The Locked Room

It had been along time since Jackie had driven her father's car and she lurched to a halt outside the front door narrowly missing the pillar entwined with honeysuckle. She still thought of it as his car No sooner had he been buried than her brother Mike and his wife Sue and re-named it the grey car.
Jackie grabbed the keys and her bag of shopping and with her head bent down against the driving rain she fumbled with her key in the lock. She through the door open and slammed it behind her, shaking the drops from her hair.
Then she stood tall and breathed slowly. As the familiar smell of home washed over her she became in turn a school girl calling out that she was home and looking forward to tea and television, a teenager seeking comfort from her mother after a break up with a boyfriend, a student coming home and needing a reassuring welcome, and then for years a sort of exile who had gone to live in Australia and was always trying to fit in again, to pretend that she belonged.
The house was empty now, the removal van had taken away most of the furniture. There was just one more room to sort out, her father's study. Since he had passed on ten years ago her mother had had a continuous supple of live-in carers, so her brother had put anything personal in the study and put a padlock on the door.
Jackie sighed. She didn't understand her brother any more. She had repeatedly asked him if they could go round the house together. She had imagined them sharing a cup of tea or a glass of something stronger and re-living fond memories, giggling over childhood mementoes and feeling united by their love for their parents. On her visits home he had never found time to be alone with her, on the rare occasions when he would accompany her to the airport he