Holly stood up and walked over to the opposite side of the room.

She pushed one of the packing boxes with her foot. It shifted easily towards the bed, over the dreadful brown-and-orange-patterned carpet that had somehow managed to completely suck out any illusion of space in the room.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress again, she tore off the strips of masking tape and unfolded the flaps of the box.

Her hand froze as she stared at the first item.

The silver-framed photograph of Evan lay face up. Her eyes immediately prickled, turning the sun-kissed brown hair, the freckles and the pert nose that melted her heart into a soft blur.

She reached for it and held it against her chest, resting her chin on the top of the filigree frame while her tears fell unchecked.

Was he missing her the way she missed him?

She should have wrapped the photograph in a towel or something, packed it safely at the bottom of the box. But she remembered now that his picture had been the one thing she’d wanted to keep looking at right until the last moment before she left.

She could hardly bear to look at it, and yet she had found it impossible to set aside. He was the reason she would make a future here, so they could be together again.

She squeezed the hard metal frame closer to her, feeling the bite of sharp corners that dug into her soft flesh.

She applied more pressure. Wincing at the unforgiving metal and wishing for a moment that she could tear those responsible to pieces with it, but knowing full well that even that wouldn’t go an inch towards repairing the harm they had done to her. To him. To their relationship.

She promised herself there and then that if ever she began to feel doubt or allowed the bad thoughts to take a hold, she’d look at that photograph, because it would give her the strength to carry on and the confidence that one day she and Evan could be together again.

She wouldn’t allow anything to get in the way of that.

---

Ten years earlier, her aunt and uncle had tried to clip her wings when, after speaking to Markus, she’d decided to leave Nottingham for Manchester.

Of course, on reflection, she now very much wished she’d gone for another option, but hindsight was the perfect science when applied to anyone’s life. And she’d never regretted getting away from the two of them at last, especially Uncle Keith.

‘What do you mean, you’re leaving home?’ Aunt Susan had gasped, her mouth falling open as she stood in the doorway of Holly’s poky bedroom. ‘You can’t go just like that. What about your college course?’

‘I can, and I am going,’ Holly had said simply, stuffing random pieces of clothing into a holdall. ‘College was only a stopgap until I found a way of getting out of this dump.’

Her heartbeat had quickened when she’d heard the familiar sounds of her uncle labouring upstairs. Aunt Susan had looked back and shaken her head at the great lump when he finally reached the doorway.

‘She’s going, Keith! Leaving… after all we’ve done for her.’

‘Is that your way of thanking us for taking you in?’ he’d rasped, still out of breath from the short climb. ‘When your useless mother drank herself to death, you were headed straight for the children’s home… You’ve a short memory. You were glad enough to accept our hospitality then, weren’t you, you little tart?’

‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’ Holly had glared at him and then softened her voice to address her aunt. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Aunt Susan, but I need to get out of this place, get away from Nottingham. I’ve been offered the chance to make a fresh start in Manchester with my friend, and—’

‘Manchester?’ Keith had scoffed. ‘What’s Manchester got that you can’t find here?’

‘Well it hasn’t got you, for starters,’ she’d retorted.

‘Holly! Don’t you dare speak to him like—’

Holly had raised her hand. ‘Save it, Aunt Susan. Don’t make me go there.’

‘Go where?’ Keith had bristled, his flabby cheeks wobbling, magnifying the already outraged expression on his face. ‘If you’ve something to say, then bloody well say it. I’ve nothing to hide.’

Holly had shaken her head and reached for her toiletries bag, tucking it inside an old grey rucksack.

‘Holly, you’re not being fair,’ Susan had pressed her. ‘It was an easy decision for me, you’re my own flesh and blood, but Keith didn’t have to take you in. He was so good about it, and now this…’ she’d nodded to Holly’s bags, ‘this is how you repay him?’

Holly had stopped packing at that point and looked up.

‘Your husband is a slimy, creepy excuse for a man, Aunt Susan.’

‘You little…’ Keith had stepped forward, incoherent with indignation, but Holly had raised her voice above his garbled complaints.

‘He walks in on me when I’m undressing before bed. He makes lewd comments about my knickers on the clothes dryer and he pushes up against me whenever he walks past me in the hallway.’

‘She’s a lying little bitch, Susan,’ Keith had hissed, his face paling.

‘Oh yes, and he watches porn DVDs in the living room when you’re at work.’ Holly had slipped on her denim jacket and grabbed both her bags. ‘So don’t tell me I’m lucky, because I can’t wait to get away from the dirty pervert. I’m just sorry you’ve always chosen to turn a blind eye to it all, Aunt Susan.’

Both speechless, they’d parted at the doorway as Holly pushed through.

‘Thanks,’ she’d called as she bounded downstairs, glancing back at their incredulous faces. ‘For nothing.’

Keith had started shouting then, but she hardly heard any of his insults as she darted out of the front door, leaving it wide open as a final act of defiance.

Freedom! The air had felt fresher, the ground firmer beneath her feet.

‘Manchester, here I come,’ she sang operatically in the street, and laughed out loud as she drew a frown from a passing dog walker.

When she’d arrived at the bus station, Markus had been waiting for her, looking just as bright and relieved as she was to be leaving. Together they’d boarded the coach and he had opened a miniature bottle of vodka, with which they’d toasted the city they were leaving behind.

‘Bye, Nottingham, I won’t be back.’ Holly had taken a swig of the vodka, coughing as it bit the back of her throat. ‘Onwards and upwards.’

‘Onwards and upwards,’ Markus had agreed as he finished the tiny measure.

And now, ten years later, here she was. Back in Nottingham again.

She had come full circle and managed to do it in the worst way possible.