BBC SCR: Features

There was no journey in her memory, and Lily could recall no packing up, no goodbyes to school friends or family at the gate, no overnight stay somewhere to make possible the long and difficult transfer she and her mother must have made.

“Well, here we are ,“ her mother said, in that particular way she had of stating the obvious. She put down Lily’s tiny cardboard suitcase, and leaned more heavily on the wall of the porch.

A chill gust of wind flipped under the hem of Lily’s coat, finding her bare knees. A swirl of brown leaves chased, breaking formation against the brick red porch before whisking upwards and away.

One small leaf remained trapped in a cobweb, abandoned and flapping as its fellows soared and parted company.

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