Free In the Shadows (The Blaisdell Chronicles) by Katie Welsby

mouth but nothing came out. My head was scrambled from the nightmarish images, and I couldn’t make any sense of it in his presence. I had to get away. In my haste, I almost collided with the heavy gate, which had since closed behind me. I tried pulling it open, but found it wouldn’t move. Why couldn’t I leave? A tall shadow appeared from behind, and I looked up to see his hand easily push the gate open. I wasted no more time, and ran towards my home, feeling his strong stare on my back as I pulled the door shut behind me.
    I made a hot chocolate, added three marshmallows, and sunk onto the sofa. I considered the images, my body shuddering at the carnage I’d witnessed. I banished those thoughts and recalled Jonathan’s sweetness that day by the river, but it was no good; it had been stained by his brutality. He’d been the one on the battlefield. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep, I switched on the stereo, and lay on the settee, not caring what music was on. It was Derek’s favourite station. Opera music. Something about the words calmed my fears. I closed my eyes and I saw myself in the past. I was the one singing in the soprano voice.
    Father stood proud behind Mother, who sat in a chair, her face pale and her belly heavily swollen. She forced a smile for me when the song was over.
    “Bravo!” he applauded.
    “That was wonderful, my dear,” she said.
    “Thank you, Mama.”
    “Yes, it was— ohh!” Mother grabbed her belly, as she collapsed onto the floor.
    I heard her screams from outside her room. It seemed to go on for hours. Midwives rushed in and out, but they wouldn’t allow me even a glimpse. Soon, the screams ended. I waited for the baby’s cry, but it never came.
                 
    The lunch hour rush was over at the coffee house. Jen had been telling me about her weekend, but my mind was still preoccupied. I remembered Roger’s anger when Mum miscarried a boy. Roger had always wanted a son to play football with, but as Mum tried to cope with her grief, he blamed her for everything. I hated him for lashing out, but I never thought he’d go as far as he did. I pushed my pain aside. There must be a reason for the parallels in my past and present, but I didn’t want to consider it.
    “So, did you have a good weekend?” Jen asked.
    “Yes, thanks.”
    “Really? What did you do? See any fireworks?”
    I recalled the cannons and the battlefield images and shuddered in revulsion. “I didn’t see any fireworks. I stayed in.”
    Jen’s fist met her hip. “God, Lucy. You really do need to get out more. How about coming to the funfair with me? It’s only in town for a couple of nights.”
    Realising how I sounded, I gave her a nod. We made arrangements to go the next evening and Jen said she’d pick up tickets on her lunch break.
    By three o’clock, the coffee house was empty and Jen still hadn’t returned. Fed up with waiting, I tried looking for something to do, but everything was already clean. I tried learning how to play the spoons, but only ended up dropping them. I moved the tables and chairs around to see if I could make more room, but realised they were fine the way they were. I slumped in a booth, my head resting on my fist. The constant ticking and tock-ing of the wall clock grew so loud and repetitive it almost shattered my brain. Unable to stand anymore, I moved to the counter, and it was there I saw the dusty radio peeking out from behind the grill. Blowing off the dust, I switched it on; happy it still worked and found a suitable station. Remembering my happiness at the nightclub, I began to sing along and move my body to the beat.
    A nudge on my shoulder made me squeak in surprise. I spun around, surprised to see the person I found standing in front of me, offering a slow, teasing smile. Shaking free of his beautiful gaze, I switched off the radio and returned with my eyes lowered, recalling what had happened last night.
    “You have a good singing voice. Beautiful,