Ellen's head nodded against her Father's shoulder as the bus drove along the pot-holed, winding, Yorkshire roads. She had been so tired after the ordeal at the station, she did not care where she slept. He had pulled her away from the station immediately and found somewhere quiet where she could cry herself out against his chest.
"Oh Ellen, what are we going to do with you?" he had murmured, stroking her hair and rocking her gently. "I should have let Jonas teach you how to punch someone."
In spite of her distress, Ellen had given a watery smile. "He did teach me, Dad, you just never found out, and I forgot how to."
"Well that was Jonas, wasn't it? Always finding trouble."
"He never followed trouble, it always came looking for him."
"I'm sure that's what he told you."
The bus lurched again, waking Ellen up. Her Dad smiled at her.
"You've finished catching flies then?"
Ellen huffed. "I do not 'catch flies'!"
"I could have sworn I saw a few fly in there, though you may have scared them off with your snoring."
"I do not snore!" hissed Ellen, turning a deep shade of magenta.
He poked her in the ribs. "Of course you don't," he teased, winking.
Ellen turned away from him, annoyed but with a smile spreading across her lips.
The bus finally rolled into Gower around ten O'clock. The whole village was black like coal, apart from the little pin-pricks of light from the street lamps that stood aglow during the night. There was only the rustle of leaves in the trees and the occasional chirp from a nocturnal animal to accompany Ellen and her Father as they trekked up the hill to the aptly named 'North Street' where their home was. Ellen had not realized how much she had missed her home as they got closer to it. She somehow had not missed her mother's cooking or Bramble, her family's pet Golden Retriever, or the constant smell of baking bread as the house was attached to the bakery. As it all came flooding back to her, Ellen felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She stopped dead as her Father reached the gate and wall that separated the front garden from the pavement. The latch opened with a metallic click. He turned to Ellen.
"Come on girlie," he said. "I don't want to freeze out here."
She nodded, a huge lump in her throat.
"Ellen, what's wrong?"
"I – I just realized how much I missed home. It's like I didn't have time to think about missing home."
"Well you're here now, so you don't have to miss us. Come on, Bramble will be over-joyed to see you," her Father smiled, holding out his hand.
Ellen took it, and let him pull her through the gate.
Upon entering the house, a breath of warm, confectionary-smelling air wafted into Ellen's face. A dim flicker of light was coming from the living room – her Mother must have started a fire to warm up the house for the night.
"Cath! We're home!" called Ellen's Father, his voice carrying through the house.
The door at the end of the hall opened and another waft of the smell of home-cooking drifted around her. Light filled the dim hallway, silhouetting her Mother's petite frame.
"Ellen!" she cried, pulling Ellen into her arms – her Devonshire accent had always refused to give way to a deep Yorkshire one. "What have you been up to?"
Ellen grimaced as her bad arm was squashed. "Trying to save innocent lives in No Man's Land."
"More like letting a stupid doctor letting you on a suicide mission and then getting you blown up in No Man's Land," muttered her Father. "I hope he's suitably punished."
Ellen twisted around. "Who John? No! He's lovely, my injuries are my fault!"
"That's not what the letter said!"
"I agreed to go into the trenches and climbed over the parapet without his permission. I wouldn't have been hurt if I hadn't have been in No Man's Land!"
"Ellen-."
"Stop it, both of you!" interjected Catherine. "You've been in the door two minutes and you're already arguing. Let's have something to eat and put this to rest until tomorrow."
Both of them nodded.
Catherine lifted the fish pie out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. Ellen was thankful this was a dish she could eat with just one arm, rather than having to use a knife and fork.
"Steve, could you pass me the plates please?" her Mother asked her Father.
He obliged and pulled them down from the cupboard. "Hang on. Three, not four," he said, putting one back. "I forgot Jonas…"
The whole room suddenly felt heavy. Ellen looked at her lap, trying not to cry – she had shed enough tears already and wanted to enjoy her stay, however long it lasted. She looked up at her parents, who, in the orangey, electric light looked appeared to look older than their years as they looked at each other. They had lost two children – Jonas and Annie, Ellen's twin who had died when she was three from pneumonia. They had almost lost Ellen too. She suddenly felt so guilty about her actions, she had been unconscious for three days whilst she recovered from John's lifesaving surgery – in that time she could have easily died. Ellen had survived by the skin of her teeth, how would her parents have coped if she had died, especially with Jonas's passing too.
"I'm sorry," she said, suddenly.
Both her parents looked surprised. "What for?" enquired her Mother, setting Ellen's plate in front of her.
"Nearly dying."
"That's nothing to be sorry for," replied her Father, miffed.
Ellen took a shaky breath. "Yes it is. I knew it was Jonas's regiment that came into the hospital the night he died. Yet, I felt the need to try and save Darrel's life even though I knew the likelihood of Jonas being dead was greater than him being alive. I just thought there could have been a chance it was him in No Man's Land, not Darrel and he could have spent the rest of the war, here, safe rather than fighting."
Her parents were silent for a minute before Steve sat down across from her and took both of her hands in his own. Ellen looked at his short, gnarled fingers, not wanting to look at his grey-blue eyes.
"Ellen, look at me please."
Ellen lifted her gaze to meet his – well the eye that looked directly in front, anyway, the other had a squint which meant it poked out to the left. "Don't apologise for trying to help someone in need. If you had of died out there, we would have been proud that you died trying to save someone."
"It's just after Jonas and Annie-."
"Don't think about Annie. You barely knew her and Jonas… Yes we will never have a body to bury but he died serving his country like the other men from the village, so your Mother and I at least have comfort in knowing we're not the only ones grieving."
Catherine sat down next to her. "Come on girlie, Jonas would be telling us to 'shut up and eat', so you honour his memory by listening to him for once. I know he would have loved that," laughed Catherine, lifting her fork to her mouth.
Steve nodded. "He would have been shocked."
"He would never have shut up about it!" giggled Ellen.
"See, Ellen, I've learnt that death is not only a time to grieve for someone but to celebrate them and remember their life. If you let every death of every person you knew make you depressed and sad, then life really isn't worth living," explained her Father, smiling at her amused expression.
Ellen smiled at her Father, as she heard her brother's laughter at the back of her mind, teasing and joking as she started to 'shut up and eat'.
Another chapter done and… ONLY ONE SLEEP 'TIL CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY! ONLY ONE SLEEP 'TIL THE DOCTOR WHO CHRISTMAS SPECIAL AND ONLY A WEEK UNTIL THE MUSKETEERS STARTS! I CAN'T EVEN! Anyway… eh hem… to business. Ellen's parents are named after mine (please don't stalk me)! Did you spot the little Sherlock reference I threw in there? And… I now have TUMBLR! I have decided to throw myself down that hole… so please, please follow me as well as this story! My user name is the same, just without the capitals and my blog name is 'Trying not to fail at life' (let's be honest, we're all trying not to fail at life)! Again, please favourite, follow and/or review and I will send you some cheesecake (yes I make cheesecake now – white chocolate and raspberry cheesecake, cheesecake is cool).