Leanne

1

The sky had spread blue that summers morning, and the idea of riding the town-bus west to the sanded coast pricked at Leanne from the moment she woke to the gold inflected day. The picturesque July summer's day, worthy of camera's snap in every direction, had watered a blossoming within her shriveled soul. Standing by the window of the parlour, she peered through the curtain nets, and watched the business of the street. Across the road, the portly white-aproned baker, Tony, stood with his arms folded leaning against the door-frame. Eyelids shut, he tilted his face towards the sky, bathing in the sun's rays. A few doors down, Aunt Marie had laid out the furniture outside the second-hand shop, and cloth in hand, she wiped at the old, knobby legged, table which had now not found a home for three months. Beside the second-hand shop, Mr Howells, sat behind a cash-till, and peered out from the dusty glass front of the convenience store. The man's eyes were glued straight by the day-dreams he often inhabited, a thing which began on the passing of his wife to tuberculosis five years ago. A woman pushed a white-wheeled, red pram along the pavement, stopping behind the telephone box to give way to Mr Hermes, a resident of a flat down the road. Hunched forward and hatted black, the old man pressed his walking stick against the concrete, and gingerly raised a hand in thanks as he passed. As she began to step away from away from the window, Leanne caught Little Marco's black tattered shoes hurrying down the street. A piece of paper flailing in his hand, the boy bolted into the convenience store, and Mr Howells turned away from his dreaming to receive his greeting. Leanne stood a few moments longer, a half-smile stretching her lips as she guessed the boy's shopping list, ever ripped from his mother's yellow covered notebook and pressed against his small chest once carefully revised under her spectacled eyes. It was then, at her periphery, strolling along the pavement, a man stepped into sight. And clutching his hand, came to view a woman dressed in green pea-coat. Her auburn hair hung draped over a shoulder, and even in the distance, her eyes held the glint of bliss, and her smile shone full and hearty. The couples unheard conversation culminated in laughter and a shared look.

That aged and fattened dread crawled up and around Leanne's heart as if an ominous furry black spider. It pierced deep into her being. Her lips had fallen flat, and the pull of the blue skies and the bursting golden sun had grown weak, and a little of yesterday's paralysis began to infest her thoughts. Before that moment, a long-lost glint of hope had visited Leanne that morning, but at the snap of fingers, at the quick snatching of an invisible hand, it felt the thing had departed. Maybe the beach can wait.

Padding along the hallway, which was lighted by a small square window at the far end, Leanne ran her fingers along the pale blue walls. It's prickly surface irrated her fingertips and allowed her a little escape from the dullness. At the hallway's dimly end, her bare soles stilled against the wooden floors as she gazed at the long gold-rimmed mirror pinned against the wall. The thing had once been pinned below the window at the far end of the passage, which allowed the day's light to show her mould in vividness, but nowadays the girl preferred her seeing to be in the shadows, away from the harshness of light. And yet still, under the cloak of grey which allowed a visual discreetness, she found difficulty escaping the truth of her sight. The girl's unkept brown hair seemed a suitable nest for a Robin bird, and her hazel eyes held a look of utter placidness as if those of a retail-store manequin. Her acqualine nose, once her favored feature, pointed out large and gnarled. And her cheeks hung hollowed and unfed. Protruding bones riddled below her neck, dissapearing under her white cotton night dress. Leanne's mother, a reserved yet domineering woman who threw little praise upon anything, had often called her the prettiest thing on Gods' planet, and though the girl would smile after her sweet words, and on ocassion blush with reddened cheeks, for many long years, prettiness had failed to show its face.

She entered the musty kitchen, jerking open the rigid back-door to the garden to let in the morning's fresh air. A kettle boiled water on the stove. A cup awaited holding a tea bag. A saucer escaped a cupboard to present a croissant. With her cup of tea, Leanne walked into the the dining room, and seated herself at the small mahogany table which held two chairs. The tea was almost white with a generous serving of milk and had gone cold following but two sips. The croissant remained untouched. With her finger hooking the handle of the cup which remained on a coaster, the girl stared for a while, somewhere between the world and her thoughts. Soon, the barking of the dog inhabiting the neighbours' garden knocked at her head, and woke her once again.

She glanced towards the old wooden clock. 4.20pm. She rose from the table and began for the kitchen, only to stop at the threshold. 4.20pm? That can't be right. She looked again, her eyes squinted. The thin seconds-hand was not ticking, the battery must have died. She wondered how long it had been as such, a day, a month, or even years. Her eyes fell on the mantel below it which held a few decorative ornamnets. A brass miniature cannon, and an ancient Egyptian cat relic, black as charcoal amongst others possessing less character. Poking out from behind a vase was a gold rimmed picture-frame. A pang of guilt rippled through Leanne's limbs, and she shuffled past the table, pinching the frame out. It was her mother, and herself, sat on the bench edging the sanded coast. He father stood behind the camera that afternoon, and just as he thumbed the snapper, her mother's face contorted at buzzing of a bee which had nested in her hair. At that moment, the laughs and screams had crashed to the shore, and heads, speckled along the sand, had turned from their broken peace. Maybe a trip to the coast would be good.

After breakfast, and a hard-handed washing and drying of the crockery, she headed upstairs to shower. In her bedroom, she slung on her favourite yellow summer dress, and pressed on cherry-red liptsick, and shouldered her blue carry bag which she stuffed with hurriedly made salmon and cheese sandwich sliced into two, and a bottle of water. She stepped outside. The summer sun coated her skin with a pleasing warmth as she walked down Auberry Lane towards the bus stop. The slouched old man, gripping his walking stick ambled ahead. Leanne slowed her steps, and walked behind him until he turned into his apartment building, holding the black metal rails as he ascended the stairs. At the bus stop stood no other for Leanne to query how much time had passed since their arrival. However she knew the town bus passed along about every twenty minutes. Perching on the wood planked seating, she heard it's rumbling engine arriving after the passing of a few minutes. The metal doors squealed open, and she hopped on, paying the fare before seating herself by a window. On the bus sat only two others, a gaunt woman chewing on a small dip of tobacco, and a portly man, his ruddy plump cheeks filmed with sweat as he sat fanning himself with the day's paper. She alighted the bus on Broad Street and ambled towards the coast. As she walked along the line of stores with their doors open and ready for the flood of people due in sweltering noon, she picked up the smallest loaf of freshly baked bread from a stall. Wrapped in white paper, she clutched it against her side. The gleaming white sanded coast came to sight.

2

Leanne's soles pressed along the white sand, and she ambled ahead until her toes were wettened by the shore. Raising a hand across her forehead, as the other held her white heels, she squinted out to the sea. The diamond ring on her finger bursted with light, glinting under the sun. A small white boat coasted in the distance, and the pigeons with outstretched wings glided above. With her yellow dress fluttering against the light breeze, she walked down the coastline, and glanced towards the families seated on blankets, food baskets at their feet. Children laughed aloud and chased another, pocking the sand with their small feet, and running up to the shore. They entered the water till it covered their knees, at which point shouts flew from parents, pleading them to return. Leanne chuckled and smiled towards all. After a while, when she felt the weight against her calfs, she found a bench egding the sand and plodded herself down. She set the loaf of bread beside, and removed the water bottle from her bag to drink. In the distance another family strolled on to the sand, stepping away from the street. The perfect family potrait. A father, a young boy, an even younger girl, and a mother. Leanne was unable to make out the faces, but she pictured them holding smiles, and hearts filled with unbridled gaeity. They turned towards the shore.

A pigeon landed at Leanne's foot, and she chuckled at its knowing. She hoisted the small loaf of bread on to her lap, and unwrapped the white paper. Pinching specks of bread, she threw the pieces against the sand. The bird scuttled towards with a few flaps of its wings, and picked at the bread. Another landed, and more, each bobbing their heads as they pressed along the sand. Soon a multitude of coos belled at Leanne's feet. Hoping to meet her orders, she quickened in her ripping of the bread, the pieces pulled even smaller to ensure no beak was left untouched. When the bread was all eaten up, and the birds flew away after their brief wait for more, Leanne removed her salmon and cheese sandwich from her bag. She chewed watching a small boat sailing along ocean. The pale gold ring centered with a brilliant diamond caught her eyes. She tilted her hand and stared at it a while before returning her gaze to the sea, a new dullness filling her chest.

3

Strips of grey clouds gathered in the distance, and a mild breeze danced around Leanne's neck. Picking up her bag, she stepped off the paled sand, and walked along the town's busy roads. The narrow streets were filled with many walking along the pavements, heading towards the coast. Cars holding families and couples, hatted and shaded, wizzed along. Leanne decided she would walk towards home until she tired before she hopped on the bus. On Bitley Road she walked into the small cafe beside the town's postal office. The smells of blueberry muffins and coffee wafted through the quiet shop, and at the white wooden counter she ordered a milk tea and a caramel tart. The brown haired and white aproned waitress smiled as she jotted down the order in the notebook at her hand. Leanne shuffled between the pale blue tables, seating herself by the window.

Sipping the warm milk tea from the white porcelain cup, her eyes dribbling down the postcards marking the yellow wall adjoing the entrance door, she thought of all the places around the world she had forever wanted to visit. One particular postcard caught her eyes. The glossy rectangle held the picture of huge elephants with raised trunks, treading along orange muddied plains. Trees stood scattered in the distance. In italic font, to the top right of the card, was the name of the country, India. She sipped the tea, enjoying its warmth against her lips. The diamond of her ring glinted with light. And once again, caught at her eyes. Once all but crumbs of the caramel tart muffin the white saucer, she rose from her chair, and waved her thanks to the waitress.

She stepped out of the cafe, and her face held a new solemness as she started back home. After a short while, she veered on to Millham Street, her white heels striking the pavemet harder with every step. The weight within was growing heavier. A child in passing, wearing a blue cap, looked towards her and smiled, and as much as Leanne tried, a smile felt a thing impossible now. The petite child looked away, his lips fallen flat. She soon found herself stepping along Pearl Street, the road she had avoided the year past, and sought to avoid in the year ahead. But her feet carried her foward as if she had no will to take her away. Soon the thoughts went silent. Her feet marched along.

4

Lustorous green hedges surrounded the modest detached house, and its thickness did well to hide Leanne who crouched behind. Creeping along, moving closer to the house, she felt her dull heart thud against her chest. She stilled her feet on the nieghbour's muddy lawn, and took in a deep breath then rose on her tiptoes, and peered over the hedges. The parlour's curtains were undone, allowing clear sight of the beautifully adorned room. A little child sat on the couch, her hair curly above her blue dress. Beside her, a woman held up a magazine. Soon another child ran into view, a toy car in hand, and a wonderful smile marking his chubby face. Taking caution having heard a rustle close by, Leanne dipped her hand down, and monitored her surroundings. Her brown eyes flitted left and right. A furry squirrel scuttled along the hedges and climbed a tree nearing the curb. Once she felt safety come upon her again, Leanne rose once more and peered over hedges into the house. There he was. Tall and handsome, with thick black hair and shirted white. Placing the tray at hand on a table, he shared words with the woman before laughing and leaning forward for a kiss. The dullness had faded to an empitness. Leanne's eyes stilled. It is said the human body employs from the three choices of fight, flight or freeze when under attack. And it was the latter, freeze, which had gripped Leanne's emotions.

Stood there alone, her heart was unable to compute the hurt and the eternal anguish any longer. The blood pumping valves where sinched. And a coldness grew around her bosom. Her brown eyes, held within her placid and statued face, glanced upon the girl. White ice cream had slipped from her hand, and marked her blue dress. The little girl's eyes darted towards the boy, then back at the ice cream smudge, she looked towards the magazine held before her mother's face. She fingered the cream up and, leaning forward, pushed it against the face of the little boy. For a moment, the two children exchanged looks of curiousity, the girl unknowing if the boy would avenge his cheek, the boy comprehending the unprovoked assault. However in an instant of ethereal bliss, the two bellowed with laughter. Leanne's lips parted in gasp. Her eyes shimmered, and a tear grew at the edge of her eyelid. It slipped down her smooth cheek. The drop met the edge of smiling lips. Letting her eyelids glide close, she lifted her face towards the blue skies. The words escaped her mouth in pure truth. "I will be happy as I have been before".

5

Leanne's knock on the door was attended to by him. That man. The handsome one, tall and dark eyed. The one she once knew. The one she had once loved. The one who broke his oaths, and fell for another. He was aware of her hurting, of the pain his departing had caused. Stood at the threshold, his face held lips arched in a patronizing smirk. He pocted his hands, and held a knowing look. Leanne's eyes rose to meet his. As if the weight of the years past had all lifted from her jowls, Leanne produced the most wonderful and hearty smile. The edges of her lips sought to ascend to the heavens up high, lifting her heart amongst the twinkling stars. She twisted the diamond ring of her finger, and pressed it into his palm. She rubbed at the indent it had left aginst her skin, hoping to quickly remove the man out of all her existence. Aware of his new lowly state within Leanne's scales of value, a sunkenness quickly sketched on the man's face, and the smirk vanished to fallen lips. He stood as if frozen. Unable to speak, to comprehend.

Leanne turned, her yellow dress jostling at her shins, and stepped off the white porch, and with a spring in her white heeled step. Only, as her hand reached for the gate she felt as if an ocean of those furry black spiders was scuttling towards her. Her thoughts had frozen, her limbs trembling, her eyes fixed upon the skies. Her heart squealed and ferociously dance as if punctured. She struggled to catch her breath. It must all end. It must end now. As if hypnotized by a thing unseen within the fabric of reality her hand reached into her handbag. The cool steel was sharp against her palm. As she skipped home, her pearly teeth at last reaquinted with the day's light, a discordant melody of screams beamed into the air.

Crashing the front door closed, she bolted up the stairs, and pulled out her small black-leathered telephone book from the chest drawer. She grabbed a handful of jangling coins from her purse, and hurried out into the street. The old man, grey haired and hatted black, stilled his walking stick as he gave way to Leanne. She turned towards him, her lips wide and smiling, and she nodded in appreciation. The man lifted his head, and peered up towards her face, and his lips trembled as he spoke, 'You remind me of wife. She was the most beautiful girl in the world'. She waved towards Aunt Marie who stood outside the the second-hand shop with her hands pinned to her hips and her brows furrowed in wonder. Mr Howells smiled behind the dusty glass front of the convenience store. Leanne pushed into the phonebox, pinning the reciever between her cheek and shoulder. Marie's voice spilled through the clot of holes. As she whiffed the stench of salmon and blood curdled in her hand, Leanne spoke. 'Hey, hun. Let's do that holiday. India. I'm ready.'