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'A Special Person to Me'

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Special Person Ela 10.4 I will always remember the warm summers spent under the Devon sun, but none will stand out more than the year I met Helen. 'The darkest floor, the top floor, that's where my room is. The box of the house.' She nodded, paying attention to my smile, not my eyes. 'Night before was spent in there, couldn't sleep though. Alone, under blankets - the most worn-out-est blankets of the house.' My legs were now long enough to climb up the willow tree in the front garden, but still too short to fully wrap around the rough branch I was sitting on. Helen climbed up too; pushing me up to the spots I couldn't reach and chuckled a laugh as warm as the sun seeping through the willow leaves. 'The boys are loud...they run fast you know; better watch out Helen. They're allowed to stay late and keep me up with their running. ...read more.


Her eyes were the first things you saw. Their colour resembled the flesh of a kiwifruit and her hair was its peel, brown and coarse. Like the sky in the morning, her smile was conspicuous yet distant. She waved politely and I saw her hand, those bitten nails that were somehow neat, and the soft peachy colour of her palm and the movement of her fingers that wanted to wrap around my hand and squeeze it to safety. She was introduced to everybody as the new maid, Helen. When the boys left for a game of pool in the backroom and the Grown-Ups went to the terrace for drinks I followed her to the kitchen, where I sat on a stool at the end of the room and she began to go about making dinner. She washed, scrubbed, peeled and placed. I watched her get through two chopping board's worth of diced vegetables in moments, her fingers knowing and fluent. ...read more.


She talked of the shrubs, young and bursting. She walked with me through the forests, and when she told me to look up I could see the treetops, and the gaps between them, letting the glitter of the sun drip through. We skipped through the vast fields and felt the breeze from the sky, where clouds looked down upon us, pregnant with teardrops. It made it almost difficult to remember the long, cruel summers I had endured in these very fields. Memories of the overbearing sun were forgotten, the beating and the bashing of the boys were laughed about and cheerfulness was brought out in me. After dinner I took her to the willow tree, I felt like I shared its height. Looking up to Helen again I saw the turn of her head was sympathetic, the narrowing of her eyes were understanding and the stretch of her smile was reassuring. There was nothing less and nothing more that I needed from the parental role in my case. She stroked my hair, lifted me to the branch, and up we went. ...read more.

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