Ten

Autumn leaves under frozen souls,
Hungry hands turning soft and old,
My hero crying as we stood out their in the cold,
Like these autumn leaves I dont have nothing to hold.
© Paulo Nutini: Autumn

"Oh Please, The Rutles are brilliant, no scrap that. Hysterical. I mean George Harrison as an interviewer? Genius?"

Richard looked up from reading his paper to find Bronwen sitting opposite Julian – playing a game of chess. Although it seemed Bron was making up rules as she went along, but Julian was constantly correcting her.

"Put my King back Bronwen, and it is hysterical but it isn't that good. Give me a Monty python sketch any day." Julian said, his voice stern yet knowing.

Richard looked between the two with a small smile. Jane had informed him, that Julian was good with Bron and you could see the mutual love between them. His was a fatherly love whilst hers was a respectful hero love.

"I'm telling you Jules, you cannot better… where the bloody hell do I move to now?"

"As long as you don't steal any more of my pieces I don't care," Julian replied, holding out his hand. 'Now cough them up!'

Bronwen reluctantly returned a pawn and knight, 'Not fair. Why are you winning?'

"Because I'm a Lennon, now cough up that Queen. I know that you have them," he didn't remove his hand. She gave it over. 'Good. Now watch.'

"It's boring though!" she groaned. 'Who plays this?'

"Intellectuals." Julian sighed, settling back and looking at his watch. 'Alright it's twelve o'clock. Bed the lot of you.'

The rest all stared at him amazed and horrified. 'You can't be serious.'

"BED!"

Richard watched as each member of the group moved off in their separate directions. He looked at Julian, who returned to his previous writing with a small smile. 'How did you do that?'

"Lennon son, Lennon."

**

Bron listened as she heard the familiar sound of Angharad's giggles and Danny's guffaws. She winced slightly, not liking to imagine what was going on in there. Finally, she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to overtake her.

The world was grey, and she was back in Neath next to Poundland. Bron stared around her surroundings, before smirking. Neath was the same old ghost town.
It was sudden noise which made her turn, and she was surrounded by old walls and when she looked up she saw him.
And her voice just turned into a scream.

"Bron!"

Bronwen was still screaming when she woke up, although there were arms around her and she felt safe. The familiar smell of Hugo Boss went up her nose and she realised she was being held by Tom. She couldn't stop shaking or crying, no matter how much he soothed.

"Bron?" Julian came in, bleary-eyed although somehow alert. Chris was in close pursuit. 'Bron?'

Tom continued to rub at her back, although he could barely control her tears with soothing. 'She was screaming…'

"Tell us something we don't know," Chris said. He moved over and gently put his hand at the base of Bron's back. This sensation caused Bron to turn and to meet his eyes. 'Was it Paddy?'

"No… it was daddy," Bron began to cry once more, while Chris soothed her. 'Chris can I just go to the café cart… I'll be fine on my own I promise.'

Chris nodded, tentatively watching as she wrapped a robe around herself and heading down the corridor. It wasn't beyond his notice that her first port of call was in the direction of the bathroom. He swore and looked at Julian.

"Typical. I'd bet Paddy's given her the freaks."

"Mm, all the tensions brought up unwanted memories." Julian agreed.

"What did she mean her dad?" Tom asked, looking between the two males. Both turned to look at her.

"He committed suicide when Bron was sixteen," Julian said, slowly. Tom raised an eyebrow. 'It's true! He hung himself in his mother's garage.'

Julian sighed, shaking his head as he heard Bron shutting the door to the bathroom. His feelings were always mixed when his friend was like this. The girl seemed to pull away and hide in an impenetrable shell, sometimes cold and angry, and other times vulnerable and in need. It was a hard one to call at the best of times.

"Look I'll have a word with her," Tom offered. He pulled on a shirt. 'Perhaps a row with me will cheer her up.'

**

Bronwen splashed the cold water hard against her face and looked down into the water gathered in the sink. A cold rage consumed her body as she looked at the rippled reflection. She smashed her hand, hard into the water, grazing her hand against the plug.

"Why the hell did you do it?" She asked aloud. 'I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for your stupid actions…'

Her own stupid actions dawned upon her. A bitter taste came to her mouth and she swore before unplugging the water. She watched it swirl and took comfort from that's how her insides felt.

Her own emotions played havoc with her, she wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. She tried to remain the girl she had been before all this had happened… but there was the fact that she couldn't. Her friends all helped and Bronwen felt weak, weaker than anything. A newborn babe had more strength than her at times. Emotions withheld fled into dreams of hangings, mocking laughter and occasionally of the dream she had experienced that night… but that was by far the worst one yet.

She hurt people on purpose – she knew that. As if she wanted to see how far she could push them before they turned their backs on her. What she wished to achieve was beyond her. The need to be alone and to be held close conflicted within her, and she could only ask for forgiveness when she returned a semblance of her former self.

"Bron," Tom tapped on the door gently. 'Are you coming on out of there?'

Bronwen prised it open and looked into his face. 'I'm coming.'

"What's wrong?"

"How about I tell you over Brekkie…"

**

The two settled down in the dinner cart, next to the window – they could see the faint glimmers of sunlight flickering through. It was no wonder that they were the only members of the diner cart – excluding the tired waitress and manager. It was only half past six in the morning.

After ordering, and receiving a cup of tea, each sat in silence. Bron studied Tom considering what to say. Tom wasn't about to kick off the conversation. He never did. H just waited; knowing when the brunette wanted to talk she would in her time.

"I had a dream," Bronwen announced, much to Tom's disconcertion as he jumped at the sound of the broad valleys accent. 'It's nowt to brag home to.'

"It'll come back if you don't talk about it Bron," Tom replied gently, sipping at his tea. Dark brown eyes connected with his.

"It was a dream about Dad." Bronwen sighed. 'He committed suicide.' Tom noted the strangulation which came from her voice. 'Hung himself. I dreamt I could see him… it's been ages since I had one of those nightmares.' She shook her head and picked up the tea, looking idly out the window. 'Silly isn't it? He's been gone over a year… nearly 2 years now.'

"That's not the point," Tom muttered, setting down his cup and gently reaching for Bronwen's unmoved left hand. 'Grief doesn't go like everyone says it does… it doesn't disappear.'

"It's supposed to go though," Bronwen watched as the sun broke over the hills, before sighing. 'I'm meant to be so strong.'

"No one can be strong after the loss you've suffered."

Bron looked at Tom in obvious consideration, before shaking her head and sipping at her tea.

"Old head on young shoulders you've got," she said. She looked at him, a smile on her face yet a serious look in her eyes. 'Reckon anyone would notice if I vanished. You know just walked away… and never came back?'

"Bron, you're the loudest person I know, of course they would notice!" Tom grinned before returning to a serious look. 'But if you need time away, you go. I'll make sure the buggers give you the space you need.'

Bronwen smiled gently at her friend's natural assumption. 'I don't need space.' She paused. 'I need noise, I need rock n roll. I nee –' Tom saw her eyes flicker nervously; she was letting the mask down. 'You're not to tell anyone this?'

Tom merely raised an eyebrow and took a sip of tea – his look clearly said: 'You should know me better than that!' Bronwen took a ragged breath.

"I'm scared." She looked at her friend, silent tears dripping down her cheeks as she admitted the worst thing possible in her opinion. 'There I bloody said it! I'm bloody terrified.' Her voice was rising with anger and raw emotion which had been bottled up. 'And I hate him! And love him! I hate not being in control! I hate not knowing what to do anymore… what am I supposed to do?'

The blonde immediately reached for the brunette, squeezing her hand tight. He ignored the blatant looks of curiosity being sent their way and concentrated on comforting one of his friends. 'Oh Bron…'