The Sun Will Rise | T Shelby

thirteen

A few more days had passed and Angelina had grown tired of sitting in her house alone. Instead of staring at the four walls of her front room, she left her home on Saturday afternoon and headed to a place where she thought she'd be safest, The Marquis.

The air was warm and the sun was shining, football fans with blue scarfs draped round their necks were heading to the match and the streets were much more crowded than usual.

Angelina had opted for a short, blue satin dress after noticing the sunshine from her bedroom window that morning, hoping it would keep her cool all day.

It wasn't any less busy in the pub that afternoon, but Angelina got herself a glass of wine and took a seat on a spare table in the corner of the pub, taking a newspaper from the bar on her way past.

She felt refreshed to be out of the house, even if she was still alone with her intrusive thoughts. She still hadn't heard from Lorenzo either, which did nothing to settle the nerves that had been eating away at her since the minute he left. Though in the end, she had admitted to herself that there was in fact nothing she could do. Angelina knew a handful of people in Small Heath, but nobody outside of the area, she barely knew what it was like a mile away from her front door. She was helpless.

News from Thomas had been scarce, too. Angelina had began to wonder if he was telling the truth about trying to help at all.

"Is there anyone here by the name Santoro?"

The pub fell quiet when a young boy, not much older than 15, entered the pub, stood on a table and asked the question.

Everybody looked around, a few men that were regulars in The Marquis turning to look at Angelina. She made eye contact with the barman who had become somewhat of a friend to her.

"Who's asking?" The barman replied to the boy.

"I've got a message from Lorenzo. He said to come here."

Angelina immediately rose to her feet, the scraping of her chair on the worn wooden floor drawing all the attention to her.

"Come with me, Miss."

Angelina threw the rest of the wine down her neck before hesitantly following the boy out of the pub, ignoring the stares and mumbles from everybody else.

The streets outside had emptied now the football game had kicked off, only a few men were working in the factories and children playing games in the dirt were outside.

The boy walked slightly ahead of Angelina, though kept turning his head to make sure she was following him.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

The child didn't respond, leaving Angelina even more confused. She wasn't sure why her brother wouldn't just write a letter, or at least send somebody she recognised to pass on a message to her.

They turned a corner down a street Angelina had never been down before. It looked the same as all the other rows of terraced houses in Small Heath, with the viaducts casting a dark shadow over everyone. Only this road had two expensive cars parked at the end.

The boy stopped and turned to look at Angelina. His eyes were dark and his cheeks stained with soot, his clothes were slightly torn and his shoes were ripped.

"I'm sorry, Miss."

"What?"

He fled without giving Angelina another word, disappearing around the corner leaving her alone in the street. She spun around, desperately trying to work out what was going on, only she stood still when the car doors opened at the end of the street.