Raven (3 page)

I crept
back into the spare bedroom and pulled out all of my awful yellow
clothes. Spreading them on the soft pink carpet, I used the same
pair of scissors to cut them and rip them so that they didn't hang
loosely from my body any more. Just for a moment, I forgot my
circumstances and enjoyed the creativity. What I was left with,
however, wasn't what I had intended. They were still a mess, and
they were all still yellow. I didn't want to wear yellow any more.
I didn't want to be the Mellow Yellow girl.

I walked
into the living room where Dorothy and June sat glued to the
television, and I stopped in the doorway to watch the screen for a
few moments. I listened as a middle-aged man talked about a recent
spate of mysterious attacks on horses that had taken place within
the London area.

A minute
later, the cat jumped off the sofa and started making a fuss of me.
The two women noticed and turned to see what she was so interested
in. Dorothy let out a cry when she saw me. June gave me a hug. She
just seemed to understand why I had done it. I sat down in between
them both on the sofa and told them what I had done to all my
clothes. Their look of sadness didn't go unnoticed by me and I felt
bad for making them feel that way.

As the
cat rubbed itself against my bare legs, Dorothy suddenly stood up
and smiled with a twinkle in her.

“
I
have an idea,” she said, “come on.”

June
stood up too and laughed, “Of course.”

“
We
always wondered why your mother dressed you in yellow, dear. It's
really not a flattering colour for you at all. I know we're just a
couple of old spinsters, but we've still got our clothes from when
we were younger. We just might have some things that will fit you.
Let's go and have a look,” added June.

I
followed the sisters into a fourth bedroom, a room without a bed,
instead filled with hangers and hangers of clothes. I had never
seen so many bright and beautiful things. It wasn't just the
colours that were so beautiful to me, it was the feel of the
clothes, soft and silky. So unlike the hard and scratchy fabrics I
had always worn.

However,
as much as they tried to give me colourful skirts and blouses, I
found myself drawn to black. With my newly-dyed white hair, I told
them I just wanted to wear black. Deep down, I felt unworthy
somehow of wearing anything else. Eventually they conceded and
pulled out everything they had in black. There wasn't much but it
was a far cry from Mellow Yellow. That night, the sisters' sewing
machine went into overdrive – making all my new clothes to fit my
small frame.

Walking
through the school gates the following day I held my head up high
and let them point and stare. There were whispers but there were
also wolf whistles from the heartless boys that didn't care for my
emotions. But I couldn't care less. Nobody called me Mellow Yellow
after that. I was finally just Lilly.

“
Your
hair!” were the first words from December's mouth. “As much as I
loved the black hair, I do love the white, although I'm not so keen
on the hacked look,” she giggled. December was always good at
making me feel better with a well-timed, and much-needed joke. She
didn't mention my missing parents or the lack of yellow. She didn't
need to. She was just there and that was all that
mattered.

As the
weeks went by without any sign of my parents, true to their word,
Dorothy and June began to demonstrate how to cook all kinds of
simple recipes. They tried to keep me busy. The police concluded
that the blood they had found was my father's, but they neglected
to tell me what was in the other vial. However, as they had made no
further discoveries, it looked as though the case may well be
shelved, unsolved. An X file. I didn't know what to think. A vial
of my father's blood? Did that mean he was injured? Or worse? I
tried not to let my imagination run wild.

From
conversations with the Social Services, the authorities and Dorothy
and June, I knew I would have to move to Canada. My grand-father
telephoned me and told me that all the arrangements had been made.
We didn't have much to say to each other. Not just because I didn't
know the man, but also because I simply wasn't used to talking on
the telephone.

In just
a few short weeks, I would no longer live in England. A sense of
sadness overcame me but still the tears did not come. I was upset
that I was leaving my parents behind... wherever they were. But it
was the fact that my life had actually improved since they'd
disappeared that made me feel guilty. The guilt turned to sadness
and the sadness turned to guilt, like an unstoppable swinging
pendulum.

CHAPTER FOUR

One
night as I lay on my bed drifting off to sleep, there was a tapping
sound on the window. Opening my eyes, I saw two black birds sitting
on the windowsill staring solemnly in at me. Having never taken any
notice of local birds before, I wanted to know what they were, so I
trundled out of bed and tiptoed into the living room where the
sisters kept all their books. There I found an encyclopaedia from
which I managed to identify them as ravens. After watching them for
a few more minutes, they flew away. Exhaustion soon set in and it
didn't take long for me to forget all about them and fall
asleep.

But the
following night, they re-appeared. There was a tap on the window
and as I looked up from the book I was reading, I saw them both
sitting in the same spot looking in at me again.

This
happened every night until my move to Canada. Why they visited me
there I had no idea. But there they were, every night, sitting on
my windowsill, as if protecting me from something.

The way
they perched there and repeatedly cocked their heads from one side
to the other made me giggle, but they also frightened me somewhat
and so I soon stopped. I dared not open the window. I never closed
the curtains because, although I was fearful, I was also comforted
by them. They became a constant in my strange, lonesome
life.

I almost
wished they could go with me to Canada, a country that I had few
expectations of. I hadn't always known that my grand-father Gabriel
was Canadian. In fact I hadn't even known of his existence until my
thirteenth birthday, nearly a year earlier. I had bumped into the
postman at the bottom of the stairs and so I had taken our mail
directly from him, instead of letting him place it in our post box
as usual. I hadn't intended to look through it but a Canadian
postmark had caught my attention and it was addressed... to
me.

So I sat
down on the edge of the step and had almost torn the envelope apart
to get to the letter. I started to read it...

My dearest Lillian

It is thirteen years since you were born and you are missed
terribly.

I have written to you before but I can only imagine the
letters have not reached you. I wish I could see you again,
Lillian. I am your paternal grand-father after all....

But
before I had the chance to read on, the letter was cruelly ripped
from my hands and torn into shreds by my mother. She had been so
angry that I had opened that letter. More so when I told her it was
addressed to me. I tried to ask her about my grand-father but she
refused to say a word. So all I knew was that I had a Canadian
grand-father yet I longed to know more about him. I couldn't ask my
father because, on the rare occasion that I did see him, he was
never alone. My mother never seemed to allow us to be together,
just the two of us.

All I
knew about my grand-father was that he was Canadian. I didn't know
what to feel. There was a sadness there. A numbness too. I missed
my parents so much that I had a deep ache in my stomach. Yet during
those weeks, I didn't miss the life that we'd had at all. But that
didn't detract from the fact that they were my parents and I needed
to know where they were. Even though I had December, Dorothy and
June – and their beautiful cat Iris – I still felt lonely, as if a
huge piece of me was missing.

As I
boarded the plane to Canada, I knew I had been completely left in
the dark and that my life was about to change, possibly forever. I
wished to know what I was going to... and to whom. If my parents
had filled me in on their backgrounds, their childhoods, perhaps I
would know where I was heading. My only knowledge was that I was
boarding a flight to Vancouver and that someone was collecting me.
On the brief telephone call with my grand-father Gabriel, he had
told me that he was unable to come and collect me but that a 'very
close family friend' would be picking me up. That friend was called
Ben. I didn't even know to where I was going after
Vancouver.

The
airport was hugely confusing to me. Dorothy and June had wanted to
come with me but I confidently told them that I'd be okay. That I'd
manage. They were old ladies, they didn't need the hassle.
Eventually, they agreed to let me go alone and had arranged it with
the airline, and as we said our goodbyes, I thanked them for
everything. I promised I would stay in touch and let them know how
everything was going. They cried as I waved to them from the back
of the taxi cab and secretly, so did I. I waited until they could
no longer see me and then the tears that I had managed to keep at
bay for so long, began to stream down my face. I don't know how I'd
managed to keep from crying for so many weeks, but I felt as though
the tears had been building up as I sobbed and sobbed in the back
of that car, as I drove away from the only life I'd ever
known.

I cried
not only for my missing parents and for leaving my home behind, but
because I would desperately miss those two ladies who had become
like family to me. I would miss them, and I would miss
December.

I didn't
know how I would live without her, but she had promised to keep in
touch. “Lilly Taylor, you're my best friend in the whole world. I
can't imagine life without you but we'll manage... for now. It
won't be too long until we're together again. We'll see each other
soon,” she'd said the day before as we'd hugged goodbye. It had
sounded so rehearsed but I figured it needed to be, otherwise we
would have just been in floods of tears. She was the brightest star
in my life and I couldn't imagine being without her.

The
airport was bigger and brighter than I imagined it to be. It seemed
to go on for miles but after reading my ticket, and with a little
help from the taxi driver, we figured out where I was supposed to
go. I felt like a very tiny fish in a very big sea, but as soon as
I had checked in and asked a few questions, I was told that the
airline staff would make sure I was in the right place at the right
time.

The next
few hours were spent watching people coming and going before I
finally climbed aboard the plane that would take me to my new home.
Excitement, as well as panic, flowed through me.

Soon
after take-off, darkness clung to me and I felt cold. I
shivered.

As I sat
there alone, cold and dazed, a friendly flight attendant approached
me with a warm blanket and a pillow.

“
I
couldn't help noticing you shivering,” she said warmly as she
handed them to me.

I took
them gratefully and wrapped myself up tightly.

“
Would
you like some hot tea or hot chocolate?” she asked. I opted for
some hot chocolate and she smiled and turned away.

I was
pleased the flight was quiet. I had the back row to myself so I put
up all the armrests and stretched my legs out as I watched her walk
towards me bearing the hot drink a few minutes later.

She
looked a little like me. At least like me when my hair had been its
natural colour. Jet black hair, bright eyes that were wide apart,
pale skin and of delicate build. Her face was pretty and friendly
and I was glad of the attention. It was as if she was taking extra
special care of me.

The
hours soon passed by and it seemed like no time at all when the
pilot announced to the crew that they should prepare the cabin for
landing. I must have looked frightened as the kind attendant came
over to reassure me.

“
Don't
worry. You're almost home now,” she whispered.

I smiled
and nodded. Perhaps she was just being kind. Although I couldn't
shake the feeling that she knew of my fate.

So I had
landed in Canada. I guessed this was my home now. But for how long?
When my parents returned, would I go back to London? What if they
were never found? What then?

At least
for now, Canada was my home.

As I
stepped off that plane, I felt helpless. I felt as if I had no
control over my life. Perhaps I no longer did.

CHAPTER FIVE

I didn't
have to wait. The moment I stepped out into the arrivals hall with
my luggage, I heard someone calling out my name. My eyes searched
the crowd until they stopped on a young man who waved avidly at me.
I tried to smile but probably failed.

“
Lillian? Is that you? I wasn't sure if I'd recognise you
from the photo... you look very different! It's the hair, I guess.
Although you're a lot younger in the photo. Anyway, Gabriel - I
mean your grand-father - couldn't make it as you know and so he
asked me to pick you up. I'm Benjamin. It's great to finally meet
you,” he gushed.