From Laura’s Journal

People say that wounds heal over time. They say that once the evil that has been a part of your life for so long has been slain—as if you were a knight wielding a sword, murdering the fire-spewing dragon—and is gone for good, that you will be able to breathe freely again.

I disagree.

The physical evidence of my wounds might have healed since Ailith and I escaped our prison two years ago, but in my heart, they still fester and burn as if they are wide open. They haven’t scabbed over or healed at all, and I’m so sick and tired of waking up each morning feeling the pain inside my soul as if it was only yesterday that we found our freedom.

Each night I go to bed, praying that the healing process will have started when I wake up the next day.

Yet each morning, when I wake up at the crack of dawn, my hopes are dashed as I feel them prickling and probing my insides.

When will it end?

If it weren’t for Ailith, I don’t think I’d have had the strength to keep going forward.

If it weren’t for my mum and her horses, I wouldn’t have a routine.

If it weren’t for my journal, I wouldn’t be here.

These three factors are the reasons I can push the ghosts of the past aside and go about my days, pretending to the people around me that I’m back to being my old self.

One day, I hope I will be.

* * *

“Ailith! It’s time to go!” I shout, craning my neck to look at the top of the stairs when I hear her running feet.

“Mum, I can’t find my lucky jeans!” she yells back. She throws her hands in the air, clearly in a state of pre-teen panic. I open my mouth to tell her where to find them, but she goes off running again.

Sighing, I check my watch before I take the stairs two steps at a time.

“We can’t be late this time,” I rush as I reach the doorway to her room. “They’re in your wardrobe. Come on, get a move on, please.”

“I don’t know why we have to go to some stupid dentist,” she mutters as she sits down on her bed.

I suppress another tired sigh. They seem to happen more frequently these days than they used to.

“Please don’t start this again, Ailith Margaret.”

She pulls on her black jeans, pouting, but I ignore it and check the time again.

Great. We’ll be late.

“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” I mutter and then leave her alone. I can’t deal with another pouting session when I’ve not even had the chance to get a proper cup of coffee yet.

I hurry downstairs and go into the kitchen just as Mum comes in through the backdoor. Her grey hair is as messy as Ailith’s auburn curls, and, like her granddaughter, she doesn’t care one bit. Instead, she lets it fall wildly down her back most days.

And like Ailith, she can usually be seen wearing riding gear, or a pair of jeans.

Those two are like two peas in a pod despite all the years separating them. Happy to spend their days outside and amongst the horses.

I love that about them.

“I thought you’d have left by now, Laura,” she says, her eyes raised in question as she wipes her feet on the worn mat. Sally, her old border collie, trots towards me, and I bend down to scratch her ears.

“So did I, Mum. But Ailith needed her lucky jeans and she couldn’t find them.” I roll my eyes and snort.

Mum chuckles as she hangs up her oilskin jacket on the peg.

“Ah, I see.”

I wrinkle my nose as I walk to the table in the middle of the room and pick up the coffee pot, shaking it a bit. I manage to suppress the sigh that wants to erupt from my mouth this time even though I almost want to weep when I find the pot empty. Empty.

“I thought the pre-teen years wouldn’t start for at least another four or five years.” A sense of foreboding about the future settles in my heart.

“Well, Ailith isn’t like other children her age. You know that.”

My eyes spring to her face at the tone of her voice, wondering if she’s yet again conveniently forgetting that we don’t ever mention the past. Her profile is turned away, though, as she walks to the kitchen sink to wash the grime from the stables off her hands, and I let it go.

“Will you be home for lunch?” she asks me.

Relieved to hear the lightness is back in her voice, I force the unhappy thoughts from my mind and shake my head.

“No, we’re going to take a stroll around town while we’re there. Do you need me to pick up anything for you?”

I lean a hip against the kitchen counter and drum my fingers on the old rocker next to me, impatient to get a move on.

“You mean, do I need a new book, hmm?”

Smiling as she half turns to smirk at me, I shrug, a bit sheepish she caught me out—again.

“Maybe.”

She shakes her head lightly.

“No, thank you, lass.” She wipes her hands and then points a finger at her purse on the table. “But there’s a tenner in my wallet—please take that and treat you and Ailith to a trinket or two.”

“Mum,” I protest. “You can’t keep spoiling us like this.”

“Oh, shush,” she tuts. “Of course I can.”

I smile warmly at her, touched by her gift. It’s no use trying to fight her on this. I know my protestations will fall on deaf ears.

Wenn Sophie Turley doesn’t take no for an answer.

I pick up her purse and open it to grab the note, putting it in my jacket pocket.

“Mum, I’m ready now,” Ailith calls as she bounces down the stairs, and I give Mum a quick wave as I turn to leave.

“Right, we’ll be off. See you later.”

“Have fun, you two! Do try to find a man to invite home for dinner this time, Laura.”

Shaking my head at Mum’s usual goodbye, I take Ailith’s hand in mine and smile down at her.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

As she smiles up at me, I breathe a small sigh of relief that she’s forgotten her bad mood already. I open the door, crossing my fingers that my ancient Beetle will start this time without coughing and spluttering like an old goat. Ailith turns just before we’re out the door and waves at Mum.

“Bye, Gan-Gan!”

“Bye, sweetheart,” Mum laughs at Ailith’s made-up name for her and waves back at her.

As we walk outside to the car, and I look up at the beautiful blue sky, I try not to stress too much about being late for our appointment.

Life is too short for worrying all the time.

If only I listened to my own advice more often, things might be easier for me to handle in the long run.

* * *

“Can we go by the ice cream shop now?” Ailith asks me for the umpteenth time, a slight whine to her voice, after we leave the dentist.

“No, we can’t. You heard what he said—if you continue to eat too much sugar, your teeth will fall out.”

I put the receipt in my pocket as we walk down Sauchiehall Street to get to the large bookshop, Waterstones.

Ailith kicks at a small stone on the pavement, and I take her hand in mine before we cross the street.

“But it’s so hot today.”

Looking down at her bent head, I try to come up with something to take her mind off ice cream for now. It’s not easy, and she’s right—it is a warm day.

“Let’s see if we can’t find a good book instead, Ailith. Gan-Gan did say we should treat ourselves to a little something, after all.”

I squeeze her hand and offer her a wide smile when her sullen gaze meets mine.

“Oh, okay,” she mumbles.

I want to roll my eyes at her, but I don’t—that wouldn’t be appropriate.

“Do you think Gan-Gan will be right this time, Mum?”

“About what?” I ask her.

“Do you think you’ll find a man?”

Her question throws me completely, and I stop in my tracks. I squeeze her hand and wink at her.

“Listen, sweetie, I’m not going to the shop to try to find a man, okay?” I laugh at the absurdity of the idea.

She squints her eyes at me, and I bend down to kiss her on the nose.

“I don’t want a man. I have you, and that’s enough for me.” I tuck a loose strand of her wild curls behind her ear and kiss her on the cheek.

She shrugs.

“I don’t know. I’d like to see you smile again, Mummy.” She heaves a big breath as she looks away, avoiding my eyes. “You never smile anymore.”

“That’s not true,” I protest. “See?” I try to make my lips obey, but smiling without pretending isn’t easy for me. “I smile all the time.”

She frowns at me before lifting her right hand, placing her index finger on the corner of my mouth.

“Your eyes are always sad, though. I don’t want you to be sad anymore.”

My heart cracks when she starts to sniffle, and I pull her into my arms, hugging her fiercely.

“Oh, sweetie…” I take a deep breath. “I’m not sad.” I try to mask the lie coating my words, and I think I succeed this time, because when she looks back at me, there aren’t any tears trickling down her cheeks.

“You promise?”

“Yes. I promise.”

I free my arms from around her small waist and lean back, blinking my own tears away.

“I’m sorry for making you think that,” I apologise. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

She sighs and nods, keeping quiet. Without another word, I stand, take her hand in mine again, and we start walking. As we draw nearer to the place that always makes me breathe a little easier, I mentally slap my cheek. I need to get a grip and stop wallowing in self-pity. The last thing I want is to have my eight-year-old daughter worry about me.

That’s so messed up.

Before we walk inside the bookshop, I tug her hand until she stops next to me. When she looks up at me, eyebrows raised in question, I tilt my head.

“How about we go for a ride when we get home? I’m pretty sure Lady would like that.”

When she beams up at me, a piece of my wounded heart mends a little. I take a deep breath, the foreign emotion unusual to me yet strangely familiar at the same time.

“Yes! And will you ride Thunder this time?”

My smile falters slightly. “I’m not sure he’s ready for that.”

The grey gelding—our latest resident—isn’t exactly easy to be around and since he’s so difficult to handle, his anger and distrust in humans makes me particularly careful around him.

Then again…maybe it’s time to start digging around inside me and find my old courage again.

“He’s really not that bad, Mum,” Ailith tells me, no doubt trying to convince me she’s right as I open the door. “He just needs some TLC, that’s all.”

I laugh quietly.

“Like I said, we’ll see. But first, we need to find some great books that’ll keep us warm at night, okay?”

“Mum,” Ailith giggles at me, “books can’t do that. It’s physically impossible.”

She rolls her eyes at me, and I clutch a hand at my chest in mock horror.

“Don’t say that, Ailith. You’ll hurt their hearts!”

When her giggle turns into loud laughter, I can’t hold back my own relieved laugh, and as I watch the spring in her step as I hold the door open for her, a small beam of sunshine lights up in my soul.

Yes. It’s time to move on for good.