You can always count on the rain.
Chapter One.
London, 1949.
England had transitioned in its recovery from the war, though times for many families were still a struggle. One thing remained the same throughout the whole time. The rain. It was a constant reminder that life continued, regardless of destruction, peace, poverty, wealth, love..
Love.
It was a word she had heard of, but had not really known the meaning to, but what 9 year old truly did? That's what she comforted herself with through the dark hours of the night, in the drafty room that she shared with her younger sister, Paige, and their younger brother, Lucas. She would recollect the images of school friends being waved off through the gates by their mothers, the echoed farewells of 'Have a good day, I love you' ringing in her ears. Their mother never walked them to school, let alone show them any kind of affection. The only affection she had these days was for alcohol, always the same clear bottle, with the smell that could tear away and burn at the skin inside your nostrils, that she tried to disguise up until more recently. Her mother had been beautiful. Laura could remember watching her do her hair up in tight curls that she pinned in place before she would smear red lip stick over her lips. Her perfect complexion accented her blonde hair and blue eyes. As a very young child, Laura believed that her mother was the most beautiful woman on earth that no movie star or singer could compare to. That belief soon vanished. Now her eyes were sunken into the deep crevasses that held her dulling, lifeless eyes, surrounded by black shadows; her skin was patchy and drying; her stunning curved physique slipped away into nothingness as her bones became an obvious, gaunt feature.
Their father was an American soldier that had come over to England during the Second World War, though Laura was never completely sure she shared the same lineage as her younger siblings. Her skin was slightly olived; her sleek brunette curls hung half way down her back; her eyes a deep shade of chocolate brown. Paige and Lucas both has bright blonde hair; Pale, milky complexions; the exact same eyes as their mother. But Laura never voiced this out loud. The only comforts in her younger years were her siblings; it didn't matter to her whether they were completely tied to her biologically or not. The three of them shared an unbreakable bond that was visible to see by all that knew them, even those that didn't. Their father, Nathaniel Evans, left as soon as the war was over, uncaring to the family he had helped to create, leaving without a backwards glance, not even much of a Good Bye was muttered. Their mother, Jennifer, was distraught. She begged him to stay, pleaded with him to change his mind or allow her to go with him; but it was to no avail. The day he chose to leave was Laura's 5th birthday. Paige was 3 and a half, Lucas only a few months. There were no celebrations that day. In fact, Laura never celebrated a birthday again.
Jennifer sunk into a deep depression. She lost her job at the local market as she would simply not turn up, or when she did she would have the stench of alcohol sewn into her pores, the sickly sweet aroma couldn't be disguised. The children became an inconvenience to her, a reminder of what she had lost and she liked to remind them of this fact. The beatings began on the Christmas Eve, the first one after her father had left. There were no decorations in their house, no tree stood in the corner gleaming in baubles and tinsel, no fire crackled and hissed warming up the house to shelter them from the thick blizzard of snow outside, no laughter or music graced the atmosphere, no glass of sherry and a carrot awaited Santa and Rudolph. It was bleak and drab and grey and cold. It was a big responsibility, but she had taken over the care of Lucas and Paige since their mother's depression had set in. Jennifer largely ignored them, didn't bother to feed them or bathe them or wash their clothes or tuck them into bed at night. Laura simply couldn't stand back and watch them go hungry, let them go out with dirt on their faces or listen to their sobs without comforting them. It made her grow up, and fast. Something a 5 year old should not have to do, but what other choice did she have? That Christmas Eve, she was lay in bed, hugging her sister to keep her warm as the cold icy winds seeped through the cracks in the window frame. Laura had given Lucas his night time bottle of milk that she had stolen from a neighbour's doorstep early that morning and sang him to sleep with a soft song by a lady named Doris Day that she had heard crackle through the second hand radio in her kitchen on more than one occasion, the words staying with her, though she wasn't sure why. Such mature words being sung by such a young girl. Her siblings had never heard a lullaby, they had never had their mother sing them to sleep, her soft voice soothing them, comforting them until they drifted off into the land where peaceful dreams awaited them. She thought she remembered one lullaby about sunshine, another about a bird; but her memories were not advanced so much as to recall these when her brother and sister needed encouragement to sleep, so the lady from the radio it was.
Again, this couldn't happen again,
This is that once in a lifetime,
This is the thrill divine.
What's more, this never happened before,
Though I have prayed for a lifetime,
That such as you would suddenly be mine.
Mine to hold as I'm holding you now and yet never so near,
Mine to have when the now and the here disappear,
What matters, dear, for when this doesn't happen again.
We'll have this moment forever, but never, never again.
We'll have this moment for ever, but never, never again.
She hummed the tune to herself as she tried to sleep, but her own Hushabye Mountain did not seem to be nearing. She slipped out of bed, a shiver running over her goose pimpled skin as she left the warmth of the blankets. She gently tucked them around Paige before going to sit in the large window that overlooked the city that was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, the moon offering her a little vision as she pulled out a piece of paper and a blunt pencil from the box where they kept their school necessities. She heard her mother moving about downstairs, soft cries tracing their way through the floorboards from below and her little heart ached. She wanted to make her Mom smile, wanted her to have a good Christmas. She folded the blank piece of paper in half and began to draw as best as her 5 year old self could with an unsharpened pencil and dull lighting. She sketched the lines of a snowman that she surrounded with little dots to represent the falling snow. She opened the paper and scrawled in her neatest writing, 'To Mom, Mery Krismas, We love you x'. Her lips twitched into a rare smile as she closed the paper, feeling a little proud of herself, before she crept down the creaky staircase to the living room. She paused in the doorway as she observed her mother take a swig of clear substance from a dirty glass, tears staining her cheeks as she stared absent mindedly at the un-burning fireplace. "Mom?" Laura whispered as she moved into the room, her long white nightie trailing on the floor behind her as she made her way to her mother's side. Jennifer blinked, but didn't turn to look at her daughter or question why she was out of bed at this hour of the night. Laura placed the card she had made onto her mother's lap and smiled a smile that would make most moms' hearts melt with its pureness and innocence. Jennifer's expression remained blank as she looked down at the card, opening it with her free hand and read over the words that Laura had tried her best with. Laura's smile widened into a grin as she looked at her handy work, pleased with her efforts, but quickly faded as she looked up to see her mother's reaction. Jennifer's face twisted into a look of agony before it changed to what could only be described as anger. Laura flinched and automatically took a step backwards as the glass smashed into the fireplace, the liquid splashing across the brickwork as the shards of glass splintered the floor. She hadn't even realised her mother was now on her feet, tearing up the paper viciously, a glazed film seeming to coat the beautiful blue eyes that no longer glistened with happiness, that no longer seemed like her mother's.
All Laura received that Christmas was bruises and tears, though she was thankful that her siblings didn't receive the first. That was the first of many beatings Laura took through her childhood, for no apparent reason that she knew of, but still blamed herself, thought she was naughty or not a good enough daughter for her mother. She managed to shelter Paige and Lucas through most of the attacks, blocking her mother's way if she tried to get to them, taking the abuse herself rather than see them hurt. But they still witnessed such events, it still frightened them, gave them nightmares, all of which Laura comforted them through and made sure they were okay. Paige would always know how to make Laura smile and would simply run up and hug her if Laura ever allowed a frown to crease her lips. Lucas, however, withdrew into himself. He was affectionate to his sisters, but never spoke a word. When he was old enough for school, the teachers tried everything to make him open up and included him in playtime and exercises, but never did a word pass his lips. In the end, they just accepted him as a mute and worked with him the best they could.
The patters of the rain on the window pane became more urgent, distracting Laura from her thoughts. She pressed her eyes tightly together and a lone tear drop fell over her skin onto the pillowcase. Just another night without sleep, the bruises to her little body creased her into discomfort and pain, not allowing her to find any kind of sanctuary in her dreams. She pushed herself to sit upright in the bed where her sister lay beside her, her brother curled into a tight ball by their feet, both still sleeping soundly. She tucked the sparse blanket around them where it had been kicked off as they tossed and turned throughout the night, when Laura had been lost in a maze of her own thoughts. She slid out of bed and made her way over to the window sill, just like she had all those years ago, just like she did most nights when she couldn't sleep. She climbed on to the ledge, pulling her knees up to her chest before wiping away another solitary tear that escaped the confines of her eye, wincing as she slid her hand over the deep purple bruise that surrounded it. She laid her cheek against her knees as she looked out of the window through the raindrops that stained the glass, the first signs of sunlight breaking through the grey clouds, lining them in a shade of silver. Something her personal clouds were missing. A drawn out sigh passed her pouted lips, clouding her view for a moment as her breath misted up the glass and she whispered to herself. "Happy Birthday, Laura."