She tred upon a shifting landscape, a maze of shadows untangling beneath her hesitant steps. The air, thick with echoes, whispered secrets unheard of. Moonlight pierced through the twisted silhouettes, revealing a path that beckoned her forward.
As she ventured deeper, a distant murmur bellowed like a fading storm. Shadows clung to the fringes of her consciousness, dancing on the periphery of memory. Yet, with each step, a strength welled within.
The labyrinth crumbled silently behind her, unveiling a boundless expanse of open space. The moon, now a silent witness, cast its glow upon an endless sea. She stood at the edge, the cool breeze caressing her face.
For a fleeting moment, she tasted the sweet allure of freedom.
A groan rumbled in her throat, resisting the rapid movements on her right shoulder. She curled up further into herself with a sharp inhale, her eyes cracking open.
"Elena," came a soft voice.
With a thick swallow, Elena moved back to see the familiar face of Pat Bonham, leaning over the back of the sofa she had passed out on.
"Morning," Pat gently greeted once Elena had mustered up the strength to pull herself up. Her eyes were still squinted, adjusting to the daylight.
Elena cleared her throat, bringing her knees up to her chest. "G'morning..." she replied, though it only came out as a hoarse whisper.
"I've brought you a cup of tea." Pat set the mug of tea down on the coffee table. "It's just past 9." Elena nodded, accepting the courteous gesture that she was used to from her. It even evoked the smallest smile when she noticed the perfect colour of the tea. Pat always knows.
"Thank you," Elena looked up at Pat, her face still flushed and eyes still red. The former pulled her eyebrows into a sympathetic furrow, followed by a smile of the same candour. "I-I'm sorry for just showing up like I did."
Pat was quick to shake her head and perched on the edge of the sofa arm, gently rubbing along Elena's back. "There's no need to apologise, love. You did what you had to do."
Elena didn't have a chance to respond, as any thought of one was abruptly cut short by the small, blonde Bonham boy darting into the room.
"Aunty Ellie!" The boy bound into Elena's arms, barely giving her the opportunity to open them for him. "When did you get here?!"
"Jason," Pat sighed, delicately scolding her son, "Mummy and Aunty Ellie were talking. You know it's not polite to interrupt."
Jason looked up at his mother with an instantly apologetic expression. "Sowwy, Mummy."
Jason's presence never failed to lighten Elena's mood, and God only knew that she needed it.
"It's okay, sweetheart, just try not to do it again, okay?" Upon receiving a nod from Jason, she continued. "Why don't you go wake up Daddy and tell him the coffee's ready?"
"Okay!" Jason beamed, instantly darting off in the direction of the stairs. Elena watched over her shoulder as the almost-four-year-old used the banisters to help him up each step.
"How do you cope?" Elena asked with a short chuckle.
"Gin." Pat smirked. "Gin and a lot of patience."
Elena chuckled, looking down at the mug of tea. She didn't realise how dry her mouth had gotten from the night of shouting that quickly turned into a night of sobbing. Her thirst was quenched as she took a steady sip from the mug, taking comfort in the warmth of the beverage.
"I better go and make John's breakfast." Pat stood up. "Do you want anything, love?" she called over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen.
"Um..." Elena was tempted by the offer. To have someone make her breakfast. But no matter how much the prospect of it enticed her, she hastily shook her head. "I'm alright, thanks, Pat." She smiled at the older woman as she disappeared into the other room.
Apart from the muffled giggles and screams of elation coming from upstairs, the Bonham household was relatively quiet. Serene. A stark contrast from where Elena had fled the night before. The family photos on the walls, the persistent ticking from the grandfather clock by the oak bookcase. Her favourite part? The plants that Pat had strategically placed to bring even more life to her house. Everything in the Bonham house felt like a home, even to Elena.
"Is it okay if I have a cig, Pat?" Elena asked in the direction of the kitchen upon spotting the packet of Marlboros on the table.
"Of course, yeah!"
Taking one from the pack and the box of matches next to it, she rose from the sofa, her knees clicking as she stretched. She knew it would feel good to step outside and get some fresh air, even though it would accompany the intoxication of a cigarette.
"Remember, it's not a substitute for a meal!" She heard Pat call to her as she stepped out the Bonhams' back door into their garden, cup of tea in hand. Elena smiled softly to herself at the reminder that she was cared for.
Leaning against the wall, she ran her hand through her dark brown hair, holding it back for a moment. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh air that the Bonham house was surrounded by. There was hope that with her exhale, she could expel the events that led her to this point in time. But she knew it didn't work like that, much to her own chagrin.
This wasn't going to go away in the blink of an eye.
As she opened her eyes and dropped her hand, she felt those nervous flutters from within her chest that were all too familiar now. Cigarette between her lips, she lit a match and carefully ignited the end, stealing as much calm as she could with the first inhale.
She sighed and watched the smoke curl and rise into the air. Her mind was racing a thousand miles per second. Wondering where to go from here. Where was she going to stay? What was she going to do? What was the logical next step when her initial decision was spontaneous and without any thought? She had no other clothes than the ones on her back, and no possessions other than the ones in the pocket of her jacket, which mostly consisted of some pitiful change and a receipt from Morrisons.
How does a 20-year-old, unemployed woman move on from sacrificing her life for a relationship that ended sourly?
Sure, John took her in when she showed up at his door, just before midnight, with her face flushed and covered in tears. But what else was he supposed to do? More importantly, how long could Elena impose on a loving household with her fucked-up tragedy?
She ultimately knew that John wouldn't care how long she stayed, and neither would Pat—Jason, there was no question about it. He always loved whenever his Aunty Ellie stopped by, though those visits had become few and far in between. She was one of the first people outside of the Bonham family to get to hold Jason when he was born. The first non-family member to babysit. Her name was the first Jason learned, even though it came out as a slurred "Ellie." Mummy, Daddy, and Ellie.
It always triggered fond memories of how badly she butchered John's name when they met in 1953. Bon-Bon. El and Bon-Bon. The slightly unhinged, chaotic duo that ran rampant in Redditch, from their homely neighbourhood, all the way up to their teen years when they'd work themselves up to complete a pub crawl in Birmingham city centre. But they never made it past the first three.
She almost forgot how... normal life was back then.
"Heard my matches were stolen."
Elena turned her head towards the back door, a very drowsy and half-asleep John Bonham stepping out into the morning air with the packet of Marlboros in hand. One side of his hair was still stuck up from where he'd been sleeping on his side, and his eyes were half-lidded.
He gave her a little smile, the weight of the circumstances still hanging over them. The best they could do was have a cigarette and morning conversation until they had to confront the issue at hand.
"The sofa alright?" John asked, accepting the matches from Elena. She nodded, taking a drag from her cig. "Good, good..."
There was an easy silence between the two of them as they perched on the picnic table John's dad had made years ago. She didn't know what to say to him, or how to say it. The idea of small talk seemed counterproductive in this moment; if Pat was to come outside, she would surely be able to feel the tension between her husband and his best friend.
"How was America?" Elena asked timidly, flicking some ash into the glass tray in the centre of the table. Over the last couple of years, she'd honed her skill in avoiding tension and, more recently, conflict. She had to.
John offered a side-eyed glance, knowing exactly what she was doing, anyway. It was all in the eyes, which was why she made the conscious effort to cast hers downward.
"It was good, yeah," John finally answered with a nod. "Lot of energy over there." Pause. "You really should come to a gig, El, you haven't been in—"
"I know."
"We're just gettin' better and better."
"I know you are."
John stared at her. His look was far from playful.
"How would you know?"
Elena's eyes shut briefly, and she took a deep inhale of her cigarette. He was trying to make her crack. To get her to tell him everything. But she couldn't. At least, not yet.
"I wouldn't," she softly admitted. "I'm sorry," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. Don't cry. You're not allowed to cry.
He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "No, I'm sorry," he grumbled, flicking some ash. "Fuck!" He snapped, shoving a rogue football away with his foot in frustration. Elena flinched, looking up at him. He ran his tongue over his teeth, irritated. At himself. For not doing anything when he could.
Elena took the last drag of her cig, and stubbed it out in the ashtray.
"Not your fault, John..." she reassured him.
"No, but I could've at least said something." He shook his head.
"Yeah, like what?" She let the question hang in the air for a moment. "Nothing you could've said, or done, would have changed the outcome." In fact, she was sure that if John had intervened, it would have turned out far worse in the long run.
At least for the time being, John seemed to drop the idea that he could have done something to help his best friend get out of a situation that was becoming dangerous. There was no stopping it from settling in the back of his mind, and there was no chance of him dropping the subject altogether. But for now, he wanted Elena safe.
John took his last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray, before clearing his throat and standing up. "Right." He clapped his hands together. "Breakfast!"
Elena let herself smirk as John disappeared inside the house. It was comforting to know that life constantly on the road didn't change him; he remained the same silly boy who got excited over fry-ups, and she loved him for it.
Maybe breakfast would be a good idea. She chewed at her bottom lip, coming to the realisation that getting over this unfortunate bump in the road of her life would be much harder than she anticipated.
"How is she?" Pat asked her husband as she simultaneously sliced Jason's jam on toast into small squares.
Placing a kiss on his wife's cheek, John shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno," he sighed, heading to the stove, where his eggs, bacon, and tomatoes were sizzling away. "I'm gunna leave it for a bit. Don't want to overwhelm her."
"Well, you're going to have to talk about it at some point, John."
"I know. And we will. She's just got here, Pat, she'll talk eventually." John was sidetracked by Jason bounding into the kitchen, full of life as usual.
"Mummy, I'm hungry!"
"Yep, it's all ready for you now, sweetheart. Let's get you sat down." Pat smiled at her son and bent down to lift him up, turning to place him on one of the wooden chairs surrounding a circular table.
"You're almost big enough to get on that chair yourself, son," John said, smiling brightly at Jason. "Maybe you'll be big enough to go into the family business soon—"
"John," Pat warned, sending him a light glare.
"What?" He laughed. "He's a born drummer, look at that shoulder placement! He's a beast!"
Jason beamed, looking up at his dad and then at his mother with a confident nod. "I'm a beast, Mummy."
"God help me if I end up with two drummers in the house." Pat ran her hand over her face. She often pretended like the idea exhausted her, but inside, she would be proud of Jason if he did grow up to be like his father. Either way, John would take it upon himself to teach him the art of percussion anyway, regardless of what Pat thought about it.
"Does Aunty Ellie live with us now, Daddy?" Jason wriggled in his seat as Pat placed the plate of toast and a plastic cup of orange juice in front of him.
John couldn't help but chuckle. "No, son, she doesn't. She might be staying here for a little bit, though. How's that sound?"
"Good!" Jason answered mid-chew.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," John reminded him, plonking down at the table with his plate of food and a cup of coffee. "If you're lucky, she might help out with the climbing frame."
Jason's face lit up and his attention darted between both of his parents. "Really?!"
Pat chuckled, wiping down the counters before joining the table with a plate of her own toast with marmalade. She found it admirable that John was so committed to family life that he was willing to go above and beyond to build their son a fully functional climbing frame, aiming to complete it by the time he left again for tour in June. That way, it would be finished by Jason's 4th birthday.
"I'm sure she won't want to do another project, John," Pat smiled. "Haven't you roped her into enough?"
John grinned at his wife. "Since we were kids." He seemed proud of that, and he was. He loved working on things with Elena, and it was something that had been a constant in their lives...until recently.
As if on cue, Elena had come back inside, mug of tea empty and her mind as refreshed as it could be in that moment. Pat smiled gently at her.
"Was the tea alright, love?"
"Perfect, thanks," she answered with a nod, heading to the sink to wash the mug.
"Don't worry about that, Elena."
"When have I ever not cleaned up after myself, Pat?" she asked with a soft tinge of reassurance. "Me mam raised me this way."
"I always blamed your mum for it." John jested, shovelling some bacon into his mouth.
Rinsing off the mug and putting it on the dishrack, Elena turned around, leaning on the counter. "For what?"
"For being a messy little bugger–ow!" He flinched back when Pat swatted his arm. "What was that for?" His question came out mumbled through the bacon in his mouth.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, firstly. And secondly, be nice!" Pat scolded somewhat playfully. Jason let out a hearty, warm laugh, his mouth tainted with remnants of jam.
"Don't talk wiv your mouf full, Daddy," he repeated through a goofy chuckle. "A-Aunty Ellie?" He turned his attention to her, still giggling away. "Can you say... Can you say it again?"
Elena scrunched her eyebrows up, glancing at Pat and John. "Say what again, love?"
Jason struggled to get the words out, still laughing with the occasional hiccup. "When you... talked about your Mummy."
She immediately grinned, momentarily forgetting about everything she had to deal with, enjoying the innocence of childhood through Jason yet again. "Who, me mam?" Everyone laughed along with Jason as he leaned forward in his chair, almost face-planting the remaining square of toast on his plate. He wheezed and screamed, the childish joy enough to bring happy flutters to Elena's stomach.
"Me... Me mam," he deepened his voice slightly and tried his best to mimic Elena's thick accent before bursting out with laughter yet again.
"Y'know what, El, forget everythin' I've ever said to you about being from Manchester," John declared, his face beaming with absolute elation at the jovial state his son was in.
"Told ya!" Elena pointed at John. "Being from Manny isn't that bad." She poked her tongue out at him.
"No, you just become a source of entertainment 'cause of how you speak."
"Coming from the man who says 'nottin'' as opposed to 'nothing'." Elena folded her arms.
"Ey, you say 'nout!' That's even worse!"
"Okay, shut up," Elena playfully rolled her eyes, gently coming down from her laughing fit; she hadn't laughed like that in a while. It was nice. "Uh, Pat, is it okay if I use the shower real quick?"
"Of course, love, you know you can," Pat answered, her smirk still present from laughing, but her eyes reading as confusion. Elena knew she never needed to ask to use the shower, or the bathroom, or even get herself a cup of tea–why was she now?
"Thanks," Elena smiled and headed in the direction of the stairs, before John's voice calling her back stopped her in her tracks.
"Before I forget," he took a sip of coffee, "I've got to go in for a rehearsal on Friday."
"A rehearsal?" Elena raised her eyebrow. "Haven't you just come back?"
"Yeah, but Jim called yesterday, sayin' he wasn't happy with the way we have certain songs transitioning into others–I don't know, I've learned to just say yes, show up, and do as I'm told." He put his hands up in defence.
"If only you could apply that to home life," Pat mumbled, inconspicuously sipping at her hot beverage. John threw her a light glare, making her giggle, before he continued, looking back at Elena.
"Anyway, you should come with me! You haven't been to a rehearsal in a while, have you, El?"
Elena's eyebrows raised, her stomach once again fluttering, though this time it wasn't due to the childish innocence of Jason Bonham. What it was, she couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps she was just happy to have the chance to see John in action again. So she nodded, her excitement somewhere in the back of her mind, but failing to come to the surface.
"Good. It'll be fun," John nodded. "The lads will be chuffed to see you again, actually, they've been asking how you've been. Should put a stop to the endless nagging."
Elena offered a light laugh, somewhat giddy at the idea of the others asking about her. "Yeah... Don't see why I can't..."
"We'll talk more later, but you go have a shower, El."
As his best friend disappeared upstairs, he watched with a steady gaze, trying to decipher what exactly had been going on between Elena and her long-time boyfriend, David. He knew it hadn't been good, and he knew that for a while, but what on Earth could have led her to his door in the middle of the night, begging to let her stay?
All he could do was count his blessings, and hope that this was the start of something new for Elena. His Elena had been gone for far too long, and bringing her along to rehearsals on Friday was the perfect way to integrate her back into how her life used to be, where she was happy.
Where she enjoyed, since the day they met, the company of Robert Plant.