Fields Of Gold

[Claire Turner]

Claire ducks down between two buildings in the highstreet and down an alley way.
She was bored of the street now and was looking for something else, adventure maybe.
There was a field at the back of the row of shops.
It wasn't very impressive when it was so dreary and rainy out, but it was something.
She made her way out into the field, the grass was so long it brushed against her waist as she walked a little way out, humming to herself, it reminded her of the image she'd read in her mothers mind when she used to sing this song to her and her brothers at night.
Before she knew what she was doing she was singing softly under her breath, "You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold

So she took her love for to gaze awhile
Among the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
And you can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
As you lie in fields of gold

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold."

She hadn't noticed it, but while singing, thinking of home, and her mother, and her parents and how things had been, one solitary tear slid down her cheek.

[Ian Hunt]

I was leaning up against the mouth of the alley, watching Claire, listening.
I'd been trailing her all the way down the street, watching.
Matt seemed easy enough to figure out, Claire not so much.
But when she started singing, something seemed to click into place, that song maybe, the familiar voice, I wasn't sure.
"I recognise that song." I say quietly to her, staying where I was.

[Claire Turner]

Claire's head snaps around and she smiles brightly at her younger brother, "Hey Chris."

[Ian Hunt]

"Hey Claire," I say quietly, "I recognise that song," I repeat.

[Claire Turner]

She pauses, looking back out at the field. "Our mother used to sing it to us."

[Ian Hunt]

"Oh," I say softly.
I'd never really thought much about my birth parents.
There was always something else more recent, more harsh, more painful to focus on.

[Claire Turner]

She turns around again, forcing a weak smile, "Walk with me, Chris? Or Ian? Whichever you prefer."

[Ian Hunt]

I thought for a moment, walking up to her, "Chris will do fine."

[Claire Turner]

She smiles, starting to walk along beside him, "You've had a pretty rough time, haven't you? I know you told me not to read you, and I've been trying so hard, I really have. But after I got that first glimpse, after I saw how bleak, how miserable, your thoughts are...they just kept coming...you have very strong thought trains. And I can't help it sometimes." She bites her lip, before continuing, not sure if she should say it at all, "The red head...that beautiful red head girl. The one she was laughing, and she called you Zip, you called her Pip, I don't know what her real name was. She laughed and it made you smile, I get that feeling a lot when you think of her. But the guilt, you pushed her and she fell and hit her head and then she was crying, but not with pain, it was because you'd-...you'd hurt her-...and that man-...that awful man, who makes you feel sick right to the core, you know he did something to her but you don't know what-..." She falters, "And she was falling. And you tried to reach her, you tried so hard, you would have fallen after her if it would have done any good, you tried but she'd already fallen too far-...I'm so sorry."

[Ian Hunt]

I walk along beside her in silence for a moment.
I wasn't angry that she'd seen inside my head when I'd told her not too.
I thought I would be, but I wasn't.
I was almost glad.
She was my sister, after all, and I had someone I could talk to about it.
"Her name was Erin." I say hoarsely after a moment.

[Claire Turner]

She smiles slightly, relieved he'd decided to open up a little, "That's a beautiful name. She was a beautiful girl." She pauses, "Did you love her? I get mixed feelings when you think of her."

[Ian Hunt]

"Yes, I did. I loved her more than anything." I say quietly, still walking, eyes fixed on the floor, "She was the first person...the first person I ever cared about. Besides my brother...my adopted one. But he was-..." I stop, unable to finish the sentence.

[Claire Turner]

She pauses, brow furrowing, eyes closing with his sudden unpleasant thought, putting a hand to her temple.
"Murdered." She finished for him with all the volume and force of a breath, "By your best friend."

[Ian Hunt]

I nod slowly.

[Claire Turner]

She puts her hand lightly on his arm, "I'm sorry."

[Ian Hunt]

"Me too." I smile weakly, "But past is past, right?"

[Claire Turner]

"Right," She says, then stops walking, keeping her hand on his arm so he had to stop too, then hugging him comfortingly, leaning her head on his shoulder.

[Ian Hunt]

I pause a moment, then hug her back.
"Do you miss mum and dad?" I ask quietly.

[Claire Turner]

"Every day." She mumbles into his shoulder.

[Ian Hunt]

"What were they like?" I ask her softly, "If you remember, of course..."

[Claire Turner]

"I do," She says, still speaking into his shoulder, "Mum-...mum was like Matt, if that tells you anything. Trustworthy and optomistic and kind. She was a very strong Christian. Which is why your name is spelt with a 'ch' even though you're named after dad who spelt his with a 'k'. Dad was more like us. Sarcastic, untrusting, pessimistic, sometimes rude and angry, you know what I mean. He was a strong atheist. I don't know about you, but both me and dad had the strong 'I don't see how God could exist and let all these awful things happen' mentality."

[Ian Hunt]

"Yeah, I have that." I smile weakly.

[Claire Turner]

"And mum used to sing to us all the time. Always the same long. Fields of Gold. Always. And she sung ever so beautifully. And dad-...you never got a chance to meet dad. But dad and Matt were real close, even thought they were so different. They used to stay out in the garden for hours on end, weeding, or running around after each other, until mum would call them in. And dad would go down to the pub, and mum would sing to Matt and I, and you as well, but she was still pregnant with you then. And we were all so happy, and I don't understand. We were all so happy, but then-...it was Matt who found dad's body. He shot himself through the head. Matt never talks about it, and he keeps it locked up so I can't read it even if I wanted to. And Mum, bless her, she stayed strong as long as she could. Had you, she still sung to us every evening. But she couldn't take it anymore. She went out the same way as dad, killed herself, hung herself. I don't understand what went wrong. We were all so happy, all of us. I don't see why they'd do that to themselves..." She stops.
She hadn't realised she'd been crying into his shoulder, but now she was choking too much on her tears to be able to speak anymore.

[Ian Hunt]

I pause, not quite sure what to do, rubbing her back lightly as she cried into my shoulder.

[Claire Turner]

"I'm sorry, you probably think me a right idiot...I barely even know you and I'm sobbing my heart out on your shoulder..." She sniffs, trying to get a grip.

[Ian Hunt]

"Of course not," I smile weakly, "I think you a right idiot for other reasons." I joke weakly.

[Claire Turner]

"Hey!" She laughs, shoving him lightly, "Git!"

[Ian Hunt]

I laugh, shoving her back slightly, "Could say the same about you."

[Claire Turner]

"Oh yeah?" She raises an eyebrow, challengingly.

[Ian Hunt]

"Yeah," I repeat, raising an eyebrow back at her.