My stepdad sighed and glanced at the cuckoo clock. It was six forty-five in the morning.
“I don't have time for this right now. We will chat about this when I get back.”
Mum wheeled herself out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel draped across her lap. Blonde and blue-eyed, her porcelain skin complemented her rosy cheeks and red lips.
Though she faced the challenges of her stroke with grace, it still weighed on me to see her in a wheelchair.
She had always been the voice of reason when my stepdad and I argued, and I hoped I could count on her to set him straight this time, too.
She shot my stepdad a disapproving look, which he chose to ignore, but it effectively ended the lecture, and for that, I was thankful.
“Catherine, darling, I've got to get going if I want to catch my flight. I want to avoid getting caught in traffic on the way to the airport. It's a nightmare travelling through Edinburgh at this time of the day.”
“Then off you go, Tr—Trevor,” Mum said, her voice slower and with a slight stutter. Her gaze softened as she looked at me.
“No need to start the day with an argument.”
“Aye,” he muttered,grabbing his luggage.
At least Mum was reasonable, but recently my stepdad kept thinking I was unwell. I was fed up with it and wanted him to know I was upset at his accusations. I grabbed my mobile and portfolio from the hallway table and barged past him, nearly knocking the phone from his hand.
“Stop acting like a child, Tilly,” my stepdad said, his tone weary. He was as sick of this argument as I was, and yet he was the one who refused to let it go.
“If you keep this up, you're never leaving this house again. Do you understand?”
Yeah, because that's going to happen,I thought to myself. I bolted out the front door, slamming it hard behind me. Something smashed on the floor inside the house. I looked back towards the door, feeling a stab of guilt.
Oh, no, I hope that wasn't Nan's ashes.
My stepdad opened the door as violently as I had slammed it.
“Tilly Rose,” he shouted with a voice that demanded I stop.
“Look what you've done to your mother's Japanese cat.For goodness’ sake.”
I looked over his shoulder at the now headless ornament.
Thank God it wasn't Nan's ashes.
“Mum never liked the cat. She only pretended to because it was a present from you.”
I shouldn't have shouted it, even though it was true, and I instantly regretted my words. Mum was the one who at least tried to keep the peace, and I shouldn't have brazenly shared one of her secrets.
“Get back in the house. Now.” he snapped.
He stepped to one side, holding the door at arm's length and gesturing angrily towards the hallway.
Ignoring him, I put my mobile in my cardigan pocket. I rushed out of the gate and followed the road east toward Galashiels village. I needed a place to clear my head and calm down.
As I walked away from home, I couldn't shake the worry gnawing at me about leaving Mum alone. Even though she could look after herself, the responsibility I felt tugged at my heart, and I knew I couldn't stay away for too long. I had to make sure she took her medication. Her stroke had made her forgetful, and it was part of my daily routine to help her stay on track.
TWO
GONE
Ifinally made it to the top of the hill. Annoyance hit me as I looked down at the empty farmland. My stepdad’s lectures played on in my head, turning my frustration into a dull, never-ending loneliness. It sucked to be so out of touch with everyone around me. Like I was speaking a different language, compared to everyone else.
My stepdad’s reaction whenever I mentioned the way I'd been feeling was why I never spoke about it to anyone else. He always brushed everything off, saying it was just hormones, that I was 19, an age where people acted differently. Sometimes he’d even mutter that I was turning out just like my real dad. I knew I'd get the same response, so I'd learned to simply stay quiet. He had no real evidence for his theory. Basically, it was his way of telling me to get over it and stop being crazy.
