Susan closed her eyes and turned her head towards the sun. Taking a deep breath, she basked in the moment. The house was busy again just as she liked it. The house had always been too big for one person, yet she couldn't give it up. They were here now and the quiet was expelled from her home. For now. Then it would come back again. Like it had all those decades ago, just after the accident.
The silence was all consuming. From the second the police man rang the doorbell; to sitting in the dark living room three months on, her constant companion had been the silence.
There had been many people around in the aftermath, uncles and cousins and friends. She was sure they had all been around as she organised a mass funeral. As she sat through meetings with lawyers who told her that her parents had left everything very set up for her. As she buried her family in the ground. Now there was no one. She had relations yes, but her family was all gone now. She was alone.
The house seemed so much bigger than it ever had in her childhood. The rooms echoed as she walked and no matter how big a fire she built the place never seemed warm. The nights and days moved seamlessly into each other, she barely noticed it happening. She ate what she could when she passed the kitchen. There was no set time for meals. If she had been any more alert she would have questioned where the fresh food appeared from.
She couldn't recall most of her hours but every so often the cloud would clear and she would find herself in a different room of the house holding something tightly, never fully aware of how long she had been there, or even how she had gotten there. There was only one thing Susan was sure of, and that was that she had not cried yet. There was a lot of pain but no tears.
Yesterday she had awoken from the haze and found herself sitting at her dressing table, her favourite lipstick in hand. She looked down at it, puzzled. She had not touched her makeup in weeks. It seemed so silly now all of it. The parties and the new pastes for her face. Time wasted. Time she could have spent reading with her father or sowing with her mother. Time she could have spent enjoying her brothers and adoring her younger sister. Time she would give anything to have back.
Today she was curled up at the foot of Lucy's bed, clinging to a large scrapbook like a child would its favourite toy. There was a knot in her stomach and her throat seemed closed over. She took a few gulps desperately trying to fill her lungs. Her whole body was beginning to burn, yet her eyes were dry. She folded over, almost involuntarily. It was only when she heard the crunch of Lucy's precious notes that she was able to gain control again. She gasped viciously and slowly began to breathe again. the book lay open in front of her, pages falling haphazardly in every direction. She began to pick them all up piece by piece, recognising her own handwriting in the letters her young sister had cherished. There were dozens of drawings too, pages and pages of sketches and coloured works. Sea sides and castles, forests and many, many animals. She pondered for a second, as she had many times before, about her funny little sister and her imagination. But the more she looked the more she was drawn to them all. To the ones of a resplendent golden lion especially. She began to tidy it all away when another painting caught her eye. The detail was stunning but it was very different to all the other illustrations. It showed a grand ship, Viking like in its appearance, crashing through the waves. Her fingers ran lightly over the name written in Lucy's all too familiar squiggle. The Dawn Treader.
A breeze moved lightly over the pages lifting them all briefly. As she looked up to see had the door opened, Susan heard the lightest whisper in the air. "Susan…" It was almost inaudible but she knew what she heard. Someone calling her name in an empty house. The hairs on her arms stood on end and a chill overtook the room. The sensation was gone in a few seconds but it definitely stayed with her.
"Mum?" another voice calling her name woke her from the memory. "Mum are you with us?" she opened her eyes to see Cassidy smiling down at her. She returned the gesture and moved up on the bench to make room. "I made lemonade." Her daughter said holding out a glass.
"Thank you dear."
"What were you lost in."
"Just thinking about how nice it is to have noise around the house again."
"Thank you again for having us. Michael is having the kitchen completely overhauled, it's a bit of a nightmare."
"You know I'd have you all here forever." Susan flashed a grin. "Although I don't think Michael could cope." Cassidy laughed lightly.
"He really doesn't mind it here. It just has a hard time showing it."
"I know, I know."
"You do seem to have a lot more stuff around the house lately thought Mum."
"I know, and I know how much it bugs you. I just got this feeling last week that I needed something. Like I would need something. But I will find spots for it all. Maybe take it back out to Professor Kirke's. Lucy might like to see it."
"Yes maybe…" Cassidy was frowning.
"What is it?"
"Lucy was actually just telling me that she was having a feeling like that too." Susan's ears perked at that.
"She was?"
"Yes, I think… well I think she's just getting caught up in all the photos and things you've got around."
"She was asking about your father." Susan said picking up a leaf from her lap.
"Yes she asked me too…"
"You were about this age when you asked more too."
"Well he is… a big question." Cassidy looked up as her mother stood. Lucy's questions had once again stirred her own.
"I think I should trim back the fuchsia. What do you think." Cassidy sighed almost silently.
"Maybe a little. But the garden is looking beautiful. We should have lunch out here tomorrow." Susan smiled again as she felt her daughters arms wrap around her waist. "I love you Mum." Came a voice from the chin resting on her shoulder.
"I would hope so." She grinned and cupping her grown child's face she kissed her cheek gently.
