The Sisters of Castle Stone

#2: Charlotte Who?

Scotland. It wasn't the worst place in the world, but with its cold weather and constant drizzle, it wasn't really where Charlotte wanted to live. She brought back to one of the stories her father told her as a child, how the nights were so cold that in the dark he could see the mists of his breath, and how every Sunday his parents forced him and his brothers to wear a kilt to Sunday school.

Charlotte often wore skirts to school, so that one wouldn't bother her. But the thought of the cold and the rain put her off.

In the middle of the night, she sat up in bed,  her mind racing with thoughts and ideas of how her life might change now that her family was wealthy. She looked at her small room, as in the bunk bed above her, Bethany slept soundly. The squeak of her rickety old mattress moaned and groaned with every inch she moved.

Pink floral wallpaper peeled from the walls, and posters of pop stars and celebrities clung on for dear life. Piles of homework littered the desk and slid onto the faded pink carpet. High on the ceiling, above the workspace, a dark brown patch began to form.

In the silence of the night, hushed voices echoed through the walls of the next bedroom. Charlotte pushed her dark brown hair back behind her petite ear and moved her head closer.

"We can't move to Scotland," Dad's voice whispered.

Move! No one said anything about moving and certainly nothing about Scotland. Charlotte's heartbeat quickened, and her breathing became deeper. The house was damp, but it could be fixed. Bella would soon get over Jason and get another boyfriend. There wasn't any reason to move.

"I don't see why not. I jolly hate my job, you hate yours and did you see the state got herself into earlier? We can't possibly stay. Name me one reason why we shouldn't move..."

It sounded like at least one parent didn't want that either. But Charlotte knew Mum well enough and what Sally Greyson wanted, Sally Greyson usually got. She listened in silence, waiting... waiting for the sounds of Dad's wee Scot's voice telling his wife that no matter how much they disliked living in the small house, there wasn't any need to move.

"Well, I..." He paused for a moment, "I suppose I've always wanted to write a novel and the peace would be nice." Charles sighed, "I'm knackered love, I can't decide now. Let's talk in the mornin', it's past one."

Charlotte sighed and checked her social media for a while before going to sleep. As long as Dad didn't want to move, maybe there was hope. As long as Dad didn't want to move, maybe he could change Mum's mind. But what if Dad did want to move? How would she cope?

She remembered something a friend of hers once told her about her cousin that moved schools. Jane Jones was the life and soul of every party, the school's most popular year eleven pupil and the hostess of some of the best, and naughtiest parties they were ever thrown. Her father lost his job in the city, and her mother then left him, leading to her moving closer to London where she could find more work. Jane and her brothers moved with her and now at St Heath's, it was Jane who? Charlotte didn't want to become Jane. The thought of her being 'Charlotte who', freaked her out no end.

The next day was Monday, which for the Greyson girls meant back to school after the long and complicated weekend, lessons were the last thing on their minds.

As the cool autumn wind blew fallen Bella leaves across the school grounds, Charlotte sat peacefully on a bench, her lunch box lying unopened next to her, the words 'Charlotte who' spun around her mind like a little hamster running and running on a wheel, round and round in circles but ending up nowhere as a result.

The loud shrill of the school bell summoning the students back to lessons echoed through the school. Charlotte signed and flung her heavy bag over her shoulder. In the distance, floods of pupils headed back through the double doors into the school. She watched as her friends went back to lessons, but something didn't feel right.