by Suzy Turner
CHAPTER FOUR
One night as I lay on my bed drifting off to sleep, there was a tapping sound on the window. Opening my eyes, I saw two black birds sitting on the windowsill staring solemnly in at me. Having never taken any notice of local birds before, I wanted to know what they were, so I trundled out of bed and tiptoed into the living room where the sisters kept all their books. There I found an encyclopaedia from which I managed to identify them as ravens. After watching them for a few more minutes, they flew away. Exhaustion soon set in and it didn't take long for me to forget all about them and fall asleep.
But the following night, they re-appeared. There was a tap on the window and as I looked up from the book I was reading, I saw them both sitting in the same spot looking in at me again.
This happened every night until my move to Canada. Why they visited me there I had no idea. But there they were, every night, sitting on my windowsill, as if protecting me from something.
The way they perched there and repeatedly cocked their heads from one side to the other made me giggle, but they also frightened me somewhat and so I soon stopped. I dared not open the window. I never closed the curtains because, although I was fearful, I was also comforted by them. They became a constant in my strange, lonesome life.
I almost wished they could go with me to Canada, a country that I had few expectations of. I hadn't always known that my grand-father Gabriel was Canadian. In fact I hadn't even known of his existence until my thirteenth birthday, nearly a year earlier. I had bumped into the postman at the bottom of the stairs and so I had taken our mail directly from him, instead of letting him place it in our post box as usual. I hadn't intended to look through it but a Canadian postmark had caught my attention and it was addressed... to me.
So I sat down on the edge of the step and had almost torn the envelope apart to get to the letter. I started to read it...
My dearest Lillian
It is thirteen years since you were born and you are missed terribly.
I have written to you before but I can only imagine the letters have not reached you. I wish I could see you again, Lillian. I am your paternal grand-father after all....
But before I had the chance to read on, the letter was cruelly ripped from my hands and torn into shreds by my mother. She had been so angry that I had opened that letter. More so when I told her it was addressed to me. I tried to ask her about my grand-father but she refused to say a word. So all I knew was that I had a Canadian grand-father yet I longed to know more about him. I couldn't ask my father because, on the rare occasion that I did see him, he was never alone. My mother never seemed to allow us to be together, just the two of us.
All I knew about my grand-father was that he was Canadian. I didn't know what to feel. There was a sadness there. A numbness too. I missed my parents so much that I had a deep ache in my stomach. Yet during those weeks, I didn't miss the life that we'd had at all. But that didn't detract from the fact that they were my parents and I needed to know where they were. Even though I had December, Dorothy and June – and their beautiful cat Iris – I still felt lonely, as if a huge piece of me was missing.
As I boarded the plane to Canada, I knew I had been completely left in the dark and that my life was about to change, possibly forever. I wished to know what I was going to... and to whom. If my parents had filled me in on their backgrounds, their childhoods, perhaps I would know where I was heading. My only knowledge was that I was boarding a flight to Vancouver and that someone was collecting me. On the brief telephone call with my grand-father Gabriel, he had told me that he was unable to come and collect me but that a 'very close family friend' would be picking me up. That friend was called Ben. I didn't even know to where I was going after Vancouver.
The airport was hugely confusing to me. Dorothy and June had wanted to come with me but I confidently told them that I'd be okay. That I'd manage. They were old ladies, they didn't need the hassle. Eventually, they agreed to let me go alone and had arranged it with the airline, and as we said our goodbyes, I thanked them for everything. I promised I would stay in touch and let them know how everything was going. They cried as I waved to them from the back of the taxi cab and secretly, so did I. I waited until they could no longer see me and then the tears that I had managed to keep at bay for so long, began to stream down my face. I don't know how I'd managed to keep from crying for so many weeks, but I felt as though the tears had been building up as I sobbed and sobbed in the back of that car, as I drove away from the only life I'd ever known.
I cried not only for my missing parents and for leaving my home behind, but because I would desperately miss those two ladies who had become like family to me. I would miss them, and I would miss December.
I didn't know how I would live without her, but she had promised to keep in touch. “Lilly Taylor, you're my best friend in the whole world. I can't imagine life without you but we'll manage... for now. It won't be too long until we're together again. We'll see each other soon,” she'd said the day before as we'd hugged goodbye. It had sounded so rehearsed but I figured it needed to be, otherwise we would have just been in floods of tears. She was the brightest star in my life and I couldn't imagine being without her.
The airport was bigger and brighter than I imagined it to be. It seemed to go on for miles but after reading my ticket, and with a little help from the taxi driver, we figured out where I was supposed to go. I felt like a very tiny fish in a very big sea, but as soon as I had checked in and asked a few questions, I was told that the airline staff would make sure I was in the right place at the right time.
The next few hours were spent watching people coming and going before I finally climbed aboard the plane that would take me to my new home. Excitement, as well as panic, flowed through me.
Soon after take-off, darkness clung to me and I felt cold. I shivered.
As I sat there alone, cold and dazed, a friendly flight attendant approached me with a warm blanket and a pillow.
“I couldn't help noticing you shivering,” she said warmly as she handed them to me.
I took them gratefully and wrapped myself up tightly.
“Would you like some hot tea or hot chocolate?” she asked. I opted for some hot chocolate and she smiled and turned away.
I was pleased the flight was quiet. I had the back row to myself so I put up all the armrests and stretched my legs out as I watched her walk towards me bearing the hot drink a few minutes later.
She looked a little like me. At least like me when my hair had been its natural colour. Jet black hair, bright eyes that were wide apart, pale skin and of delicate build. Her face was pretty and friendly and I was glad of the attention. It was as if she was taking extra special care of me.
The hours soon passed by and it seemed like no time at all when the pilot announced to the crew that they should prepare the cabin for landing. I must have looked frightened as the kind attendant came over to reassure me.
“Don't worry. You're almost home now,” she whispered.
I smiled and nodded. Perhaps she was just being kind. Although I couldn't shake the feeling that she knew of my fate.
So I had landed in Canada. I guessed this was my home now. But for how long? When my parents returned, would I go back to London? What if they were never found? What then?
At least for now, Canada was my home.
As I stepped off that plane, I felt helpless. I felt as if I had no control over my life. Perhaps I no longer did.