By Light of the Third Moon – Part 3

‘Beatrice, it’s morning, lovey―time to get ready for school.’ Gwen’s voice penetrated the fog of Bea’s sleep. She put her head under the pillow and tried to ignore her grandmother. She had almost fallen back to sleep when she felt her grandmother’s hand on her shoulder.
‘Come on, sleepy head. You can’t spend all day in bed.’
‘Is it morning already, Gramma?’ Bea’s voice was muffled by the pillow. ‘Couldn’t I stay home today, just this once?’ She rolled over and stretched sleepily.
‘You already know the answer to that, young lady. Now hurry up before you are late.’
Gwen tried to sound stern but Bea knew she had a soft heart. Her grandmother could never really be cross with her.
‘You get ready while I fix you some breakfast.’ Gwen smiled as she walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.
Bea swung her feet onto the cold floor and stretched again before standing up. She reached for her school uniform and stood at the dressing table studying her face in the mirror. Her eyes were bleary from lack of sleep. They were normally a vivid blue but this morning they were just a pale grey, like the winter sky. Her skin looked red and blotchy. Bea thought about the woman from her dream. Her skin had been smooth and fair, with just a trace of freckles across the nose.
As Bea looked at her own reflection in the mirror she wished she knew more. She wondered if the dreams had anything to do with her loss of memory. Her grandmother had said that dreams meant nothing and she should stop worrying about them but this was the third time she’d had the same dream. Each time the woman came closer. This was the first time she had touched her.
Bea ran her brush through her hair. Did the dream just reflect Bea’s own memories?
The sounds of Gwen moving around in the kitchen downstairs stirred Bea from her reverie. She could smell the cooking wafting up the stairs―scrambled eggs and toast as usual. But Bea wasn’t hungry. She never felt like eating first thing in the morning. It made her feel sick.
‘Hurry up, Beatrice. You don’t want to miss the bus,’ Gwen’s voice rose from the kitchen. She said something else but Bea wasn’t listening. Her mind had wandered back to her first day at the new school a week ago. It had been hard when she didn’t know anybody. She had overhead some of the girls say she was stuck up because she had come from London. She didn’t even know what that meant and she could never remember being in London. She couldn’t remember a lot of things—not since the accident.
Bea pushed her hands into the pockets of her blazer and looked out the window. She felt like she should cry but she didn’t know why. She closed her eyes and tried to remember, just like she did every morning. The world outside was shrouded in grey fog and the sun was just a faint glow on the horizon.


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