Boarding Party

The sky outside of the house is a slate sea, a crow driftwood. Beyond the small garden fence waves of ploughed grey soil; a hedgerow like a distant shore.  

Her family had not come outside from the warmth and light of the dining table for her.

It had started when they arrived, voices too loud, making themselves comfortable.

Every time they spoke she felt nudged, jostled; a tiny boat in the wake of huge armada.  The weight of them tilted her deck, sent her off course.  Once she could have seen the map, navigated through choppy waters, not now.

Immigrants. Gays. Lazy nurses. Eastern europeans. Gypsies. Queers. Feminists. Benefits cheats.  Common sense.  We’re a tiny island.

She could see her husband motioning, wishing her quiet, topping up drinks.  She felt sick anger burn inside her chest. 

Her palm made contact with the clean shaven cheek of her brother-in-law before she had a chance to think.  Her family, her parents, her sister, her children all looking up at her, mouths full with turkey and vegetables.  

They cut her adrift.  Their colours were not her colours.

Vaulting the fence, incandescent, command lost, her face glowed hot as she plunged into the darkness.