Sandra: Five Senses

The door creaked noisily as Sarah pushed it open and the pungent smell of lavender furniture polish filled the air. She looked around the familiar room. It was as if she had stepped back in time six years.  Everything was just as she had left it.
Her bed with its faded pink candlewick cover, the dark wood headboard. Above the bed a painting that Sarah had done for her grandmother one rainy afternoon when she was seven years old. Gran had been so pleased with it and insisted they buy a frame for it. Sarah walked over and looked again at the scene.
A family picnic.  It struck Sarah now that they made a strange family.  Mr Newson sitting in his wheelchair in the shade of a tree.  Gran kneeling on a brightly coloured picnic rug passing a flask of tea to Fred.  Sarah herself running across the meadow grass chasing a butterfly; that with a childs eye for perspective was nearly as big as Sarah herself.
On the lemon wicker chair beside the bed sat Sarah's oldest friend.  Mr Softy her teddy bear. The years had taken their toll . His fur once white in colour was now more of a grey. Around his neck a stripey scarf that was Sarah's first attempt at knitting. Full of holes and dropped stitches but Mr Softy wore it with pride.
Sarah picked him up and laid him on her pillow.
 Sarah felt very cold, she shivered and noticing that the window was open went to close it. She smiled to herself when she saw the small  carved wooden owl on the windowsill. She picked it up and turned it over in her hand running her fingers over the carefully carved outline of two initials S.N.
 She remembered when Mr Newson had carved it for her.  She had knelt beside his chair and watched enthralled as he chiselled and carved the shapeless piece of wood. With fingers bent double with arthritis he worked.   Oblivious to the pain he was doubtless feeling - to make this little owl for her. Sarah felt tears pricking her eyes as she remembered how ungrateful she had been when he finally presented her with the owl.  Sarah did not want an owl.  She wanted a puppy. Just like the one Mr Newson had made for Fred.
The owl had actually quite scared her. It did not matter where she put it. The owl was always watching her.
In the end Sarah had put the owl on the windowsill, facing out towards the street.
'You whore,' Sarah  looked down  Her mother was standing in the garden. 'You dirty little whore.' Sarah's mother shouted up at her. Sarah saw her mother raise her arm and realised in horror that she had a brick in her hand.
'Gran, quick.' Sarah shouted as she shrank away from the window.
'You dirty little slag'. Her mothers words resonated and bounced aound the room.
'No, No ' Sarah whispered and sat back on the bed.. Nervously she pulled tufts of thread from the bedspread and let them drop to the floor.
Sarah heard the front door bang and then Gran and her mother arguing. Then it was quiet. Quiet like the quiet before a storm. Her mothers words hung in the air pressing down on her. Sarah laid down beisde Mr Softy and held him close. Pushing her face into his soft body she bit into his fur to stifle the scream she could feel rising inside her.

May knocked softly on the door. 'It's only me, Sarah. I've brought you a cuppa'. May opened the door and
came in.  She set the tray down on the floor beside the bed and sat down beside Sarah. May took Sarah's hand in hers and rubbed it gently. Her hand roughened by years of housework and gardening. Sarah's hand soft with the innocence of youth.  'Don't be too upset love. That will be the booze talking. I think your Mum's back on the bottle again. Come on love, up you get'. May tugged  on Sarah's hand and Sarah sat up and took the cup of tea that May proffered.
The fragrant tea was syrupy sweet and very hot. Sarah sipped it slowly and found to her surprise that her Gran was right. Somehow the tea did make her feel better.  
'Do you want any help with your unpacking?'
'No Thanks Gran. It won't take me long.'
'Righto, love. I will go and put some dinner on. See you in a minute then'. May picked up the tea tray and closed the door softly behind her.
Sarah began her unpacking.  She opened the top drawer of the small chest. Gran had put a lavender bag in the drawer. Sarah smiled to herself. Her grandmother loved lavender.  Then as she moved the bag aside she noticed a package wrapped in white tissue paper. Sarah unwrapped it carefully and inside was an exquisite hand knitted babies coat. Knitted in fine yarn with an intricate pattern and tiny shell like mother of pearl buttons.
 Sarah sighed and wrapping the coat back up in the paper put it back into the drawer. She turned sideways on and looked at herself critically in the mirror. There was no mistaking the slight swell to her belly.She put her hand on the small mound. For the first time she acknowledged the existence of the new life growing there. "You poor little thing, I know nothing about babies. I know nothing about life. I have no job,no money.  How am I going to take care of you?"
Her mother was right. she was useless, pathetic and selfish. Now ahe was going to have to grow up very fast.  Sarah was scared.
"I think I really do need someone to watch over me now." Sarah thought.
She walked back to the window and picking up the owl, she kissed it before putting it down facing squarely towards her bed.