy against the narrow wooden steps. In her room, the bed still sat rumpled from her hurried morning exit. She didn’t bother tidying it. Instead, she crawled under the covers, pulling them tight around her as if they could shield her from the world outside.
But the world was stubborn – it lingered in the cracks of her mind, seeping in like an unwelcome draft.
The playground full of laughter, the easy way Leah had rushed off to her busy life, the way Maisie had looked back at her, wide-eyed and expectant.
It all twisted together, a lump in her chest she couldn’t dislodge.
Erica buried her face in the pillow. The thought came quietly, but it settled heavily all the same – what if this was all there was for now? What if she’d already had the best of things, and the rest was just … getting through?
Her mind replayed old wounds like a never-ending reel. Steven. The things people had said. The things she’d started to believe.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but it was no use. Even here, cocooned in borrowed sheets in her sister’s home, the grief, the guilt, and the emptiness followed her like shadows she couldn’t escape.
And so Erica stayed where she was, beneath the covers staring at the ceiling while the gull cried outside.