Prologue
It was a beautiful dawn. The morning sun was drifting up lazily over the mountains, and the air was cool and refreshing. At the outskirts of the mountain range was the largest of them all, and from there you could see the fields and hamlets below perfectly. But the best view of all was of the massive lake separating the mountain range from a thick green forest. The sunrise fell onto it in light yellow sprinkles, a gorgeous sight for anyone lucky enough to be able to see it. The couple who lived in a cottage on that mountain were said to be the luckiest people around for that very reason.
The tapping of shoes sounded across the wooden deck leading out of the back of the cottage. A woman of around fifty-five walked slowly to the fence at the back of the garden and leant against it. Her light summer dress blew gently against her legs, and her dark hair rose up from her face and down again regularly. She looked out towards the lake and lit up a cigarette.
“Awen,” a male voice behind her called. A tall, dark figure came up behind her and slipped an arm around her waist. He pressed his unshaven chin against her cheek and kissed her. “Good morning.”
Awen smiled at her husbands touch. “Morning, Tareq.”
The pair held their bodies still together for a few moments, looking out over the water. Awen breathed smoke out into the air and Tareq parted and leant against the fence. He looked across at Awen.
“What are you thinking?”
She squeezed the cigarette between her fingers. “It’s the eleventh today.”
Tareq nodded.
“Fathia and Ovid. They’ll be eighteen. No. They are eighteen.”
“I know.” Tareq moved back towards his wife and put a hand on her waist. She tapped her cigarette. Ashes fell onto the newly blossoming red and blue flowers beneath her feet. For whatever reason, the image felt somewhat symbolic to her.
Chapter One
Fathia was awoken by the sunlight streaming in through her thin curtains at the later hour of nine. Her head ached a little from too much sleep. Ines, her foster mother, could be heard moving about in the kitchen downstairs, but curiously, could be heard talking to her foster father, Haig. Fathia wondered why he wasn’t out working on the farm, before she remembered what day it was.
Ovid swung his legs out of bed and went out into the hall, where his sister was emerging from her bedroom.
“Happy birthday Fathia,” he said, smiling. She returned his wishes and they hugged briefly.
“So, today’s the day,” she said. “We’re telling them this morning?”
“The sooner the better,” Ovid agreed. “But let them fuss for a little first, you know how they love to put on a good spread whenever there’s something to celebrate.”
The thought of a big breakfast laid on by Ines sent them rushing back to their rooms to get dressed, and soon the crash of feet running down the stairs could be heard throughout the cottage.
Ines was gliding around the kitchen, laying the table for the twins. It was not a large kitchen, in fact, it was not a very large cottage, but it was cosy and full of character. The kitchen in particular had a very old feel to it, the doors, surfaces and cupboards made of a thick oak wood, built by Haig himself. A large window let in streams of morning sunlight as he and Ines looked over at the table, then back at each other and smiled. The small round table left little room to move around, and this morning it was laden with food. They chuckled a little as they heard the twins running down the stairs, and turned to greet their slightly flushed faces.
“Ovid! Fathia!” Ines exclaimed, stretching her arms out and hugging them both. “Happy birthday, dears!”
“Thank you, Ines. Goodness, what’s all this? I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble!” Fathia said, walking to the table, where her brother had already picked up a plate and fork.
“Nothing is too much trouble for you little ones,” Ines told her.
“Not so little now, Ines,” Haig interjected.
“Well of course, eighteen? It’s a big day for you! Come on now, help yourself, there’s pancakes, waffles, any fruit you like, dig in!”
Ines stood at the table with her hands folded for a few moments, watching the twins and her husband gathering and stuffing food in their mouths eagerly as if they hadn’t eaten for months. Eventually she sat down and joined them, and the only sound was the chomping of teeth and the clatter of cutlery. The four of them finally sat back, their bellies full and plates empty.
“So what plans do you have for the day?” Ines asked.
Fathia wiped her mouth and looked at her brother carefully. He glanced back at her.
“Well,” he said, “that’s an...interesting question.” Ines and Haig looked at him expectantly, and the cottage was suddenly silent.
“Today, we were thinking of going to look at houses.” Ovid held his breath, and the twins looked carefully at Ines and Haig, waiting for a reaction.
Ines looked at them for a few seconds, before smiling broadly and pulling the napkin off her lap. “Oh, Ovid! Fathia! So young, yet so mature...I can’t believe it’s been eighteen years, how astonishing that it’s time for you to fly from the nest!”
Ovid and Fathia smiled in relief. “We weren’t sure how you would take it”, Fathia explained.
“Oh, well of course we’re going to miss you around the house, and the farm, but we’ve been expecting this for a while - it’s time for you to move on, we know this.” She looked over at Haig, who was nodding in agreement.
“It is time,” he said, “and I’d like to thank you two for all the help you have given us with the farm. You have grown into two marvellous people.” He coughed, and that was clearly the furthest that what started as a sentimental speech was going to go.
Fathia reached over the table and hugged them both. “Thank you, Haig, Ines.” Ines squeezed her hand, and got up to clear the table. The family continued to talk about the twin’s new home over the clatter of crockery and cutlery. Ovid began chattering excitedly, with Fathia interrupting every once in a while.
“We won’t be moving far, of course,” he told them. “Perhaps a ten minute walk through the village. And we’ll visit, nearly every day. There are some lovely houses down by the river, and not too expensive. But we have some money saved, and we’re going to find jobs before we move, so that won’t be a problem. Houses down there are going for five hundred Kirnos, and we have more than that saved. And-”
“And there’s a lovely farm down by the river, a lot like this one, so it’ll be just like home, really, and you can come visit us, we’ll decorate it just the way we want-”
Ines chuckled. “Slow down!” she said. She paused. “You have a long day ahead of you. Before you go,” she added quietly, “we have something for you.” She glanced over at Haig, who got up and took a white envelope out of a drawer. He handed it to Ovid. Ovid opened it, looking at it curiously, Fathia leaning over his shoulder. It was a letter, yellowed with time, written in blue ink, slightly creased. It read:
Fathia and Ovid,
It is with immense grief we write this letter, and we hope that in reading it, you will forgive us for not being with you on your special day. When you were born, we could not stay with you, and you had to be taken from us. We moved far away to help deal with the pain of not being with you, and apologise greatly for the circumstances this left you in. We wish we could be with you today, yesterday, and every day that came before. We hope that you were given a loving home, and are sure you have developed into two wonderful young adults. Perhaps one day fate will lead us to cross paths once again.
- Awen and Tareq.
It was Ines who broke the silence. “Your parents gave it to the authorities, before they left. They passed it on to us, and said we had been requested to give it to you on your eighteenth birthday.”
“Why our eighteenth? Why not before?” Ovid asked.
“We don’t know. We think it could be because...well, now you can leave home. You can make it on your own, do whatever you want...go wherever you want.” Ines sat back down, the dishcloth still in her hand. Fathia and Ovid stared at each other.
“I think we need to talk,” Fathia said quietly. Ovid nodded, and they both rose, and exited the room. Ines and Haig sat at the table, listening to their footsteps on the stairs, their faces wearing the same worried expression.
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