Lost in Light

Chapter One

"Lily dear?" a sweet voice filled the little bedroom, it came from a young woman with beautiful pale blonde flowing curls and sparkling blue eyes. Her eyes were framed by thick black eyelashes while her cheeks and lips glowed with a rose tinge, she wore a smile that lit up the dull room that was accented by her gleaming white perfect teeth. Her dress was a pale pink with silver embroidered details, a white belt held it tightly around her bust, almost hiding her large protruding stomach, while the length was a rich chiffon that hung neatly to the floor. The woman wore white satin gloves to her elbows but as she took a seat beside me, she removed them and placed them on the little table next to me. I turned over in my bed to face her properly, she seemed almost angelic to me and I couldn't help but smile when I was in her presence, which was the same for everybody who was close to her.

"Why are you awake my darling?" my mother whispered, her comforting words making me feel less alone. Less frightened. She sat carefully on the end of my bed, taking my hand in hers with a squeeze.

"I was scared" I replied but instead of chastising me she just looked at me with her kind, understanding eyes, like she knew exactly what I was afraid of, like she knew me.

"I know, but you cannot let it control you. When you are frightened Lily, remember the daylight and the sun and all those days you spend with it. Try to forget the night and the moon and the dark" I flinched at the thought of the dark, recalling every night I lay in my bed worrying about the darkness surrounding me, "and turn it into the day and enjoy it, enjoy the beauty of it and sleep peacefully my darling"

She brushed my hair back from my face and placed a light kiss on my forehead. "Goodnight Lily" She murmured and turned away but in that moment her face changed, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, her eyes watering and her lips parting. Her hand still clasped mine and she faced me with a laugh, "Well how about that!"

I giggled at her tone but she stood up quickly and waltzed over to the door, an image of grace and elegance. "Anthony!" she called and closed the door, "Anthony dear!" her voice faded away. I fell into a deep and pleasant sleep and woke with a smile on my face, rolling over and facing my father who had woken me gently, his face pale and tired looking, his tears had long dried but the stains were still there.

The gloves lay untouched on that table for months, until I finally found the courage to put them in a box and put that box on the top shelf of the cupboard. Along with the rest of her things.

The sound of the whistling kettle shocked me back into life, I blinked away the memory and the tear that came with it. I took the rusty kettle and poured the tea into the five mugs that sat waiting, each one with a unique chip and mismatched paint work. Sadly the sugar ran out yesterday and it was unlikely Father would be able to get anymore until next month but that was always a given when we got at least halfway through the month. However, I saved a single teaspoon of sugar by wrapping it in a tissue and hiding it at the back of the cupboard, I poured it into the red mug.

I turned and leant against the iron stove and looked at the sad little kitchen, the table that acted as a counter and the wooden bucket in the corner that Charlie fashioned into a bin when we were little and the simple wooden shelf that held our six plates and six sets of crockery. Not to forget the sink next to the table, all it's pipes and inner workings on show. The room was tiny, almost too small for three people and the light came from the single candle on the table and the little square window that was just above the dirty sink.

Taking two mugs I left the kitchen, walked through the deserted dining room which consisted of a rickety wooden table and six different chairs, one on each end and the other four distributed evenly. I pushed open the front door with my hip and followed the path down to the grain field, the small one that we owned that was surrounded by everyone else's grain fields. Charlie was in a deep conversation with our neighbour Mr Clarke, while James sat waiting on the tractor we loaned once every harvest from Mr Clarke. I made my way over to James, who had short and neat blonde hair and dark brown eyes like our fathers but a tall slim build like our mother, I handed him a mug of tea for which he thanked me and leant back in his seat to cloud watch. I went to hover next to Charlie, his shorter figure contrasting to James like his hair which was dark brown and unruly, but they shared the brown eyes. Mr Clarke was knee deep in a story about how his sheepdog Colin got lost and reappeared two days later.

"Then poof! There he was on my door step! It was a wonderful Sunday surprise you know! Oh Louise was absolutely delighted!" He was grinning like he had found a sack of gold coins in his fireplace, Charlie took the mug from me breaking eye contact with the old man and patted my shoulder.

"How remarkable! He must have wandered off but he definitely knows where his home is." Charlie responded with a smile, gulping his tea. He always prided himself on his ability to make brilliant conversation with even the most boring of people and Mr Clarke was definitely one of those people. I left him to it and returned to the house, harvest day was always a serious day so it's best to let the boys handle it and just to keep them fed and watered.

I took another two mugs and headed into the hallway, past the narrow door that led to a tiny closest where we each had a winter coat and a pair of boots, if it didn't fit then tough because new ones were too expensive. Then the first door on the left, it was open slightly so I pushed it open and went in. Father was sat on the right side of his bed by the window where he held a frame that was home to a tiny but detailed painting. I placed the mug on the dresser by the door, he didn't turn but flinched slightly so I let him be, it was difficult to catch his attention when he was like this. But I couldn't get past the knowledge that Father slept on the left side of the bed.

Leaving the room I turned to the ladder at the end of the hall, with the fourth mug in one hand I climbed the ladder and placed it on the floor.

"Joe?" I called, my little brother was sat on his bed in the corner sketching with a broken stick of charcoal he stole from the fireplace. His long curly black hair messy and untamed but his eyes were piercing blue like my own, he still wore his nightclothes and looked barely awake.

"Good morning Lily" he replied, the sketch from where I balanced was of a woman, like the painting in fathers bedroom.

I tapped the floor gently and returned to the kitchen for the last mug, taking it into the bedroom on the right where Mary was brushing her long dark hair in front of the small dirty cracked mirror that hung above our shared dresser. Her eyes were brown like our brothers but they were rimmed red and puffy, I set the red mug on the dresser and wrapped my arm around her waist, leaning my head on her shoulder so I could see both of us in the mirror.

"Happy Birthday Mary" I whispered.