Popped bubblewrap is no good.

Homecoming.(1)

Before the beginning.

1918

Aunt Pol and Ada had woken Cora up earlier than she would've liked, to greet their boys coming home. The six year old didn't feel as excited as her aunt and great aunt- To her, Uncle John and Arthur and Daddy were memories and not people. She didn't know anything about them, she hardly remembered what they look like.

Being a rational and logical little girl, she concluded that they would feel the same. The last time Daddy saw her, she was two. Shes six now.

Time went agonisingly slowly, that morning. It was almost as if the clock was trying to work Cora up. Knees bouncing, teeth chattering, head pounding she tuned into the ticking of the clock. The repetitive and constant noise was comforting until it wasn't. Then it started winding her up into a right state- a state that Pol would call "one of her silly little episodes." The ticking was now annoying and once she'd tune in, she couldn't tune out. The noise grated the sides of her brains, it felt like.

No matter where Cora moved herself to, a clock would make a noise.

She frowned, with tears in here eyes and said to her auntie, "Ada please can we get going now. The house feels off."

"You and your bloody off. What does that even mean?" Ada remarked in a sympathetic way that almost felt mocking.

Finn chirped up, "Weirdo."

Ada shot him a look and he soon stopped running his mouth.

Pol had been quiet all morning. She was so excited, it was actually adorable. For a moment she looked like a puppy, not the fierce and protective woman everyone in Small Heath knew her to be. "Let's get a move on folks. No rest for the wicked, eh?" Her voice had an enthusiastic tone to it.

•••••••••

Train stations were a favourite of Cora's. As she walked through a crowded platform, she felt a sense of sonder. And to make a change, she wasn't overwhelmed by it. She wasn't really alone, and never would be.

But that wasn't what she needed to focus on. Daddy and her uncles were back.

•••••••••••••

Tommy saw her, before she did him. "Back again, John boy, Arthur."

"Home sweet home" grumbled Arthur, his voice harsh and angry unintentionally.

With no reason to delay his reunion any longer, he walked over to his little girl and sister. "Cora Shelby, is that you eh. Jesus you're big. I suppose you can't remember me."

Thank the Lord he bought it up first, thought Cora. "I remember that I love you, but not much else. And I remember your lovely laugh."

Without warning or hesitation he picks her up and cuddles her. "I'm glad you love me. I've thought about you everyday since I've gone. I love you more." He didn't reply to the part about his laugh. That won't come around very often, he predicted.