Guilt regardless if it's warranted or not comes out in people in different ways, like the common cold some people get the sniffles, others might get a headache or a temperature but in the end, it boils down to the same thing.

Dad, over the next following weeks, overcompensated which felt a lot more like smothering than mothering, he constantly felt the need to reassure me and ask if I was ok which after tenth time that day becomes tedious, whereas Bell in her true indignant fashion behaved as if nothing had happened, never one to dwell on much she said nothing, if it had affected her she didn't show it but I think due to her past she had built up such a strong wall that very little penetrated it, if it did she had such a well-crafted game-face she never let it show, the mask she wore must have occasionally felt more like a hindrance than a help.

It was agreed that my relationship to Bell should be kept between us.  She felt I was more protected if the church did not know of my existence, it would bring up too many questions about my mother and shine the light back on Bell, who had for so long-lived in the sweet life of obscurity from the residents whilst still under the watchful eye from the church.  So Bell while my grandmother would simply still be just Bell to me.

Dad's less than subtle meltdown was of course the talk of the town but in true Bell style she smoothed it over with her creative spin telling people Dad's dear friend had passed away suddenly which had brought on a temporary emotional breakdown, Dad went from seaside town crazy to pitied poor soul.

After a lot of grovelling from Dad, and a pay rise from Bell, the barmaids returned and it was important there was all hands on deck.  Summer was now upon us which meant all the children were finishing school in a week for their summer holidays so Whitstable would be influxed to the brim with tourists, whilst Bell looked at them with the same disdain as seagulls, that cause too much mess and make too much noise, she also knew they brought money and you can't live as long as Bell without learning the value of a pound.

Bell told me of all the things that happened in Whitstable in the summer and how this quiet sleepy town became awake and energised.  There was the oyster festival that celebrated the oyster trade with music, food and the traditional landing of the oysters.  The classic Whitstable car show which sprawled along the Tankerton front for everyone to admire, there was also the towns carnival and regatta which always brought out large crowds.  All these events were created for the people of Whitstable to celebrate their beloved home but along the way, the towns traditions and customs had been seized by the tourists, who flock to Whitstable because of its quaintness but sometimes not realising to respect the town and its many occupants.

Bell said over the years she had seen this happen to many other places, she called it 'The Benidorm Effect'.  Places suddenly become in fashion and in the start the extra trade is warmly welcomed but over time what made the place magical is destroyed, local trade can't compete when bigger chains are brought in.  With traditions lost, small towns struggle to deal with the influx of people and the locals who have raised their families in their beloved home town are driven out or struggle to afford to live in their homes. 

This goes on until everything that was beautiful and unique is stripped from the town and all that is left is a bland place with all its quaintness destroyed and no locals with invested history or memories to protect it.  I know the thought of Bell's beloved Whitstable being destroyed breaks her heart, wherever she travelled to, she always ends up returning here, her one true home.

So it's full steam ahead and the bar is to be cleaned from head to toe ready for the masses, the barmaids pull out all the glasses, clean the sticky shelves while Dad plods along doing any maintenance jobs that need doing.  Bell sits in her usual spot barking orders whilst everyone runs around like headless chickens.

I'm sent into town by Bell with a shopping list from Bell which has all the cleaning products we need, silently counting my blessing to get five minutes to myself and avoid the many cleaning jobs.  I wander through the high street quite leisurely, I'm in no rush to get back.  I wonder to myself, if my mother hadn't died would she have brought me here.

I nip into the local supermarket with my crumpled list in my hand ready to scour for the cleaning products Bell required.  By the freshly baked bread, a gaggle of elderly ladies huddle together gossiping like teenagers.  "Well, I heard he's handed in his notice".

Another chimed in.  "No, no he's asked to be relocated" They all murmur and shake their heads, I loiter close by pretending to be shopping whilst straining to catch every word.

"How could he leave his parish, his congregation, I mean really" One of the angry old ladies hisses through gritted teeth.

Another shushes her, then animatedly whispers.  "It's not like he's a spring chicken off gallivanting to save the world, he's an old man" - They all nod in agreement.

"I was told he will see out the summer then leave, what about the Harvest Festival ?"  The ladies gasp as if this is all just too much for them.

So the subject of gossip is the vicar, well I suppose I should count my blessings that my Dad is no longer the hot topic, but I'm overwhelmed with a tinge of guilt.  Is he leaving because of me and Bell?  Whilst Bell's relationship with the vicar is strained, to put it mildly, I don't like the thought of an elderly man being driven out of his hometown because of us if I learned anything it is that everyone needs a home.  I grab what I've come in for and rush back to ask Bell what she's heard.

Bell for once was not privy to this information but broke into cackles of laughter.  "Oh well" I'm annoyed by her flippant attitude.

"Bell he could be leaving because of us, does that not bother you ?"

She pauses, as if chewing over my words then cackles again.  "No, not really, vicars are like weeds in your lawn my dear.  You think you've got rid of the last one, then up pops another.  He will be replaced by the end of the week".

I realise that to expect sympathy or compassion from  Bell I was clearly barking up the wrong tree.  But I can't help feeling that he might have become a casualty because of me and Bell and our turbulent relationship, was it fair he got caught in the crossfire in my path to finding out the truth?

After what can only be described as the longest most boring day of my life so far, scrubbing and cleaning while her majesty Bell, barked orders, she offered to buy us takeaway for tea. 

Myself and Bell walked down while Dad saw to the bar.  Bell wanted fish and chips but we outvoted her on Chinese, she relented but couldn't resist informing us that she had eaten real Chinese food while on travels around the world and that it was nothing like the crap we are served here in England which had been adapted for our un-cultured taste buds.  I informed her, either way, I liked it.

As we sat on the annoyingly squeaky leather sofa positioned in the Chinese takeaway, now overwhelmed with hunger grumblings from my stomach as the beautiful aroma wafted in from the kitchen, I asked Bell.  "Will I be like you and mum" this had been nagging in my mind.

"What?  Wildly beautiful, cultured and intelligent.  I sincerely hope so, I only have one grandchild it's all weighing on you" she sniggered.

"No will I age slowly and live longer and....."

"And carry on my burden" she finished my sentence off.  "I don't know, So far you're ageing the same as a normal child ,Obviously you have inherited some of my other talents and curses but to what extent I'm not sure".

I always thought the idea of living forever was a wonderful thing until I glimpsed into Bell's past.  Now I can't think of anything more soul-destroying.  "I promise whatever is destined for you I will be there; I won't lose you again".

The glass window behind me violently shakes as the feral boys bang their fists on the glass to get our attention.  Bell rushes outside where they swarm around her with the larger of the boys leaning in and whispering in her ear, the colour drains from her face.

I hear her whisper to the larger boy "Where is he ?" he simply raises his head in the direction of the High Street but that is all she needs.  She realises I'm standing in the doorway of the Chinese watching them.  "Stay here, wait for the food, he will wait with you and walk you home".
Before I get a chance to ask what's going on she's gone with the other feral boys surrounding her like her very own army charging into war.

I step outside bemused that she has left me here, the lone feral boy's head is down but I can feel his eyes transfixed on me.  "Where is she going?" he doesn't answer, I move in closer to him "Where is she going?" still nothing.  "She said 'where is he?' 

Has something happened to my Dad? "Is Dad ok?"  I plead.  He nods his head slowly finally acknowledging me.  I step closer and hold on to the handlebars of his bike, not that I think he has any intention of riding off and leaving me.  "Where is she going ?"

He leans in and growls into my ear "vicar ... drunk... angry".

I step back, it's dawning on me what this is, damage control.  The vicar has lost the plot and Bell is worried about what he will say.  The flood of guilt overwhelms, I did this, I dragged him in by my own desperation to know the truth.  I lean in close to the feral boy with his dark eyes that see through me and I whisper "Where is he ?" but he shakes his head he said to much.  "Fine if you won't say, I'll find him myself" If I speak to him maybe I can fix this.

I step back then turn and run as quickly as I can so he can't stop me but within seconds he's beside me gliding on his bike as if time and movement doesn't apply to him. 

I run past the supermarket, under the railway bridge, past the florist, past the school then the library.  My eyes constantly darting looking for Bell or the vicar while my lungs start to burn in my chest with the metallic taste of blood that floods my mouth. 

I run past the school, past the church but still nothing.  My body, like an old banger, starts to cough and splutter as I grind to a halt. 

The feral boy glides up beside me, I try to speak but all I can muster is, "let me help Bell".

He slides off the bicycle seat then nods his head as if gesturing me to get on. 

"Will you take me to Bell?" he nods.  I clamber on not quite sure how this will work as he begins to pedal I wrap my arms around his waist frightened I will fall off as we duck and dive through the cars as we practically fly through the high street.

The town blurs past me as if moving instead of us.  I start to shake with the realisation at the speed we are going, if I fall off it's game over for me, he must feel my body shaking as I cling to his waist with my face buried into his back so I can't see the oncoming traffic we are barely dodging.  I feel his hand slip over mine that's grasping onto him for dear life, his cold, hard hand gently laid across my sweaty clammy grip.  For a second, my life flashing in front of me isn't the most shocking thing to occur tonight, but this moment, one of the feral boys who thrives on chaos and are the allies of the Angel of Death - Bells beloved pet, is showing me kindness.

We slow down I pull my face out of his back, we've now left the town and are coming up to the lifeboat station near the entrance of the harbour. He stops beside a pile of nets and slides his hand off mine. 

I jump off his bike, glad I'm no longer playing chicken with traffic whilst going at what felt like the speed of light.  I lean into him and whisper "Where are they ?"  He nods in the direction of the bench that me and Bell sat on.  I can see two figures far off sat on the bench with their faces hidden by the shadows.  There is no sign of the other feral boys but they are renowned for hiding in the shadows, so are no doubt nearby.

I go to walk towards them but the large feral boy grabs me by my arm.  "Be careful!" he growls from under his hood that drapes over his face covering his black eyes.

"I'll be ok," I turn to walk away then turn around "Thank you..." it dawns on me I've never ever thought to ask him his name.  "What's your name? you do have a name?"  He chuckles a deep horsey growl.

"My name is Alto, now you can stop calling me feral boy or dog" I feel my cheeks burn red with embarrassment and overwhelmed gratitude it's night so he can't see, shit he knows about that.

"Thank you Alto" I turn and walk into the darkness towards the bench.  I can hear the vicar's loud slurred speech ranting at Bell, his words sound venomous as he hisses at her, she is sat their poised and oddly restrained.

Bell notices me first, she looks shocked that I've found her and the vicar follows her line of sight and spots me and shouts, "You!"  His voice echoes around the empty harbour.

I raise my hands up to show I mean no harm "I'm so sorry I dragged you into this, you don't have to leave" He has a bottle of practically empty cheap red wine perched on his lap and he slams it onto the bench it shatters between him and Bell, she doesn't even flinch but I hear the growls from the shadows from the feral boys. 

The vicar stumbles to stand up, Bell jumps up but I shake my head before she does something that will make this worse.  She acknowledges me by sitting back down.  This needs to end now if I'm to stay here and make this place my home, this needs to be made right.

He stumbles closer to me "You and her are abominations in the eyes of the lord, you are an insult to what is right with humanity.  You consider yourselves untouchable but you are not".

"I'm so sorry I got it wrong," I look over at Bell.  "I've got so many things wrong since I've been here, but it was never my intention to drag you into this, I just wanted to know the truth.  But you're wrong Bell isn't an abomination, she just wanted her freedom to choose her path."

"Why is she beyond the laws of God?  She was created to serve Adam in the image of the lord.  To be the mother of all humanity but her own self-importance and ego thought she was better than that" He drunkly  hisses at me, whilst swaying.

"No, you're wrong.  Why should she serve Adam?  Why should she not be equal?  Why should she not be allowed to find love with whom she chooses?  Do you honestly feel that wanting freedom to be herself is a punishable crime that warrants a lifetime curse ?"

He starts to laugh and staggers towards me.  "She's cursed; we are cursed with the burden of watching over her".

I can feel his disgust, like electric in the air pricking over my skin, every fibre in my body is telling me this is not going to be resolved, but I ignore it.  "This doesn't have to be like this".

He starts to howl, he lurches towards me but misses and hangs on the metal railings that are above the drop to the harbour where the boats are bobbing gently on the water.  "Just like your mother, trying to put poisonous thoughts in my mind".

Bell is now up, "How do you know my daughter?" but her remark is lost on the vicar who is now throwing up every drop of the cheap red wine directly into the black still sea beneath him.  I go to put my hand on his shoulder but he flinches and lashes out, his arm catching me on the side of my face that stings with a burning sensation that spreads up to my eye.  Before I can react or Bell can get to him to launch him headfirst into the sea, Alto has appeared from the shadows with the feral boys behind him.  But unlike the other feral boys, who look on at Bell waiting for orders, he has flown at the vicar knocking him to the ground and grabbed him by the throat.  The vicar gasps for air like a fish out of water thrashing around trying to break Alto's grip that seems effortless.

Bell is frozen to the spot the sight of her precious dog independently reacting without her instructions is too much for her to take, while the feral boys look confused and desperately biting at the bit awaiting her orders.  I slowly move beside Alto, very aware not to startle him or receive a second strike, "Alto let him go, please Alto" His grip lessens, he rises up standing in front of me almost shielding me from the vicar.  The vicar shuffles back holding onto his throat, panting as he tries to slide away.

We step back to give him space to stagger up.  Once on his feet, he edges back clutching to the railings so not to fall in the harbour's dark sea, yet still too frightened to take his eyes off or turn his back on Alto.  When there are a few feet of distance between them he turns and runs as if his life depended on it, the way Alto is growling from under his hood it might just.

Alto lowers his hood,  he turns and looks down at me, tucking me behind him.  Bell barks, "Fall in line!" but he ignores her command as if her voice is no longer on his frequency.  His black eyes are now fixed on me.  For the first time I take in his features, his face is that of a boy no older than fifteen and without the draping hood that somehow blind sights all his features, I realise he is quite awe strikingly beautiful with his ruffled unruly hair and piercing pale features.  I feel transfixed on him until Bell grabs my arm somehow shattering any illusions that are sweeping my mind of Alto, the beautiful monster.

"Jane we are going home, now!"  And with that I'm frog marched home not another word spoken between the two of us, while the feral boys shrink into the shadows taking Alto with them.