"Come in." Willow relented, walking back over to the bed.
"Oh good. Do you want to keep the bed? How about this old wardrobe? It's a bit dingy isn't it? We can buy you a new one." Her mother was ranting excitedly, obviously looking forward to the redecorating process herself. Upon seeing Willow's raised eyebrows she stopped, moving over to sit beside her. "Listen, I know how upset this move has made you but I want you to know that now, with your father's new job, we will have enough money to buy you whatever stuff you want for your new room. Paint, furniture, a new bedspread...anything." Her mother smiled, hopeful that this would somehow compensate. When Willow's expression barely changed, she continued. "We could even go to the shops and buy you some new clothes if you wanted." Willow relented and dropped her head.
"We'll see... But, thanks anyway mum."
"Sheila !" They were both caught a little off guard at the sound of Willow's father calling out from downstairs.
"Just a minute!" Her mother called back. "Let me know if you want to go shopping." She added cheerily before standing and exiting the room.
"I will." Willow said quietly to herself, long after her mum had left.
Willow stared up at her ceiling. It was covered in cracks and dents. She began to wonder why they had bought such a dodgy old place if money was no longer a problem. They could've gotten a brand new apartment in the city, with designer furniture and a nice practical layout, something that looked as expensive as it was. Instead, they were here. Willow was now sure that this place was at least a hundred years old... but in a way, she wasn't complaining. As much as she hated to admit it, she enjoyed the thought of living somewhere with so much history. What annoyed her was the rusting, broken doorknobs and taps, the total lack of heat and the creepy little dollhouse in the living room. Something about miniature wooden people that were older than her just wasn't right.
Willow ran her hands through her chin length auburn red hair, stopping briefly to play with the thin plait on the right side of her head. She thought back to her friends in Sunnydale. They were so far away now... she began to doubt whether or not she'd ever see them again at all. She was never the most popular girl at school but she always had her two 'besties'- Buffy and Xander. She and Xander had been friends since primary school, meeting in the playground as outcasts and becoming bound by their unpopularity. As time went on, they each made other friends and hung out with different people, but their alliance always stayed strong. Buffy only joined them in their sophomore year of high school but somehow it had always felt like she'd been with them the whole time. With them around, Willow had always known who to turn to for help or guidance or even a shoulder to cry on. The best times she'd ever had were with the two of them and also the worst. They'd shared fights and parties, laughter and tears, the whole lot. Most of her childhood and adolescent memories were tied up within those two people and now they were gone. Thousands of kilometres away and far beyond her reach. Willow was terrified at the thought of losing them, even if they did vow to keep in contact, nobody can ever be one hundred percent sure about these things.
She turned to lie on her side and stared out the window. The afternoon was grey, just like the morning and midday had been. She was beginning to notice a theme in English weather and she was sure that it didn't help that the climate was as gloomy as her attitude. Willow swung her legs around so that they hung off the bed and stretched out her arms. She was sick of feeling so down. It was time to explore.