Free Shell House by Gayle Eileen Curtis

and invite her and her parents along with Gabrielle. It’s going to be awkward but any situation of them meeting will be uncomfortable. I must talk to Gabrielle first before I make any definite arrangements.
     
     
    8/12/2010    Rebecca Banford   
     
            Nancy tells me we are all having Sunday lunch together. Harry was worried about how I would react and apparently scalded her for mentioning it to me before he had a chance to.
            I do feel awkward about it but it’s as good a time as any. I suppose sitting around the table and eating is a stable distraction if no one wants to talk.
            I’m glad I insisted on staying in the cottage. People are starting to ask Harry questions about who I a m− we’ve been seen out walking so many times. I think because I’m staying away from the house he can pass me off as a distant cousin. I think he’s told most of them that I’m researching the family tree and have discovered we’re related or some such nonsense. I’m not sure how long people will believe this story. It only takes one person to recall the past and the consequences will be disastrous.
            I will have to go home soon anyway; I must get back to my life, work and friends. I don’t want to. Even after all that happened I feel so at home here. I can’t ever remember feeling like that; it’s as though I never left.
            My life at home seems blurry and distant; I don’t feel I have any connection or attachment to it anymore. I thought I would miss it; it’s been my safety net, my mainstay, constant for so many years. Even my friends seem like they’re from a distant past or another life. I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never been able to be myself with them; not properly anyway. I have never been able to tell them the truth and it has made them seem, to me, fictitious; as though they were characters in one of my books. I feel sad when I think of each one of them and how fond I am. My feelings toward them have never been false but I’ve told so many lies about where I come from, my family. I even have old framed photographs of people I have portrayed as my family all around the house.
            When I left that day I did feel like it was the end of something. It was similar to the feeling I get when I’ve finished writing a book and I have to say goodbye to all the characters. You feel slightly bereft but know you’ll be moving on to the next place and meeting new ones. It’s hard to explain.
            I don’t know. How could I live here? I know Harry would say I could continue under my false identity. If anyone has asked him about me he has carefully referred to me as Rebecca. I don’t know if my conscience would allow me to do that though; it seems disrespectful when I think about what I did.
            For the first time in my life I feel it’s as though I’m on a journey and revealing who I really am. My old life feels like a discarded snakeskin. I would like nothing more than to be near my father for the last part of his life. I suppose I could stay temporarily. I could tell my friends I’ve discovered a relative; I’ve always told them my parents were killed and I was an only child brought up in care.
            I owe them all an explanation; they’ve been like family to me. I can always return if it doesn’t work out, I suppose or move on somewhere else; spread my wings and step out of my insular world.
     
     
     
    Harry Rochester   December 11 th 2010
     
            Our Sunday lunch with Jonathan didn’t go very well at all and I’m not sure where we go from here. Gabrielle is leaving today and I am distraught. But I must let her do what she feels is right; it must be so difficult for her. She has promised me she will visit over Christmas but I am hoping I will be able to persuade her in the mean time to spend the festivities with me.
     
     
    11/12/2010    Rebecca