“Bye Gladys, thank you again.” I say as I hug her tight.
“You are more than welcome my sweetheart.” Gladys kisses my cheek several times.
I reluctantly walk down the pathway to the waiting taxi,Malcolm opens the door for me.
“Thank you Malcolm.” I lean up and kiss his cheek then slide inside.
I watch him lean inside the open window and pay the driver.“Make sure she gets back safely,” he says in a firm tone. Oh!Tears pool in my eyes. How sweet, I love that Malcolm is being so protective of me.
“No problem.” The driver answers.
Then I'm hit with a wave of melancholy – I wish he had met Gladys earlier, and he had been my Dad.
I swallow hard, I can't think like that right now. The taxi pulls away, and I wave heartily to them both, and for the first time tonight, I'm hit with the enormity of what they have told me.
They are leaving…and I’ll never get to have this when they are gone.
I push back the tears that threaten, the last thing I want to do is start blubbering in front of a complete stranger…
AS WE REACH THE MARINA, I thank the driver, step out ofthe car and head down the concourse. I don't know why – maybe it’s because it’s dark – but I feel nervous, apprehensive, I can't stop looking over my shoulder. I have the strangest feeling that I'm being watched.
Reaching my studio, I unlock the door, step inside and lock it behind me.It’s dark inside, and I can hear the faint noise of a television. I guess next door is up late!
Flicking the main light switch on, I stare at the room, it feels so empty without Tristan here. Shaking my head at myself, I walk over to the sofa and place my bag down with my keys securely inside it. Taking off my wedges, I head over to the kitchenette.As I lean down to open the fridge, I notice something odd, something that shouldn’t be there.
Standing back up I eye the empty bottle of beer, cocking my head to the side, I stare blankly at it, I try to work out if I had one yesterday and I’ve forgotten about it.Reaching my hand out, I curl my fingers around the bottle – Fuck! It’s cold!
I whip my head around and stare blankly at my studio. There’s no sign of a break in, no windows smashed, so why is there a bottle of beer on the side? - Then it hits me – Bob!
I sag with relief. Yes, it’s bound to be him. He has a spare key, and I’ve always told him to help himself if he ever wants anything, he’s too old and doddery to go walking all the way up to the shops for just one bottle of beer, and he has helped himself to one before.
Laughing nervously at myself, I open the bin and throw the empty bottle inside. Then I go back to the fridge, pull out a bottle of wine and pour myself a glass. I know I shouldn’t, but all the alcohol seems to have left my system on the drive home – I feel stone sober.
I take a sip of wine and look up at the clock – 11.45pm.
I should call Tristan, tell him my news, but I don't want to, not yet.I need to get changed, relax myself with a glass of wine, and then get cosy in bed so I know I’ll sleep dreamlessly. I take a gulp of wine, put down my glass and head up the stairs.Halfway up, I glance into my bedroom and freeze – Fuck!
The A4 photographs that Tristan had printed of us are scattered under my bed – What the hell! – I swallow hard, I know for definite that I had them stowed away in my top bedside drawer. Ok, ok, ok. Let’s think about this logically. Maybe I’ve looked through them and thought I put them away?I tentatively walk up the last few steps and look around my bedroom, nothing else seems out of place.See, there’s always a logical explanation!
I shake my head and walk over to the bed. Getting to my knees, I stretch under the bed and gather all the photos together.Standing back up, I put them on the bed, they seem a bit dusty – Oops! Guess I better get the vacuum out tomorrow!
As I'm placing them all back inside the folder, I realise something’s not right. Frowning deeply and blaming my bad counting skills on the wine I have had this evening, I count through them again, horror laces through me – There’s one missing!
Flinging them all back on the bed, I pull my hand to my mouth to stop the garbled noise from becoming a scream, and fall against the chest of drawers. Sinking slowly to the floor, the hideous, sickening truth screams loud and clear in my head –Someone was in here!
Ok Coral! Keep it together – DO NOT PANIC!
I slowly turn my head to my built-in wardrobe, as I do I notice the door is cracked open.Fuck!I always shut the doors!
I silently crawl across the floor and pick up the baseball bat. Then, being careful not to make the floorboards creak, I slowly rise to my feet.I hold the bat in my hand, ready to swing it as hard as I can.
“Hey!” I shout, whacking the door with the bat, it leaves a really big dent. “I know you’re in there!” I shout, my voice cracking as my heart pummels against my chest – Deep calming breaths Coral!
When I don't get a reply, I take a step back and bash the door again. No one jumps out trying to surprise me. Deciding to be brave, I take another step back and using my balance, I lift up my leg, wrap my toes around the handle and slowly pull the door open.All my clothes are there, where they should be, nothing seems out of place.
I move my position, but I keep the bat in my left hand, just in-case. Switching on the bedside lamp, I notice a mark on my bedside cabinet, a round wet mark, like condensation.
Getting to my knees, I lean forward, it looks like a...I suddenly realise it looks exactly like the bottom of a beer bottle – There’s no way Bob would have been up here, no way!
Reaching my shaking hand out, I use the tip of my forefinger and press down on the mark, it’s cold and wet, and definitely fresh. Holy fuck!
Someone has been in my studio, drank my beer, been up in my bedroom and stolen a photograph, without breaking in!
My teeth clamp together in anger, because I think I know exactly who it is!
Launching myself up, I run down the stairs, baseball bat still in hand, get my keys, unlock the patio door, yank it open and take the couple of steps needed to Bob’s door.
All the lights are off – Crap!
I don't want to wake him, or worry him. He might fall down the stairs trying to hurry to me, but at the same time, I want to know if he saw anything suspicious tonight.Damn it!
I walk back inside my studio and lock the door behind me. Then I set the magnetic door sensors, evidently they alert you if someone gets in and you’re home, but they are useless if you’re not! – Maybe I need some sort of alarm? – As I pace the room, wondering what to do, I suddenly notice something else, something odd.
The cushions on my sofa are not in their usual place. I always have two at each end, but one of them has been moved and issitting in the middle of the sofa.I cock my head to the side, and as I continue to scan the room, I notice one of the cupboards on my large elongated wooden T.V unit hasn’t been closed properly.
Stepping forward, I walk over to the unit, get to my knees, and carefully pull the door open.
This is the cupboard I keep my photo albums in, I’ve been meaning to get them all scanned so I have a digital copy of them all, some of them are so old. Gladys always insisted on lots of photos, not just for birthdays or Christmases, so I have a very large stock of photographs.
The first album is from when I moved in with Gladys, to starting senior school. The second is from the age of eleven up to my 21st, including the birthday party she threw for me, and the third is all the photos I’ve taken since then.As I stare at the albums, I notice they are not in their usual place either.Why would someone have been interested in a bunch of old photographs?
I frown deeply, pull them all out of the cupboard and open the first album up, it’s the one from when I moved in with Gladys.
I never told Gladys this, but when I was taken away from my mother, I had a photograph that I kept of my old family, I was four when it was taken, I remember it well. It was Kelly’s birthday, we’d all gone out to Alton Towers for the day, someone took a photo of the
four of us. Mom, Dad, Kelly and I are all smiling together, we all look so happy.I don't know why I took it with me, and I don't know why I still keep it, a reminder of a happier time maybe.
Reaching into the secret compartment of the album, I slip my finger inside.I frown hard as my fingers search for something that is evidently no longer there.
I gasp aloud. “No!” I grab the album and shake it upside down, hoping that the photograph will fall out, but it doesn’t. I place it on the floor and frantically start flipping through the pages, I don't stop until I reach the last page – It’s gone!
I rapidly shake my head, refusing to believe that. I go through the same process with the second and third album, only to find nothing. No!
I fall back, my bottom hitting the hard flooring, and clench my hands into fists. Tears bubble to the surface, so I fight them back. I shouldn’t be so upset about it, I don't know why I am. I should be more concerned with the fact that someone has been in here, taken it from me, but I’m devastated.
It was the only photo I had of us all.
Heavy sorrowful tears escape me. I don't know how long I sit there for, trying to sooth myself by rocking back and forth, but the pain I feel at loosing it, is something I can't describe and don't understand.
Falling to the floor, I curl up into a ball and rest my cheek against the laminated flooring.I cry deeply for what I have lost, for my father, for my mother, and for Kelly. I’ll never get to see them again, not like that, never again...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MY MOBILE BUZZING IN MY BAG pulls me out of my stupor. Sitting up, I slide along the floor, still choking back the tears, and take my mobile out to see who it is – Tristan – Shit!
Now is not the time, but I know I’d better answer it, or he’ll just keep calling.
“Hey,” I croak, then sniff loudly. I really need some tissues.
“Coral?” Tristan’s voice sounds twisted. “What’s wrong, what’s happened?” he sounds alarmed.I try to think of something to say that will placate him, I can't tell him the truth, not yet. Then I remember my news from this evening – They are leaving!
“Gladys and Malcolm are leaving,” I choke out, sniffing loudly.
“I-I thought you already knew that baby,” he says, his voice a soothing tune.
“Um...no, I mean yes I did, it’s just....” I take in a ragged breath. “They are all leaving Tristan, to Spain.” I hear his sharp intake of breath and swallow hard, trying to stop the tears.
“I'm coming to you baby, I’ll be a few hours but’ – “No!” I bark loudly.
“Why not?” He softly says.
“Because it means you’ll have to go back next w-week,” I choke out.
“So’ – “I don't w-want y-you to,” I cry.
“Coral!” Tristan admonishes. “You’re upset. I want to be there for you,” he adds.
“I…I know you do,” I warble. “But please, just stay, get what you need done then you won't have to go back...y-you can b-be here with m-me then,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut – I want him here with me!
Tristan sighs heavily. “If that’s what you want,” he says reluctantly.
“Y-yes,” I stutter.
“I don't like it,” he tells me firmly.
“I know,” I sniff, trying to calm my erratic breathing. “T-tell me about your day,” I add.
“Coral’– “Please, it will take my mind of things,” I croak.
“Fine!” He huffs.I instantly picture Tristan pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.I smile weakly.Just hearing his voice, picturing his face makes me automatically feel better.
Tristan tells me all about his meetings, funny moments that happened and how much he has missed me.I feel a wave of melancholy hit me again. I swallow hard, and try to fight against the feeling. I try to swing my emotions towards love instead, how I will feel when I see Tristan again, but it’s no good, no matter how hard I try I truly ache for him; so much so that it feels like physical pain.
“Better?” Tristan asks when he’s finished.
“Much better,” I answer, trying not to sound too sombre.
“I still want to come and see you,” he whispers.
“Don't,” I tell him firmly. “We only have one more night and two days,” I add trying to comfort him, or me, I’m not sure which.
Truthfully, I want him here with me right now. I want him to drive down, run towards me and wrap me up in his arms. But on the other hand if he does come back, it means he has to go away again next week, and in all honesty I don't think I can do this again – I would have to go with him, even if it meant quitting my job I would, if it meant we weren’t apart.
We talk for a little while longer. I feel much calmer as the minutes, hours,I’m not sure tick by. I don't know how he does it – how this calming affect works on me – but by the time we say our goodbyes, I am already up the stairs and curled up under the quilt, listening to him hum Some Enchanting Evening to me...
THAT NIGHT I DREAM OF SUSANNAH stalking my studio when I'm not in, I try to work out what she’s looking for, but I can't put my finger on it.
Then I dream I am Susannah.
I am walking around my darkened studio. I walk up the stairs and across the bedroom, I see myself asleep in bed. I see something glisten in my hand. I look down and see it’s a knife, a really big Rambo style knife. I grip my hand around the handle, and pull it up ready to plunge it down on myself, but another hand appears, grabbing hold of my wrist.I glance to my right. My mother’s warm eyes from when she was well, healthy, glare back at me.
“Leave her alone!” She growls, and hits me hard around the head.
I fall to the floor in pain – Then suddenly I'm not Susannah anymore, I am me, in my bed. I look down and see Susannah knocked out on the floor.My mother comes and sits on the edge of the bed with me. I notice she looks strange in the darkness, like a ghost, she smiles tentatively at me.
“I'm sorry,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes, then she glances at Susannah, turning back to me, she leans forward and kisses my forehead.
“You’re safe now baby girl. I’ll protect you,” she whispers.
Baby girl! – She always used to call me that.I stare up at my mother, she looks so healthy, so normal.
“Sleep now,” she softly tells me, stroking my hair, making me feel sleepy, safe, loved.
I close my eyes and let the protective feeling wash over me...
WHEN I WAKE THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I’m aware of howstrangely calm I feel. I sit up in bed for a moment, reliving the dream of my Mother. That was weird, weird because of how comforting it felt to have her near me like that, have her protect me in that way.
Shaking my head at that thought, I think about coming home last night, about someone getting into my place. My instincts are screaming it’s Susannah, and I know in that very moment that I will kill her if she harms one hair on Tristan’s head.
I know this instinctively. I can’t help myself. It sounds over-dramatic and a little crazy – I know that – but like it or not, Tristan has a crazy person – that may or may not (most likely has) got access to my home and taken possessions of mine – and she’s working in close proximity with him, I will annihilate her if she so much as looks at him.
With that thought in mind, I get out of bed, wrap my robe around me, head down the stairs and go straight into the shower. I don't have the energy or the inclination to swim today. All I can think about as I’m showering is Susannah. I am bristling with rage!
God help me, how am I supposed to work with her today? I hope she calls in sick. I hope her supposed migraine is still going on. Then I think if she is in, I hope she has an accident or something on the way to work, not to kill her, I want that part – Coral!Ok, ok! You’re scaring the shit out of yourself.
I sigh heavily. I just...I don't want her there today, that’s not so much to ask is it? Then I think maybe I should ditch, but I know Joyce will think I'm avoiding her, and I want to protect Joe, she’s no
t as tough as me, in-fact she’s a sweet little walk over that Susannah will no doubt continue to threaten. No, I have to be there.
Switching off the shower, I wrap my hair in a towel and dry myself off. As I'm creaming my skin, I make more plans. First thing first, as soon as I'm in work, hopefully crazy lady won’t be in yet,I’ll go straight into Joyce tell her about Susannah threatening me, about my keys and my notepad going missing, and my late night visitor, who has stolen belongings of mine. I know I need to check with Bob when I see him if it was him, but I already know it wasn’t.
I feel my soul die a little again, whoever it was took the only photograph I have of my old family, tears threaten again – I push the thought out of my head and try to get back to what I need to do.
Right – Secondly, I need to figure out a way of telling Tristan all of this without him flipping out; after all it is going to be my word against hers. I think for a moment about heading into the police station before work, tell them what happened, but I already know what they will say. No evidence, so they can't really do much about it.I shudder slightly, the very thought of her, or whoever it was being here when I wasn’t...I shake my head to try and push the sickly feeling away.
I towel dry my hair, run my brush through it then my Coconut Oil. Grabbing my hair bobble and pins, I make a bun and smooth it over so it looks neat. Next, I start on my make-up. As I'm applying my mascara, I wonder how I'm supposed to keep calm if she is there, the amount of venomous anger I have flowing through me right now is…overwhelming!
It’s going to take all my strength not to blow up at her. Think logically Coral.
Yes. I must. I must think like Spock. If I blow up it will make me look like the crazy person, not her, and she will have achieved what she wanted.
I take several deep breaths and calm myself down.I think about Tristan coming home and how I’m going to feel seeing him again, and I’ve had my second hypnotherapy session with Cindy, so I should be able to wear my new dress on Friday.A nervous bubble ripples through my stomach, and I'm pleased it’s half nerves, half excitement.
Darkest Fears Trilogy: Fallen For Him / Freed By Him / Forever With Him Page 68