Chapter 11: Reflections

When the day is over, and we are tucked into bed at night, we often reflect on our days. Before we drift off, we consider our actions, and what they will bring tomorrow. Reflection is our way of deciding about our actions. Did we marry the one we loved? Did we raise our children right? Did we take the right path in life? All these questions, but most are left unanswered. But when we wake, our problems are still there, and this we cannot change…

Emily Thomas had always been proud that she had never been tied down by a relationship and children. She would boast about it to Ellie Jones. She would brag about it to Amy Bourne. Emily was proud to have everyone on the street talking about her, and her romantic conquests. She could attract all sorts of men, from vicars, to policeman, to doctors and mechanic's.

Emily was happy with her life, and proud of her conquests. But it seemed the thing she didn't need, she needed more than ever.

Emily planned Catherine's entire funeral, from the coffin to the selection of music. She made the invites, and booked the church. For the first time, there was a sense of fulfillment.

The funeral was a sordid affair. Only a handful of people came: herself, the Jones, Amy Bourne, Brad Wilkinson, and Florence Smith.

The well-wishers watched the oak coffin disappear beneath the soil, and paid their due respects, but nobody stayed there for Emily. Emily needed friends and family more than ever now, but alas she had none, and she was a lonely woman on Appleby Street.

This was until her ex-husband and son arrived.

---

It is often said, that the human body has a lot of blood. This being true, meant Florence Smith spent the few days after killing her unfaithful husband, cleaning the kitchen floor.

That faithful Friday night she'd stabbed him, she buried his body in the garden. It seemed convenient to bury him directly under the large oak tree there, as it was his favourite place in the house.

She'd had little trouble burying him. After digging a satisfactory pit, she pushed him in, filled it with soil. The next day she'd bough some new turf, and by Monday, it looked as good as new. Then, she'd set about cleaning the blood stains from the kitchen floor.

She'd done a decent job mopping it, but there would always be strange dark patches on her white tiled flooring.

She scrubbed and scrubbed, using every cleaning product she could think of, but the blood remained, and so did her fears.

It was tea-time on Tuesday, when she faced the most dangerously question yet.

She and Bobby were eating their meals in silence, as usual. All until Bobby spoke up.

"Mom…where'd Dad go?" he asked meekly.

Florence began to think. She'd learned to think quickly on the spot, and Bobby didn't seem to notice it took her a few seconds to answer.

"He's gone away," she said sharply. "Now finish your dinner."

There was a pause. "You're lying," Bobby said. He stood up and left the room.

Florence looked at her gleaming white floor, and tears welled in her eyes. There was so much blood still there and it wasn't going away…

---

As Amy Bourne looked out onto the sun set, she also looked back onto her life with her husband. She rested a hand on her stomach, as the golden rays illuminated her face. She remembered how romantic Matt had been when they were younger. But this was all in the past. Matt had left her for Charlene, and Amy was harboring the dark secret that she was pregnant with Andrew's child.

Her thoughts were disrupted when she saw Matthew walking up the driveway towards her house. Amy leapt from her window seat and ran downstairs to greet him. The door swung open and Amy gazed at Matt's rugged face, and caressed it gently. There was sympathy in his blue eyes.

"What is it, Matthew?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Amy, you and I know that we've been having some troubles…" he said, running his fingers through his tousled hair.
"Matthew…no" Amy wept quietly.
"Amy…I want a divorce," Matthew said. He kissed her on the cheek, then departed, leaving Mrs. Bourne alone. And single.

---

Charlene was sat on her daughter's bedside, awaiting Matt's return. He had left to break up with his wife. Charlene's face broke into a grin. She had control of Matthew, her daughter and everyone around her. It was like play-dough in her hands.

Her dark haired daughter stirred from her slumber, and Charlene turned to the situation at hand.
"I know what you did to me," Erin said quietly.
"So do I. But you won't tell anybody if you know what's good for you." Charlene replied calmly, reorganizing the 'Get-Well' cards on Erin's bedside table. Her daughter looked slightly worried by her mother's cold approach.

"What do you plan to do to me?" she asked.

"Things you can't even imagine." Charlene said, inches away from Erin's face. The pair heard footsteps and both sat up, as Matt Bourne walked into the hospital ward. Playing the grieving mother, Charlene crossed the room, and she embraced Matt.

"I did it. I've told her I want a divorce" Matt said, as the pair sat down.
"That's great." Charlene said happily. "But you don't need to do this,"

"Yes I do" Matthew replied, kissing her. "You and Erin are my family." He then added: "My first family." He kissed Erin on the forehead, and then Charlene.
"And you're pregnant with my baby now. That matters." Matt continued, as Charlene rested her head against his chest.
"Isn't Amy pregnant?" asked Erin curiously.

Matt shook his head. "I found the test. It was negative."

---

Ben Jones sat looking at the photograph of Sophie Wilkinson. She looked remarkably like Terri, but he couldn't see very much of Brad in this child. But the strangest things were that there were traits which neither parent had, yet they were present in this child. Ben looked over the photograph hundreds of times, reassuring himself with every detail, then he turned to the other photograph.

It was another woman, with blonde hair and green eyes. Her eye brows were arched, and she was smiling. He looked at the back of the photograph, where a number '5' had been hastily scribbled. Who was this woman? And what importance did she have in this mystery? Many answers were before him, but the one he wanted most was missing. He counted the bullets. Five were missing. If this was the gun that had shot Terri, which left two bullets that had mysteriously vanished.

Just like Sophie Wilkinson.

---

While her husband tried to fathom a confusing mystery in the sitting room, Ellie Jones was in the attic, looking through their old photographs. They had met Terri's sister years ago, but their faded memories could not recall her, so Ellie had turned to the dusty photographs for help.

So she searched through the dust and dirt of the cardboard boxes, stacked high in the attic, as she searched for the answer to all her questions: Who had killed Terri Wilkinson? She pulled out a new handful of photographs and scanned through them. One of them was a dark haired woman with olive skin. Ellie stared at it momentarily.

Nadine Jones gave her mother a surprise when she looked over Ellie's shoulder. "Who is that?"

Ellie jumped. "Oh…it's you dear," she said, trying desperately to calm herself down. "Well, it's your Auntie Maria," Mrs. Jones replied.
"We don't have an Auntie Maria" Nadine said, arching an eyebrow.
"Well…of course you don't. She died when you were little." Ellie said sweetly. Nadine nodded and left the attic.
Ellie sighed and crunched up the photograph. Some memories were best not remembering.

---

Emily Thomas handed her ex-husband a steaming mug of coffee and the pair sat down while her son played on the mat. The awkward atmosphere began to settle in, as the toddle attempted to chew his foot.

"Dylan. It's been three years" Emily said, while her old flame sipped his hot drink.
"Yes it has." Dylan replied curtly.
"Jay looks Happy." Emily said.

"He is."

Emily stood up, surprising Jay. "You have no right to come marching over here and telling me that I am a bad person. I was young, and I wasn't ready to be a parent."
"You were thirty-seven!" bellowed Dylan, who also stood up. "You left me and Jay for some fire-man!"

"Like I said. I was young and foolish." Emily answered swiftly.

"Well you're forty now-" Dylan began.

"Don't remind me." Emily shuddered.
"You're forty, and it's time to start acting your age." Dylan ploughed on. "We're staying," he snapped, then exited the room.

Jay looked up at Emily. "Mommy!" he said, gesturing for her to pick him up. Emily picked him up, and held him close to her. His heartbeat assured her this was all real. And she began to sob. Emily cried for her lost friend, her foolish behavior, and for her life time of passion and fulfillment. She now realized she was never really fulfilled.

---

As the sun finally set on Appleby Street, two strangers arrived in Hinsdale. The couple drove a black Vauxhall Zafira down the cobbles towards the local shop. They were the new owners. The Johnson couple would soon cause waves of chaos on the Street. But for now, all was quiet, as they unpacked and went to bed.

Reflecting on our life gives us time to reconsider our choices. Before we marry, we look back on our lives, and wonder where it all went. Before we have children, we look back on our lives, and wonder about our childhood. Before we grow old, we look back on our lives and wonder about our choices. But when the light goes out, and our eyelids close, then our choice is permanent. No matter how hard we try, no matter how much we struggle, that's it. But not all struggles are in vain…