“I dunno, I just fancied a weekend away, Porthcawl seemed as good as anywhere,” he replied. He could see from the look on her face she wasn’t convinced. “Okay then,” he laughed, “I’ve started writing a book and there’s a famous author who lives in Porthcawl and writes, whilst overlooking the sea. I was hoping to write a couple of chapters while sitting at the beach or something, see if it inspires me.”
Marcia was quite taken aback by this revelation. Matt hadn’t seemed the type to be a writer to her, but she quickly realised she didn’t actually know what ‘type’ made a writer. Her response was one of shocked surprise.
“WOW... that’s brill. So what’s your book called? What’s this other author’s name?” she asked enthusiastically. Matt was genuinely pleased with Marcia’s interest, which he thought of as sincere,
“My book is called ‘Stalker’ it’s a thriller. I’ve only written one chapter so far. The other author’s name is, Carla Reid. She’s written books about Charlotte, a back-street kid come good, I read the first one and it was really good.”
“Are you going to look her up while we’re here?” Marcia asked. Matt grinned and sipped the remains of his coffee.
“Of course not, I have no idea what she looks like or where she lives. I just want a nice break to do some writing and research and be inspired.”
“Good on you!” Marcia encouraged, though she was thinking it might have been a little more exciting than he had just suggested, but she was feeling really glad that Matt had chosen her as a companion. With clear blue skies, they got into the car to head towards Porthcawl.
Arriving mid-afternoon, Marcia was secretly delighted at the place. It was very busy and the beaches were large; the sea was murky, but both Marcia and Matt knew that was common to the British Isles. The Town Centre was buzzing as they drove through, and the quirky shops and bars seemed to be drumming up the business. They drove past the fairground with the usual fairground chimes playing and the sounds of delighted, screaming children. Managing to park close by to the booking-in area, the lure of Ceaser’s seaside fish and chips, was just too tempting. It was every bit as good as the aroma had suggested, Marcia deciding to ignore the calories for this weekend. They picked up their keys and drove to the designated caravan.
“Wow this really is lovely,” gushed the delighted and surprised Marcia.
“Only the best for us,” Matt replied.
The electric caravan was vast and luxurious. It housed a large living area with fitted luxurious seating. The kitchen was fully equipped with a dining table and benches. The shower room was surprisingly large, with an ample shower and sink, with the separate toilet small and compact. It was the bedrooms that were the most surprising. There was one bedroom with single bunks that was really small, but it also had two large double rooms with adequate wardrobe space. They both stood in the largest bedroom when Matt spoke first.
“Let’s try it out then, shall we?”
“Twice in one day, you’re an animal Matt Conner,” laughed Marcia. Matt laughed with her,
“Well, we may not get the chance again,” said Matt.
Marcia lay on the bed and took her panties off as Matt mounted her. She wasn’t quite sure of his comments, but all she could really think about was trying to burn off some calories after the fish and chips.
There was no foreplay or kissing, as Matt made love hard and fast until he had finished, not knowing or caring if Marcia had a good time or not. It had made Marcia feel like a used piece of meat, and again that thought went into her head, what if I said no? She involuntarily shivered.
“I’m going to the shower and getting changed. You can have that room, it’s the nicest; I’ll have the other one,” Matt said. “This really is a nice caravan,” he added.
Marcia’s face betrayed her shock, but she did not say anything. She naturally thought that they would be sharing the same bed together and she had no problems with that, in fact, that was what she wanted. Now, he had not only shocked her, he had also disappointed her, but she tried to hide the disappointment on her face.
Marcia unpacked the few provisions that they had brought with them and made two coffees whilst Matt showered. She wanted and needed a shower herself, so while she waited she hung her clothes up and chose what she would wear that night. Matt came out of the shower brazenly naked and went into his bedroom to get changed, thanking Marcia for the coffee as he grabbed it to take with him.
Marcia got her soap bag and took it into the bathroom. She was pleased to see Matt had been respectful and left her half of the shelf for her own toiletries. She started laying them on the shelf when she noticed the bottle of tablets. Curiosity got the better off her as she looked at the label.
Matt Conner
Fluoxetine.
One, four times a day
She knew they were a form of Prozac. The bottle was half full and she checked the date they were issued. She sympathetically thought about what he might have been going through with the death of his daughter, but that was some years ago and she was surprised to discover he was still taking the anti-depressants. The only thing that annoyed her, was the amount left in the bottle. Matt Conner had clearly not been taking all his tablets.
She tried to put it to the back of her mind when she showered. She wanted to enjoy the weekend, never mind how strange it was turning out to be. When she finished showering she went into her bedroom to get changed and apply her make up, taking particular care on her fading bruises. She checked herself in the small mirror and praised herself, as she felt she hadn’t looked this hot for a long long time. She could hear the television in the living area as Matt waited for her. When she walked into the living area she was hoping Matt would comment on her appearance and was delighted when he told her how nice she looked. She felt buoyant and in a delightful mood. The hunk of a man Matt Conner had just told her she looked beautiful and she was going to be on his arm tonight. She couldn’t remember feeling this good for a long time.
“Where we off then?” she asked him enthusiastically and really didn’t care, Matt Conner could have taken her anywhere, it wouldn’t have mattered to her.
“What?” Matt grunted somewhat.
“Where we going? Where you taking me?” Matt turned the television off and got up to leave.
“Sorry Marcia, I thought we were just sharing the caravan, I thought you realised that. I got things to do, so see you tomorrow, I expect.” He opened the door and left, leaving Marcia speechless.
* * *
Back in the now infamous town of Hatfield, as Dale Simpson pulled up outside his house he could see a small group of people standing outside the vast gardens of his house and seemingly laughing and pointing. He parked his car and walked to the house, his heart missing a beat when he saw Hayleigh. She was leaning out of the bedroom window. Below her on the ground were a pile of black rubbish sacks. Dale knew they weren’t full of rubbish, though, he could see one had split open and inside the sack were his shirts. The people watching started cheering as Hayleigh chucked another sack out of the window, narrowly missing Dale as he approached.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted up,
“Bastard!” Hayleigh screamed and closed the bedroom window.
Dale got his keys out of his pocket and went to open the door. The watching crowd was beginning to disperse until they saw him try to open the door. Hayleigh had come down the stairs and stood inside, looking through the glass at Dale. She had a smirk on her face as he fiddled with the lock. Still Dale did not comprehend what was happening.
“Let me in! What have you done?” he shouted through the glass.
“What have I done?” Hayleigh screamed “you’re the grave wrecking bastard, only you got the wrong grave, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”
Dale’s heart sunk when he heard those words, as he could see the look of hatred in Hayleigh’s eyes. For that moment, he thought his world had also sunk and was lying at the bottom of the ocean; which it was. He couldn’t think of any wor
ds to say, the venom in Hayleigh’s voice had chilled him to the bone.
“Please let me in, let’s talk about it,” he pleaded.
“You stay away and don’t you ever come back. I’m going to screw you for everything you got, and if you don’t pay...” Her eyes grew wide, spittle formed on her lips as she spat the words out “... I’m sure people would love to know who wrecked that grave; only it was the wrong grave, WASN’T IT? You fucking bastard.”
Hayleigh ran into the lounge and broke down in tears. Dale got into his car and drove off, the only thing he could think of was, Matt Conner has got to pay.
* * *
Marcia sat on the sofa of the caravan, her neck arched, as she looked out at the sea. Though it was still early evening, the sun still shone and the beach was heavily populated with families. There seemed to be activity all around her. She had made herself another cup of coffee and was still trying to come to grips with the words Matt had said. She had no idea what she was supposed to do.
Just wait here until he comes back wanting a screw!
Her thoughts chilled her. That wasn’t going to happen, she couldn’t let it happen. She thought about trying to make her own way home, but that idea soon went from her mind. She had a feeling Matt would not take to kindly to that. She sat and thought for a while as she stared at the murky waters of the ocean. Nothing bad had happened, it just wasn’t the weekend she had planned. She decided to make the most of a bad thing and left the caravan for a walk along the sea front.
She walked along the waterside to Trecco Bay beach, where she could hear music coming from the fairground. She loved the hustle and bustle of the fair. She made her way into the carnival, purchasing and enjoying five doughnuts from a seller; ignoring the calories and diet she was trying to stick to.
It wasn’t a large fair and the rides were small in comparison to most, but it was extremely busy and the sounds of excited children brought a smile to her face. She stood and people-watched for a while, watching people; shoot at the ducks trying to win a teddy bear, children racing each other on the go-karts, with the looks on the kiddie’s faces as they rode down the water chute bringing a smile to her face. Time flew by and evening was setting in. She didn’t fancy going back to the caravan and she could see the town centre off in the distance, still looking very busy.
Taking a slow walk and heading in that direction, she browsed the shops that were still open, looking at the seaside tacky novelties until she got bored with that. It had now grown dark but the place was still busy on the streets and the town did not look threatening in any way, so she decided to head for a bar for a drink. The first two bars she came across were heaving and she didn’t fancy going in them alone. She was just about to walk to an off-licence and buy a bottle to take back to the caravan when she looked through the window of Yates bar. It was the quietest of the bars she had come across. She took the plunge, walking in and ordering a vodka and coke, before sitting on a vacant stool at the bar. The bartender served her the drink and after taking a satisfying sip, she laid it on the bar in front of her. No sooner had she put down her glass than a man had come and sat next to her. She glanced at him and Marcia thought he looked nervous as he offered her a drink. He reminded her of someone but she couldn’t remember who, nevertheless she was pleased to see he had a friendly face. He turned around to look at her as he introduced himself as Smithy. Then it dawned on her who he looked like.
“I’m, Marcia,” she told him, then added, “you do, so look like him.” Smithy rolled his eyes.
“Hence the nickname; my real name’s Keegan, Smithy told her. Marcia smiled, sending Smithy weak at the knees.
“I prefer Smithy,” she smiled, “My real name is Marcia, though, no famous nickname for me!”
“Beautiful girls don’t need no silly name to get themselves noticed.”
Marcia smiled at his charm and his corny reply, but she did like being called beautiful; what girl didn’t?
“That’s a strange accent, you’re not from around here are you?” asked Smithy.
“Up north, from South Yorkshire,” she told him.
“Eee by gum,” Smithy tried to joke. Marcia just raised her eyebrows.
“You are so, corny and so, not original,” she giggled.
“Okay then, I’ll let you have one back at me.”
Marcia thought about it for a while but she really couldn’t think what to say, then she just blurted it out. “Where’s your sheep?” She immediately put her hand to her mouth, shocked at her own words. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” she mumbled, panicking, “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“Now that really is worse than mine!” Smithy chuckled. “Please, let me buy you that drink.”
“That would be lovely,” purred Marcia, who all of a sudden found herself enjoying the company of this charming man. Smithy ordered himself a pint and Marcia a vodka and coke.
“So are you up here with family or friends?” Smithy asked her.
“I’m here, with a male friend, for the weekend. We are sharing a caravan on Trecco Bay,” she responded, instantly seeing the look on Smithy’s face, as it appeared to drop to the floor. Instinctively she placed her hand over his, resting on the bar.
“Oh no! He really is just a friend, he’s up here working,” she assured him. She saw his eyes light back up and it made her feel good inside. She removed her hand, though, much to Smithy’s disappointment.
“So you’re single then? “He ventured.
“Yep.”
“Cool, so am I.” They chatted until midnight when Marcia told him it had been a long day and she needed to get back to bed. She had really enjoyed what she thought was going to be a boring evening and Smithy said the words she was so hoping he would say.
“Can I see you again?” he nervously asked.
“That would be lovely, but it would have to be tomorrow, as I go home Sunday.”
“Shall we meet here at seven tomorrow then? I could take you for something to eat and show you the delights of Porthcawl.” Marcia got off her stool and leant over and kissed Smithy’s cheek.
“That would be lovely, see you at seven.” She started to walk away when Smithy asked.
“Can I walk you home?” He saw Marcia’s face drop just a little and hastily added, “Just to make sure you’re safe. I wouldn’t dream of asking to come in and besides you’ve got company,” he added. They walked to the caravan along the sea front. Smithy took Marcia’s hand and was pleased when she gripped his back.
Marcia could not remember feeling quite as excited and good as she felt right then and Smithy was thinking how ‘not to let this one go’. They reached the caravan and Marcia was somewhat pleased to find it still in darkness, she really didn’t want to face Matt that evening, for she was sure that it would spoil what she had just had. She didn’t want to sleep with him anymore, but she wasn’t sure how she was going to deal with that.
“Thank you for walking me home,” she told Smithy as they faced each other outside her caravan door. Smithy was still the nervous fool he always became when he met someone he really liked. He fought off his demons and went in for the kiss. They kissed tenderly when Marcia did not resist and as their lips parted, she whispered, “See you tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait,” Smithy replied and kissed her on the cheek before making his way home.
Excited but tired, Marcia went straight to her bed. She didn’t know what time it was that Matt came home, but she heard him come in and lay there, terrified he was going to come into her room. To her relief, he went straight to his own room. She did not hear from Matt that night.
* * *
9. Love, and Not So Romantic.
Matt Conner had left Marcia in the caravan, but he had not an inkling what he was going to do; his head was somewhat in a whirl. Earlier on as he showered and put his toiletries on display he was tempted to take one of the pills he had been prescribed. He wondered if they were the reason he was feeling a bit queasy with a pent-up sense
of anxiety. He fought the urge to take one, because he was sure they were the reason that he could not move on in his life. Suddenly without them, his life had taken on a new meaning; it had given him a purpose; a reason to live. The tablets were just stopping him from moving on. He was sure the headaches would soon go enough and the feeling that someone was in his head would subside.
He walked, weaving in and out of the caravans, not taking much notice of his surroundings. He kept trying to think of the next chapter of his book, but every time he did so, his thought process would go back to ‘Charlotte’s Dream and the author who wrote it. Carla Reid was getting into his head and he desperately wanted to get into hers. They were destined to be together, that was the only thing he was sure of at the moment. He found himself on Sandy Beach, amongst the rocks, where he climbed on top of the highest one he could find.
He recognised her beach house in the distance, a solitary structure in an idyllic situation, overlooking the sea. He guessed that was how Carla Reid got her inspiration, with this wonderful setting. He could see there was a lane running beside her house, along with some bushes and small tree’s. It looked like an easy place to hide and view the property without being caught. Slowly and purposefully he made his way to the house and with the sun setting in the distance he settled down beside the bushes to wait.
Someone Else's Dream Page 15