October 25, 2013 § Leave a comment
An excerpt from an unfinished novel…
It wasn’t right. No familiar odours. No smell of frying onions and bacon for breakfast, her mother’s cigarette, the burning toast. No. Then her nose remembered – remembered the stink that always frightened her for some unfathomable reason and made her reach for her mother’s hand. Freya opened her eyes and looked at a white ceiling. A long way away, it was moving; turning slowly round and round a light bulb. She blinked.
‘She’s coming round.’ The light bulb lit up, and Freya snapped her eyes shut. ‘Freya,’ the voice asked. ‘Can you hear me?’ It was a question, and she knew a question needed an answer. She opened her mouth but no words came out. She tried again but the words were stuck in her head. She felt something hot on her face covering her mouth and her nose. She tried to raise her arms to pull it off, but they wouldn’t move.
Why isn’t my mother here? she thought. Where is my father? Freya refused to open her eyes after that. She kept them tight shut so she could remember. A picture came: a man and a woman – they lived next to the cottage where her mother said bad girls were sent. She was not supposed to talk to him. He was tall and stringy, and had lines like a road map all over his face. She had a pink puffed up face and was crying. Freya was in their house. A coal fire was burning in the grate, and she was lying in front of it on their hearthrug. It was red. Everything was red. She was red.
‘This will make you feel better,’ said the voice, and she felt a prick in her arm.
A new picture came. Inside a white van – she was lying down, people were talking quickly – white clouds floated about, getting bigger and bigger – there was that smell again. A siren started. The biggest cloud hovered over her and began to sink – she was below swallowed up. Freya felt her the edges of her mouth turn up into a smile, and she went to sleep.