Hard Times (Part 3)

I have the key! I stole it from my family's photo album, I remember discovering it...............................................................................

I was seven years old, and I love to look into our album. It's much more fun than seeing a movie, for me. I looked through all the photos. My favorite photo of me is: I am sitting on a large gray stone, I wearing a red pretty dress, (the pictures are black and white), I have a pretty red bow in my hair,and my hair is curly. Anyway, at the back of the book, there was a pocket, inside was a locket. It was so pretty, it was shaped in a heart. I was so little, I took it and put it in a pink metal tin box--my memorable box..........................

.....................................I quickly ran to my cot and found my box, and grasped the key tightly in my hand. I raced to the trunk. As soon as I unlocked it, the wind became strong, and itself shut the windows, and the room became dark. Then, it was all magical as the wind opened up the trunk, I looked in. Inside was old things. Then, something caught my eye. Two photos: one of a picture of a small girl with two people, and a photo of me! The same photo when I was sitting on that gray stone, my red dress, and my hair is all curly!!! I looked at the other picture. This one had a young man and a young woman in it. The woman is holding a tiny baby, might even be a newborn. The background, is the house (we are staying in now)!!  "I don't believe it!" I whispered. There was writing on the back,and I took a look at it. the first one was with the the man, the woman , and the baby: 

Mr. Samuel Moore, his wife Rose Moore, and their daughter

Margaret Emily Moore 

I looked at the picture with just me in it, on the back it said:

Margaret Emily Moore 

Now I became angry! The people downstairs had a lot to explain about. I grabbed the 2 photos and the locket, and raced down the stairs. "What is my picture doing in your house? And maybe I found the truth about myself, is it true you're my parents? Is true my name's not Emily, but Margaret Emily? Why?" Mr.Moore stood up and said, "Take it easy now. Rose, give her some lemonade. Sit down, please. Let me tell you what happened. and your friends might as well know." 

He began the long story, 13 years ago........................................................

"My name was indeed Samuel Moore. My wife Rose Moore gave birth to you, Margaret Emily. When you were a year old, we lost our house. We didn't have enough money to keep you. It was a burden to us, so we wanted to start over, but that was impossible,we knew. So, your brilliant mother--" He sounded like he was mocking her. " Took you to the Durham Orphanage, where she worked. She kept close to you as much as possible. The taxes were due, and we lost our second home. We were told to move to the poor house. Your mother stopped working for 4 months to help with the moving process. When she returned, you were gone!" "Gone?" asked Jane, whom I couldn't believe that they wanted to listen. "She was adopted into the Wicker family in London, England." "I remember Mother and Father returned from a trip in Durham, they told us that a poor family gave her to them." Patrick said aloud. "Yes, that was after we begged them to return our child, and it was a mistake. But they refused and the orphanage was on their side. So they agreed to one condition, in keeping you. To never return you or ever mention our names to you. Keep it a secret. We put all your things in that old trunk. We gave the key to them, so we would never open it, so we wouldn't cry. We also gave them a picture so you wouldn't be suspicious. I finally got a job, and we moved here." 

"I've got only one more question," Jane said looking puzzled, "How come my mother and father's will said you were our uncle?" t was Rose who spoke up, "Everyone, to escape the war would go to America or another country. That's where your family went. The only people they knew left, were us. So they made the will after they adopted Emily. We disguised ourselves, and you were to call him Uncle Matthew, I guess she made an error, stating Uncle Sam." 

Well, with the remaining part of my story is simple. After WWII, Mr. and Mrs. Wicker were found. Patrick and Jane returned to London, England. My Father received a job, and he soon became manager of a company. We had enough money to return to London, (the job was in London), and I have seen my "other family" more than once a week. 

End of Hard Times  

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The Hard Times (Part 2)

Two years ago, my siblings and I, were sent to Durham to see our Uncle Sam. He received a letter (from the police),explaining that we were in his care, now. At first, he sent a telegram to them saying he refused. But he never got a letter back. "Doesn't he know that we are coming?" I had asked Jane. "He must know us, or he would've said, 'I don't have any nieces, or nephews.' Instead, he refused. There must be a reason why."
I suppose she was right. When we arrived in that small little town, no one came for us. We asked a shopkeeper if he knew our uncle. All he said was, "Boy, do I feel sorry for you. He lives farther out in the country, near the seashore, about an hour's worth. I'll drive you three, since I'm so kind." He talked on and on, while he drove us there.

When we arrived, we saw two houses in the distance. "The one on the right is his. Be careful, now. He's a cold man. Has no experience of raising children." "We'll manage fine, thank you, sir."Patrick said kindly. I think the shopkeeper ignored his sentence completely, because the man went on saying, "Quite right, you'll need all the luck and help, you three can get."
We walked a little ways to the house. A man had already reached the door. "Who are you?" he demanded. His voice cracked and it sounded angry-like. Patrick had to explain,quickly, but carefully. "We are Thomas Wicker's children, sir. I am Patrick, this is Jane, and Emily." "Well, I don't need you, so why don't you go back where you came from and-" "Matthew! You'll wake the neighbors, with that kind of talk!" A woman appeared before us. She is Rose Moore................................................................

Two years ago, we arrived at the home of Matthew and Rose Moore. Us children have lived in an attic, with three small cots. One dresser and a small trunk, that they keep. It's hot in the summertime, but extremely cold in the winter. There is a school near us, which we can attend, but we have to walk 2 miles to get there. I'm starting to save some money for a bicycle. 

Since the day we came, I've noticed some odd things. One, for instance, this man that let us into his home, is not Uncle Sam. Another thing too, this woman either lives in this house or not. They're not elderly people, actually they might be in they're late thirty's. There must be a secret to all of this.
I decided I would observe everything I see or hear and write it down in my head.

When we were all called to supper, I noticed that Miss Rose was eating with us. Look at them,I told myself. My siblings are different than me. But they are always older. No, something is exactly more strange. And this is the first time I've noticed it before! I noticed that my siblings all had orange hair. I remember my mother always having the most beautiful orangish-reddish hair. It was curly, like Jane's hair, is like mother's. Father's hair had brown hair, with some slight reddish color to it. So Patrick had Father's hair. But me? My hair has always been the complete opposite. I have a pretty blondish hair.  I also noticed when we lived at home, I always liked to look at the photo album: everyone either had orange, red, or brown hair. No blondes. Am I the only blonde in my family?

"Where is our Uncle Sam? I mean, they wouldn't lie to us, would they?" I asked Jane. "Oh well, people make mistakes, besides, at least we have a place to stay." That wasn't the answer I was looking for. I decided I would need to investigate more. 

One day, after school I was reviewing my notes, in the attic:

My family had red or orange hair

The Moores' all have blonde hair

Miss Rose lives in the house

I think Mr. Matthew is replacing himself as

Uncle Samuel, but I don't have proof.......yet.

Suddenly, a gush of wind blew all my notes off my notepad! I stood up quickly to catch the papers. One fell under the door of the closet. As soon as I collected them all, I went to the closet, to retrieve the last paper. I picked it up, but my eyes slowly noticed the trunk that was beside me. I tried to open it up, but it was locked.  I looked at the keyhole.........I gasped. The keyhole was shaped into a heart. My heart was beating faster, my mind was spinning, I knew who had access to that key..............secrets were flying like the wind, I suddenly realized where the key was. I knew who had the key now...................it would reveal all the secrets now.....................................



End of Part 2

(Continued into part 3)

A picture of Durham, England

An attic, Emily might have lived in, with her siblings