Albatross

by Ross Turner

  Jen was left standing with her mouth slightly agape in shock, clutching at her towel that was wrapped round her still, dripping water on the cold, laminated floor.

  That had come as quite the surprise, and Jen had absolutely no idea how to react.

  “Cl…Clare…!” She eventually called after her sister, staggering to the bathroom doorway and glancing around, but Clare was nowhere to be seen or heard.

  Jen had been abandoned, it seemed, and a wave of guilt flushed over her, rightly or wrongly so. But the guilt she felt was for many different things, and she couldn’t help but allow it to eat away at her.

  “I can’t believe you!” Clare yelled at her sister, about an hour or so later, raising her voice perhaps louder than she’d intended.

  But then again, perhaps not.

  Clouds swarmed above as Clare ranted.

  That morning had brought with it surging downpours that had left the fields and the beaches soaked through. As Jen walked water sloshed around her shoes and the ground squelched beneath her feet.

  Though the ground was saturated, it was no longer raining, but still, an entirely different type of downpour barraged Jen during that walk to The Rusty Oak, as she tried desperately to fend off her older sister’s abuse.

  “What!?” Jen implored, spreading her hands defensively and almost even flinching at Clare’s words.

  “You’re being ridiculous!” Clare demanded, as if that explained everything. “Are you being a bitch on purpose!? Don’t I mean anything to you!?”

  “What!? Clare! No…” Jen tried to justify to her sister, but Clare was having none of it.

  “I don’t really care what you’ve got to say!” She declared. “I know exactly what’s going through that head of yours!”

  Naturally.

  “It’s not even been a week!” She pressed cruelly. “He appears, and all of a sudden I mean absolutely jack!!”

  “No…Clare…” Jen attempted futilely, but it was no use.

  “You’ve changed, Jenny.” Clare warned, her words growing grave and ominous. “You’re not the same. He’s been around barely a few days, and already you’re a different person.”

  Finally, Jen had had enough.

  “Maybe it’s for the better…” She bit back at Clare.

  Though there was fight, and even truth, in her words, there was not the same spite, and she was still timid in Clare’s presence, especially when she was on one like this.

  “OH!” Clare exclaimed. “Really!? Is that what you think is it!?” Her eyes bore into her younger sister cruelly and her words spat venomously through the damp air.

  “I…” Jen started timidly, her fear of upsetting Clare further getting the better of her.

  But her older sister didn’t let her finish.

  “FINE!!” Clare shrieked brashly. “If that’s how you feel, then I want no more to do with you!!”

  And with that Clare whipped round, spinning instantly on her heel, and stormed away, back towards Keepers Cottage.

  “But…” Jen’s words trailed off, failing her as dejection set in as she watched her sister leave her, and not for the first time.

  It was no good.

  She just kept screwing everything up.

  Surely it would only be a matter of time before Deacon realised that, and then he would leave her too.

  But then, in only a matter of moments, out of nowhere, for Jen hadn’t seen her return, Clare was in her face once again. She pressed her nose right up to Jen’s, barely inches away, boring her angry gaze into hers, and breathed words at her dripping in molten hatred.

  “What are you going to do now then, sis!?” She hissed through bared teeth, her features animalistic as anger surged through her.

  Jen had never seen her sister so livid, and it terrified her. Although, not more than the prospect of her leaving again.

  “What do you mean?” Jen managed, flinching back.

  Clare wouldn’t relent.

  “What are you going to do about Deacon!?” Clare pressed cruelly.

  Jen’s answer was reactive and immediate, and she barely thought about her words before they rolled off her tongue, for this answer at least came very naturally to her.

  “Whatever feels right…” She replied in an instant, as if the answer was obvious.

  “NO! You idiot!” Clare berated her. “That’s not what I mean!”

  “What then!?” Jen begged, desperately craning her neck and body back away from her older sister, but Clare clutched at her tightly and wouldn’t let her go, even though she couldn’t touch her physically.

  “You know what I mean…” She insisted quietly, brutally, her voice a threatening growl and her eyes hard and stern, forceful.

  “I…I can’t…” Jen stammered, indeed knowing exactly what Clare meant.

  “You have to.” Clare breathed, cutting off any other option.

  “I already told him about dad leaving us!” Jen protested then, as if Clare was asking of her something she’d already done.

  “No one cares about that!” Clare exclaimed, releasing Jen suddenly from her invisible grasp and throwing her arms up in exasperation.

  Jen recovered slightly, straightening, though she still took a few wary steps back, and the clouds above circled in over her head.

  “He was an arse!!” Clare declared. “You hate him! So what!?”

  Her words were harsh, though not really all that far from the truth, but Clare would not let up, and she barraged Jen yet even further.

  “That’s not important!” She yelled. “You have to tell Deacon everything! And I mean the truth about what’s really going on! Not just some dead and buried news about some arsehole father!!”

  “But I…” Jen weakened, her voice dropping, and Clare interrupted again.

  “BUT YOU WHAT!?” She practically screamed. “BUT YOU CAN’T!? You already told him one dead and buried story!! Now tell him the other one!!”

  “I can’t…” Jen almost cried, her will breaking beneath Clare’s wrath.

  “YOU HAVE TO!!” Clare shrieked, reaching entirely new octaves. “HE NEEDS TO KNOW!!”

  “STOP IT!!” Jen screamed, shattering entirely, covering her ears to block out Clare’s cruel words, but of course it made no difference.

  She sprinted off towards The Rusty Oak, desperate for salvation from her older sister.

  Desperate for salvation from everything.

  But Clare pursued her, not even needing to run to keep pace with her.

  Jenny would never escape.

  The Rusty Oak came into view as Jen ran, her legs churning and her heart racing, driven by fear and by adrenaline.

  Warm and welcoming amidst the grey haze of the heavy air hanging all around, and the clouds flooding overhead, Jen didn’t let up even once as she stormed towards the rustic inn.

  “JENNY!!” Clare called again, just as her younger sister burst through the heavy, wooden front door to the pub. “You haven’t got a choice!!”

  “LEAVE ME ALONE!!” Jen cried as she exploded into the foyer of The Rusty Oak, and all heads turned and eyes snapped to her in an instant.

  She hadn’t thought about that…

  How on Earth was she going to explain this?

  “He’ll find out eventually!” Jen heard Clare’s fading voice call through the slowly closing door, but her attention was no longer on her sister, as bodies swarmed around her in moments.

  “Jen!?”

  “Are you okay!?”

  “What’s wrong Jen!?”

  “Has something happened!?”

  A dozen and more voices fired questions at her. If she had not been shaken before, she certainly was now.

  Flushed and out of breath from running, Jen couldn’t draw air enough to reply to them all, and so they multiplied, growing in concern, and crowded around her even further still.

  “Are you hurt!?”

  “Is someone chasing you!?”

  “Who was it!?”

  “What’s happened!?”
>
  All of a sudden the flurrying questions, when they didn’t receive appropriate answers, turned into decisive statements.

  “Quick! Someone look outside!”

  “Catch them before they get away!”

  “Call the police!!”

  That final voice suddenly drove Jen into desperate action. As overwhelmed as she might have been, the police getting involved again was the last thing she needed right now.

  “No!” She cried, managing only a single syllable, still trying in vain to catch her breath. “No, no! It’s fine!” She tried to calm and quiet them. “It’s not that!” She reassured them as best she could, though, obviously, they didn’t believe her.

  “What is it then, Jen?” Laura asked her immediately, cutting through the teeming crowds like a shark parts the waves towards its prey.

  Today she wore an angry, red jumper, and her words were direct and filled with concern.

  “It’s…I, it’s not that…” Jen attempted, her answer vague and her voice shaky, though she was glad to be speaking to just Laura.

  But she wasn’t buying it.

  “Jen.” She said then, looking at her with serious eyes. “You must tell us if it’s, you know…”

  “No!” Jen almost cried, restraining her outburst right at the last moment. “It’s not, I promise!”

  “Well…” Laura considered, though she was clearly unconvinced. “Okay…”

  The teeming throngs glanced around at each other nervously, unsure exactly what to do, all frozen in their tracks.

  “Honestly.” Jen tried again, this time a little more assertively, her breath coming back to her enough to summon a more convincing voice to lie with. “It’s not. I swear. It was just one of my friends. We just had an argument, that’s all…”

  “Right, well, if you’re sure…” Laura confirmed hesitantly, and when Jen nodded, as convincingly as she could manage, the crowd that had gathered began to disperse begrudgingly back to their drinks and their food.

  But Laura was not finished with her, and she pulled Jen off to one side and through into the kitchens, clearly having only agreed with her to help part the crowd.

  “What happened, Jen!?” She pressed, her voice a hushed and persistent whisper.

  “It was just a disagreement with one of my friends.” Jen lied again.

  “That boy!?” Laura questioned then, and edge to her voice.

  “What? Oh no! Not Deacon!” Jen reassured her, smiling as best she could, pleased actually to not have to lie about something for a change.

  “Right…” Laura said cautiously again. “Well, if you’re sure…I just want to help. You can tell me if something’s wrong…”

  “I know…I’m sorry I burst in. I’m fine.” Jen reassured her, a little more convincingly now, for she had fully regained her breath and her face was less flushed.

  Laura’s eyes examined her one final time.

  “Okay…” She finally breathed, but then her voice dropped to a hushed whisper again. “But if it is, you know, if you think…” She attempted, not sure how to phrase what she was trying to say. “If you see, you know…”

  “Honestly, Laura, it’s not.” Jen said more firmly then, her tone suddenly more assertive, and certainly more believable.

  “Okay…” Laura finally relented. “We just worry, that’s all…”

  “I know, Laura.” Jen feigned a smile as best she could, hugging her briefly. “And thank you. But it’s okay…”

  “Alright.” Laura concluded, smiling in return. “We’re always here…”

  “Thank you.” Jen repeated. “But, please, try not to worry. Nothing’s happened. It’s not him…”

  Lagoon of Excuses

  Over the course of the next fortnight time seemed to shift strangely for young Jennifer Williams, and she felt as if the days passed by incredibly quickly, whilst at the same time the weeks dragged by laboriously.

  Clare kept her distance during that fortnight, and though Jen often saw her older sister, she was always off a ways, watching from afar. They didn’t once speak, and constant waves of guilt and uncertainty flooded through Jen at every fleeting opportunity.

  She did see Deacon, however, as often as she could, and their bond grew only ever stronger.

  But even by the end of the fortnight, she still hadn’t told him the full truth that Clare had urged her so to reveal. Every time Deacon asked where Clare was, Jen was forced to come up with some sort of excuse as to why he hadn’t yet met her, and the task grew harder and harder day by day.

  Deacon may have noticed that something was bothering her.

  In fact, tell a lie, of course he had noticed that something was bothering her.

  But he didn’t push Jen unnecessarily, knowing that, in her own time, she would reveal anything that was on her mind.

  Much did he realise.

  Little did he know.

  Dyra however, wanting only to see the good, saw much improvement in her youngest daughter. Though it may well have been thanks to Deacon, she didn’t really care what the reason was.

  Jen was eating again. She was looking well. In fact she was looking stunning; her body had filled out in the way it always used to be.

  She seemed happier than she had been in far too long.

  At work Jen hummed and sang and danced and cooked and waltzed, and was more energetic than Geoff had ever seen her. It was as though she had been reborn, and was living a life renewed.

  Nonetheless, as best they could without her noticing, he and Laura kept a close eye on their young friend, for they cared about her dearly, and dreaded the thought that something would again throw her off course.

  Deacon often met her from work. He came to know Geoff and Laura well, and they both had to admit that they approved. The young man was polite, friendly, kind, and without a shadow of a doubt he cared for Jen deeply.

  It was a pleasure to see.

  Deacon regularly came to eat with Jen and her mother, Dyra, and he even painted for them one evening, and produced a portrait of the pair of them that was almost beyond compare. It immediately found pride and place upon the wall in their living room, surrounded by photos on all sides of both Jen and Clare, or of all three of them, though it looked somehow a little out of place amongst all the others.

  Clare never made an appearance, however, and when challenged, that fact was met with constant excuses made for her by her faithful younger sister.

  It was only those relentless apologies that Jen made which worried Dyra now, and Deacon picked up immediately on the fact that it concerned her, though he said not a word.

  Something was still going on, something tucked far behind the scenes, he was certain of that much, but still he hadn’t a clue what.

  A few times Deacon took Jen out to dinner, and they laughed and joked and enjoyed each other’s company long into the night. Once, he drove her a little further down south, and they spent the day on a glorious, golden beach that neither of them knew.

  And then, one day, during the second week, he told her he was taking her somewhere else. But, when she enquired as to where, he only winked slyly and told her it was a surprise once again.

  They drove inland from the coast, for an hour or so, and Jen recognised some of the places they passed, but then didn’t know others.

  Deacon liked to surprise her, she was beginning to realise; as is a man’s prerogative.

  Pulling up a narrow lane, barely wide enough for even one car, branches of bordering trees stretched out from either side of the beaten track and reached and clutched at the car as it passed slowly by.

  On that particular day the air was warm and the sun broke intermittently through the rolling banks of cloud hovering above. The clouds were white and wispy, rather than grey and heavy, and tottered around their own ocean of blue without a care in the world, just watching the day while away.

  Emerging from the suffocating treeline, crossing an orange strip of sun kissed ground, a lake came into view that stretched out into the dis
tance, hugged on every bank and shore by the endless parade of trees. Jen’s eyes widened imploringly as they wound their way up towards the concealed lagoon, abandoned and free.

  “Where are we?” She breathed, though, in all honesty, that didn’t really matter.

  Deacon knew this, and his reply both remedied her question and left it unanswered, all at once.

  “We’re here.” He replied simply.

  Jen grinned at him thankfully and he smirked back cheekily, leaning in to kiss her gently on the lips. She ran her hands smoothly down his cheek and clutched her fingers to his skin longingly, as she always did, for she could never help herself.

  Leaving the car, clambering over rocks and fallen trees across what looked to be the only clearing on the entire shore of the lake, Deacon led Jen across to the tranquil shoreline.

  Tranquil as a mind without worry.

  “Where are we going?” She asked him, following perfectly in his footsteps, fearful of straying from his path, for the consequences could be too grave to consider.

  “You’ll see.” He answered her, again giving away nothing.

  He crossed from the clearing and into the dense treeline, disappearing from view for a moment, leaving Jen alone for a brief second.

  For some reason though, the instant he passed out of her sight, left alone it the silence of the undisturbed lake, Jen panicked, her terrible thoughts and memories rolling over her like a great cascading storm.

  She glanced around nervously, admittedly, looking for her sister.

  But, of course, Clare was nowhere to be seen.

  How could she be?

  Jen was finding that she was questioning herself more and more of late, and it was driving her insane. Things she had never known were coming to dreadful light, and things she had always relied on were slipping further and further from her weakening grasp.

  “Got it!” Deacon’s muffled voice called then from beyond the concealing treeline, interrupting Jen’s spiralling thoughts. In seconds he emerged from between two stout pines, dragging something only just narrow enough to fit between them behind him.

  “What is it?” Jen asked, recovering from her daze and moving swiftly to his side, afraid to be alone.