Lucy in the Sky

hair. I always wanted to be like her when I grew up. But at five foot six, curvy and brunette, the most I can hope for now is having Joan’s sense of humour.
    After their parents’ disappearance the boys moved in with their aunt, Katherine, in the city. When it was eventually accepted that Joan and Michael were never coming back, Katherine–Joan’s sister–agreed to take them on permanently, rather than unsettle them even more by forcing them to move all the way to Perth in Western Australia to live with their grandparents. At almost eighteen, Sam would soon be old enough to move out and go to university, so it didn’t seem worthwhile uprooting him and his brother. Neither of the boys could bear to sell the family home and as Michael had been a successfularchitect and, together with Joan, had run his own property development business, Sam and Nathan found they could afford to keep the house and rent it out.
    Eighteen months ago, Sam and Molly finally moved back in and turned it into a B&B. They now run the place together and are kindly letting me stay in one of their two guest bedrooms for the next fortnight. There’s a sign out at the front saying NO VACANCIES and Molly explains that they’re not taking on anymore visitors in the lead-up to the wedding. I’m secretly overjoyed that we’ll have the house to ourselves, although I feel bad that I’m not a paying guest. I hope they don’t mind but the cost of the flight has almost wiped me out as it is.
    Sam unlocks the front door and stands back to let Molly and me pass. The house smells familiar–sort of woody and even a little damp, but not in an unpleasant way. The kitchen, which I soon see has been newly modernised, has been moved to the front of the house off the hall, and the brand-new light, airy living room is straight ahead, opening onto the garden. Sam leads the way through to the kitchen and then carries on down the corridor where the downstairs bedrooms always were, lugging my suitcase with him. ‘I’m just going to plonk this in your room, Lucy,’ he calls back to me cheerfully. ‘You’re in my old room!’
    Sleeping in Sam’s room at last after all these years. How ironic.
    ‘So how’s the wedding planning going?’ I turn to Molly.
    ‘There’s just so much to do,’ she groans.
    ‘I’ll be able to help now I’m here.’
    ‘You’re going to regret saying that, you know,’ she warns, as Sam reappears.
    ‘No, I’m not. I can’t wait.’
    ‘Well, in that case, Lucy, would you mind grabbing those placecards there? The guests’ names need writing out. You still remember how to use a calligraphy pen, don’t you?’
    I peer over at the pile of silver cards on the sideboard, then Molly laughs. ‘I’m joking, you idiot. Sam, put the kettle on, let’s have a brew.’
    It’s great to be back. I thought it would feel strange being here inside their house without Sam’s parents around but it doesn’t. It feels like home. Sam and Molly’s home. I look at them laughing in the kitchen as they tussle with teabags and milk, both fighting to make me a cuppa. They look so perfect together. I picture Molly walking down the aisle to Sam, all suited up and waiting for her. It’s going to be emotional.

Chapter 2
    The next couple of days pass by in a jet-lag-induced blur. I have a short nap on the day I arrive and as a result manage to stay up until nine o’clock that night before crashing out. But early the next morning a fruit bat outside my window wakes me by squeaking and noisily munching on figs. I bash on the glass, but he ignores me and carries on as he was, bony little hook-like hands jutting out of his spooky black bat wings.
    A batty bat expert on a school excursion once told my classmates and me that bats are four times more intelligent than dogs–‘Their brains are more advanced!’ she’d cried. I beg to differ, judging by the way this one is failing to respond to my knocking. Then again, maybe he’s made an informed decision to pay no heed to the wild-eyed madwoman on the other side of the glass. ‘Just ignore her and she’ll go away,’ he’s probably thinking.
    I consider calling James–it would be Sunday evening at home–but in the end I really can’t get my head around another conversation with him. I’m still feeling unsettled, and he just seems so very far away.
    Eventually I accept that I won’t be going back to sleep and get up. I make myself a coffee and take it through to the new living room, which