Sunflower Tattoos

Talia had been wandering for almost three hours before she realised where she was. It was past midnight, her view lit by a scattering of dim streetlamps, but she’d once known this place so well. There were few houses in this part of the town; the left side of this street consisted entirely of the woodland she’d just emerged from. Beyond that lay miles of peaceful countryside: patchwork fields and meandering streams and the dis-used railway line that ran right through the middle. Nothing had changed.

Down the quiet lane Talia crept, dragging her exhausted body, refusing to stop until she reached her destination but still not knowing where she intended to go. Even as she went further toward the centre of the town, toward the more build-up areas, all Talia could hear was the sound of the nocturnal wildlife, crickets chirping, foxes screeching, owls hooting. Humans completely scarce.

Almost like a ghost town. That was exactly how Talia remembered it, and why she had to leave all those years ago. Nothing ever happened.

It was a clear night, and despite the faint lights of the town, Talia could see the heavens illuminated by the millions of tiny stars and a crescent moon. She remembered the stargazing, every night, from Tom’s crumbling roof terrace. They’d wait patiently for something, a shooting star, a sign, but there was nothing. Just millions of lights twinkling daintily back at them.

Talia turned the corner onto the street of her old school. The school’s entrance was lit by yellow spotlights, casting shadows and giving it a menacing appearance. But it was so much smaller than she remembered. Every Friday afternoon, after the bell rang, Talia would run out those gates with Tom, giggling, on their way to Tom’s dad’s ice cream shop. A Chocolate Fudge Delight for Tom, a Strawberry Twist for Talia. The best sundaes in town, hands down. Talia’s mouth begun watering just thinking about them.

Instead of carrying on into the town centre, Talia took an alleyway through to a housing estate which had been brand new when she left. Construction vehicles and for-sale signs had been replaced with flashy cars and well-maintained front gardens. One or two lights were still on, TVs flashing, but outside was silent, lifeless.

In the middle of the housing estate was the playground which they’d tried to knock down but soon gave up that idea following the uproar this had caused, from kids and parents alike. It was the only playground in the town, and the kids needed somewhere to play, the parents begged. So the playground was remodelled and upgraded, much to every child’s delight.

But Talia remembered the playground before, where she and Tom would compete to see who could hang upside down off the climbing frame for the longest, faces turning purple. Where they’d chase each other across the monkey bars and down the slide. They’d wait patiently for the ice cream van to come on Saturdays and Sundays in the summer, buying lollies that would turn their tongues red or green or blue. This new playground couldn’t have been as fun.

The street came out onto the main road that ran through to the other side of town. Streetlamps lit up a mixture of shops that Talia recognised in an instant and shops that were entirely alien to her. A vegan cafe, a modern looking bakery, a couple of new hair dressers and barber shops. But still the Indian and Chinese takeaway, the newsagents and the numerous tattoo parlours.

She walked past Rory’s Tats, where Talia and Tom had got tattoos together on the last day of high school, for free from Rory’s daughter, Lucy, who was in their class. Two tiny matching sunflowers, which looked more like yellow blobs, on Talia’s wrist and on Tom’s ankle. Sunflowers were the only thing that Lucy could do.

Opposite Rory’s was Tom’s dad’s ice cream parlour, the pink and yellow stripped canopy at the front of the shop now faded and worn. The tables outside were pushed against the front window with the chairs on top of them. Talia remembered the Saturday mornings when she’d rush to come and help Tom pull the tables out and put the chairs down before enjoying a free sundae for breakfast. It always used to surprise her how many people came in at 9 am for ice cream too. Although it wasn’t just famous for selling the best ice cream to this town but to towns and cities all round. The shop seemed strange without the constant buzz it used to have.

The town was dead, but it’s streets were still alive with memories. She should have stuck around, Talia thought, but she had left instead. Married someone from a foreign city, someone who wasn’t Tom, and never looked back. Until today, and she still didn’t know why she was back here. Things had evidently changed, of course, but so much remained the same. And she guessed the people would be the same too. Because no one left this town. No one wanted to.

What had once been so empty, so void of opportunity, was overflowing with the happiness, the energy, the life Talia sought after. Even in the town’s silence and lifelessness, every corner she turned made her more and more complete.

Continuing along the main street of the town, Talia recognised the shops getting sparser, with more houses and apartments and eventually leading to the big park on the roundabout. On their way home from school or town, Talia and Tom would often walk through the park toward their houses rather than along the main road. The rusting metal gates at the main entrance of the park were always locked at night, but, like many locals, Talia slipped through the small gap between the hedges a few hundred meters from this entrance.

She and Tom had climbed most of the trees which bordered the path running round the park. The trees with no low branches they’d somehow managed to scramble up, once even returning with fraying ropes they’d found in Talia’s garage to help them climb. They’d sit in a tangle of branches and gaze over the park, pointing out people with cute dogs or little bald patches only they could see. Talia would read her favourite books whilst Tom flicked through his comics, absorbed in their own worlds but still together, content.

Talia reached the other side of the park, taking the path which led onto her old housing estate, with Tom’s just behind that. A few houses along and she was stood outside the place she had called home all of her childhood. Her mum’s red Mini and her dad’s Fiesta sat side by side on their drive; Jean had been through a few Minis over the years by Paul’s Fiesta was the same battered car she remembered. It was the car Talia had learnt to drive in, because her mum was scared that Talia would wreck her precious Mini. But her Dad’s car survived with merely a few scratches.

It was still dark, and Talia hadn’t sat down for hours, but her body was fuelled by excitement and determination. Determination to find more, to find something inside the nothing.

All the lights were off in her parent’s house, so she decided to continue. No doubt this was the journey, albeit just minutes, that Talia had done the most when she’d lived here. Multiple times a day, most days. There wasn’t an official path between Talia’s estate and Tom’s, but between two houses there was a tiny gap of land that people would walk through. Perhaps an architect’s mistake, but certainly ideal for Tom and Talia when they wanted to visit one another.

Talia struggled to locate the passage, since it had become overgrown with brambles and nettles. She could just about see through to Tom’s estate, and so with great difficulty and nettle stings, she made her way along the path.

When she emerged, Talia immediately could see Tom’s house in front of her. Suddenly, her stomach filled with butterflies. She looked down at the sunflower tattoo on her left wrist and touched it gently, like she often did.

No lights were on in Tom’s house, or any house for that matter, but Talia could make out a dark figure sat on the roof terrace. The person seemed to be facing away from her, looking out over the miles of rolling countryside, suspended in darkness. Waiting for the sunrise. Talia stood there for what could have been an eternity, watching the figure watching.

And then the stars were extinguished, the moon fading. In the distance, beyond the fields and winding country lanes, a strip of glistening ocean. A growing spec of light, rising, drenching the scene its warm orange glow. The figure on the roof lit on fire, heating his body, heating her body.

She couldn’t hold back any longer. It was so intense, powerful.

“Tom?”

The man jumped slightly, and turned around. He stood up, and walked over to the railings.

Despite the low-light of dawn and Talia’s distance from him, the yellow blob on his ankle was unmistakable.

“Talia?”