Simply Carry On
Martha, a spirited little girl with two messy pigtails sticking out in opposite directions, runs up and down the wide, sunlit veranda of their familys country house. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, cheeks flushed after a round of boisterous games. When she spots her older brothers friend making his way toward the gate, she abruptly halts, breathless, and dashes after him.
Without a second thought, Martha bounds up to the young man and grabs his hand tightly between her own small, warm palms. She tilts her head back, peering up at him, her face alight with unfiltered, childish sincerity, and bursts into ringing, exuberant laughter.
Ill never let you go! When Im grown up, Ill marry you, I promise! Just you wait!
The young man pauses, a surprised eyebrow arched, before his face softens into a gentle, good-natured smile. He looks at the little scamp with a fondness touched by amusement. Leisurely, in a tone both playful and kind, he responds:
Ill wait.
He ruffles her tousled hair affectionately, making her already wild pigtails stick out even more. Martha squints for a moment but just as quickly breaks into another grin, her grip unwavering.
In the meantime, he add, bending slightly so their eyes meet you must be good, study hard and listen to your mum and dad. That way youll be worthy to call yourself my fiancée.
His voice isnt stern, but rather, carries that unique warmth adults sometimes use when speaking with children. Martha considers his words for a moment, as though weighing them with the utmost seriousness, then nods vigorously, clutching his hand even tighter.
All right! Ill be the very best!
The air brims with the carefree joy of a summer day, full of laughter, sunlight, and naïve childhood dreamsdreams that, in that moment, seem completely real and perfectly possible…
************************
Martha sits in her room, mechanically flicking through the pages of her maths revision guide. Outside, dusk slowly creeps across the rolling fields, and the house is strangely quietonly the hushed sounds from the room next door creeping in. She cant help but pause, straining to catch whats being said: her brother Nick is on the phone, his voice far more animated than usual.
Martha inched closer to the door, trying to pick out the words. And when she heard Davids name, her heart pounds, skipping a beat. She freezes, every sense fixed on the voices beyond the door. Nick is chatting about a meeting, about some café, about her smile There are no doubts nowtheyre talking about Davids new girlfriend.
Before she even realises it, Martha is on her feet, tiptoeing down the hall to her brothers door. Pressing her ear against the cool wooden surface, she soaks up every word, even as she feels an uncomfortable tug deep in her chest. She shakes the thoughts away, stubbornly. “Maybe its not what I think,” she tells herself desperately.
When Nick finally finishes the call and emerges into the corridor, Martha straightens quickly, as if caught at something forbidden. But its too latehes already noticed her.
Davids got a new girlfriend? she blurts out, without waiting for him to say anything. Her voice wavers, but she forces it to sound as casual as possible.
Nick pauses, giving her a searching look before exhaling heavily. His eyes are tired, but not annoyedrather, there is a weary understanding. Hes long noticed how his little sisters face lights up at the sound of his friends name, how she sneaks peeks at his photos online, the way she lingers in every conversation that might be about David.
Not this again? he groans, leaning against the doorway. Martha, youre sixteen. Isnt it time to grow out of your crush? Its only a childhood fancy, you know.
Martha throws up her head, a stubborn glint in her eye as she folds her arms. She stands firm, immaculate in her conviction.
Never! she fires back, shaking her head so that her blonde curls fly around her face. You just dont get it! Hell fall in love with me, you wait and see! I know its not just some childish fancy. This is real!
Her words are strong, almost defiant, though a part of her is trying just as hard to convince herself. Fleeting glances from David, the rare smiles her way, the casual touchesshe treasures every one, piecing together hope, desperate for it to be returned.
Nick watches her silently, unsure what to say next. He sees the shine in her eyes, the quivering of her lips, and knows logic is worthless here. Marthas little crush has grown into something much moresomething neither fleeting nor trivial…
***************************
Sunlight streams through the curtains, filling the room with golden warmth. Martha breezes into the lounge, lifted as if by a sudden gust. Her face glows so brightly that she seems to outshine even the morning sun. Her eyes sparkle like small stars, her wide grin bunching her cheeks.
Barely catching her breath after sprinting down the stairs, she rushes up to Nick, who sits lazily drinking coffee whilst idly scrolling through the headlines on his iPad.
Hes asked me out! Martha bursts out, barely able to contain her excitement, her voice ringing like a bell and her fists clenching with pent up joy. Can you believe it? He gave me a birthday presentthis lovely music box all engravedand said now that Im eighteen, he can finally tell me how he feels. David loves me!
She practically bounces on the spot, fussing with her hair as if suddenly conscious of her appearance. The happiness in her eyes is so overwhelming that the very air seems to tingle with it.
Nick puts down his coffee slowly, a warm and heartfelt smile spreading across his face. Hes been anticipating this momentnot just for his sister, but for his best friend, too. Over the past months David has often brought up Martha: wondering about her weekends, asking what flowers she likes, speculating about days out together.
Shes so beautiful, David would say, gazing into the distance. And clever, and gentle If only shed turn eighteen sooner. You wouldnt mind, would you, if we were together?
Nick always replied the same way: As long as shes happy, Im all for it. Hes known David to be trustworthy and loyal, a genuinely decent bloke. Now, seeing his sister almost vibrating with joy, he is certainshe couldnt have chosen anyone better.
Well then, congratulations, Nick says as he stands up to hug her. Im happy for you both. Honestly, I am.
Martha clings to her brother, hardly daring to believe that this isnt just a dream. In that moment, the world seems brighter, kinder, more beautiful. In the background, as if keeping time to her happiness, their cat purrs contentedly on the windowsill…
*******************
She sits in the harsh plastic chair of a hospital corridor, the walls an uninspiring shade of beige, grey light filtering through the window as though even the sky mourns. Martha stares ahead, her eyes hollow, not seeing the faded linoleum beneath her feet or the nurses walking steadily pastbut something distant, unreachable.
Her hands lie still in her lap, her clothes are creased and unfamiliar, her hair, usually pulled neatly back, now falls haphazardly around her face. She is a broken dollmotionless, lifeless, robbed of any warmth or energy. Her mind loops through the last memories again and again: just yesterday she and David had been sitting together planning the wedding decorations, laughing and teasing, debating which ribbons best suited the white drapes. He had smiled, joked, promised it would all be perfect Now hes simply gone.
It all happened so suddenly, so pointlessly A lost driver, a mess of wrecked carsno survivors. Not David. Not the others. A mere second and everything shattered, the future no longer reflecting back at them.
The silence is broken by the sound of footsteps. Nick appears around the corner, white-faced, eyes red and swollen. He drops awkwardly to his haunches beside her, gently wrapping his arm around her. His hands tremble, but he stays strongfor her.
Martha? his voice is barely more than a whisper, lest he upset her fragile balance. Please, Martha, talk to me.
She turns slowly. Her eyes are dry but the pain in them is so raw that Nicks heart contracts. She looks at him as though she can see straight through, staring into some distant place he can never reach.
About what? Her voice is lifeless, flat, the words spoken by rote and nothing more.
Nick swallows, desperate for something comforting to say.
Anything at all, he squeezes her shoulders, hoping to ground her. Tell me what you feel. Cry, for heavens sake! Dont keep it all locked away.
Martha shakes her head silently. Her lips tremble, but not a single sound or tear comes.
She looks down at her hands as if puzzled why they cannot shake, why her body wont respond as it should.
I cant, she says at last, her tone unsettlingly calm. There are no tears left. And honestly, I dont want to go on living.
Her words hang in the air, as heavy as leaden clouds outside the grim window. Nick closes his eyes, fighting to stop himself from crying out. Now is not the time for weakness. He must be Marthas pillar, even if the world has collapsed beneath his own feet.
After that, Martha just disconnects. Her gaze is fixed, her face drained of expression, her posture heavy with an unbearable burden. Nick pleads, holds her hand, says her nameshe doesnt respond. Even the doctors struggle to reach her. She just sits, staring at nothing, the world seemingly having slipped out of reach.
A soft touch on her arm signals an injectionsomething to help her sleep. Her mind fogs over, her limbs sink, her thoughts blur and disperse. Restless, uneasy sleep finally claims her, a dark blanket with no warmth, no comfort.
When she next awakens, shes back in her bedroom at home. The familiar print of the curtains, her bookshelf, a smiling photograph by the bedit all feels both comforting and alien, as though shes returned to a place she once knew but cant recognise anymore.
Martha turns her head to see Nick slumped on the sofa, unshaven, his eyes bloodshot. Hes speaking quietly with their mum, who has just come home from a work trip, her face pale and drawn but with a will of steel in her voice.
Im honestly frightened for her, Nick whispers, thinking Martha still sleeps. Shes never looked at anyone else. What are we supposed to do now?
Time heals, her mum replies, though theres no conviction in her reply. She knows as well as anyone how threadbare those words really are. Her daughter lived for Davidall her hopes, all her dreams, wrapped up in him. And now that hes gone, her world has come crashing down. But well look after her, she adds, her tone firmer, as if willing herself to believe it.
Martha listens, but cant bring herself to let them see she is awake. Inside she is empty, as though everything that made her alive has been scooped out. She squeezes her eyes shut and pretends to sleep, unsure how to respond to such concern, unable to explain that the pain will not fade, merely hide behind a curtain of exhaustion.
Nick sits with her a little longer, then rises and nods at Mum before leaving. Mum remains, gently stroking Marthas hand, trying to share some of her strength. The room fills with silence, broken only by the ticking clock and the uneven sound of Marthas breathing…
************************
Nine days Forty days. Time drags by, viscous as cold syrup, clinging to each passing moment. Martha barely moves from the window seat in her room, curled up with her knees drawn tight, gazing vacant-eyed into the garden.
Her gaze settles on the old wooden bench beneath a sprawling sycamore tree. It was there, in a mild September evening, David had nervously proposed. She remembers every detail: his fingers trembling, fumbling with the ring, starting and restarting his words, blurting everything out in a rush. She had giggled with happiness, accepting before hed even finished asking.
Now, the bench looks abandoned and meaningless. The trees stand bare, the garden emptyautumn had become winter, but Martha hasnt noticed. Time stopped the moment she learned the news.
Martha, come and eat something? Mums gentle voice breaks through her reverie.
She approaches, laying a hesitant hand on Marthas tremulous shoulder. Her fingers are coldshe hasnt been truly warm since her own pain settled, as if this winter has crept inside. She looks at Martha with such worry, fresh tears in her eyes, but she holds them back, determined not to show weakness now.
Im not hungry, Martha answers, not even turning to look at her. Her voice is flat, almost detached, as if shes talking about someone else.
You must eat something, darling, Mum tries to sound firm but her words still tremble with uncertainty. You hardly ate yesterday. You have to keep your strength up.
For whom? Martha finally faces her, her gaze still blank. I dont owe anything to anyone.
For a second, Mum stands there as if the words have physically struck her. She opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. She sighs, shoulders sagging, and moves back toward the door. She is helpless.
She pauses at the doorway, glances once more at Martha, then slips silently out. In the hallway, Nick is already waiting. He shakes his head, his expression saying hes heard it all.
I spoke to the doctor, Mum whispers, twisting her apron anxiously. We need professional help. We cant do this alone.
Nick nods. Hes known this was coming, but hated to admit it. Seeing his sister so lifeless, so lost, is agonising. He clenches his fists, fighting useless anger at the worlds unfairness. But now is the time for action, not emotion.
Ill ring Doctor Smith, he says, pulling out his phone. She said shed help if things got worse.
Mum only nods, glancing back at the room where Martha sits stiff and still at the window, almost merging with the frozen pane.
That night, after darkness settles and the moon throws silver light across the floorboards, Martha finally pulls herself away from the window seat. She is so weak it takes real effort to move. Slowly, as though wading through wet concrete, she changes and gets into bed, burying herself under the covers.
The house is silent, only the faint voices of her parents leaking through the wall. Martha squeezes her eyes closed, hoping sleep will come quietly. But sleep is nothing like she needs.
She dreams of David. He stands before herjust as he was in life, his old grey hoodie, that warm smile, but now his expression is serious, even stern.
Martha, his voice is strangely clear, as if he truly is there beside her. Look at yourself. What are you doing?
She tries to speak, but her words choke in her throat. He moves closer:
Have you seen yourself lately? You’ve let yourself go. You cant go on like this.
She tries to touch him but her hand passes right throughhe is only an echo, a memory.
I… I cant without you, she whispers, the words burning on her tear-streaked cheeks.
You can, he says firmly. You always have been strong. And you must carry on. Do you hear me? Carry on.
He moves in closer, and for a fleeting moment she feels the warmth of his palm on her cheek.
You have so much ahead of you There will be good days and hard onesit’s all part of it. But you mustnt stop. Ill always be near. Just look upIm there, among the stars. And if you ever need me, just call for me. Ill help.
Martha gasps for him, but as she does the image fades, growing fainter and fainter.
Dont go! she cries, arms reaching out. Please!
But only a gentle whisper remains:
Carry on, Martha. Promise me.
She wakes with a start. Shes back in her room, under the same blanket, the moonlight pooling on the floor. Her pillow is wet with tears, her chest churning painfully.
She screams, raw and desperate, ripping through the quiet night. A second later her parents rush in, Nick at their heels.
Martha, whats wrong? Mum gathers her close, peering anxiously at her face.
Where does it hurt, love? Nick asks, searching helplessly for any way to help.
Martha is silent, curled up, sobbing hard. Davids voice still echoes in her ears, his final words resounding:
Promise me.
And through the tears, the pain, she whispers:
I promise…
Mum holds her tight, rocking her gently as Nick stands at her side, hand on her shoulder. There’s nothing left to say, no way to fix itbut they are with her, and that is enough.
Burying her face in her mothers shoulder, Martha tries to understand: how to go on? How to eat, to walk, to smilewithout him? But somewhere deep down, the smallest flicker of resolve is being born: if he believes in herif hes asked hershe has to try.
For him, if nothing else.
************************
On a bleak evening, the family gathers in the lounge. Mum sets out tea, though the cups remain untouchedno one can find comfort in little rituals. Its clear change is needed.
I think we should move, Nick says quietly but firmly, looking at his sister. Every corner here is a memory for you. Every street is a reminder. I think a fresh start would help.
Martha sits curled up in an armchair, knees tucked to her chest. She doesnt object. She just stares out at the rain tracing patterns on the glass, blurring the shapes of the only world shes known. Her face is still pale, but her eyes are no longer numb.
It might be easier in a new town, Mum agrees, gently touching her hand. A new place, new faces It could give you space to begin again.
Martha turns her head slowly. Her voice is soft, but not defeated:
Where would we go?
Theres a possibility in Manchester, says Nick. My mates offered me a job with his firm. We can rent a flat to start, sort things later.
Mum nods encouragingly:
Youll find a college, too. Well make it work. The main thing is for you to feel lighter.
Martha ponders this. Memories flash before her: her laughter with David under the trees; walks up the old street holding hands; flowers on the school steps. Every inch of this place is haunted by his shadow. Here, pain only grows sharper each day.
All right, she says at last. Lets move.
The words dont come easily. In them is both despair and a flicker of hope. But it is a choicethe first real decision shes made in a long time.
The following weeks buzz by with the chaos of packing. Martha mostly watches as her family sorts through drawers, boxes, shelves, sweeping away the past in armfuls. Occasionally she lets her fingers touch a keepsakea keyring from David, an old photo, a ticket stub from their first dateand stares at it before placing it gently in a box.
On the morning they leave she steps out onto the balcony for a last look down at the garden where it all began. Her chest tightens again, but this time she does not let herself drown in grief. She repeats silently: You can do thisyou have to.
Their new city greets them with leaden skies and noisy streets. The flat is clean and bright. In her new room, Martha spends a long time at the window, watching unknown houses, strangers going hurriedly about their business. It all feels foreign, yet the strangeness is a kind of freedoma blank page, untouched by memory, ready for a new chapter.
The first days are difficult. Martha wakes every morning certain this cannot be her life. She misses home, old friends. Some nights David visits her in dreamshe smiles, reassures, and she wakes with wet cheeks.
But in time, small things begin to catch her notice. There are tulips blooming in the park. In the café across the street, the barista remembers her order and says hello with a smile. They are tiny steps, but each one helps.
Martha never forgets Davidshe knows she never will. But she realises that carrying on is not a betrayal. It is keeping her promise; it is honouring his memory.
She attends college workshops, helps Mum with chores, sometimes takes walks with Nick, exploring unknown streets. Each day is a trial, but each carries some new sparknot as a replacement for the old, but alongside it.
Deep down she knows: he is watching her.
And he is proud.
Because she keeps going.
Because she chooses to live.
