Winter's End Part 1

Winter's End.

Clarissa Cartharn.

Thank you Cyma Rizwaan Khan for your continual friendship and support.

CHAPTER 1.

She was once told a good life almost always kept wrinkles at bay.

She caught her reflection in her hallway mirror and momentarily paused at her task, a.s.sessing herself and the relevance of the proverb in her life. The tautness in her face successfully disguised her thirty-four years, making her appear much younger than she really was. However she would have to attribute it to good genes rather.

Although some good life, she had had also. Twelve good years with her husband, Robert. He was the kind of man every woman dreamt of. Tall, handsome, dark-haired with an adorable cuteness that agreed tremendously with the fairer s.e.x.

As she returned to the past, her memory drawing in the small coffee shop next to the town library, it still felt all too surreal that he could have fallen for a girl like her.

Her long, red curly hair was strewn haphazardly over her shoulders. They were layered at odd lengths, the best she could do with a pair of sewing scissors. Her gla.s.ses were plopped at the end of her nose as she flipped through another page of her renaissance romance novel.

"Hi," said a voice.

She looked up to meet the most charming blue eyes she had ever seen.

"Hi," she returned almost inaudibly.

"Is this chair taken?" he asked.

"Ummm...no," she said hesitantly, her only hint of surprise visible in her own brown eyes.

"Great," he concluded. "Then you don't mind if I join you." And without waiting for an answer, he pulled out a chair and slumped into it.

She blushed as she realised he was intending to share her table. And as for company?

"I'm Robert," he said.

"I'mmmm sssorry," she mumbled, her demure becoming even more apparent.

"Robert," he repeated with a smile. "My name."

She quickly composed herself before she could cause any further embarra.s.sment to herself. "Emma," she whipped out.

"Emma," he repeated softly, tasting the sound of her name on his lips. "Emma, just Emma?"

She smiled. "For now," she thought.

She took a brief glance at what she was wearing. A long, plain dark skirt with an earth coloured tee shirt. Her once red hair was now darkened to an auburn and held back into a pony tail with a few strands flying loose around her face. The box she held up in her arms did nothing to help alleviate her poor impression of herself. She sighed. Did Robert really fall in love with this? What had he seen in her to have chosen her over all the women who relentlessly stalked him?

"I suppose I'm attracted to you because you don't," she remembered him say. "You don't seem to care less of what I do. And I guess that's kind of attractive. Don't you think?"

She smiled. She did care but she was far too shy to let him onto it. Instead she entwined her fingers with his as they strolled through the park by the riverside.

She looked away in the hope he didn't see how much she loved him. She focused on the robin tweeting in the tree above them, chiming his last hours for the day and on the toddlers babbling nonsensically in their adorable prams as their physically overdriven parents took their routine jog through the park lanes.

"In fact, there has been something I have been meaning to ask you." His voice carried elements of seriousness which she had not antic.i.p.ated.

"What is it, Robert?" she asked equally concerned. She noticed he carried the same frown he usually wore during his architectural exams.

He had an ardent pa.s.sion for architecture. He would walk with her through town, pointing out various buildings and proudly reciting their history.

"Gap House," he had once said as they stood before the building in Bayswater. "Designed by Luke Tozer. It's only 2.4 metres wide really. He built it for his family. Must have been ridiculed whilst doing it. Instead won the RIBA Manser Medal for residential architecture. He saw something in it which others didn't and he went for it." He had looked down at her, his eyes swelled with desire.

That same desire had returned once more to his deep sea blue eyes as they stood now in the middle of the park, surrounded by energy driven mothers, babies and birds.

"What is it, Robert?" she repeated.

"Emma...," he stammered. "Emma..."

"Yes, Robert," she attempted to remain calm. There was very little that shook Robert and so his wavering stamina was becoming quite concerning.

"Emma," he said softly. "We...we've been seeing each other for what? Almost two years now?"

"One year, eight months and two days," she thought. But she was darned if she was going to say it aloud. "Yes, two years about."

"And I now have a good architectural position with Cunningham & Price. And you are a...a..."

"An English teacher at Carlingford High," she completed for him. "Yes."

"Yes, yes," he babbled. "I know I'm not making much at C & P but I definitely intend to find something much better. Much, much better."

"Robert, I know that. You don't have to..."

"Emma?" interrupted a voice, not at all like Robert's.

She turned immediately. "Richard."

"Emma."

"Mummy," said a voice breaking into her thoughts. She saw a reflection of a ten year old boy standing behind her, observing her curiously. "You okay?"

She bounced the box she was carrying and turned to him. "Yes, of course Jai. Now have you finished setting up your room."

"I have. I thought you might need some help with yours. It's hardly even close to finishing." He took a turn about the lounge room still filled with boxes of all their odds and ends. Their brown couch was pushed far back to the wall to make room for all the cardboard boxes and their television set which sat on the floor, unplugged, its wires dangling over the top of its huge screen.

"What about Hannah? Where is she?" she asked suddenly noticing that the five year old was nowhere to be seen. It was unusual given that Hannah was always bound with so much energy, she hardly could keep her feet at the same place for too long.

"Up in her room."

"In her room? What is she doing there? She can't be fixing it up. She'll get hurt." Emma immediately swung to the staircase to charge up.

"Stop worrying, Mum," said Jai as he opened another box to inspect its contents. "I've already checked up on her. She's playing with her dolls."

She looked up hesitantly. She wondered if she shouldn't call her down. Hannah could be a handful once she was fired up and she really didn't need that now of all times.

"Probably, I'll check on her later then," she contemplated. She needed to finish with the kitchen above all things. That's where everyone called in when the hunger bugs bit them.

"When are you going to finish with your bedroom?" Jai asked following her into the kitchen.

"Once I set up the kitchen. In the meantime, you could help Hannah set up hers. You might strike being more useful there instead of chasing me up on my bedroom."

"I'm just wondering where you would be sleeping tonight if you don't get it done. It is getting dark, you know."

"I know. Hannah and I will manage on our mattresses by the fire in the lounge. We'll be camping. Perhaps even a picnic. Just us two women," she teased.

Jai scowled. "Well, I'm in. Like it or not."

She ruffled his hair adoringly before he could race-up to Hannah's room.

"Order us some pizza tonight?" he said as he walked out of the kitchen *****

The firewood spit in the flames dancing in the small walled cove. Emma looked at the dark figures of her children laying next to her. Pizza boxes were piled one on-top another, evidence of their late night feast. Crumbs of their meal were still visible in the now empty boxes. Her mind instinctively turned to the possibility of rats and c.o.c.kroaches. She sighed. If there were any, they would probably be the more established residents of the old house than she.

Her eyes roamed over its beige walls and white ceiling, the shadows of the flames of her stone fireplace dancing on them. There were cracks in the corners of the ceilings, revealing the age of the building. She had been told by the realtor that it was a period home, built in the early 1900s. It contained four bedrooms, quite generous in size but in essence it was much smaller than the seven bedroom mansion she shared with Robert in London.

Her eyes scanned lower down to the pile of cardboard boxes stacked in the corner of her lounge room. In the dim light, she made out one that appeared to be almost spilling over with books. She smiled. Jai loved his books. She remembered how he had bickered with her when she alluded to donating some of them. There were just too many.

She crawled over to the box and began to sift through the upper pile, arranging them in a neat stack on the carpet floor. She had better. There was a good chance the box would topple over. She had to admit that despite his love of books, Jai had simply thrown the books in the box without a thought.

Humming a tune softly to herself, she dug her fingers in again to dish out another handful. As she turned to place them onto her pile, she caught sight of a worn out cover. It was all too familiar. "A Comparative Study on John Keats' Ode on a Grecian Urn." She swiped a gentle hand over the cover. It was now well-worn out from overuse and it's grey cover had dulled over the years. But the ill.u.s.tration of the Grecian urn was still as impressive today as the first day she had laid eyes on it. It seemed to her that like the poem, the image was also captured in the timelessness of the poem it represented. As she sat staring at it, her mind drifted back into her memories and into her apartment she used to share with her roommate at twenty-two...

Vivaldi played softly in the background. Emma drummed her feet as she stood at her bench-top slicing her carrots into juliennes.

"You sure you'll be fine?" said the young blonde woman slipping on a pair of red heels.

"I'll be fine, Lauren," she replied, glancing over at her. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks." Lauren gave one last appraisal of herself in the lounge room mirror. "You should come, you know. It's Pete's party after all. And you know him."

"I know."

"Learn to get out of this flat once in a while."

Emma smiled. "I know."

Lauren sighed. "Very well then." She blew a kiss in the air. "Don't stay up. I'll be late."

Emma walked her over to the door. "Have a nice time."

"You can still come..."

Emma giggled and pushed her out of the door. "Bye, Lauren."

Closing the door behind her, she looked around at the tiny flat. The walls were peachy in colour and beautiful ornaments and candles grazed the lamp stands, shelves and coffee tables. A pair of lemony curtains were tied back and bordered the long French doors leading to the balcony.

It was seven in the evening and the lights of the city that sparkled into the flat, shown like stars. Her potted plants of geranium and begonia in her balcony were in full bloom and added to the romantic aura of the star studded night.

She sighed, realising that she was left all alone to embrace the serenity of her evening. She took a few steps forward to return to her cooking when a couple of desperate knocking interrupted her.

"Who is it?" she called out.

"Emma, it's me," replied Lauren.

Emma opened the door to an angst Lauren.

"Forgot my wallet," Lauren screamed out as she rushed towards her bedroom. "Changed my bag, forgot the wallet."

She ran back out, gave Emma a peck on her cheeks and raced out the door.

Emma shook her head in disbelief and closed the door. As she was about to return to the kitchen, she saw Lauren's keys on the hall table. Emma winced. Looks as if she would have to stay up then. Probably sleeping on the couch would be a better idea, she thought, her hands on her hips as she weighed out her options.

Another knock rapped at the door and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Lauren," she started, opening the door. "Did you forget..."

There standing at the door was a six feet three young man. His short hair was neatly dressed and swept to the side. His gla.s.ses accentuated his blue eyes. He wore a stylish trench coat over his dark, striped suit.

Her jaw dropped open. No man had ever stood at her door looking like that.

CHAPTER 2.