Young Writers Society

A/N: I feel like there isn't very much plot progression here but that might be because I thought I'd explain things well enough in the last chapter xD Hopefully this will clarify things for people who thought that was not the case, while not boring people who didn't!

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Daena traced her hand back and forth along a scrape on the living room table. The letter had gone on to say that her father, Gordon, would be arriving home from service that night. However, it had failed to mention what time at night. And so, at nine in the evening, with the sun having set over a cool autumn day, she was crouched over the table, ready to pounce at the door at the first knock.

The table juddered noisily.

"Hi," said Janet, who had just thudded down onto the chair just round the table from Daena.

"Hi, Janet," Daena said, "How are you?"

Janet took a deep breath. "I'm fine, I think. I'll try to be. Look, me and Dad didn't end on the best of terms."

Daena raised an eyebrow. "Were you ever on the best of terms?"

Janet's jaw clenched. "No, I suppose not. I know you don't understand because Dad is literally your best friend in the entire world-"

"I have friends," Daena interjected.

Janet raised both her hands palm upwards and shrugged. "Who, exactly? That's not the point, okay? I know you get on really well with Dad. Well, I don't, but I'm going to try, okay?"

Daena nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Before Dad went away last time, we had an argument," Janet said. Ironically she was staring at the spot on the table that Daena had been directing her nervous energy towards a moment before.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Daena asked.

Janet took another deep breath, then looked up into Daena's eyes. "Yeah, yeah I think I do. It was dark. I hate how early it gets dark in winter. Anyway, I was just coming back from collecting some money and-"

There was a knock at the door. Daena looked from Janet to the door, and back. Should she Ali answer the door and take Daena to the bedroom or something? But then the door swung open with a long, quiet creak. But in the abrupt silence, the creak sounded more like a loud, angry screech.

"Daena! Janet!" Gordon Graham shouted, "Where's your mum and brother?"

Daena's eyes glued themselves to his tall, lithe frame. His fluffy brown hair stuck up at all angles, probably because of the shiny metal helmet hoisted up under one arm. Alistair came bounding through from the kitchen and shot right into Gordon's arms, clutching his thick woollen sleeves.

The excitement bubbled up inside Daena like fizzy wine and she couldn't hold herself back any longer.

"Dad!" she screamed, barrelling forward and into his arms. "Oops, didn't mean to squash you, Ali."

Gordon's embrace was warm and strong, everything Daena had longed for over the past six months. Oddly, now that she was finally experiencing it, in a way it actually didn't feel incredible as she'd been expecting. Instead, it just felt right. It felt normal.

After a moment, Gordon pushed them lightly away and took a step into the room. Daena followed his gaze as it settled on Janet.

"Hi, Janet," he said, "How are you?"

She eased her chair out from the table and stood up. With a quick glance towards Daena, she raised her head high and said, "I'm alright. How are you?"

Gordon gave Daena and Ali each a quick squeeze on the shoulder, grinning down at them. He looked up at Janet. "I'm very good, as of now. Where's your mother?"

"Town meeting," Janet said. She started clearing away the plates that the four of them had used for dinner before Clara had headed out.

As she disappeared into the kitchen, Gordon's mouth twitched and his smile almost dropped. Daena stepped away from him and beckoned for Alistair to come with her, sitting he and herself down on the hard, wooden backed couch. Where was the excitable chatter from her little brother? Had he finally gotten too old for her father to lift him up above his head like a trophy? Her father should be showing off his sword to her, or telling her tales of his adventures. Instead, he sat wordlessly down on the armchair across the coffee table.

"So, Dad, tell us all about when you saved Sir Robin!" Daena exclaimed. Her excitable voice rang out in the still tension, but what else could she do?

Gordon smiled sadly with one side of his mouth. "Maybe later, honey. I want to tell you all about it, really, but I have to talk to your mother first, alright? So how are you, my little wonders?"

Daena did her best not to let her shoulders slump. "Well, not much really. Not much ever happens here."

"Ah," Gordon said. He frowned at the table for a moment, chewing on his lip. Then he looked up and said, "How about you, Ali? You finish up your schooling?"

"Yeah," Alistair said. He sighed, his mouth settling into a straight, glum line. "I've been put on an apprenticeship with Joe Hutcheon."

Gordon's eyes widened, and he exclaimed, "The blacksmith?"

Alistair nodded, balancing his elbow on his thigh and his head on his hand. "I wanted to learn from Mum but the schoolmaster said Mum already had Daena and Janet and that I'd sit around doing nothing."

Gordon reached a hand across and held Alistair's shoulder. "I'm sorry, buddy. Do you want me to go down there and tell them you've never sat still for a day in your life? I know it’s more than just a business to you kids. It always seems to make you so happy, so proud. I’ll do anything I can to help you keep hold of that."

Alistair shook his head. "Mum tried. But the town voted ages ago that no family needs more than two kids working for it. So I have to go be a stupid blacksmith and break my back and get my hands dirty and work in the dark..."

Alistair's listing got faster and faster and before long his voice was catching and tears sprang to his eyes. Daena didn't know what to do. Should she put her arm around him? Talk about something else? But before she could do anything her father sprang into action and darted round to their side of the table. He squeezed in between the couch and the table, and wrapped his arms around Alistair.

This really was not how today was supposed to go.