The Forgotten Gateway

Chapter One

I watched the flames lick at the sides of the coffin, the wood slowly blackening beneath the fiery embrace before the window slammed shut, the sound echoing through my head like a final death knell. A hand rested gently on my shoulder and I looked up into Will's face, letting him draw me gently from the room and back up into the main body of the crematorium. He hadn't understood why I needed to be there when they set fire to my mother, I didn't fully understand it myself, but at least he hadn't tried to stop me. The rest of the mourners had already left for the reception and I was glad for the silence as we made our way there ourselves, Will keeping a gentle hand on my elbow as I drifted out of the building and towards the sleek black car waiting for us. Sympathetic faces greeted me as I walked into the function room, kind words of condolence washing over me as I spoke to each person in turn, murmuring words I would have no recollection of later. It was like watching my life through a window, aware of what was happening but somehow distanced from it, the glass rattling as the emotions tried to break down the barrier that shock had created between my heart and reality.

'Rory. Aurora,' Will's voice echoed through the void and I turned to look at him as he squeezed my arm. 'people are starting to leave; shall we go?'

I blinked as I looked around the room, surprised to see that half of the gathering had left already; not sure whether I had said goodbye but not quite mustering enough energy to care. I nodded, distantly aware as Will directed me towards the car and of the faint drizzle that wet my skin in lieu of the tears I could not shed.

The phone rang, the sudden shrillness jarring me from a disturbed sleep. I sighed, hauling myself from my warm nest of blankets and rubbing a hand across my eyes before answering.

'Hello, Aurora speaking,' my voice cracked and wheezed like I'd been smoking ten packs of cigarettes a day.

'Good afternoon dear. This is George Wordsworth here, your mother's solicitor.'

I cleared my throat, 'oh Mr Wordsworth, how can I help?'

'Well with all the paperwork regarding your mother's passing finalised I can officially read you her will. Would it be convenient to pop down to the office at some point this week?'

'Oh. Yes,' I quickly looked at the calendar and took my pick of the blank spaces, 'I can come in tomorrow morning?'

'Perfect my dear, I can see you at 10am and we can discuss everything we need to.'

'I'll see you tomorrow Mr Wordsworth.'

We said our goodbyes and the phone screen deadened, the silence deafening. I sighed again, the breath coming from somewhere deep inside my bone-weary soul. I caught my reflection in the mirror, not even having the energy to be shocked at my appearance. I noticed the deathly pallor of my skin, the dark half circles beneath my eyes and the limp straggles of my hair. When I was a little girl I was so upset that I didn't look like my mother, that I didn't have her sparkling blue eyes and shimmering golden hair. But she would laugh and cup my cheeks and say she loved my face, because it reminded her of my father, the love of her life. I had his eyes, that changed from emerald green to sapphire blue depending on the light, and the same thick, inky black hair. I loved to hear stories of my father, how he had loved her so fiercely and how he cried when she told him she was pregnant. She made him sound like a hero from the fairy tales she used to read me, a strong and valiant knight, protecting the women he loved. She never told me exactly how he died, only that he had saved us both before a terrible accident. I didn't push her further, I hated seeing the sorrow in her eyes and the tears she struggled to hold back and I always thought I would have more time to learn the whole truth. I huffed a laugh. Everyone thinks they have more time but life is never certain. The only inevitability about life is death; I suppose that's one thing I've learnt from this whole thing. I stared at my reflection again and grimaced before heading towards the bathroom.