I always called my mom Alicia and my dad Felix.
"Is that how it is in Britain?" asked Uncle Moore.
"No." I said looking away rolling my eyes. My Aunt Opal was standing in the hallway with Gran. I would always remember Alicia and Felix the way they drove away that day. With the sun setting over them like a veil and tears in there eyes as they waved goodbye and beyond them the ocean with Britain, my true home, standing there proud and tall. Uncle Moore was trying to show me his seashell collection but my vision was blurred with tears.
In the dark hallway Gran asked Uncle Moore "Are they gone?" Moore nodded.
"Well you certainly look like a Decker." said Gran.
"I am half Dabney though." I said. Then Gran whispered something into Moore's ear.
"Oh." he said. "Would you two like to see your room then."
"Yes." said Jenny in a solemn tone. As I climbed those dark steps up to our bedroom I officially began my stay in Bottlebay, Maine, USA where it's called supper instead of tea and where they don't say things like "jolly good" or "jolly right." Uncle Moore carried up one suitcase in each hand and kept looking back as if to check if me and Jenny were still there.
"I think were going to be staying here a a while since England is being bombed and all."I said.
"That's super!" said Uncle Moore "Not that England is being bombed but that you two are here." We were now up one flight of stairs.
Suddenly Uncle Moore looked over at a door and said "Could you kind of steer clear of that door for me?" I nodded. I looked back at the door I was not supposed to go near.
"You know this house gets blown about badly now and again in the weather." said Uncle Moore. Why did Gran stay in the hallway I wondered. I tried not to talk again. We stepped into the room.
"So what do you think?" asked Moore.
"Well" I said after a long pause "it's rather tall isn't it."
"Yes." said Uncle Moore "This room is a little tower room we call the widows peak." There were many windows to the ocean and I could see the hill behind the house covered in scrub grass, tangled trees and wild rosebushes and there was a small road leading away over the hill.
"This will be your temporary room, I guess." said Uncle Moore. Then he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. "We Decker's sure do love the sound of wind here." said Moore. At that moment for some reason I wondered why we called her Gran, but I got used to it.