She couldn’t recall much of the dream at all; other than it was a man and he was chasing her down a dark alley. She was running away from him but in her dream it felt more like she was running on the spot and her chaser was never more than three feet away from her. There was no end in sight, just an everlasting alley and in her hand, she was carrying something. It was her book ‘Charlotte’s Dream’.
Apart from her somewhat restless night, she felt quite refreshed and she thought that the lie-in had made up for her lack of sleep. She’d planned on doing some writing before meeting Donna but she would have to give that a miss now. She wasn’t too perturbed. Her enthusiasm, somehow, for that book, had gone; not for the one she had written, but the one her publisher wanted it to be. She had to do it, she knew that, as she was going to need the money, but it could wait for today. Maybe after I’ve had a good catch up with Donna. She put on her best jeans and her recently bought, beige top and made her way to Caesar’s. It was time to switch off from the rest of the world and enter her friend Donna’s world; it always seemed far more exciting.
Caesar’s was a popular eating place just between the two beaches of Trecco Bay and Sandy Bay on the holiday resort of Porthcawl. The food was simple and mostly English though they did offer the odd curry and some Italian options. As Carla pulled up to the carpark she could see Donna sitting at a table near the window. She waved frantically, through the glass, as Carla got out of her car and she rushed into the restaurant to sit opposite her friend. They had been friends since they were teens and always used to be seen together, until life got in the way. Now they would meet up once or twice a month; sometimes for lunch and sometimes for a night out on the town. In-between those jaunts they would occasionally visit each other at their homes. Donna was blonde, blue eyed and at thirty-four was every bit as beautiful as Carla. Heads would turn when either of them walked down the street. There would be a stampede when they walked together. It was a friendship both girls knew would never be lost, they would always be there for each other, whatever the circumstances. Sometimes Carla would wonder what she would do without her friend. She was always there for her, always ready to comfort her when previous relationships had broken up, supporting her through writing her first novel when most people were telling her to give up and get a proper job. Donna would be there encouraging her, sometimes loading up the laptop herself and insisting she carried on writing, bringing her lashings of coffee as she did so. She had supported her all the way. Carla regarded her as a sister, not just a friend. Donna had always been there for her, ever since that day they met in awful circumstances.
They kissed each other across the table, as a waiter came over. Carla thought she had barely got settled and he was being a bit pushy as he hadn’t even given her time to look at the menu, but she didn’t need any time; she knew exactly what she wanted. It was the one time, when with Donna, she wouldn’t have to watch what she ate. It was the time when calories went out of the window they were sat in front of.
“Fish, chips and mushy peas, twice, with two coffee’s,” Donna ordered. She looked at Carla for an approving look, not that she’d really needed to, Carla gave one and the waiter left.
“You still with that dopey Darren?” Donna asked. Carla giggled; it was probably only Donna and her mother who could get away with saying that.
“You sound just like my mother,” she told her friend, as both girls grinned.
The fish and chips were every bit as good as they expected; there was something different about having fish and chips by the seaside. Despite all the other great meals on offer at Caesars, fish and chips appeared to be on everyone’s plate. They chatted as they ate. Donna told her about her latest love conquest and they both laughed out loud when she told him about the size of his penis. “I thought he was going to split me in two.” Their laughter ringing out into the restaurant, had cheered Carla up no end. It was just the tonic she needed, even though she felt herself going slightly red.
Carla told Donna about her disappointment with ‘Charlotte Fights Back’; that the publisher wanted it racier and she didn’t know how to do that. Donna’s response quite surprised her, even coming from Donna, it came as a shock.
“Describing dirty sex is easy, it’s the story that’s hard,” she told Carla.
Carla wondered what sort of sex life she had been leading. Even her own mother seemed to know more about ‘sex’ than her.
“What do you mean?” Carla asked.
“Well you’ve got the story already. That’s the hard part, right? You’ve created the scene and now all you got to do is turn it into filth.”
Carla giggled. “Guess I ain’t had enough filth in my life!”
“What you doing the rest of the day? Donna queried.
“Trying to write my filth!”
“Right, I’m not doing anything. Let’s go back to yours and finish that bloody novel.”
So that’s exactly what they did; they paid the bill, got in their cars and drove to Carla’s beach house, where they sat on the veranda, in the sunshine. A wine was poured, which cemented the decision that Donna wouldn’t be going home tonight. The laptop was soon out and Donna was quickly into her creative mode.
“Right!” said Donna as she flicked through the first romantic scene, “this should be easy. First thing, let’s call it ‘Charlotte Bites Back’. That gives it sexual feel from the get-go. Basic lessons kiddo; for a start, it’s not a penis, it’s a cock.” The words were rolling off her tongue now. “Write this down”.
Carla got her notepad and pen before Donna continued her spiel. “It’s not erect, it’s hard; it’s not a vagina, it’s a pussy; they didn’t make love, they fucked; it’s not oral, it’s a blowjob; it’s not anal, its arse; they’re not breasts, they’re tits. Got it?”
Carla nodded with a smile as wide as Donna’s,
“Right, now, let’s give Charlotte a real good time, shall we?”
“You’re definitely worse than my mum. I quite liked the splitting in two, references,” Carla giggled.
“Oh yeah, we can difinitely use that.”
They worked until the wee hours, sharing two bottles of wine, until all the six chapters of love scenes were changed into erotica. It was cheaply and crudely done, but Carla guessed that was exactly what the publishers wanted. She changed the ending to allow Charlotte to be left in a potential live-or-die situation; basically just ending the book with the car crash and removing the last chapter. It had shortened the book a bit but was still long enough for a novel.
Carla looked at it differently now. This was no longer her moving story of a girl come good, it was now a story of graphic sex. The book still needed a lot of tidying up but it was still a good draft edition. In their drunken stupor, they wanted to mail it to Stephen Woodhouse, but perhaps fortunately, the wine kicked in and they failed to do so. Giggling, they decided they had better check it over when sobriety woke them in the morning. They had roared with laughter almost non-stop as they’d re-written it; Carla marvelling at the way her friend was able to describe the explicit scenes, as if it was all from experience. She eventually decided it probably was and she wondered, not for the first time, what it was she had been missing out on. She certainly hadn’t lived a life like Charlotte, or so it seemed, like her friend Donna.
With only one double bed in the beach house, they slept together; both girls soon falling asleep with the effects of the wine. In her dreams Carla was once again in that alley being chased. Once again she could not move, as if she was running on the spot and once again she woke up in a cold sweat, not knowing the outcome.
Donna was still fast asleep, the wine having taken her into a deep sleep. Carla got herself a drink of water and got back into bed. No more dreams came to her that night, although, for a while she stayed awake, thinking about her re-occurring dream. It was beginning to unnerve her a little.
* * *
They both nursed headaches the next morning and were sat out on the veranda with black coffee and paraceta
mol. The day was cloudy and the clouds hovered above them as if looking down on them, unable to move due to the lack of breeze. The clouds bore no rain; the morning was muggy and the sea calm and peaceful across the sand dunes. Neither girl spoke for a while, just letting the effects of the painkillers kick in, comfortable in each other’s silence. Carla sat in her Minion pyjamas and Donna in a plainer set she’d borrowed from Carla.
“Wish I bought some clean knickers,” Donna chirped. It was met with a smile by Carla.
“Just go soldier,” Carla suggested, prompting Donna to burst out laughing, careful, though, not to let her laughs pound her head. Fortunately the painkillers had already kicked in.
“What’s so funny?” Carla added, looking confused,
Through her laughter, Donna replied, “Its commando, you fool.”
Carla giggled, she’d known the saying had some military meaning. They sat in further silence, until Donna made a fresh coffee and brought it outside.
“So you gonna send them your porn?” Donna queried, in some ways already regretting what she had done to her friend’s novel. She knew it was dear to her heart. It had been fun doing it, but, at the time she wasn’t quite so sure now.
“I suppose so,” Carla muttered unconvincingly and certainly uninspired. This just confirmed what Donna had been thinking.
“Of course, if you do, it wouldn’t be your story; you would have ruined the book you loved and you will forever feel that you let yourself down,” said Donna, to Carla’s surprise, who looked at her friend open-mouthed, but with a sense of relief inside her.
She had felt feelings like that ever since she had woken up. The feelings had even put her recent nightmare to the back of her mind. She felt a smile come to her face and a great love for her best friend.
“I am right aren’t I?” added Donna.
Carla nodded, “You are and it’s really just not me, is it?”
“No it’s not and that’s what I love about you girl. Keep the one we done, as sort of a reference book of sex. Try some of the stuff out, you may enjoy it.”
Carla felt her face redden. She’d certainly never tried any of the stuff Donna had written the night before. “Have you done that stuff?” she asked Donna.
Donna just answered straight faced; “most of it, a few I made up, but I’m soon going to put them in practice”. She raised her eyebrows at Carla.
“I could never do that, I’d be too embarrassed,” Carla blushed,
“No you wouldn’t, you just ain’t met the right guy yet. Talking about right guys, you seeing limp-dick Darren again?”
“He’s not limp, he’s lovely and yes I am seeing him again. Saturday, actually, we’re having a drink in town.”
“Do they serve alcohol in the kindergarten?”
Carla didn’t answer. In truth, she had no real answer and besides Donna would not have realised that she felt safe with Darren. He wasn’t a threat, he just needed some guidance.
They both felt well enough for some cornflakes, followed by more coffee out on the veranda. “I do love this place,” crooned Donna.
“Me too, one thing I’ve got to thank Charlotte for.”
“Why don’t you self-publish?” Donna asked.
“Hmmm... sounds expensive!”
“Cost you absolutely nothing my girl. For a legacy-published author you don’t know shit, do you? My dad published three books on fishing. He didn’t sell many, though,” she paused, “mind you, it was fishing!”
“How does that work?” asked Carla.
“You’ve got an advantage, you’re already a legacy-published author and so many people loved your book,”
Carla sat, getting more and more excited. She had heard of self-publishing, but always thought it was a risky business. Her heart pounded. “Will you help me? Please... please... please,” she wheedled, like an excited child.
Donna just grinned at her friend, the friend she sometimes wanted to take hold of and shake; the friend she wanted to find a real man for and a real lover. She could see the excitement in her face. How could I not help her? She asked herself.
“No!” she said, Carla looked shocked and disappointed, but before she could say anything, Donna continued,
“I know what you’re like at tech stuff. Get your laptop and I’ll do it for you. Look and learn girl. Oh... and while you’re at it, print me off a copy of your porn version. It’ll be good bed-time reading.”
It took them all morning and most of the afternoon to format and upload it on to the various eBook site’s. They decided to miss out the last chapter altogether and let it finish on a cliff-hanger; as to whether Charlotte lived or died. That way, if Carla ever felt the urge, she could always write a third novel and if she didn’t, then it would just leave the fans wondering.
They put an eBook cover on, after purchasing a picture from Shutterstock and adding the text. Donna set her up an author’s page and a biography, which Carla protested at vociferously when Donna wrote she was allergic to umbrellas. “The fans like something a bit quirky”; Donna had told her. Donna had seen Carla cringe at the mention of umbrellas, but it was something she would just have to deal with; it had gone on way too long. She was also able to put links to her first novel ‘Charlotte’s Dream’ and also links to the first reviews.
She also set up a Twitter account for her, as an author. Carla was absolutely amazed when they checked an hour later; she already had 117 followers. “Just follow ‘em back,” Donna told her and showed her how. She also made her Facebook profile public and soon there was a trickle of friend’s requests. Finally, set her up with her own website on WordPress. “I’ll sort that out later; I know your password. I’ll do it at home.” she informed Carla.
Carla just sat and watched, like an excited child; writing down what Donna told her to do and how to get to the sites. Carla wanted Donna to keep all the passwords, to all the sites, so if she got in trouble Donna would be able to help from her home. They munched on toasted cheese, as they worked through the day and into the early evening.
“You owe me big-time,” Donna told her, as they sat quietly, each with a glass of lager.
“Oh, I know I do,” said Carla elatedly; “I will so make it up to you.”
Donna grinned her most loving smile. “You already have; the look of excitement on your face is worth all of it.”
Carla smiled and kissed her friend, I owe you more than you could ever imagine, she told herself. “Come to Yates, on Saturday night and bring your new fella,” Carla begged, as Donna got up to leave.
“Yea I might just do that; if he hasn’t split me in two by then!”
* * *
The flat Darren and Smithy shared would not have been as Carla would have expected. It was normally kept neat and tidy, actually relatively clean. This was mostly down to Smithy, of course. He was two years younger than Darren, at twenty-five. They’d lived in the same street for years in the town of Porthcawl and grew up together. Even when they were younger Smithy was always the responsible one; forever getting Darren out of scrapes and covering up his mischief. He’d often take the blame for things that Darren had done when it would have been much easier to let Darren take the blame. Darren’s parents were a lot stricter than Smithy’s and, therefore, the punishments for his misdemeanours more severe; usually resulting in being grounded, or the stopping of pocket money. Smithy’s parents were soft and often thought a little telling-off would suffice. Both boys only had a younger sister and so they grew up regarding each other as brothers.
Smithy’s real name was Keegan Jones. They all called him Smithy as he resembled the actor who played Smithy off ‘Gavin and Stacey’, the TV series. Even his parents called him Smithy now despite it starting off as a joke. Although a little on the plump side Smithy was a very popular lad, particularly with the teenage girls who seemed to cling to his charm and his wit. He was single and happy to keep it that way although very often he would find one of those smitten teenagers in his bed. Employed as an assistant manager in on
e of the large High Street departmental stores, he was very popular with the customers and Smithy had a knack of never forgetting a name. He would very often treat those customers as if he knew them personally.
Yes, he was the housekeeper of the two bedroomed flat they shared, very often cleaning up after Darren. Not that Darren was all that dirty; he was just a bit messy and the place would often look like a teenage boy’s bedroom until Smithy sorted it. He didn’t mind doing it, after all, he had been covering up for Darren most of his life.
Smithy was indeed surprised, well shocked, would be a more apt word, when he started dating Carla. He thought she was way out of his league; too high class and posh. He was equally surprised to see that five months later they were still going strong. He did wonder why they didn’t see each other all that often; once, or maybe twice, a week being the norm, but he guessed that was just their basis of a strong relationship. He didn’t quite get what Carla saw in Darren; as nice a bloke as he was, he certainly wasn’t her type, he thought.
Someone Else's Dream Page 6