Three Houses United

Chapter One

Alone

 

 

 

            In the small area of Islington, London a thunderstorm boomed overhead, large black clouds swirled above; creating curtains of rain that masked the sky blocking any small ray of light.  Fenced in by an intricate cast iron fence a quiet private garden sat surrounded by regal looking townhouses on all four sides.

A petite figure could be made out curled up on a small iron bench, that matched the fence.  Her long ebony hair was splayed across her face, the fierce wind tugging at her locks.  The girl’s eyes red from previously shed tears.

“Miss Ashley,” cried a voice through the storm. The girl kept her back turned, her knuckles white as she clung to the bench.  “Miss Cambridge your father wishes to speak with you!” she stood firm her body not moving an inch.  “Your going to catch cold sitting out in the rain, it isn’t going to change the circumstances by sulking!” Cambridge had had enough she whipped round. There stood an old woman whose one brown hair was streaked with grey. Her carefully pinned back hair now frizzy and beaded with raindrops.

As Cambridge stared into the women’s kind, sweet, weathered face all her anger melted away as her eyes bored into hers.  Her gaze was locked on her nanny for what seemed like an eternity.  She stared into the eyes of not only her protector but the only true connection to her mother.  The mother who Emmy cared for before her; the mother who died during childbirth; the mother whose death she believed to be her fault; the mothers whose fate destroyed any compassion that existed of father towards daughter.

“How many times have I told you Emmy call me Bridge!” she hissed.

“It wouldn’t be proper.” Emmy retorted.

“You know I don’t care for pompous titles!” she bit back her voice gradually increasing in volume, “ I call you by your name why do you choose to ignore mine!”  Bridge once again turned away from Emmy, she rarely fought with her but it was war.  Her nerves were on edge, everyone’s was.  She tended to snap at people these days.

Many of her friends had already been evacuated to the country, places such as Devon, Cornwall, or up north, anywhere to get away from the jerry bombers.  Marie Evelyn, one of her only school friends, had even gone as far as America.  Cambridge vouched that she would most certainly not follow suit. 

She hadn’t anyone to talk to, not that she cared, the girls at Grey Towers School for Girls were full of themselves, snooty, and not to mention hated her however the feeling was mutual. One of the reasons the few friends she had went to the local public school, much to her fathers and brothers disapproval. She hated the lot of them and the school but it was her father’s wishes that kept her there and the reason she had to attend in the first place.  Marie Eaton was the only friend she had but she was gone, she hadn’t anyone to talk to. For the first time in her life she felt utterly alone.

“Ill be inside…” Emmy mumbled the hurt evident in her voice, the guilt was immediate.  Bridge turned round to say something but she was already gone, the gate left swinging behind her.

Cambridge didn’t no how long she sat in the rain, the cold numbed her body and that’s how she liked it.  Whilst the heavy droplets pounded on her limbs it took away the pain of life and her troubles drained away just like the water spiraling down the drains.  However a drain can only hold so much water just as the rain can only numb a certain amount of pain.

After sitting aimlessly for a while longer she decided she may as well face the music and slowly trudged through the rain sodden grass towards the house.  As she passed through the gate, exiting her secluded utopia, she came to face the house.  Snugly wedged between many identical copies.  She drifted up to the typical three-story town house, surrounded by the same iron fences as the squares garden, edged with dark green bushes neatly trimmed up to each side of the gate.  The front of the house was uniform in every way, from the sparkling windows to the glossy varnished black front door, much like her father, which of course made her despise the house even more than she already did.

She reluctantly scaled the stone steps and quickly flattened her hair, smoothed out her dress and scraped her mary janes on the lion-head boot scraper.  Before twisting the large gold doorknob whilst wedging her hip into the door to open it and finally entered the house.