47 minutes.

Miriam Cross glared up at the house.

It was big and old, with high windows and wooden shutters. It had a porch that would have kept her dry from the downpour, had she not already walked through it for two miles.

The outside of the house already needed a fresh coat of paint. If they didn't do that soon the wood would start to rot. Hopefully the rain would be heavy enough to wash some of the dirt out of the gutters. Miriam had seen what looked like grass growing up there that morning.

It wasn't quite dark enough to justify the turning on the lights. So them being off wasn't what told Miriam that the house was empty. She knew it was empty because it was quiet.

Usually her mother would have music playing or people over. Even when no one was there, she clicked around the house in her heels or yelled at her latest work.

Which meant that Jackie Cross had not only forgotten that she promised her daughter a ride. She'd gone out and left the upstairs window open again.

"How many times do I have to tell her?" said Miriam under her breath.

Miriam didn't run up the gravel drive to get to the house sooner. There was no point rushing when she could already feel drops of water dripping over her scalp and down her neck.

The bitter cold had made some of the rain drops sting on impact. Now the wind cut through her clothes to get to the very bones of her. It whistled in a somewhat unsettling way through the pine trees. They separated her drive from their elderly neighbour's, a forgiving woman called Irene. Irene was out as well, as Miriam couldn't see her sitting by her desk in the upstairs study.

Miriam opened the door to the house. She stopped and listened outside before stepping in. The only sound on the road was the whistling wind and the rain hitting everything it could.

This was a habit she had picked up from their old apartment. It was so small you could hear someone breathing in the bathroom from the kitchen. The house was different. Someone could be at the other side of the door and she wouldn't be able to tell.

She steeped inside with a sigh.

Old houses like to talk, her aunt had told her when they moved in. This one never seemed to shut up. It was always creaking and groaning. It was worse tonight. The sound of the rain on those big windows echoed through every room.

The rain had kicked up the dust as well, so the whole place smelled even more than normal. That smell made her glad of her mother's obnoxious, scented candles for the first time in her life.

It was dull inside, but not quite dark yet. Miriam took off her shoes and jacket and dropped them by the door. After a moments thought, she threw off her pants and top as well. It was freezing and leaving them on would make her sick. She glanced at her reflection in it for a moment before heading up the stairs. She didn't notice that she was being watched.

The water in the shower took three minutes to warm up and only stayed hot for another ten. Their old apartment had had a power shower which beat out all the knots in her back. This one didn't even give her a chance to get properly clean, let alone soak.

Grumbling, she climbed out and went into her room. It was darker when she got out, so she tried to turn on the light. It sparked for a split second before dying out completely. Miriam cursed and looked up at the light.

High ceiling were always something house agents liked to put as an advantage. Miriam wondered how many of them had to deal with changing light-bulbs on a regular basis.

30 minutes.

She had no idea where her mother had left the step ladder after the last show in the park. Miriam, wrapped up in the softest and largest towel she could find, went into her room and closed the curtains.

Her room was tidy enough, with the only mess being the notes she had been working on the day before. Looking at them made her think about her exams, and how much she needed to study. It was tempting to get into her pyjamas, but her friend Sue might call around later and force her to go out.

"All you've been doing is studying!" she had yelled at Miriam a few hours before. "You can't sit around moping anymore. I won't have it. You need to show him what's he's missing. We need to go out and take loads of photos."

"We can do that after we get into college," said Miriam. "Besides, I don't want to 'show him'. It's not like we were even together anymore. Which was my choice, remember? I've got to study."

Sue had grabbed Miriam by the shoulders and looked her deep into the eyes.

"We're going out."

Miriam's phone had died a couple of hours ago. She wanted to believe that the rain would have changed Sue's mind, but she couldn't be sure. So Miriam picked out a t-shirt and a jeans and got dressed. She plugged in her phone, even though the battery refused to charge all the way anymore. At least she had managed to borrow a charger from Sue that day in school. Miriam's hair-dyer tended to find its way to her mother's room so she went there next.

The place was even more of a mess than usual. Judging by the amount of clothes throw on the bed and the state of the dresser, her mother had gone out on a date. Miriam grabbed the hair-dyer from it's place on top of many make-up supplies and went down stairs.

The light in the upstairs hall worked but the one downstairs had been out for at least a week. Miriam was starting to suspect that their was some kind of wiring fault at work. No one went through bulbs this fast unless something was wrong.

The kitchen was the only modern part of the house, so it was Miriam's favourite. It had sleek cabinets and a Island table in the middle of it with barstools. It also had an overhead light that she could actually reach. The note was on the Island, next to a dirty plate.

"Of course." Miriam shook her head.

Guaranteed she wouldn't have any texts from her mother when she turned on her phone. That would mean an actual conversation with her mother where Miriam could say no.

Miriam dried her hair while glaring at it and then went to the fridge to get some food. She hadn't eaten since lunch, and then she had only a quick sandwich because she needed to get back to her projects.

Her mother hadn't gone shopping either, despite promising she would for the third time that week. Miriam slammed the door shut and turned to glare at the note. She walked over and picked up the plate, which had maybe a bite or two left of food on it. She threw those into the bin and dropped the plate into the sink.

She leaned against the sink and stared at the note. She wondered what excuses would be on it this time.

Then Miriam looked at the university brochure and tried to count to ten. It was her safety, her reminder that if she worked hard she could be out of that house in a few short months.

Sue wondered why she studied so much but the truth was simple. It kept her from storming out and never speaking to her mother ever again. Miriam opened the fridge again, knowing that nothing would be different inside. This time she was willing to settle for anything to stop her grumbling stomach.

She picked up a carton of milk, which was sour so she dumped it after a quick smell. The strawberries would have been appetising before they became wrinkled and pale. There was yogurt that was still good so Miriam choose that and got a spoon.

It was plum flavoured, which did a little to brighten her mood as it was her favourite. She savoured the first spoonful before deciding that it was time to read the note.