three miles from home and her nervousness was tangible. Home was a place of mixed memories. She took a long, deep breath, closed her eyes and fired up her bike.
Chapter 20
As she pulled into the driveway, her heart sank. The entrance gate was hidden from view, tall grass pushing through its railings. The once-beautiful garden was now wild, the buildings suffocated in creeping ivy. Jen attempted to interface with the security and maintenance droid. They were built for longevity and she’d seen bots survive worse conditions.
Nothing.
Through the tall grass she could just make out the porch. She walked, crunching gravel and roots underfoot, pushing through the tough grass until something made her stop. There, wrapped in a tangle of weeds, was an old wooden sign. She tugged it free and brushed her hand across its rough flaking surface, the words BROOK MILL FARM still readable after all these years. She remembered the annual coat of paint her father would apply and how her mother kept saying they needed a new sign.
She looked up – windows smashed – the place worse than expected. Through a jagged hole in the roof a pair of birds appeared. They looked down at her before pushing off, wings cracking loudly, calling out. They flew gracefully overhead and out over the surrounding fields. The image took Jen back, in her mind, to the day she herself had flown from here.
It had been early morning, a week before her eighteenth birthday. As dawn light feathered through the wood she’d played in as a child, she stuffed her belongings into a rucksack and left Brook Mill for good. She remembered walking the driveway, crying for the lost years, closeness made distant by uncontrollable forces, a happy family torn apart by grief. Her plan of National Service wouldn’t be an easy ride – her mother would have tried to talk her out of it – but Jen was determined.
That legendary Logan determination.
She’d been told many times she possessed it, her father’s resolve. It was a compliment, but harder to hear in the weeks following his funeral.
She would imagine her sarcastic reply. ‘I’m sure he would be pleased to hear that. If only he had been more determined to stay alive, eh? He’s in the ground now, you see, so I can’t tell him… oh, yeah, he was determined to get six feet down. That legendary ‘Logan determination,’ get right down there, Daddy…’
She knew it wasn’t fair to take her loss out on other people. It wasn’t their fault. She just hated their sorrowful, pitying smiles and the ‘inner strength’ of it all.
Jen sighed, a thickness building in her throat. She stood on the overgrown driveway and watched the two birds until they were almost out of view. She often thought of her mother waking that day, discovering Jen gone. In her dreams she would go to her and they would hug and cry. Jen would thank her for all she’d done, tell her she understood her pain. The reality was not so kind. Jen had left her mother a long explanatory letter on the kitchen table, a neatly made bed and another empty space where love should have been. They hadn’t spoken since.
Some days you never forget.
Jen shrugged and sighed again. It was a long time ago.
She approached the front door and pushed it open, the smell of urine and long-term neglect leaking through the gap. How long had the place been empty? If the rumours were true, her mother had left a few years after Jen. She’d sold every possession, every piece of furniture, locked the doors and never looked back. Jen presumed Veronica Logan made it to her precious France and settled, perhaps even found love.
Brook Mill Farm was now like most properties in the area, abandoned and practically worthless. Jen stepped into the hallway and saw the security and maintenance droid propped up against the wall. It buzzed into life, its solar backup providing just enough power to produce an activity report which read like an apology. For the first few years it had managed the
Chapter 20
As she pulled into the driveway, her heart sank. The entrance gate was hidden from view, tall grass pushing through its railings. The once-beautiful garden was now wild, the buildings suffocated in creeping ivy. Jen attempted to interface with the security and maintenance droid. They were built for longevity and she’d seen bots survive worse conditions.
Nothing.
Through the tall grass she could just make out the porch. She walked, crunching gravel and roots underfoot, pushing through the tough grass until something made her stop. There, wrapped in a tangle of weeds, was an old wooden sign. She tugged it free and brushed her hand across its rough flaking surface, the words BROOK MILL FARM still readable after all these years. She remembered the annual coat of paint her father would apply and how her mother kept saying they needed a new sign.
She looked up – windows smashed – the place worse than expected. Through a jagged hole in the roof a pair of birds appeared. They looked down at her before pushing off, wings cracking loudly, calling out. They flew gracefully overhead and out over the surrounding fields. The image took Jen back, in her mind, to the day she herself had flown from here.
It had been early morning, a week before her eighteenth birthday. As dawn light feathered through the wood she’d played in as a child, she stuffed her belongings into a rucksack and left Brook Mill for good. She remembered walking the driveway, crying for the lost years, closeness made distant by uncontrollable forces, a happy family torn apart by grief. Her plan of National Service wouldn’t be an easy ride – her mother would have tried to talk her out of it – but Jen was determined.
That legendary Logan determination.
She’d been told many times she possessed it, her father’s resolve. It was a compliment, but harder to hear in the weeks following his funeral.
She would imagine her sarcastic reply. ‘I’m sure he would be pleased to hear that. If only he had been more determined to stay alive, eh? He’s in the ground now, you see, so I can’t tell him… oh, yeah, he was determined to get six feet down. That legendary ‘Logan determination,’ get right down there, Daddy…’
She knew it wasn’t fair to take her loss out on other people. It wasn’t their fault. She just hated their sorrowful, pitying smiles and the ‘inner strength’ of it all.
Jen sighed, a thickness building in her throat. She stood on the overgrown driveway and watched the two birds until they were almost out of view. She often thought of her mother waking that day, discovering Jen gone. In her dreams she would go to her and they would hug and cry. Jen would thank her for all she’d done, tell her she understood her pain. The reality was not so kind. Jen had left her mother a long explanatory letter on the kitchen table, a neatly made bed and another empty space where love should have been. They hadn’t spoken since.
Some days you never forget.
Jen shrugged and sighed again. It was a long time ago.
She approached the front door and pushed it open, the smell of urine and long-term neglect leaking through the gap. How long had the place been empty? If the rumours were true, her mother had left a few years after Jen. She’d sold every possession, every piece of furniture, locked the doors and never looked back. Jen presumed Veronica Logan made it to her precious France and settled, perhaps even found love.
Brook Mill Farm was now like most properties in the area, abandoned and practically worthless. Jen stepped into the hallway and saw the security and maintenance droid propped up against the wall. It buzzed into life, its solar backup providing just enough power to produce an activity report which read like an apology. For the first few years it had managed the
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