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Tags: Homecoming

There weren’t many people in town who noticed 5 Ophelia Street. Two oak trees stood in front − like cupped hands shielding a crying face − blocking the house from view. The neighbours, while walking their dogs or waiting for their kids’ buses, spotted the corner where the house stood, noted

Her car glides around the bend and suddenly the colours change. The light sky is swallowed by a darker cover and the yellow fields of barley and oats become bottle green and mud brown: land for livestock, not crops. A flooded field shines silver: a reflection of the slate-grey sky, the sun gleaming

And then it’s time. The vicar asks Rachael first, because she lives here, I suppose. Or because she’s organised the funeral, or goes to church, or because she looks and acts older even though she’s not. I don’t mind. Not really. She crouches down, like she’s making eye contact with a toddl