Forever Mine (Joe & Ella 2)

Remember, what you do now will come back to you in the future. Life has a funny way of making you deal with what you make others go through.

-Karma

Prologue

Our time is now my love, we’ve waited so long for this, too long. All the pieces are in place and the next move is ours. He will not know what has hit him, but he will learn. When it’s the end he will know exactly who has come for him and why. He will know his demise was an inevitability he brought upon himself.

A life as precious as yours cannot fade away quietly into the ether. Your eternal light and beauty shall shine on forever more once his darkness has been eradicated from this world. I have made it my life’s work to make it so. You will have the redemption you deserve.

Forever your love

Forever Mine

1

It was late evening by the time I pulled up outside the ramshackle bungalow that I called my childhood home. The lanes leading to my Nan’s house were narrow and over grown with bushes on either side, making it impossible to pull over if another car came the other way. Luckily traffic in this part of the world was scarce, so I had a free flow down to the bumpy waste land that Nan called her drive. The bungalow was surrounded by fields which were picturesque and farmed regularly, something I loved to watch as a child. Those massive combine harvesters looked like metal monsters on the landscape and gave me comfort and security. Who would dare invade our idyllic little home with those mighty metal guards out on patrol?

There was a higgledy-piggledy wall that ran around the whole exterior of the bungalow, a wall that my Grandad had proudly built himself when they first moved in. It was made with uneven rocks piled haphazardly on top of one another and stood just below waist height. You wouldn’t want to sit on it though, for fear of the thing toppling down under your weight.

The garden was always full of plants and flowers to complement each season, and one side of the building was dedicated to growing fruits and vegetables which my Nan was extremely proud of. Often she would make jams to take to the local farmers’ market, but more often than not she gave them all away for free. That was Nan, always generous to a fault.

I saw the well-used garden fork, spade and hoe leaning against the back wall. A wheel barrow full of compost sat next to them and Nan’s gardening gloves were hanging off the end of the wheelbarrow’s handles. I smiled fondly at the familiarity of it all. I knew I had done the right thing coming here. This was just what I needed, simplicity.

The bungalow itself was a hotchpotch of different coloured stones, bricks and tiles. Grandad wouldn’t use professional builders, instead opting to do any repairs himself. Since he passed away, Nan had taken that responsibility on herself. Even if I offered to pay for repairs she refused. ‘What is the point in paying someone to do a job we could do ourselves?’ was her opinion. She was a formidable woman and I hoped that I had half her vitality and thirst for life when I got to her age.

I opened the little wooden gate that nestled inside Grandad’s stone wall and walked down the uneven path to the front door. It was still painted red, a colour I had chosen and helped Nan paint about fifteen years ago. The paint was peeling now. I would have to repaint it for her whilst I was here I thought. The small wooden window frames that ran around the property were painted pale blue and each one had their flowery curtains closed beyond.

I had no idea if Nan would be home, she had such a hectic social life I couldn’t even remember what days she did what, it was always changing. I tried the door handle and sure enough the front door creaked open. It didn’t matter how many times I warned Nan to lock her doors she never did. She was still running on 1960s time, and the notion that someone would want to enter her home for anything other than a chat and a cuppa was alien to her. That was part of the reason why I couldn’t get her to visit me in the city, she hated the idea of the crowds and the impersonal way that us ‘city types’ lived.

“Hello...Nan it’s only me, Ella.” I called out into the bungalow to warn her of my presence.

The door to the kitchen flung opened and Nan appeared looking startled, holding a tea towel and a china cup that she was drying.

“Ella! Child! What on earth are you doing here? Come over here and give your old Nan a hug.” I went over to her and gave her a massive hug, squeezing her so tight she gasped and then giggled.

“Are you a sight for sore eyes, child. Why are you here? Haven’t you got work tomorrow?” She asked pulling back from my embrace.

“I needed to see you Nan, I’ve made a horrible mess of everything.”

Her eyes grew sympathetic which was my down fall and I unleashed the torrent of tears that I’d been holding back since I walked in.

“I don’t need to ask if this is all related to a man, I can already see it in your eyes Ella. He better not show his face round here or he’ll have me to deal with.” Nan threatened and I believed her. She had a sharp tongue and even sharper wits. Anyone who got on Nan’s bad side knew about it.

I sat down on the old brown velvet sofa and grabbed a flowery cushion to my lap, playing with the silky tassels around the edge to sooth me. Looking around, the living room hadn’t changed a bit. Dark wooden beams ran along the ceiling and down the walls too. The walls in between were painted white. Grandad’s water colours of the boats and sea scapes he enjoyed painting when he was alive adorned every available wall space. There was an old green leather recliner in one corner and a yellow flowery armchair covered in white lace head and arm rests in the opposite corner. The brown sofa I was sitting on was under the main living room window and a small old fashioned TV sat on a stand against the opposite back wall.

Sitting looking around at these familiar and comforting surroundings I could easily fool myself into thinking I was a child again. The décor was straight out of the 1970s and had never changed in all the time I had lived here, it had only been added to. A new ornament or a rug from the market used to cover a part of the swirly orange carpet that was going thread bare. It didn’t bother Nan though, they were just things. Her favourite saying was ‘people matter not things Ella, always remember that’. I found myself wondering what Joe would make of it all, then scolded myself for even thinking about him.

“So come on girlie, tell your old Nan what’s so dreadful that you had to hot foot it down to the back of beyond to see me.”

“I’ve messed up big time Nan.”

I looked at her calm thoughtful face full of lines and wrinkles. Her cheeks ruddy from the sea air and exertion of gardening, her hair still thick and lush but grey and tied into a bun at the nape of her neck. The smell of freshly baked bread swirled around her, making me want to bury my face in her chest like a child again. She was home to me.

“Well it doesn’t look like your missing any limbs or bruised in any way, so it can’t be that bad. I’m sure we can get you right. Remember what I always say Ella, there’s no bad luck you can bring to my door other than you are hurt or in pain. Is it that wet lettuce of a man Adam again?”

I grinned now, Nan had never liked Adam, she saw right through him from the start. Always calling him names and taking the mickey out of him when he wasn’t in ear shot.

“No it’s not Adam we broke up ages ago. He’s ancient history.”