By Sue Goodman. 1004 words.

I pulled open the white canvas flap of the marquee, revealing the sickly smell of food going off in the sunshine. I had done Emma proud, I told myself, struggling to remember her party the day before. All I remembered were echoes.

“Mum, if we don’t get going, Dad’ll be home then we’ll never escape”, shouted Emma’s voice from indoors.

“OK, love, I’m coming”, I said, my legs feeling like lead.

I tried to push another photo album into my already stuffed suitcase but it wasn’t having any of it. ‘Perhaps if I sit on it’, I wondered, but that did not help. ‘Won’t be needing these’, I thought as I discarded my dresses. Then I became aware of Emma standing over me, coat on, ready to leave. She touched my shoulder, “It’s okay Mum, we can do this”.

She was looking at the tears trickling down my cheek. “It’ll be fine”, she reassured me, but her eyes told a different story, glancing at the birthday cards displayed around the room.

In what seemed moments we were walking down the street. “We get the Jubilee Line to Willesden Green”, Emma reminded me, but my mind was on the butterflies flitting about in my stomach. I glanced behind me, half expecting to see him running down the road after us, ready to bar our way.

Once we were stepping onto the train my heart stopped pounding and I took a sigh of relief. I gave Emma’s hand a squeeze, “We’ve done it!” I said, needing to say it to convince myself it was really happening. Then it came to me in a flash, my yellow address book was still sitting on the hall windowsill. All my friend’s and relative’s phone numbers and addresses. He would have a field day, phoning them, persuading them what a terrible wife I was, making up plausible stories of how I had neglected our children. Worse still how could I get in touch with people? If I went back for it now though he would be sure to catch me. I would never get another chance to escape, he would watch me like a hawk. I suddenly felt cold, my world was shrinking like air escaping from a burst balloon. I felt the enormity of what I was doing. I felt very alone. We were travelling to a place we had never been to before. Would we even find it?

I checked with the man at the ticket office, “Yes, Willesden Green is on the Jubilee Line, change at Stratford” he assured me. I held Emma’s hand tightly as we descended the deep escalator and I tried to sound relaxed, laughing as I saw an advert for the The Muppet Christmas Carol film she really wanted to see,. “Look, it’ll be on in London, we’ll have to go and see it. She smiled, “Thanks Mum, I’d love that”.

The overground train journey seemed to go on for ever. I kept thinking I saw him, the same dark, curly hair, the same striding gait. Then when we got off at Stratford I thought I saw people watching me. Could he have got his friends to look out for us? We wouldn’t be hard to find, a woman laden down with bags with her teenage daughter in tow. I hurried onto the Jubilee Line train. There was nobody else in the carriage. That felt safer.

I looked out of the window at the houses we passed, wondering whether the faces behind them hid secrets like ours had done. Then we travelled into darkness and the carriage got hot and stuffy. Each time we stopped at a station the opening of the doors heralded the sound of echoing voices and the smell of dust. Then at last sunshine streamed through the windows and I heard the sound of birdsong and smelt fresh air. When I saw the station sign for Willesden Green we got off and propelled our stiff legs to the barrier. Outside there were smart houses and clean pavements with green trees lining our way. At the end of the road we turned right, as the woman on the phone had directed us, to be faced by a large modern single storey white building with a children’s playground in the garden behind. We walked up the concrete path to the front door which was shabby with chipped paint, but somehow it looked well loved and friendly. We slumped on the doorstep, our piles of bags surrounding us. I smiled at Emma, though my mind was in turmoil; all I could think about was her lovely party. I could hear the music and the laughter clearly now. ‘It’s all a big mistake’ I thought, my feet itching to turn around.

Then the door opened and two smiling women in bright clothes put their hands out to help us with our bags. Emma smiled back and walked in, a lightness in her step.

One of the women took Emma’s hand as she showed us down a corridor with doors on either side, reminding me of a hotel I had stayed in with him. “This room’s yours”, the woman smiled, opening the door then handing me the key. The sun was shining on the clean bright bed covers on our single beds. There were flowers in a vase on the cupboard. “When you’re settled knock on our office door then I’ll show you round. Oh I nearly forgot, there’s some milk in your little fridge and some cake in the bread bin”, she pointed.

“Mum, this is great”, said Emma, almost jumping up and down. I smiled, but I wasn’t so sure. It was all very well but it wasn’t home. Would we ever have a home to go back to or would we always be moving from one temporary place to another? Would anyone want me back anyway after he had twisted their minds? Had we escaped one horror only to be confronted by a dangerous lonely world?