New commission - "The Change" - Epilogue

“No guilt-trip,” Cecelia says, looking over her shoulder as she reverses out of the driveway.

“I know,” Rachel says. She lies down beside her sister on the folded-down seats, pulls the tartan travel blanket over the both of them. Just until they get out of town. Just until they’re safe.

Cecelia starts the car, and she wonders how far they’ll get. She remembers the scene from The Sound of Music, the Von Trapps rolling their car in the dark of night, the Nazi officers suddenly appearing in a flash of headlights.

Does Cecelia have the necessary papers? Hardly, Nicole doesn’t even have a National Insurance number.

If Parkdale’s powers-that-be, surely on the highest of alerts, stop the car to find two teenage girls in school uniform hiding under a blanket, there will be explaining to do. There will be consequences.

“We can’t stay,” Cecelia says, five minutes into the drive. (The drive to…somewhere. Somewhere else. Anywhere but Parkdale). “You took out Sucette, that’s a big deal.”

Rachel doesn’t reply. Nicole has barely said a word since bringing Nicole back home.

Home.

Cecelia knew who she was. The second daughter who used to be a baby boy. The piece of their family that had been missing for much too long.

“Hi,” Nicole had said at the front door, blushing, as shy as a little girl.

And Cecelia had just known. Because this is Parkdale, it’s all possible. And because she’d been hoping and praying for such a day.

“Hello, stranger,” she had said. Laughing and crying. “You got big!”

The hug Nicole gave her was real, but so is the silence on this uncertain car journey.

Are they a family now? Are they back together?

There’s no time. No space for second-guessing. They will have to work out the fine points later, assuming they can get away clean.

“Did you send the text?” Cecelia asks.

“Not yet,” comes Rachel’s muffled reply.

“Do it now.”

“Mum.”

“Can’t save them all,” says Cecelia.

“Only saved one.”

“The important one.”

“Yeah.” The clicking sound of a phone keyboard, and then Rachel says, “Sorted.”

“Gimme,” Cecelia says. She reaches back for the mobile phone, and then tosses it through the window.

“There,” she says mildly, as if marking the end of a household chore.

Dishes, done. Bed, made. Text to Katie that they weren’t sticking around, sent.

“Maybe we can come back,” says Nicole. “When it’s safe.”

Cecelia waits for Rachel to echo the ‘maybe’ and then she provides one of her own.

But she doubts it.

Still, it’s a fine October day. Blue skies and warm sunshine. It could be worse; it could always be so much worse.

Cecelia drives in silence, relaxes just a little as they pass fields and countryside on each side. Out of town. Out of danger.

Maybe.

THE END

This tale was commissioned by Fossil. Thank you Fossil for your support during our Parkdale adventures!