I'm awoken by the lights flickering back on above me. Within a moment I'm at the screens, trying to get them operational whilst Sam is only just beginning to regain consciousness in the blanket nest on the floor.
"Power's back." I say before 'e can ask the bleeding obvious.
'e wipes a 'and over 'is face just as there is a loud noise and the screens burst into static. I make a small noise of joy and dump myself in the chair in front.
"'ow long 'as it been?" Sam asks sleepily.
I look to the clock in the wall – it's 'ard to keep track of time 'ere, what with no windows or daylight, and the clock is mainly used to keep track of 'ow many hours 'ave passed since a specific point.
"At least 4 hours." I say. "Could be more."
Sam looks worriedly at me. "That's 4 hours where we 'ave no idea what's going on."
I don't reply, just fiddle with the dials until the static changes to a fuzzy picture. Sam comes over to watch just as the picture becomes clear. For a moment I think I see Chris kneeling over a still body but then the picture goes again.
Sam's immediately on it, turning the dials this way and that in an attempt to get the picture back. But its no use, when we finally get it back the test card takes up the entire screen with a droning sound behind. I ignore the flinch that 'e gives at the sight of the girl.
"It's a start." I say and look up at 'im.
"Still isn't ideal."
"I know, but it's the best we can do for now." I tell 'im, smile and grab 'is 'and.
'e doesn't return the smile.
When I wake it's pitch black, the only light is of the moon and stars streaming through the window of my room. It's eerily silent with no sound to be heard apart from my movement in my bed. I look to my side and see that the clock on my bedside table has stopped at midnight, the 'ands itching to move but never doing so.
I sit up, exploring the gloom. A thick layer of dust covers everything in sight, from my records to the spare school books I carelessly dumped on my desk the night before yesterday. It's like my room 'asn't been touched in many decades, the things contained outdated and relics of a long-forgotten past.
I grab a pair of socks out of my drawer and slid them on my feet before they touch the carpet. By the window dust particles can be seen in the moonlight, I pull out a jumper with a couple of holes from my wardrobe and put it on over the top of my pyjamas and open the creaking door to my bedroom to step onto the landing, closing it softly behind me.
The landing is in much the same way as my bedroom, the banister is slick with dust as I tread carefully down the stairs. In the darkness and eerie light the house has a different character, more sinister than anything I've experienced before in this house. Until "yesterday", that is, I'm not entirely sure what day it is now and how much time has passed since I was last here. With a jolt I remember the pain, the desperate look on Chris' face as the world collapsed in front of my eyes. I shake my 'ead to try and get the thoughts out from my 'ead.
With my shoes on I crack open the front door to find that the stars and moon are brighter than ever before, that the street lights are off and that there is no sound at all. The air is a perfect temperature, not hot or cold. The cars are stationary by the road like rocks. I take one step out of the front door and find myself drawn to the sky above me, unmoving and mysterious.
Something's very wrong 'ere, but for once I'm completely calm. I look over to the road and see that there's someone else 'ere, standing in the middle of it and looking at the sky like she can't get enough of it. I go to the gate so I 'ave a better view of 'er.
She's young, my age but maybe a few years older, with long dark brown 'air that stretches 'alfway down 'er back as she stands. It's tied back with a dark ribbon, the colour unable to be made out in the light. She wears a fair-isle jumper and pleated skirt with black mary-jane shoes.
"Hello?" I say quietly as I take a step towards 'er.
'er 'ead looks towards me, surprised, and in an instant I know who she is. She looks so, so different. Young, healthy, untouched by the grief that would leave 'er an empty shell in only 30 years. 'er face is different, but her eyes still sparkle even though she looks wistful and lost.
"Who are you?" She asks.
I smile at 'er as I come towards 'er. "I'm Emma."
She tips 'er 'ead to the side. "I'm Emma as well."
I stand next to 'er. "Do you know what's going on?"
"I don't know, but I can't keep my eyes off these stars." She whispers, mouth slightly open as she takes in the scene above 'er.
I can't take my eyes of 'er – the woman I remember in the earliest years of my life shines in 'er with every moment I stay 'ere. We stand together for a couple of moments looking at different things before I notice something shift on the outside of 'er, and she steps backwards like she's been hit with something. I place my 'and on 'er shoulder and she grabs me with both 'ands, causing me to seize up.
"Rosy, you've got to- you've got…" She's breathing 'eavily, unable to get the words out. 'er face 'as changed, it's older and much more like the woman I know now. The difference is that 'er eyes are bright and alert.
"Mumma?" I whisper. "I've got to do what?"
"You've got to surrender, Rosy. Then he'll let you go." She says. "If you don't… if you fight then you and your brother will never be free."
This is the most she's said to me in years, not since I was 7. I grab 'er 'and and 'old it to my chest. 'er tears fall onto her dress.
"You were always the one to make your brother 'appy." She whispers. "'e was always scared of everything and you brought out the child out in 'im."
"Who do I need to surrender to?" I ask softly.
"I don't know, all I know is that you need to surrender." She says. "Things that you think are true aren't, Rosy."
"What do you mean?" I ask, almost desperate.
"I called you to me with love." She whispers. "I needed to see you, to 'old you. I 'aven't done that in years." She throws 'er arms around me and I feel the wet on my clothes.
"Am I dead?" I ask quietly.
She gazes at me, takes my 'and in mine.
"Not at the moment." I tip my 'ead to the side.
A tear falls from 'er eyes, heralding an avalanche.
"What's wrong, Mumma?"
She shakes 'er 'ead. "I missed out on so much, and I will miss out on so much more." She says and takes 'er 'ead away from beside mine, 'olding onto my shoulders as she looks into my eyes. "Forgive me, Emma."
She turns into ashes in my 'ands and I watch the flakes swirl into the dark sky, where the stars and moon 'aven't moved an inch.
"Someone tell me what I need to do now, please." I whisper and let my own tears greet the floor.
I fall onto my knees, sobbing, this place bringing so much loss and longing for a childhood I never got to experience because of one rainy day in August. I keep crying and rock my knees on the bone dry tarmac as I dimly feel myself slipping down, down, into the darkness that lies deep inside me.
When I awake – again – the sun is streaming through the curtains and I'm in my room. Not much is different, apart from that, the room is still as dusty and untouched as it was before. I do notice that some of my stuff 'as been moved, like it's been searched through.
I dress quickly in a plain white shirt and jeans and throw a red v-neck jumper over myself as I quietly shut my bedroom door and hurry downstairs to the kitchen. Muffled chatter comes from behind the door as I open it and step through nonchalantly. I take down a box of cereal and start dumping it in a bowl. I don't notice that the chatter has stopped until Patty clears her throat beside me. I glance at her. She's wearing an expression I've never seen before.
"You're back…" She whispers and throws 'er arms around me as I shriek. She doesn't like much affection and this is unexpected, I gingerly pat 'er shoulder.
From round the kitchen door my two aunts stick their 'eads round the door, one on top of the other. I manage to wrench a hand out from Patty's grasp and wave to them while I try to do a genuine smile, failing dismally.
"Where the fuck have you been?!" Patty grabs hold of my shoulders and looks at me with a face of pure anger.
"Wh-what do you mean?" I stutter, raising my 'ands up a touch.
"What do you mean?" She yells. "You've been missing for over a bloody month!"
"Huh-What?"
I look over to the calendar on the kitchen door and see that it's turned to the November page, when it was September last time I saw it. I walk silently over to it and stroke the new cat photo that's on top now.
"I missed all of October." I whisper, just in earshot of Patty.
"What do you mean by that?" She asks, arms crossed. "Do you 'ave any idea 'ow worried I've been about you? 'ow we've all been? We sent out bloody search parties for you."
From the other room I 'ear Aunt Sophia on the phone, talking to what I assume is the police.
"Where's Mary?" I ask. "Why are Aunt Sophia and Aunt Lillian 'ere?
Patty looks like she doesn't want to answer these questions. "Mary ditched us the day you disappeared, ran away with a random guy that Frank 'ad never seen before. 'e's distraught, 'aven't seen 'im since." A flash of concern runs across 'er face for a moment.
"Isn't she- " Patty nods.
"We're not sure who's it is." She says quietly, out of earshot of my aunts.
"Patricia?" Aunt Sophia sticks 'er 'ead round the door.
"Yes?" Patty answers.
"I've told the police that she's back."
Patty nods. "Are they sending someone?"
"No, they say there's no point. They'll close the case themselves." She nods and closes the door.
"Where 'ave you been, Emma?" Patty asks quietly.
"It were dark and there were stars. Mumma was there, then I was back 'ere again." I say.
Patty sighs and pats my shoulder. She looks kindly at me, though I can tell she's confused. "At least you're back 'ome, and that's all that matters."
She begins to walk out the room but she stops just in the doorway.
"Oh, Grandmother rang a couple of weeks back and said that when you came, she wanted to talk to you."
I tip my 'ead to the side, containing the shudder within. "Grandmother wanted to talk to… me?"
"Appears so." She shrugs. "It's not like you bother with any of our family much anyway." She glares at me for a second.
She walks out of the room and I sink to the kitchen floor, trying to avoid the calendar above me at all costs.
I reach out a 'and to stroke the grainy face of the girl on the screen, looking into 'er lost eyes and wishing I could do more to 'elp 'er.
"We should send someone in, Sam." I remark. "Into 'er world."
'e looks up from where 'e's writing beside me. "I can talk to Nelson about me going in-" 'e begins to say.
"I meant me, Sam." I say. 'e looks surprised.
"Are you sure about that?"
I nod. "I were closer to Chris then you were, and I'm the only one out of the two of us who's actually met Sharon."
'e sighs. "I'll talk to Nelson, but I'm making no promises. It's bloody dangerous out there."
"I know." I say. "But we've faced that every single day for years."
'e nods. "I suppose we 'ave."
'e walks over to the door, smiles at me and leaves. I look back at the screens to see that they've gone dark, but below my 'ands the photo that we found in an old album in the pub lies. I look at the cheery 7-year old, grinning with 'er family as the camera flashes, and wish that everything 'ad turned out differently for this family.
Aunt Elise looks surprised to see me when she opens the door to Grandmother's, but still 'olds the door open without a second thought. I step inside the large, dusty 'ouse which 'as been 'ome to my family since it was built during the early Victorian period. Photos of men with large moustaches and beautiful ladies in stark white dresses line the walls of the 'allway – I wouldn't be able to tell you who they were, mind you.
"She's in 'ere, Dearie." Aunt Elise says and 'olds the door open for me.
Grandmother is really my Great-Grandmother – She's the matriarch of my father's family, tough as nails and with a no-nonsense attitude. She's 94 but acts like she's much younger, even though she was born in 1880, with wiry grey 'air and steely blue eyes which still sparkle and notice everything. She sits upright on her sofa, with a tray and teapot on the coffee table in front of 'er.
"You've decided to return, then." She says. She were born and raised in Manchester, but she doesn't sound like it. I don't have an accent around her either, I've always been taught not to when I'm around her.
"Yes, I guess so." I flash her a weak smile as I take a seat on the sofa opposite.
"Brush your hair out of your face, Emma. Let me see you." She says sharply. I do as she asks.
I've never been too tall – around 5' last time I was measured. My eyes are too strange and my hair is straight as a pin with only a slight wave towards the end, the colour such a dark brown that it's almost black. I'm pale and, in certain types of light, look more like a ghost than human. Mary's rather curvy and large, Patty's rail-thin with very little and I'm somewhere in the middle, with enough curves but still quite thin and the smallest in the house.
"You look a lot like your mother, your brother did as well." She replies promptly. I look at 'er and brush my 'air back to where it was. "But that look is completely your father's."
I nod and pour myself some tea. She glares at me.
"I was going to do that in a second."
"Well, I've done it now." I shoot back and stir in a spoonful of sugar.
She sighs. "I would 'ave come to your mother's aid if I could."
"But you didn't." I say, the worlds feeling good as I spit them out of my lips.
"I'm old, Emma. I was old 8 years ago as well."
"You still could have got the rest of the family to help." I reply. "Chris' death affected all of us – remember what happened at the funeral? Aunt Elise was practically sobbing on the floor."
"There really was no one – both Sophia and Lillian were travelling at the time, their children were all having children and Roger was going through marital problems." She says. "Everyone's lives were tough during 1966."
"My mother's lost too much and you know that." I glare. "You could have at least visited us occasionally, instead of just relying on Aunt Sophia to do that for you."
"Is this why you ran away, dear?" She asks, out of the blue.
"What do you mean?" I narrow my eyes.
"You're obviously angry, and Mary had just left. Patty thought you needed to have some space." She says. "That's why she didn't tell the police until almost 2 weeks had passed."
"You've been talking to her then." I say.
"Of course I have. Why else would you be here otherwise?" She says calmly. "I didn't want to make the same mistakes I did with your father and your brother. I told myself that after David's death."
David is my father, but I haven't heard him being referred to by his actual name in a very long time.
"You've got a lot of anger inside there." She leans over, bones creaking, and points to my heart. "It's understandable, after all you've been through."
"Understatement of the century there, grandma." I mutter.
"Me and Patty agreed, a while ago, that when you came back we'd send you away. You're old enough now."
"What?" I say, unable to believe what I'm hearing.
"My sister's granddaughter – Agatha, I believe her name is – runs a small hotel down in Dorset with a friend of hers. She's agreed to take you for a while." She smiles at me. "Your father spent a lot of time down there when he was young, I believe. They were like two peas in a pod according to your grandmother."
"Will I be going to school?" I ask.
"Of course – you've got O-levels coming up, my dear. You'll be staying there until you've taken them." She says. "You can get away from all of this – the responsibility for your mother, the shadows of David and your brother's death. Allow yourself to enjoy this period of your life."
"I'll be away until May?"
"If all goes to plan, then yes."
I can't imagine being away from Manchester, it's all I've ever known. It's home, I know the streets like the back of my hand and I know the people and it's all familiar. And Dorset, of all places.
"Come along dear. Elise will show you to the door." She pats my hand.
I don't want to move. Who knows what will happen without me?
Everything inside me feels like it's being torn apart.