I am joining in with #SummerOfWords and writing my novel one bit at a time! You can read Part 4 here. (and if you’re new to my story then you can start reading it here.)

2013

The B&B was dated but perfectly comfortable. Looking out over the local beach the room was full of items from the sea. Dusty old shells, red and white striped lighthouses and a beautiful painting of a sandcastle sitting alone on a sandy shore. They’d really gone overboard on the seaside theme and it made Megan smile. It reminded her of her son’s bedroom; he loved the beach and every morning woke up asking if they could go.

“No!’ She suddenly said out loud, and quickly that thought was pushed to the very back of her mind. She mustn’t think about them, mustn’t remember what she’d put them through and why she was here, it was too raw, too painful.

Tears pricking her eyes, angry that she’d allowed herself a fleeting memory, she hung her coat up on the back of the door and sat on the bed which creaked and gave way under her. Megan looked out of the window and rubbed her neck, easing her aching muscles that had been tense for so long. She was safe, no-one knew she was here, they were all safe.

The landlady, Mrs Lane, had seemed somewhat nosey earlier when Megan had explained that she didn’t know how long she’d be staying, but had seemed happy to accept payment for three nights. Thankfully Megan had had some cash in her rather worn purse and so was able to book in under a false name, not having to show her real one on a credit card. She really wasn’t ready to be found, not even close so it was important that a gossiping landlady didn’t know anything. Mrs Lane had explained that breakfast was served between 8am and 10am and had recommended a local pub for dinner. Not that Megan was hungry, she rarely was these days and had become gaunt and looked pale. Her physical appearance epitomising the weakness of her mental state. For her brain also seemed pale and was not functioning as it should. It didn’t have what it needed to work. Megan thought of it as something that was broken, that needing fixing, but couldn’t seem to mend it herself.

She reached into her coat pocket and once again twiddled the coin between her fingers. Heads. Tails. Heads. ‘What if it had been tails?’ She thought. ‘Would I still be here, would any of this have happened?’ Shaking that thought off, Megan knew she’d never know the answer to that question. Clutching the coin tightly, she lay down, closed her eyes, and uncomfortably drifted into another restless sleep.