Leave Before You Go

By J M Phillips

In 1944, during the end of World War Two, 18-year-old Maisa is longing to be someone. She becomes friends with a young boy, Aubrey, an eleven-year-old who is fascinated and bewitched by Maisa.
They become intertwined in the lives of Elizabella, Manning Latimer, Hallie and Owen, a wounded soldier. A mysterious young man called Oscar arrives in town and finds himself entranced by Maisa.
All these characters meet up together at the Roman Ruins, where an incident has occurred in the past which is connected with Maisa.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781528972512

J M Phillips

J M Phillips was born in 1982 and grew up in Wanneroo. She wrote stories growing up, enjoy reading, taking photographs and watching nature. She is already joyfully thinking about the next story.

Book preview

5LQ

Acknowledgement

Thank you to all the sources that I have researched in the writing of my book and thank you to everyone who gave me advice. You know who you are.

Part One

May 3, 1944

Hampstead Norris

The boy silently crept through the Roman ruins, his eyes and ears alert for the enemy. He rounded a corner and saw his prey. A small, tin soldier, dressed in the German colours, designed by him.

‘KOW POW!’ he cried out, flinging a stone towards the soldier. The soldier in defeat fell off the wall.

‘And the English have won…HOO…!’ He paused, he heard laughter. Female laughter. Hunching his back, he slyly started to make his way to the noise. He stepped on a loose stone, almost tripping him over as he made his way to what was once a small room, but which now had only two and a half walls, he carefully pushed himself up to a pillar so he could use it as his spying spot and so he could also use it as backup, in case someone saw him. What he saw was a young woman and a man, perhaps a little bit older than the woman or perhaps the same age, he couldn’t quite tell. The man was going up and down on her; she was smiling and groaning, he saw beads of sweat on her brow. The boy watched this scene in awe and intrigue.

The woman turned her head towards him, he backed away, his back leaning against the pillar and started to hear himself breathe rapidly, he also began to panic, the panic reaching every part of his body, he was scared but strangely he was excited at the same time.

The man began to talk but the woman sounded bored with him.

‘Yes…yes…next week will be fine…! Yes, go, go. I’ll be fine…!’

The boy heard the man put his trousers on, groaning and puffing as he did so before he heard the man leave. His breathing started to return to normal. His dark blonde fringe fell onto his forehead as he waited for the woman to leave.

‘Whoever you are, show yourselves…’ the woman answered out confidently as if she knew it was only a boy hiding.

The boy closed his eyes and pressed his back into the pillar, squinting his face and body up in an effort not to be seen.

‘Come on…I saw you!’

The boy relaxed, unclenched his hands and stepped out. Towards the woman, only that the woman wasn’t a woman – she was a girl 17 or 18 at the most, perhaps younger.

‘Close your mouth boy…haven’t you ever seen a prostitute before?’

‘Wh–Wh–What’s a prostitute?’

The girl laughed kindly, ‘Never you mind…’ Then she laughed again, ‘Ask your mother, she’ll know…’ She spoke in a slightly upper-class voice.

The boy seriously doubted that his mother knew.

‘Anyway…’ she began, packing up her things into her bag and running her hand through her blonde hair ‘What are you doing out here?’

‘Playing…’ he answered, though why should she care, he didn’t know.

‘Out here, where are your friends?’

‘Sick…’

The girl nodded her head, ‘Oh…’

‘Anyway…what’s your name?’

‘I didn’t think you would care? Besides what’s your name, Mr Polite?’ The girl asked, crossing her skinny leg over her left leg.

‘Aubrey…Aubrey Bronach…’ He saw an expression of amusement appear briefly on her face and wondered why. Did she know something he didn’t?

‘Oh, you’re Ava’s son,’ She squinted at him, while he squirmed about, ‘Oh yes…you look like her!’

Aubrey signed, ‘Yes…can you tell me your name?’

She smiled, ’That’s a lot better, anyway who says I have a name?

The boy looked confused, ‘But everyone has a name…?’

The girl laughed, ‘They do…I’m just messing with you…’ She looked tenderly at him, ‘I don’t have a little brother…’ She paused to get out a cigarette, ‘Got a light?’ She had a light in her bag but for the moment she couldn’t find it in her bag.

He shook his head.

The girl signed and placed the cigarette into her bag again and looked up at Aubrey. ‘Name’s Maria Louisa but my family call me Maisa.’ She sat up straighter, stretched her arms out. ‘Maria Louisa Zenevieva!’

‘The Russians…’ he breathed out.

Maisa didn’t hesitate, ‘We haven’t been Russians for forty years boy; I was born here, the same for my father, besides I’m only half Russian…’

‘But Mama says…’

‘I don’t care what your mama says, boy, anyway, aren’t you a little too old to be calling your mother mama?’

He blushed but didn’t answer. Maisa stood up, Aubrey finding that she was only a head taller than him.

‘It was nice to meet with you Aubrey Bronach, son of Ava but I have to go!’

For a few minutes he watched her leave, saw her stumbling in the shoes she was wearing.

‘You shouldn’t wear those shoes…!’

Her head turned towards him, ‘I don’t have others…’ Then she continued on her way again.

‘Wait…wait up!’ Aubrey cried out, rushing to catch the girl up, forgetting about his soldiers. After the meeting with Maisa, he raced home, breathing loudly and calling out to his mother ‘Mama!’ Aubrey asked, blushing because of what Maisa said.

His mother, reasonably slim for her 42 years, blew annoyingly a piece of her red hair out of her face as she cooked, she must really cut her hair one of these days, she thought as her hands kneeled the dough. ‘Yes Aubrey?’

Aubrey fidgeted about.

‘Aubrey, whatever is it that you want to ask me?’ his mother asked, getting annoyed at the boy.

‘I met a girl today!’

Ava Bronach’s eyes briefly met her sons, ‘Oh yes…!’ Her dark eyes stern looking.

‘Yes…Maria Louisa…’

Ava laughed, ‘Maria Louisa?’

Aubrey looked confused, ‘Yes…she says her family calls her Maisa…!’

Ava swallowed a giggle as she placed the dough into a bread pan, ‘Maria Louisa…’

‘Mama?’

His mother stopped, ‘Never mind me Aubrey…just ignore me…And stay away from Maisa…’

‘Why?’

His mother started to cough as she tried to think up a suitable answer, ‘Because Aubrey…Maria Louisa isn’t the type of girl you should be hanging around with…’

Aubrey headed off towards his bedroom. When he reached the kitchen’s doorway, he turned towards his mother. ‘Mama?’

‘YES, what is it, Aubrey, your mama’s busy right now!’

He moved his left foot around in a circle, ‘What’s a prostitute, Mama?’

Ava stopped what she was doing, ‘Who told you that word Aubrey?’

Aubrey looked up, ‘Maisa! Maisa…’ she muttered.

‘Mama? What does it mean?’

His mother smiled at him, ‘Aubrey, there are some women in this world that do…things…to men and because of it…they get paid for it…’

‘What things?’

‘Never you mind…these women are disgraceful…they’re disgusting…the bottom rung of the ladder, in this world…’ she cocked her head, ‘Do you understand, Aubrey?’

Aubrey nodded, though he wondered why they were at the bottom of the ladder? Why did people treat them bad? Maisa didn’t seem to be that bad?

His mother signed with relief, ‘Good, now go on up and get ready for dinner…’

Aubrey did, but he couldn’t help but think why Maisa was disgusting, she didn’t seem to be disgusting, she actually seemed quite nice, not like all the women he had so far seen in his life, the ones who pinched his face and couldn’t believe that he was so grown up and so BIG. He put his mother’s explanation to the back of his mind as he went to get ready for dinner.

Maria Louisa took out the money from her bag as she entered her house. She could hear her mother in the lounge, telling off one of the servants as usual, she rolled her eyes as she walked past the lounge.

‘Maisa…is that you? Maisa? Maria Louisa…?’ her mother called out to her, ‘Maisa…you’re home! Where have you been…your father and I have been worried sick!’

Maisa turned around to face her mother. She tried to keep down her disgust, Mrs Zenevieva was overweight, rolls of fat were everywhere on her body and because of this had hardly any wrinkles. She had the same hair colour as her daughter. Maisa didn’t know why her mother should disgust her so much, she was her mother. Every night she would check her body, looking for fat, she would pinch her skin, testing for fat. Sometimes she would stand naked in front of her full view mirror, just seeing, just checking. So far, her body was still good, still curvy, and still good enough for her clients.

Her sister, two years older than herself was beginning to go down the same path. Maisa prayed that she did not go the same way.

‘Maisa!’

‘Yes, Mother?’

‘Where have you been…?’

‘Out mother…’ she outstretched her hand with the money that she had taken out of her purse, ‘Here…!’

Mrs Zenevieva looked on in shock as she took the money, ‘Maisa, where did you get this money from? Where?’

‘My job,’ she answered simply.

‘Maisa…where?’ her mother asked, ‘Where? I have heard…’

‘Mother if you would rather believe the townsfolk than your own daughter…’ she threatened.

‘Oh Maisa…’ she cried, moving her fat arms around her daughter, ‘Of course not…but people are talking…the neighbour’s daughter doesn’t get this much money…’

Maisa left her mother’s embrace, she couldn’t take her mother’s fatness any more.

‘Maisa…!’

But her daughter didn’t hear as she was already on her way to her bedroom. Reaching the room, she closed and locked the door, tears began to sprout from her eyes as she made her way to the mirror, she touched her eyes, ran her finger down her tear and began to take off her clothes. Every time, every time she did this when her mother touched her, it was as if, just touching her youngest daughter, her fatness piled off and moved to its new victim. Maisa stared at herself, her shoulders hunched, her feet slightly turned towards each other. She lifted her arms up and ran her hands through her shoulder length hair, then moved her hands down her body, touching it, feeling it, pinching her skin to see how much fat she could get off.

‘Why mother…’ she told the mirror coldly, ‘Why do you keep on touching me…Why? Why do you have to be so…’ She paused for effort and lowered her eyes, ‘Fat…!’

Aubrey entered Hampstead Norris’s small general shop. The shop was surprising; it sold almost everything, from personal things to food and drink despite the fact that they had rationing. The boy looked around for what he wanted.

The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a big walrus like moustache watched him.

Finally, Aubrey stepped up to him, putting all of his money onto the counter.

Mr Fletcher looked at the money, as if, what the boy had just put onto his counter was filthy dirty dirt. ‘What can I do for you lad?’

‘Can I buy a pair of shoes, Mr Fletcher…?’

Mr Fletcher slowly made his way around the counter, moving his hand through his thick black hair as he walked towards the second-hand boy’s shoes, ‘What ones, lad?’ He pointed to Aubrey’s size, ‘These ones?’

Aubrey shook his head, ‘A girls ones.’

Mr Fletcher looked surprised, ‘For your mother then lad?’

Again, Aubrey shook his head.

Mr Fletcher was beginning to tire of this game, ‘Then who are they for Aubrey lad?’

Aubrey hesitated, he remembered his mother’s response when he said Maria Louisa’s name, ‘A girl…she’s walks in the ruins with good shoes on, I want to give her some proper shoes…!’

‘Ah…’ Mr Fletcher replied, going over to the lady’s shoes, ‘This what you looking for Aubrey?’

Aubrey looked at the shoes; they were too small, ‘Too small…’

Mr Fletcher next showed him his mother’s sized shoe but Aubrey said they were too big. Finally, though he chose shoes he thought Maria Louisa, Maisa, could fit into.

‘Those ones thank you!’

Mr Fletcher took them off the shelf and over to the counter. They were two shillings more then what he had and his shoes only ever were what he had.

‘Lad?’

‘I haven’t got enough money sir…’

Mr Fletcher remained quiet.

‘Can I still have them Mr Fletcher, my friend, she really needs them…’

The man sadly shook his head, ‘Sorry Aubrey lad, you know I can’t…’

Aubrey began to sniffle, though he told himself to stop. Mr Fletcher didn’t want to see him cry.

‘Look, lad, perhaps you could earn them…’

Aubrey looked up, ‘What do you mean?’

Mr Fletcher rubbed his hand through his hair, ‘You could work here and save up for the shoes…’

‘I could do that…!’ Aubrey smiled, as he placed his money into his pocket, ‘Really Mr Fletcher…really?’

‘Aye, lad…aye…’

‘Thank you, sir, thank you!’

‘You can start tomorrow afternoon, after school of course…you don’t want to be working in a place like this for the rest of your life lad…no you don’t…’

But Aubrey didn’t hear this last sentence, he was just pleased that he was going to be able to get Maisa the shoes for her to walk in. ‘Thank you, sir, thank you…’ he cried out, happily running out of the shop, almost knocking down a customer in his rush to be out.

Elizabella Kelly, 25, closed the door of Mr Manning Latimer’s front door. The wind blew her black hair in front of her face, automatically she pushed it behind her ear with her hand, as she did so, she wiped her eyes and carried on her way again. Elizabella was Irish, having come over from the west of Ireland when she was 14 years old, eleven years previously.

‘’cuse me Miss…’ A gentleman apologised as Bella moved out of his way. She heard a window from above opening so she looked up, to see if she could see him, but she didn’t, he wasn’t stupid.

She went on her way again, as she was walking, a young boy bumped into her, ‘Watch where you’re going…?’

‘Sorry miss…’ he apologised, noticing that she was crying. ‘Sorry miss…’ he slowly backed away from her before running off.

‘Elizabella, Elizabella…’ someone called to her.

The young woman scanned her eyes towards the very Irish voice, her mother, sitting in the passenger side of the car and looking annoyed, ‘Come on…I haven’t got all day…come on!’

Elizabella lowered her eyes as she said, ‘Sorry Ma…’

‘Yes, just get in…girl!’

Elizabella looked around her as she opened the car’s door and stepped in. Once in, her mother changed attitude.

‘It’s over?’

Elizabella held onto the steering wheel tightly.

‘Bella?’

Her daughter turned to face her, ‘It depends on what you define over to be?’ She asked in her Irish lilt.

Mrs Kelly breathed deeply through her nose and turned to look at Mr Latimer’s house, ‘When will this drama be the end of it…when!’

Elizabella shook her head.

‘Well come on then, start up the car, I haven’t got all day now…!’

Elizabella did. Once they were off, her mother spoke again.

‘And when will it be finished?’

‘I don’t know!’

‘What do you mean you don’t know?’

‘I don’t know. Manning is…’

‘Yes, Elizabella, we all know what darling Manning is like!’ she said with an annoyance that had been building up for years. Elizabella would never know how much her mother hated Manning Latimer.

Elizabella didn’t mind, she didn’t know why her mother had even come today, her mother never liked involving herself in her children’s dramas. Her philosophy was, if you got yourself into trouble, you get yourself out of it. She hadn’t even of gone to her older brother’s funeral, her excuse was that it was his own fault that he died, he didn’t obey his mother’s warnings. So why should she go to his funeral?

Elizabella didn’t understand why her mother never did go. Elizabella’s brother, Boyle, had died needlessly, at least that’s what his friends had said; he had been fighting at the time. Elizabella was sad that her brother had died and disappointed in herself, why had she allowed her parents to bring her to England, the land her sibling hated! Why!

‘Bella, watch out for that girl!’

‘Yes, Ma…yes, I can see her!’

Mrs Kelly relaxed in her seat.

Maisa breathed quickly, for a few seconds it would have been Bye Maria Louisa. Making her way to the other side, she headed for the small café, where her sister was meeting with her. Stepping in, she smiled at a few soldiers who were her clients, they smiled in embarrassment.

‘Maisa…Maisa…over here, over here!’ her sister called out, waving her arm out. Maria Louisa could see the beginning of flab on her sister’s arm. ‘How are you?’

Maisa grinned, ‘To be expected…’

‘Are you sure you don’t mind paying…it’s just that with my husband fighting, I can’t…’

‘It’s fine…don’t worry…’

Her sister looked relieved as the two girls settled down. ‘How’s mother…?’

Still fat, Maisa wanted to say but didn’t. ‘She’s well, still fighting with the servants…’

Her sister laughed, ‘Have you heard from Kees yet?’

‘No…not since last December…have you heard from your hus…?’

‘Not since last month…I’m beginning to think maybe he’s been…’

‘Don’t say it Krystal, don’t…’

‘But…’ her sister began, beginning to cry, ‘He always writes, almost every week and I haven’t had a reply for a few weeks!’

‘Don’t cry, Krystal, he’s alive…’ Maisa didn’t want Krystal to cry because her sister reminded her of her mother and if that happened, Maisa would think she was getting their fat, ‘Please don’t…’ she opened her bag and gave her sister a handkerchief; she saw a cigarette and took it out, using her lighter to light it.

Krystal wiped her eyes, her mouth opens a bit, ‘Maisa…you won’t understand what I’m going through until you get married…’ She stopped then rather coldly added, ‘Until then don’t tell me what I am supposed to do…’

A waitress walked up to their table and the two girls ordered cups of tea. A few neighbours have looked at Maisa.

‘Maisa…?’

‘Yes…’

‘Why do people look at you strangely? Mother’s mentioned it to me; she thinks you may be…’

‘May be what? Krystal? What? A prostitute…is that what you’re trying to say?’

‘Maisa, not so loud…there are people…’

‘You of all people should be ashamed of yourself…if you believe what people say, and not your own sister, then…’ she replied in a loud whisper.

Krystal lowered her head, ‘I’m sorry… Maisa, please be quiet, please…’

Maisa calmed herself.

Krystal raised her head, ‘It’s just that you were always so secretive, even as a little girl…people couldn’t help but wonder what you were up to?’

Maisa felt bored, she checked her watch, in half an hour she had her next client. She looked over towards the counter, she would have to go, she would have to miss out on her cup of tea. She stood up.

‘Do you have to go?’

She nodded, ‘Yes…sorry…my job!’

Krystal looked worried before Maisa gave her some money, ‘Here’s the money for the bill, bye, I have to go!’

Krystal smiled as she watched her sister leave, ‘Bye!’

Maisa cursed her shoes as she travelled over the moors to the ruins; she cursed her job, why did she choose this job, why did she have to meet her clients here, why not in a nice comfortable room?

As she walked, she smelt smoke, near the ruins. Taking off her shoes she began to run towards it. When she reached the ruins, she noticed smoke in the near distance.

‘Smoke…?’ she asked herself as she headed towards the smoke.

Halfway between the smoke and the ruins she ran into a young man, lying on the ground, his parachute behind him. She approached caustically, ‘Hello?’ she said, for all she knew he could be German.

The man looked up at her, relieved to see that she spoke English.

‘Hi…’ he said, in a Welsh accent.

Maisa bent down, looking back towards the ruins, her client would be there about now.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘Only in the leg area’

Maisa thought, ‘Can you make it to the ruins over there?’ She pointed towards them.

The man followed her hand and nodded, ‘With help’

‘The town isn’t that far away…you could…’

‘I won’t make it…’ he interrupted.

She cursed, ‘Oh well, I’ll help you to the ruins then I’ll get some help…’ she walked to the other side of him and placed her arm around his shoulder. In response he held her shoulder and together they helped him up. Maisa feeling like a dwarf with him, as he practically towered over her. He winched with the pain as they walked and she wished she could help relieve the pain but she couldn’t.

Slowly they made their way over to the ruins.

‘I’m Maria Louisa, Maisa for short…’ she replied.

‘Owen…Owen Fox…’ he winched.

‘Try not to walk on your bad leg…’ she volunteered.

‘I know…’

Maisa felt like blushing, changing the subject she asked, ‘How come you’re over here and not over in France?’

‘Training…’ was all that he replied.

When they reached the ruins, she could see her client, he watched as she helped Owen down onto the floor before looking up at his face, ‘We need a doctor, can you help me get one?’

The man nodded.

Maisa noticed that they both wore the same uniform as she stood up to go to the other man, ‘Well, have you a car?’

The man nodded.

‘Well then, let’s go…’

As they left, she turned to Owen, ‘We’ll be back…I promise…’

In pain Owen Fox nodded.

Maisa headed off.

After dropping her mother off at home. Elizabella had decided to go for a walk, towards the ruins. For some reason, ever since she had arrived in this town, she had been fascinated by them. The fact that people had built them, lived in them, used them, never seemed to dull her.

Her and her family lived on the edge of town, right next to the moors and the ruins, so it didn’t take her long to reach them. She noticed the burning plane, smoke still visible and began to panic. Was there someone in there still? Running she headed to the plane but once there she could not see any signs of life. Confused she wondered where they could be before heading back towards the ruins.

The wind ruffled her hair as she hurried to them. Reaching the ruins, she called out, ‘Any one here? Anyone?’

She thought she heard a mumble.

‘Hello?’

There. She heard it.

‘Hello?’

She kept on speaking until she knew where the mumble was coming from. She discovered a man, a couple of years younger than herself she guessed, ‘Hello? Are you okay?’

The man nodded as she came closer and knelt down, ‘Stay here, I’ll go…’ she stopped; the man had touched her.

‘Help…someone’s already gone to get it…! Stay here with me please.’

Elizabella touched the man’s hand with her free hand and smiled. ‘Sure…’

By the time Maisa arrived back with the doctor, she could hear talking. The doctor looked at her and the young man in surprise.

‘I thought you said he was alone?’

‘I thought…’ she answered, heading towards Owen, to discover a young woman kneeling by the young man.

Elizabella looked up, ‘Sorry, I was walking when I saw…I came and…’

‘Never mind about that…’ the doctor replied, ‘You, young man and you, young lady…you’ll have to help me carry him to the car…’

Maisa watched as her client and Elizabella lifted Owen up and followed them as he was taken to the car.

‘Miss, are you coming?’

‘No…’ she didn’t want to tell anyone why she was at the ruins with a young man. ‘Wait…’ she said, ‘changing her mind ’I’ll come…’

They drove back in silence, Owen’s head resting on Maisa’s lap, his legs, carefully resting on Elizabella.

Maisa stood waiting in the doctor’s surgery. Elizabella, the girl who had nearly run her over was sitting down. Her client was standing next to her. Owen Fox was being seen too. Hopefully, she thought, his injury wouldn’t be that bad.

Feeling the need for a cigarette, Maisa walked outside, the breeze hitting her face as she stepped outside. Her client following her.

He watched as she took a cigarette out, watched her look aimlessly in her bag for a light and watched as she looked up into his face.

‘Have you a light?’ she asked.

He remained silent.

‘Sir?’ she asked.

‘Oh…sorry…’ he started to hunt around in his uniform, before finally taking out a lighter. Carefully he lit Maisa’s cigarette.

Maisa laughed nervously at how close they were.

He laughed as well.

Maisa took the cigarette out and breathed out, smoke twirling out into a disgusting drag. ‘I shouldn’t smoke; my mother would kill me!’

‘Why?’

She laughed, ‘She says smoking isn’t very lady like…but she isn’t very lady like so she isn’t in a position to say what is lady like?’

The man nodded his head.

Maisa moved her head backwards, ‘Are you in the same force as our friend?’

Thinking he shook his head, ‘I haven’t seen him before…’

‘Oh…I just thought…look you don’t have to stay here, you can go…if you want!’

‘No, it’s all right, I’ll stay…’

‘Is that your car?’ she asked, pointing to the car that they had come in.

The young man looked flattered but laughed, ‘Oh no…it’s my friend’s…she lives here…I borrowed it…’

Now it was Maisa’s turn to laugh, ‘To see me…!’

He lowered his head, ‘Yes…’

She stepped closer to him. ‘…Haven’t you ever been to one before?’

A bit confused he looked up, ‘Are we talking what I think we’re talking about?’

‘About me being a prostitute, then yes!’

He relaxed, ‘Yes, you’re my first, well, kind of my first. I must admit though, you do look a bit young…’ He paused to admire her, ‘How old are you?’

‘17, 18 in October…’

‘Ah…’ he nodded his head.

‘Can I have your name please? I’m Maisa. Maria Louisa’

‘Ralph. Oscar Ralph. I’m actually a soldier…’ he watched as she turned confused, ‘It’s a long story…why I’m wearing this uniform and not…’

‘It’s okay…I don’t want to hear, thanks…!’

Putting his hand into his pockets he looked around, feeling uncomfortable, ‘Shouldn’t we go in…’

‘Wait until I finish this…’

She took a couple of drags before promptly putting the cigarette onto the floor and stepped on it, ‘There…finish…!’ She studied him as they went back in again. He was quite good looking in an alternative kind of way. His hair was chestnut-coloured and his build was medium, he wasn’t bulky yet he wasn’t skinny. Maisa wondered how someone could be like that without being one or the other. He held open the door and she thanked him.

As soon as they entered, Elizabella stood up.

‘Ah…the doctor says that Mr Fox will be all right…’

‘What’s the matter with him?’

‘Just a broken ankle…that’s all…’ Elizabella replied.

‘Oh…’

‘And the doctor says that you can go…I offered to keep Mr Fox at my home, until he recovers…there isn’t enough space for him here…’ she said, justifying the reason why the young man was staying at her house.

Maisa didn’t care.

Oscar Ralph just smiled.

‘Well, I guess I better go then…bye…!’ Maisa replied.

Oscar Ralph opened the door for her. As she went through, he said, ‘I’ll stay here, to take the girl back…’ Then he stopped, as if he had a change of heart, ‘Would you like a lift?’

‘No thanks…I could do with a walk!’

He smiled and she stepped out. The door closing on her.

Ava Bronach stared at herself in the mirror, admiring her face, twisting and turning to see which side was her best. Next, she adjusted her hair, brushing and brushing until her straight red hair was perfect.

She smiled.

Reaching for her makeup, of what little that she had, Ava began to paint her face, hearing her son jumping around in the room next to her.

‘AUBREY!’ She yelled out.

The sound stopped.

She smiled. Her son was a good boy, of all her friends’ children, she was glad she had Aubrey; he was never one to cause any trouble, no trouble at all.

Ava Bronach was expecting a visitor, a man, a lawyer she thought, though on the telephone he hadn’t of told