I'd expected to be fitted into a school uniform. Charlotte had taken me back down to where we'd been before; she'd talked only when necessary. I had seen, who I presumed to be, Daniel rearranging some of the crystal in one of the glass cabinets— he, too, said little.

William also took me home without conversing with me. Usually, I liked the quiet, enjoyed the scarce peace, but I wasn't grateful for it this time. I felt isolated. Completely alone.

Mum hadn't noticed my absence, despite me being gone for several hours. I got her some lunch, and tidied the house a little, but otherwise did nothing for the rest of the day.

***

The day of me going to Attwood rolled around far sooner that I would have liked. Of course, it had been something I'd been fantasising about for years— yet I couldn't help but feel dread. I pushed it aside, however, and let excitement consume me.

I woke up early, as usual, but actually didn't feel completely drained!

Mum was still in bed, likely to stay there for the majority of the day, when I began to get ready and take my suitcases to the bottom of the stairs. I assumed there'd be a washing machine, and maybe even a tumble dryer, so didn't pack loads (not that I had a lot to pack.)

There were two days on which people could arrive; either the Saturday or the Sunday. I hoped not too many people would be going on the Saturday as well as me, but I really just didn't know. For all I knew, the whole school could turn up then and I'd be swallowed into a bulk of other students. It wasn't the ideal first day, if I was being honest.

I lugged yet another bag, this one slightly smaller, but combined with my backpack and keys, it was a little tricky.

I'd planned on maybe getting a taxi and from there, get the train. I felt around for some money, still carrying my stuff, and with the card they'd given me between my teeth.

It was gold, vaguely resembling the golden ticket out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but had a lion's head engrained into it.

At the sound of a hard knock on the door, I dropped everything.

"Fuck sake," I snarled at my bag.

I stomped my way over to the door, and opened it a little too forcefully. As it crashed against the wall and rattled the mirror mounted on it, I cringed and looked up at the stairs. There was no sign of life up there, so I counted that as having not woken her.

Before me, stood William. He looked exactly the same as he had several weeks ago, almost as if he hadn't changed. I knew he had, however, as I could smell his cologne from where I stood. I felt assaulted at the strong fragrance and scrunched my nose.

Just as I was going to ask what the hell he was doing here, he beat me to it. "I've been sent to pick you up. I'll put your luggage in the car."

"I'll be two seconds!" I called at his back as he effortlessly carried everything that I'd struggled to, in one trip. I was mildly impressed. Okay, very impressed. I wondered if he'd practiced it with the shopping, but kicked myself as I realised he'd been doing this for fifteen years. That was his practice.

I raced back upstairs, but turned right instead.

Her door was slightly ajar, so I pushed it open gently, recognising the mound of duvets and pillows as her. It was pitch black, so I did my best to scurry around the edge of the bed and avoid any objects that might be taking refuge on her floor.

"Are you going already?" She asked as she opened her eyes to see me in my jacket, still wearing my burgundy back pack. It had holes in the bottom, where I'd scuffed it on the floor and looked worse for wear, but it worked well enough, and I couldn't exactly take anything out of the savings if it wasn't literally falling apart.

"Yeah." I eased open the blinds, and she turned away from the blaring sunlight. "I'll call you when I get there. Are you sure you'll be alright without me?"

"Darling, I lived on my own for ten years before you were born. I think I'll manage a few weeks without you." She smiled.

"Yeah, but—" I wanted to say 'Yeah, but that was before you had cancer,' but bit my tongue. She pretended not to notice the falter in my words and continued on.

"Ms Harris—" She was the middle aged woman that lived next door, who had a knack for making chicken soup and cheese twists. "— will nip in every Wednesday to check up on me and Saturday with the shopping."

"If you're sure..."

"I'm sure." She pulled me in for a hug, but with little force. "Now, go! Before you're late!"

I checked the clock on the wall. I gave her a final kiss on the cheek and rushed back downstairs.

William was waiting for me in the car when I locked the door behind me. I hurriedly made my way to the seat I'd sat in the first time, and slumped down in it. Again, I breathed in the new car smell and brushed my hands delicately over the costly interior.

The pull away was so smooth I'd hardly realised we were moving. I cast a final look at my retreating house, watching as it got further and further away, before finally disappearing altogether.

I know that to not make it awkward, you're meant to either start talking straight away or not at all. I suppose I smashed that rule completely as after about twenty minutes into the drive, I attempted conversation with the bald headed, building of a man driving me.

"Do you have any kids, William?"

He looked to the mirror above his head and at me. With those dark sunglasses on, I just couldn't decipher what he was thinking. So because he showed little expression in his face either, I found it all the harder to figure out if I was annoying him or not. Probably was.

"Yes," he said on a long sigh. "I have three children: two boys and a girl. The twins are ten and my girl's five."

"That's nice," I said, not really knowing what to say. "Do they go to school near here?"

"I may drive the wealthy, Ms Dubois, but that does not make me at all well-off myself." I looked out the window to see we were passing a collection of posh looking flats, each with their own space in an underground car park. I only realised this when I saw the signs for it on my right. I went to ask about the car, but he beat me to it, again. "The car isn't mine. I wouldn't be a driver if it was, would I?"

"Right," I said, feeling like I'd insulted him in some way. "It's Jolie, by the way."

I thought our glimpse of a conversation had ended, but about five minutes later he surprised me by talking again. "But I also like to think that I have other kids. The ones I've driven around since they were young. I've seen them grow up. You get quite attached to kids that way."

"So you don't only work for the school?"

"For the most part, I work for families."

"Any I would know?" I asked, not really out of interest but because of little else to keep from overthinking about Attwood. I let my eyes drift towards the blurring trees to my left as he reeled off names.

"—ood, Maylark, Greening, Johans—"

I swung my neck back towards him so violently I could easily have given myself whiplash.

"What did you just say?" I felt myself leaning further forward, breath becoming quicker, and seatbelt straining against me.

"Greening? Maylark?"

I waved my hand, almost impatiently. "Before that."

"Redwood."