The earliest memory I have is the funeral held for my Great-Aunt Lavinia in 2002- or, to be more specific, when my mothers, Sarah Jane Smith and Ruby White visited the tree planted for her that night. Mummy (Sarah Jane) knelt beside the tree, dressed from head to toe in black. Mum is standing a little way off to the side, while I hold her hand.
"Well, Lavinia," Mummy begins, crying slightly. "I hope you liked your day in the limelight. I think you would have hated it. All those people are going on about how wonderful, how successful, how much a pillar of society you were. The people from the market garden, they planted a tree in your name, just left of the village green, where we are now. They thought that was more worth-while than a church send-off. I think they were right. But, you know as well as I do, in a place like Morton Harwood, you don't get to slip away quietly. Brendan sends his love, couldn't be here, of course. He's over in Sans Francisco. I'm going to miss you, you know? All of those adventures together we never actually had. But you listened to me going on nineteen to the dozen so you must have felt you knew as much as I did about my work. I'm going to miss you so much. Oh, your solicitor tipped me the wink about your will, thank you, it's very nice. Quite what I'm going to do with the house, market garden and the royalties on your payments, I'm not quite sure. But I promise to be at least slightly frivolous, as you insisted so much last Christmas. Well, we'd best be getting back to the house now. The locals are gathering for the party, and apparently, Juno Baker says we're not to call it a 'wake' because you don't believe in such things. I'm glad she's around, I think she was very fond of you. Goodbye, Lavinia. I love you." As Mummy turns away, she is crying.
Mum pulls her into a hug as we slowly make our way back to the house when they bump into someone. "Miss Smith? Sarah?"
"I'm sorry, I don't think-"
"No, no, you wouldn't. I work in the village. I just wanted to pass on my condolences." I glance up at the man Mummy is talking to, but I can't distinguish his features as his hood is so low over his head. "I can't make the bash at the big house, but I wanted you to know that we all loved and respected your aunt very much."
"Oh, how very kind, thank you, Mr…?"
"Anyway, must dash, can't bear the rain. Oh, I gather that the last episode of your programme is airing tonight." Mummy agrees, saying that she won't be able to see it because of the party going on. As the man walks on, I get the sense that something terrible is going to happen.
"Right," Mummy decides. "Back to the house and the waiting throng."
"I don't like that man," I state. "He has bad intentions."
"Why are you assuming that, Emma?"
"I can smell it on him; I'm not lying! He wants to do something evil that could ruin Earth!"
"Emma, calm down," Mum whispers. "I told you that Emma wouldn't be able to cope with this."
"Well, we couldn't leave her in the house on her own," Mummy sighs. She kneels, so her beautiful face is the same level as mine. "Are you tired?"
"No, I'm telling you, that man-"
"Emma-"
"No, you need to listen to me! That man wants to hurt you! You need to listen to me!"
Of course, they didn't listen to me. By morning, someone ruined Mummy's name. She admits that maybe she should have listened to me from the start, but there isn't anything they can do now. "We might need to find someone who will happily take care of Emma for some time," Mum sighs one night. I am outside the door, overhearing. "Is there someone in the village Emma likes who will be willing to look after her for a few years?"
"I'll make some calls around the village," Mummy offers. "There must be someone willing to look after her. Will you be all right with Emma for the morning?"
"Sure," Mum agrees. As Mummy walks out into the hallways, she sees me standing by the door.
"Will I have to go, Mummy?" I ask in a tiny voice.
"I hope not, Emma. But it is worth asking, just in case." I nod, smiling. "We'll try to keep you with us as much as possible. There might be someone in the village who wants to help."
"I hope the Bakers want to help; I like them."
"Well, I'll ask them first," Mummy promises, hugging me. "Hopefully, this will all be sorted out soon. If not, and you have to leave us, we'll want you to be on your best behaviour, okay?"
"Okay," I smile. "You will write, won't you?"
"Of course we will!" Mummy heads out of the door.