Butterfly Promises

I would like to thank my wonderful Beta reader Tal for her hard work and patients with all the re-writs I know the first 2 chapters are plot driven but good things and all
Hope you enjoy .

CHAP 2
Emma made her way down the high street with tears prickling and threatening to spill down her cheek. She sniffed loudly and put her bags down on the pavement to scrub at her eyes. Thank god I don’t have mascara on, she thought. Composing herself, she pulled the belt on her trench coat tighter and let a woman with a buggy past. Emma followed the image of the pink clad infant with her eyes until mother and child disappeared around the corner. Stepping even further back, she rested against the railings of the old Methodist church, puffing out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. At times like this, she wished that she smoked. Nina always said it gave her something to do with her hands.

She wished everyone would stop treating her like glass, Nina included. No one wanted to remember - she thought back to the photos on the table. She tried to remember her pregnancy as a gift, a joy - rather than the later nightmare that getting preclampsia at 33 weeks and losing the baby had turned into
She and Adam had decorated the nursery together. Adam had turned the box room into an office so he could work from home part-time.
He wanted to share in the baby’s life but even Adam hadn’t mentioned Oliver these past couple of months. It seemed to coincide with her returning to work. It was like he could compartmentalise everything; now, then and before. Adam had gone on a purge of the whole house. The nursery had been dismantled and packed away in the loft even before Emma was discharged from the hospital. The only item that managed to miss the cull was a small blue bear. That now sat pride of place on Emma’s bedside table next to a framed photo the midwife had taken.
Their home became clutter free and Adam had an urge to redecorate. Everything had a purpose and a place; a fact that Adam took great pride in, having designed and overseen its building.
The noise of the rush hour traffic penetrated her senses, bringing her back to the here-and-now.
“Oh, bloody hell!”
Emma hastily grabbed her bags as she sprinted down the street after the number 38 bus. If she missed this one it was a half hour wait till the next. Being a Saturday, the pedestrian area was teeming with people of all ages, making it quite the obstacle course. As she reached the shelter, the bus pulled away and the driver wouldn’t even stop when she rapped on the side. Sitting down, feeling disgruntled with her, she glanced at her watch, calculating her travel times and expected arrival at home. Emma belatedly wished she’d stayed for the proffered lift. If her luck held out, a warm bubble bath and some relaxing music should settle her nicely before Adam came home from the gym. They were having a takeaway and film night, cuddled up on their leather sofa.
The clouds were getting heavy with rain as she stepped on to the bus; there was a glut of passengers all stood near the front. Emma sucked in her breath and pushing her way through trying not to wallop anyone she went.
“Excuse me. Can I get past please?” the bus rumbled and juddered in to life then. Emma stumbled and would have fallen flat on her face if it weren’t for the big burly bloke that broke her fall. The man grunted with the impact but set her upright. “Bloody drivers never wait till you’re ready” he grumbled “are you alright love?”
Emma stood for a moment to asses the damage. “Yeah, I’m fine nothing bumped or bruised. Thanks for that”.
“My pleasure, flower” Turning to the back of the bus he called out to a greasy haired youth. “Hey Clive, let the lady have your seat”. Clive removed the headphones of his Ipod. “What?”
With a pointing gesturing then hitching his thumb the man said to his son “Move your arse and let the lady sit down.”
“Oright keep your hair on I’m moving” Clive sullenly vacated his seat.
“Oh no you don’t have to, I can stand.”
“Don’t be daft, love, I may be off the Cross but I know how a gentleman treats a lady and so does our Clive. Besides the next stop’s ours”. Emma had grown up in Deerlans Avenue on the Parsons Cross estate herself. There were some who would do you ill as soon as look at you; but the vast majority were just folks getting by.
“Thanks Mr --.”
“Dave just Dave”.
“Thanks Dave I’m Emma.” She said as she extended her hand.
“Pleasure, flower, now get yourself sat down”

Emma made her way to the back of the bus and flopped down on the seat trying to arrange her bags as best she could. Her shoulder ached a little but not much. Although it was a cold and blustery day out side the air in side was humid with the recycled air breathed in and out by countless passengers. Their breath and body heat condensing and steaming up the windows. The mix of perfume, stale body sweat and the distinct aroma of southern fried chicken meal made Emma’s head dizzy. She needed to open a window. Why did people close them? The fresh air won’t kill them she thought.

Climbing back to her feet she stretched over and pulled hard on the catch to release it, the motion of the bus almost taking her balance again. Emma tried to get comfortable
“Have you got the time there, love?” slurred the ruddy faced woman sat beside her. Glancing at her watch she said twenty to six.
“Right thanks.” The woman head swayed back and forth as she tried to focus on Emma
” Have ya got a smoke love I’ll buy it aff you.
“Sorry no I don’t”
Come on just wan wee cigarette misses that’s all I’m asking.”
Emma helplessly shrugged her shoulders and reiterated. “I don’t smoke. Sorry.
“RIGHT be like that, you stuck up bitch. I don’t care.”
What was it with alcoholics that the filter between their ears and brain seemed to get scrambled when they had a skinful?
Emma took a fiver from her purse and shoved it in to the woman’s hand. “Here buy yourself some when you get off.”
Well the woman’s attitude changed immediately. “Awe thank you you’re a wee darling” and hastily shoved the money in her pocket before the offer could be recanted. The woman got off not long after. Emma budged along and sat by the window. Trailing her fingers on the glass she drew patterns through the condensation before wiping the moisture away with a tissue. She always seemed to get stuck with the oddballs, drunks or overly-distraught wanting to tell her their life story when she used public transport. That reminded her must phone my mum when I get in.

They had left Sheffield city centre behind now and were journeying towards the outskirts and the country roads that would take her home. The bus was less busy now. Emma took the photos from the side of her handbag. A melancholy wistfulness settled on her as she remembered the phantom sensation of her child ensconced in her belly. At times kicking down on her bladder or just under the ribs. It had been such a feeling of fullness and wonder to be a part of creating a new life. It had taken several months before the dull hollowed-out feeling passed to be replaced with despair and self-recrimination. The constant question of what if I had done this different. Adam had been her rock, her fortress. Doing every little thing for her, even helping her to wash and dress. Having a caesarean hadn’t helped ether. She had felt robbed of the experience of birthing her child naturally.
Adam had been really patient with her, holding her as she sobbed, stroking her hair and offering solace. She had almost lost herself in grief. It had been invaluable talking to other woman who had similar experiences. Going to group therapy helped her turn a corner. Yes she could see why Nina thought it was a good idea to hide the photos but she was stronger now. Emma blinked her eyes and turned back to look outside watching the landscape roll by.
As the bus came in to the village of Hope the driver stopped to let an old woman with a blue and green tartan wheeled shopping trolley on. Emma recognized the elderly woman who sat down next to her. It was Mrs Heartnal who lived near the park – ‘Witchy Lizzy’ as the local kids called her. The fact that she was eccentric and lived with eight cats and asked passing strangers if they wanted their tea leaves read didn’t help to dispel the myth.
Mrs Heartnal was humming softly and sucking on a Fisherman’s Friend and clutching an old string bag and looked at the young woman sat beside her. Reading facial expressions told you a lot about folks. Lizzy reached across and gently put a hand on Emma’s arm to get her attention.
Emma glanced round to see a packet of cough sweets offered in her direction. Giving a half smile, she accepted one out of politeness, and said.
“I’ll save it for later; don’t want to spoil my tea”.
Mrs Heartnal smiled and popped another one in her mouth, rattling it against her dentures as she sucked it.
The old woman seemed determined to engage Emma in conversation, the rest of the journey to Castleton went by quickly with Mrs Heartnal chattering away, including inquiries about Emma’s purchases, the state of the National Heath Service, and the possibility of global warming in her lifetime
The familiar landmarks were coming into sight; not long now. Emma just wanted to get off the bus and be at home already. As they neared Anderson Street, her talkative travel companion started to get up.
“That’s my stop, dear. I need to get up now, so I can collect my other shopping basket from the front.”

Mrs Heartnel had just stepped off the bus when two youths on skateboards went zooming past her, chanting,
“Witchy Lizzy smells of cats and makes you dizzy”.

Emma quickly got to her feet, and elbowed her way from the back of the bus - if there was one thing she hated, it was seeing someone being picked on.
The old woman was still on her feet but her shopping basket had upended, spilling its contents on the ground. Emma was furious, and shouted after the two boys.
“Oi! Come back here, you two! Help pick these up! I know your parents and where you live.” It was a bluff, her good citizen act earned her a two-fingered-salute and a gob full of abuse as the lads continued on their way.

“Thank you, dear. You didn’t have to get off before your stop. I could have managed.”
Emma gave an exasperated sigh as she accidentally knelt in the smashed eggs. Great! What more could go wrong?
“No, no, I don’t mind helping. Come on; let’s get you indoors before they decide to come back.”
Once in the old woman’s house, Em looked round and wrinkled her nose at the unmistakable odour of cat, or rather, cats, plural. The cat litter tray looked liked it needed emptying as she passed it in the hall. A ginger ball of fury chased by a larger smokey grey cat flew down the stairs. They whizzed past the old woman and jumped up on the kitchen surface to greet her. Lizzy fussed round the animals and put down milk before standing at the back door and tapping a tin of salmon. Three pairs of amber eyes could be made out in the late evening gloom as 3 huge black and white moggies of varying size stalked in from the garden. Two more thundered through the house until they reached the kitchen. The tins of fish and cat biscuits were distributed between the bowls. Lapping, purring and growling noises could be heard as the pride of house cats tucked in. Mrs Heartnal gave the ginger kitten a tap on the nose. “Now now Harry none of that, there’s plenty to go round. Straightening up she took off her plastic mac “Would you be a dear and put the chops in the freezer for me, Emma? I just need to take this through for the Duchess she’s not very well you know”.
Emma dutifully started to empty the shopping bags. “I’ll help you with this but I really must go Mrs Heartnal. “
When Lizzy came back, she set about opening cupboard doors, put the rest of her shopping away, and gave a triumphant cry as she came across her blue cake tin. There was a Madeira cake in there and some chocolate digestives.
“I’ll just put the kettle on, and we can have a drop of Rosie Lee.” Emma looked at her watch and saw the big hand creeping nearer the hour.
“I would love to, Mrs Heartnal. Really I would, but I need to be going”.
Looking down, she saw the sticky mess of the eggs starting to dry on her coat. “Do you mind if I use your loo first, though, and try and get this stuff washed off?”
Mrs Heartnel handed her a drum of salt. Em looked momentarily confused, before remembering that cold water and salt would help break down the egg protein.
Once the stain looked somewhat better, Em went to take her leave. Upon entering the living room, she saw a tea tray laden with pot, cups and generous slabs of cake and biscuits. Inwardly sighing, she sat down and politely nibbled at the fare and drank the overly stewed tea. Lord in heaven, how many tea leaves did the woman use? What was the harm - she was just a lonely old woman who wanted company. Emma could spare her a few minutes. Her phone hadn’t rung, so Adam wasn’t home yet.

Outside, bundled back in her coat, Em walked quickly in the downpour of rain. So much for only a few minutes. The old woman had kept her a virtual prisoner for over half hour. Well, Every time Emma went to get up, her tea cup was refilled, and more photos and prize ribbons shown to her. By the end of it, she didn’t really care if it was Snowy or Tiddles that had come first in the best moggie section of the local cat show.
There were still two more shoe boxes sat on the sideboard to look through. Emma made her escape with a promise to call in again when she had the time

Deciding it would shave some time off her walk, she cut across the park, rather than walk the dog leg to get to her house. It was something she did now and again, and the street lights provided enough illumination to see by. If she stuck to the central path she would be fine.
A little out of breath from her quick pace through the park Emma put her head down as she walked the quiet street keeping the rain out of her eyes. Turned on to Rose Gardens, she became aware of a presence behind her. Not daring to look round, she hoped that it wasn’t one of the two youths from earlier. Quickening her step, she tried to look casual as she made her way home: just three more streets to go.
The footsteps increased in speed behind her. Pulling her keys from her pocket, she went to make a run for it.
Then she heard a man’s voice calling after her.
“Emma, Emma, wait up! Thank fuck I found you” the speaker caught up with her and turned her to him. . “I was just about to start looking in the other direction. You’re bloody soaked! What possessed you to get off the bus early and walk in this rain?” Adam, her husband, took the bags from her grasp and ushered her towards the car for the short journey home.

A/n All feed back very welcome