Ordinary | a Bars and Melody story | Cover Identity sequel

"A spy..?"

Martha's POV;

I was like a woman possessed, nothing could stop me as I ran down the stairs two at a time, landing like a cat at the bottom. "Hey Granny." I said as I entered the kitchen. My Grandmother looked up at me and smiled. She had short grey hair, but I knew from the photographs it used to be the same dirty blonde as my mother's. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, not even stopping for breathe. "What on earth is the matter with you, girl?" She asked me. I had never known much about her life before mum died, but she seemed to be the sort of woman you wouldn't mess with. She was strong, she had to be, considering she raised me and my mum alone. "How did my mum die?" I asked, watching the shocked look spread across my gran's face. "It was an accident, you know that." She said firmly, her voice and face took on a steely edge. "But.." I protested, she cut me off. "But nothing. You don't ever go digging into your mother's life do you understand me, Martha." I stared at her blankly, not quite sure what to say. "No good would come of it. Do you understand me?" She repeated. I swallowed hard. "I understand." I whispered, starring at the old slate floor of the kitchen. Lily Tindale was not someone to be messed with.

I stepped out into the cool Autumnal air, the sea breeze was colder than I had expected it to be. Damn, I wish I had brought my jacket, I thought as I walked along the promenade. My Grandmother's words never left my mind, no matter how much I tried to forget about my mother and her diary. I had memorised almost every line of mum's diaries, all six of them, with ease it seemed. And as I walked, absentmindedly staring at the rough ocean off the coast of Galway, I thought about the places my mother wrote about. About the huge mansion she shared with the woman who brought her up, who had turned out not to be her biological mother. About the tea shop, and the flat they lived in above it, when my mother was known as Isla. Of course, her real name was Cammie Tindale but she never changed her last name from Lewis. I'm not sure why, and I'm not sure why all records of her have always been so hard to trace. She's a mystery, my mother is, but I am determined to find out all her secrets.

I stared at my reflection in the library windows, trying to pluck up the courage to go inside. Maybe Granny was right, no good would come of digging up my mother's secrets. Especially if they were what got her killed. But I desperately needed to know who I truly was. Where did my last name come from, who did I get my dark hair from? Why did I seem to be so good at going unseen and hiding, was there some dark secret behind my sneaky abilities? I reached for the door handle of the library, I was so close to stepping inside, when a force came plowing right into me.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry." I stuttered, I reached to grab the papers that had flown clear from the boy's hands but he pushed me away. "No, it's okay." He hurriedly reached for the papers, and I just about managed to read the words classified. What's that all about? The boy finally stood up straight and smiled at me. He had these warm brown eyes that seemed so familiar, I felt as though I was looking at a ghost.
"Lewis." The boy stuck his hand out at me. I stared at him. "Lewis?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows at him. "Don't like it? Me neither." He smirked, I almost laughed. "I'm Martha." I grinned. "I don't shake hands." Lewis awkwardly shoved his hands back in his pockets and just looked at me. "You look familiar." He said, almost as if he were talking to himself. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing." I raised my eyebrows sceptically at him. "Who are you?" He asked, his voice taking on a steely edge. "Wouldn't you like to know?" I smirked, folding my arms, holding my ground. "Yes. Yes I would." Lewis was looking at me as if I were the most interesting thing he had ever seen, and I didn't know how to act. "What's your last name?" He eventually asked. "What?" I smirked, taken aback by the question. "What's your-" he started to ask the question again. "No." I stopped him. "I heard you the first time, but why do you want to know? Wanna hit me up on the 'gram?" I grinned, flicking my hair over my shoulder. Lewis looked shocked, maybe a little embarrassed. I laughed. "I'll tell you, but only if you tell me. Deal?" He seemed to consider my proposition for a moment, but he grinned. "Deal." I nodded. "Okay, on the count of three" I held my breathe before I started counting. "one, two, three."

"Devries." We both said in unison. I stared wide-eyed at the boy in front of me. "What, say that again?" I said, as he was saying. "You have got to be kidding me." I reached into my pocket for the photograph of my mother - the one I had been looking at just a few hours before. I suddenly remembered why Lewis looked so familiar, where I had seen those brown eyes before. "What is that?" He asked me. I gingerly passed him the photograph that was so precious to me. He stared at the imagine, I watched as his face changed. "W-Who is that?" He stuttered, he looked as though he had seen a ghost. "My mum." I managed to choke out. "And the boy?" Lewis asked. "I don't know." I admitted. "He looks like me." He said, his scared eyes locked with my own. "I know." Then, a silence washed over us as Lewis stared at the grainy Polaroid of my mother and her friend sharing a joke I had spent years longing to know. Eventually, it was me who broke the silent air. "Did you know your father, Lewis?" I asked. The boy looked up at me, and simply shook his head. "Me neither." I replied. Lewis passed me the photograph back, and I shoved it back into my pocket so that it was safe. "Martha, did you know who your mum was?" I didn't quite understand the question but I shook my head anyway. "No, she died when I was a baby." Lewis pulled me away from the busy library doorway. "Not did you hear what happened to her, did you know who she was? What she did for a living, how she died?" I shook my head. "My Gran doesn't talk about her, all I know is her death was an accident. But I found her diaries a few months back, there were five of them. From when she was a teenager up until the day she died." Lewis stared at me so intently, I had never met someone so interested in me before. It was kind of scary. "Did she ever write about someone called Leondre Devries?" I shut my eyes, letting my brain wonder back to those diary pages as I tried to recall my mother's words. "I don't know." I said, feeling disappointed with myself. "She wrote about a Leo a lot, but I think she said he died when they were kids. In an explosion. Long before either of us were born." Lewis went quiet again, as if he were thinking. "Martha, I need to show you something."

• • •

I hope you enjoyed!

I n s t a g r a m: pengmendes

- Naomi x