The Man With The Umbrella

- 46 -

Twenty years ago...

A twelve year old Amelia sat on her bed listening to her parents argue up yet another storm from downstairs. She was dressed in her plush tracksuit, feeling as though it was the best comfort she had going for her whilst also hugging close her doll, Dotty.

John, twenty, had been accepted after four years of training into the Army as a solider and all-hands on Doctor. His first experience of putting his skills to the test was at India. Which he was pleased with because it meant that he could pay a visit to his uncle and cousin.

It was something in which Amelia was terrified at. She made her big brother promise to write to her at any chance he got free to do so.

Harriet, twenty-two, was currently staying at a 'friends'. Although Amelia knew quite well that it was a loose abbreviation. Amelia knew all to well that her big sister was drinking her sorrows away with a big bottle of whiskey along with glasses of wine and cans of beer.

Amelia being only twelve a few weeks off her thirteenth birthday found it selfish for her sister to leave her alone in clearly a very unhappy home.

She wasn't exactly sure what the current argument was over but if the young girl could guess it was probably the umpteenth argument over herself...

Amelia fell to her side and scrunched up in a ball.

She hated being the cause of arguments.

However; to be fair to herself, Amelia couldn't help how she was. She adored mathematics and could put a professor to shame on the subject. She also enjoyed learning the art of literature, whether it'd be Shakespeare or Jane Austen.

The twelve year old girl also immensely enjoyed art and watching series on the television of people in court.

She wanted to be a lawyer or painter someday.

Her father, Reginald Watson, was a proud family man. He met Margaret, her mother, when he was granted a shore leave from the Navy. Amelia supposed that the real reason he was proud was because of his military background.

However proud her darling father was though, he always supported his children. He may of even favoured his youngest daughter out of the trio of them. He loved his children with every fibre of his body but he seemed to have an extraordinary bond with Amelia.

Perhaps it was because she was his little girl or perhaps that to him, Amelia was the spitting image of his mother who passed away when the girl was a few weeks old.

Harriet never commented on it and John always use to smile at the bond they both shared.

Maggie Watson, the mother, was very family orientated and from what Amelia grew up with so far, love was to be earned and never given.

That's probably why the Watson children were closer to their father in all honesty.

Little Amelia loved her mother very much but she could always tell through every hug received and given that the Watson mother always held back with her youngest daughter.

It was something in turn that Amelia wished her mummy wouldn't do.

Wiping her face and blowing out a breath, Amelia kissed Dotty's head before tucking her in the comfort of her own bed and tiptoed down the steps to listen closer to the argument commencing.

Amelia was weary to avoid every creaking step and loose floorboard so it wouldn't raise suspicion. She made it to the door outside of the living room and payed extra close attention to everything going on.