Sarah Laker

11 - Memories

The last piece of wood splintered in Sarah's hands as she ripped it clear of the fireplace. She sat back on the floor and brushed her hands together.

"There. That's that done. Now, let's see what we're dealing with in here."

Peering into the open space, the black surround was nothing to get excited about. The dirty, brass fireguard was still intact and a large pile of ash and small coals remained in the bottom of the hearth. She leaned forwards and yanked on the handle of the ash collection tray, under the guard. It pulled out smoothly without spilling the contents.

After taking out the tray and dumping the contents in a corner of the garden, she returned to the living room to group together the cast off boarding and nails and brought them outside too.

On her next trip into the room she did a double take and almost tripped over herself at the state of the fireplace.

The brick surround was clear of dust and soot. The brass of the grate had become shiny and the back had been brushed clear of blackened ash, now showing a dull, matte brown.

"What the..!"

She kneeled down and ran her fingers lightly over the guard, it felt cold and smooth. She scratched her head. Was it a trick of the light? Had it always been this way and now that the daylight had got to it she was seeing it properly for the first time?

Her stomach gave a loud, bubbling groan and she realised that she hadn't eaten since this morning. Checking her wristwatch, the time was half past seven. Distracted away from her questions by her hunger, she got up and went to make herself some dinner.

Once she'd filled up on tomato pasta, she set the dishes in the sink next to the mug Luke had been holding on Saturday morning. She smiled at the memory of his socks with tucked in pyjamas that morning in the fields.

As she did the washing up, the light through the window started to deepen in its reddish sunset. Clara had always loved the sunsets. Here across the flat fen lands the sky gave an immense display of layers of colour.

It was at sunset that Luke had found Clara sitting on the steps of the hay barn at his farm all those years ago.

Of course Clara had told her best friend every single detail of her moment of lust with Duncan's friend. It had kind of crept up on Clara without her knowledge. She said that she felt sorry for the way Luke's brother treated him and that she thought he was super-hot. Also that after being fired up from her first couple of experiences with Duncan, her body was itching for more. Sarah had given her comment on the reason why Clara had done it - as a replacement for the lack of love from her mother. The closeness of sex, the total absorption of senses and skin. That was Sarah's take for the betrayal, but she secretly thought it could have been Clara's over compensation for her friend's hidden sexuality.

Clara had sworn her friend to secrecy, making her cross her heart and hope to die if she ever told anyone about her encounter with Luke. Even now, Sarah actually would rather die than let on to Luke that she knew, or far worse, tell Duncan.

Sarah and Clara had snuck into her bedroom and locked the door while Clara went over the event. Sarah had committed the image to memory and it often popped up at the most inconvenient times while she was in Luke's company.

Clara had told her that he'd been crouching down in front of her, then he'd brushed the hair from her face and looked deep into her eyes. He'd been working with the sheep all day and was fresh from a shower, smelling of soap and body spray. His fingers were rough on the surface but soft and gentle in intent. Clara hadn't been able to resist his lips, moist and waiting. She had just wanted to be engulfed by him. Wrapped completely by his body, taken and held.