1. The grace of a full moon would grant a family their long awaited daughter, her beauty unmatched and her heart undeniably pure. She would shine like no other and bestow such peace and harmony upon her valley that all will love her and deem her their ‘princess’. Her victory over villainous merchants and pirates raiding her coast spread across the country like the wildfires of the east, turning her name into a myth and a heart all men wished to hold.’

I stopped reading and ran a hand across the final illustration. It didn’t go with the depressing ending, well, except for the gnarled branches laced around the scene and it’s page mottled with something other than age. Looking at the couple standing beneath an apple blossom wreathed in roses, I sighed. They looked perfect, about to exchange puzzle pieces, (a stand in for rings I guess) and yet would never be together. How could the girl turn her back on him? And how could he commit those crimes? It was a typical tragic love story, and yet…

‘Arabelle? Where are you?’ Grams yelled, expecting to hear my answer through the ancient floorboards. She didn’t like it when I went into the attic, telling me ghost stories when I was younger to stay out of the way; but when you’re seventeen you tend not to believe them anymore… Still I shivered at the sight of a white sheet draped over some of the dilapidated furniture, and tightened my hand on the book. In my little corner of the room, back against the bookcase and legs curled beneath me, I felt like I’m hidden from the world around me, listening in on the story held between my clammy hands.

Hearing her footsteps in the hallway below, I scrambled to my feet and jammed the book back onto the shelf. I hoped I didn’t look too guilty, busying myself with dusting off my hands and fixing my clothes. I’d only gone into the attic once before and that was a dare by Wyatt, one of my younger brothers. Our parents were out and I was left to baby sit; I had managed to bust open a chest and grab some random white dress that I threw on and scared the pants off of him and Boston. It was unfortunately reported through the grapevine to dear old Grams and she ended up taking the dress and putting locks on the attic doors, forbidding anyone to go up there. Until now that is.

The rows of vinyl records ‘suddenly’ catching my interest, I didn’t turn around when Grams ascended the attic stairs. It was only when she opened the door did I finally find the courage to meet my fate.

‘Arabelle, what’re you doing all the way up here?’ She clicked her tongue and took in my meek smile and sweet innocent eyes. She never falls for that trick, ever since I stole some raspberry tarts when I was five and had made her all guilty for blaming me in the first place. Then finding out I did actually nab them.

I shrugged and cast a cursory look at the book. ‘I was just snooping around, see if I could use anything,’ I said with a nonchalant shrug. I took a step back when she came closer and tried to hide the one book stuffed in a little too far.

Giving me a shrewd look, she reached past me and plucked it from the dusty shelf. ‘Don’t you go reading this, filling your head with ghost stories isn’t good for you. Do you hear?’ She waved it in my face until a dust cloud made me sneeze. ‘Bless you, now come on down.’ Patting my arm, she moved me toward the door, with little notice to the derelict treasures surrounding us.

Taking one last look through the brown and white strewn attic, I asked, ‘why don’t you want me to read that book Grams?’ Of course I didn’t mention that I had already done so, that would unleash a Grams I didn’t want to see. That only happened when dad had said something about a family member and she went all kooky on him, with my ten year old imagination I could see fire spouting from her mouth. Never again could I look at a dragon the same way…nor Grams for that matter.

She shook her head adamantly and shoved it into her bag. ‘Because it is bad, very bad and would fill your mind with nonsense.’ Something about her tone made me curious, I could see it in her eyes when she frowned and kept her hand over her purse/bag thing. She saw me looking and adamantly swung it onto the other shoulder.

Hovering halfway down the steps, I watched her lock the attic door and pocket the key like some cheesy movie and made sure I got a good look at it. Nothing like those movies where the key looked really old and ornate or shiny and gold, just some triangular ended key that could fit into a garden shed. I was disappointed. ‘Okay. I won’t. But why bring it?’ I pressed with little thought to her gathering brow. I was nosy and I got it from her (at least that was what I was told) so she had it coming.

Shooing me out of the doorway, she locked the bottom door and led the way through the hall; paying little attention to the bare ugly walls and sealed rooms hiding the bare walls and floors. ‘Because it is a sad, sad story and shouldn’t be thought of ever again. The woman who wrote it should be ashamed of herself,’ she huffed in exasperation.

‘A woman wrote it?’

Grams settled her aged, silver, eyes on mine and warned, ‘don’t you go hunting for anything else she wrote. That book was a one time thing and didn’t get accepted that well.’ She kept her finger in my face until I nodded, then wrapped her hand around my elbow.

‘I wonder why…’ Leaving the sentence hanging, I fell silent, patiently following Grams’ less than strolling pace. It was like this every time we were together, running off somewhere and me just having to try and keep up. She had never ceased to be filled with energy, picking up boring books and turning them into plays we used to act out for hours on end...that was when Gramps was still around. And was the only times I got along with Boston and Wyatt without feeling like I had to wipe their noses or feed them.

Reaching the front staircase, Grams turned to look at me with a considerate smile. ‘Would you like to say goodbye?’

Looking at the faded beige walls and varnished floorboards, I sighed. It really didn’t feel like home anymore…a large manor fit for fifteen and not once holding an ounce of laughter after the echoes died. The only times it was fun was when I had friends round or when Wyatt and Boston were pulling pranks on our parents. I would miss that but I wouldn’t miss the intrusions and stunts they pulled on me.

Shaking my head slowly, I led the way down the staircase and let my hand run over the ivy crafted balustrade. ‘Is everyone out in the cars?’

‘Yes. Your parents have already left,’ she replied with a disgruntled harrumph. Always a stickler for rules, Grams deemed it impolite to not say goodbye. It didn’t really surprise me however that my parents had already left, a trip to a foreign country, that would probably last longer than the year, would be too exciting to wait around. Especially for their eldest child.

‘Oh. Well at least they said goodbye to the boys,’ I muttered with a tiny smile. For Hunt’s sixth birthday they took him to a dinosaur park and forgot that I was still in bed. They had a fun time and seemed genuinely apologetic when they returned. At least it gave me time to bake him a triple layered cake…

It wasn’t that surprising to find Wyatt leaning out of the car window when we exited the front doors; waving frantically and Boston trying to pull him back in. ‘Yo! Hurry up!’ He shouted, rolling his eyes, as Grams fussed over locking the doors. He yelped when his twin was able to get a firm hold and pull him back inside.

‘Never able to be patient.’ I mumbled absently, as Grams finally locked up. I turned to look over the thriving garden, wondering whether any of our neighbours would bother watering the flowers… No one was out to say farewell but one or two curtains twitched. I’d miss the rhododendrons and roses entangling themselves around the path, along with the small pond I used to keep fish in. The hours I toiled away at night and day just to keep it in order, as well as keeping an eye on Hunt each time he joined me.

Something protruding beneath the conifer fence caught my attention, a brief sense of completion and an echo of a memory fluttering just on the edge before a pair of quick-silver orbs penetrated my own.

‘Well then, lets go shall we?’ Grams wrapped an arm around my shoulders, before I could go investigate, and gave me a squeeze. ‘Lets see about having some of Agnes’s cherry tarts when we get home and explore the garden. Anson has told me that the apple blossoms are looking particularly good this year.’

Cheered up and curiosity gone, (along with the mysterious creature) I gave her a grateful grin and leant in to kiss her earthy cheek. ‘Thanks Grams, sounds like a plan.’ Letting her propel me down the path, I silently said goodbye to all my floral friends and shut the gate behind us.

She chuckled at the boys dividing Haribo and Skittles, and waited for me to get in then slipping into the drivers side. Starting the engine, she waited until all of us had our bags on laps and things to do, (in the threesome’s case their ps3 consoles and mountain load of sweets) before beaming at us all. ‘Who wants to listen to Bocelli?’

There were about two yeses and a dubious look.

‘Err…Guys?’ I pouted when they ignored me and continued to sort out their sweets.

Hunt wrapped his arms around my headrest and peered over my shoulder to take a good look inside my bag. ‘Whatcha doing Arry?’ He leant further forward, nearly smacking his head on the armrest and grinned sheepishly when I gently placed my elbow in the way.

Shuffling through the meagre goodbye letters and gum wrappers, I found my fountain pen and forever faithful notebook. Turning to a fresh page, I uncapped the pen and started to scribble. ‘I’m starting a new chapter.’

‘Like the one we’re on? Oh, oh! Can you put a fox in there?’ He wriggled around, nearly sticking his fingers in my hair and infused all his childish happiness into a big grin. Just seeing him happy now made me want to smile. He had been so down over the last couple of weeks with moving everything into storage and packing the rest to take to Grams‘s house. Now that the goodbyes were over he was all chipper as a squirrel.

I shook my head and reached round to tousle his curls. ‘Yes there can be a fox. But only if you convince Grams to change the CD.’ I grimaced when Andrea Bocelli La Voce del Silenzio blurted through the speakers, quickly followed with Grams’s attempt to sing along. I didn’t inherit my vocal chords from her.

Wyatt leant forward before Hunt could speak and shouted his version in my ear, which turned out to be a garbled load of rubbish making absolutely no sense. He didn’t care that his wailing resembled a cat being strangled, nor that people on the pavements turned to stare at us.

‘Shut up!’ About to serenade the next verse, I clapped a hand over his mouth and raised a finger. Poking his forehead repeatedly, I warned, ‘keep this up buster and you’ll be eating out of a straw.’

Blinking rapidly, he nodded and wrenched his mouth free. Miming locking his lips and throwing away the key, he grinned with a knowing look passing between him and Boston.

‘Sure thing, so long as you sing.’ Boston revealed as the two took deep breaths and prepared to belt out the chorus.

‘Sometimes I wonder whether I really am related to you,’ I commented.

‘I’ll ignore that if you sing for us,’ Wyatt retorted.

‘Please Arry! Sing!’ Hunt’s excited voice changed my mind.

Opening my mouth, I waited until the chorus came back around and sang mezzo-soprano, the words rolling off my tongue like I actually knew what I was singing. When the chorus ended, I stopped. Ignoring their pouts and wounded moans, I twisted back around and planted my knees on the dashboard.

A drive that would take at least six hours, bearing in mind that the boy‘s were as patient as a puppy needing a do-do, and Grams undoubtedly repeating the Bocelli CD; I was in for a painful ride. Shrinking into my jumper and inconspicuously slipping the headphones of the iPod in my ears, I resorted to blocking it all out.

Z

After about five stops (two of which were simply for Boston and Wyatt to stretch their legs) we finally made it to Dalacont. And looking at it now? I wished I hadn’t of come.

Everything and I mean everything had changed. gone were the cute little street corner shops with random junk sitting in the windows. Gone was the Dalacont Centre Park and in it’s place was a big, fat, shining mall. Okay I wasn’t too against malls but right where a perfectly habitable park once was? I didn’t like that. How did building a mall in place of the Centre Park, then moving the playing equipment etcetera somewhere else, become something to save the environment? Still the residents seemed to like it, groups of Emo kids and Goths hung outside the front steps and sat on the walls or potted plants; a few skaters kick-flipped and such in a secluded corner. The only one’s I couldn’t see were the potheads hidden in the deepest darkest alcoves and overly crap cars bombing around the high street like the whining engine wasn‘t waspish at all.

Grams caught me staring and smiled indulgently. ‘You can walk around with the boys if you want,’ she suggested, to which Boston and Wyatt crowed in delight. She could’ve just said we were all going to a butterfly farm and they would’ve said yes, anything to stretch their legs again.

‘If it happens to be the park then I’m game.’ I answered even though they started to whine and beg.

‘Aw but what about the game stores?’

‘Yeah, they should have the new Call of Duty game! It’s supposed to be the best!’ Boston proceeded in slashing the air with his fists and making manly grunts and gun sounds.

‘So to the mall it is then!’ I injected sarcasm into every word and mimicked his air punching. When neither looked amused, I dropped my arms and rolled my eyes. ‘You two have no sense of sarcasm do you?’

‘Like a blood hound loves cheese,’ Wyatt retorted with a smug smile. Did he even know that that made no sense?

Grams started to slow when she rounded the complex and indicated to the parking lot. Peering through the windscreen, she frowned and flexed her hold on the wheel. ‘Arabelle dear, could you describe who is standing by that truck? My eyes are awfully weak these days,’ she asked, even though she didn’t need to wear glasses. ’Please.’

I dropped my knees off the dashboard, switching off my iPod and leant forward to where her finger was pointing. Standing around an open backed Ford pickup was a group of five teenagers, about my age save the youngest who was the size of a twelve year old. They were all lounging like some paparazzi would suddenly jump out of the shrubbery and blind them, well with sunglasses on I didn’t think they would be. I relayed this (minus the paparazzi part) to Grams and kept my eyes on the group. It wasn‘t until they moved away that I noticed the tension in her.

I glanced at her and winced. Her perfectly rosy face was stone cold and hard. I tried to touch her but drew back when she set her liquid silver eyes on me.

‘G-Grams?’ Wyatt asked in a carefully toned voice. When she didn’t answer, he turned a glare on me like I was the one who flipped her.

‘Gram-Grams are we going to the toy shop? A-and the sweet shop?’ Completely oblivious, Hunt wriggled in pure childish ecstasy. Note to self: buy him a sweet/toy shop combined.

‘We’re not staying right now, lets go home.’ Before we could stop her, she shifted gear and swung the car around. Ignoring the horn blaring from a jacked up Peugeot, she drove out of the parking lot.

One look at the boys, I found them barely capable of speaking, their matching green eyes wide and mouths swung open. Boston tried to communicate with his eyebrows, only successfully making them look like weird blond slugs, and repeatedly pointed at Grams and the car. Whilst Wyatt just continued to glower at me like I’d driven her to go all kooky.

‘Why can’t we stay Gram-Grams?’ Hunt the first to recovered, popped his little head between the front seats and gave her a dimpled smile.

Relaxing her white-knuckled grip, Grams sighed and closed her eyes in a long blink. ‘Because I forgot what time it is.’ Leaving it at that, she eased off the gas and resumed driving at a reasonable speed.

But I wasn’t convinced. She forgot the time? A bleeding clock the size of my head was on the dashboard! How could she forget? If I hadn’t of noticed her reaction, I would’ve put it down to her going kooky with no medication. But as it was the former (and that Grams didn‘t need medication), I had a feeling I would find out who that group was. Very soon.

Resuming my play list of Yiruma and Taylor Swift, I settled for an uncomfortably awkward drive.