by T H Paul
The three men lit up what looked like a regular roll-up cigarette––they would later tell the girls it was weed––as they walked the streets, the girls just following, each mesmerised by the new sights and sounds they were experiencing. They reached the front gate of a red-bricked home, Billy Boy going to the door and putting his key into the lock.
Millie was the first to wake at two that afternoon, feeling sick and a little depressed. Penny was lying asleep next to her, Penny not waking despite Millie’s initial efforts at shaking her. She gave up after a minute. Millie remembered them all getting in, remembered kissing Duke, remembered Clive saying how they should share, just like the cocktails. She recalled that phrase. Clive had then kissed her, too, his tongue far too active.
Then they had undressed, the girls lost in the moment, the hours becoming a blur before sleep would take them all.
Millie got up, picking up her clothes and throwing Penny’s onto the bed next to her friend. Duke was crashed out on the sofa in just his boxers, and there was no sign of the other two.
Penny woke ten minutes later as Millie placed a cup of tea beside the bed.
“Wakey-wakey, sunshine,” she said as Penny stirred, coming around and realising she was in a strange place, realising that she was undressed. She grabbed the sheet, pulling it a little tighter around her. “Quite a night, right!” Millie was beaming at her.
Penny recalled the night. She remembered being with at least two of the men, probably all three. She suddenly felt like throwing up, and got up quickly, rushing to the bathroom. She wasn’t sick, and as she sat next to the toilet for a few minutes, the world seemed to spin a little less.
Ten minutes later, dressed and finishing her cup of tea, Penny noticed the time. She swore.
“What?” Millie knew Penny would be working later that day, but it was only just gone two.
“I was meant to see a friend this morning,” Penny said, remembering about Joy.
“You mean you have another friend, besides me?” Millie joked as if hurt by the revelation.
Penny gathered her things together, which was everything she was wearing. She hadn’t had anything else with her, and the two girls left the house. Duke was still asleep, and Clive and Billy Boy had apparently already gone.
“Where are we?” Penny said, now back on the pavement in front of the house. She didn’t recognise the area, barely recalled even walking that street earlier that day, the whole night one long blur. Her body ached.
“Let’s call a cab. I’ll come back with you to yours and collect my stuff. If my folks call, we had a sleepover, okay?” Millie said.
“Of course,” Penny said, feeling less than happy about her recollections from the previous night, but it had all just kind of happened. She’d gone to her first proper club. She knew she couldn’t say anything about it to Joy, however. Penny just felt terrible for having stood Joy up.
9
Maybe Millie was a worse influence on me than I realised? I don’t think I would have done any of that without her, as fun as it all was. Most of it, anyway. There was so much I didn’t remember. I’d slept with Clive again; I remember that.
If you asked me if I regretted that night, I couldn’t say I did. In itself, it’s what some teenagers do, right? Party, drink, sleep around. I wasn’t proud of myself, but I can’t say I regret it.
Would I undo it had I known what was about to happen? Absolutely yes, without a shadow of a doubt!
Penny arrived to work that day still a little heady, though nothing too severe. She couldn’t bring herself to tell the landlords what she had got up to the night before. She knew an early night was needed and would try and leave work by nine.
Clive did not show up at the pub that Sunday and Penny kept up with the jobs needed in the kitchen, the quieter Sunday crowd meaning she wasn’t required to wait tables. That suited Penny.
“You seem a little silent today, love,” the landlady said as she cooked the last order of the day, plating it up as Penny took from her the dirty utensils.
“Just tired. It’s been a busy week,” which was true. With visits to Joy after school, an essay that had required staying awake past midnight for two nights, and her work at the pub, it was enough to make anyone tired. With last night thrown in for good measure, Penny was surprised she’d even made it in. She had never let them down so far, however.
“You can head off, now, if you want,” the landlady said. There was still ten minutes before the end of Penny’s shift. “I can get the rest.”
“If you’re sure?”
“We’ll see you next week.”
Penny was out of the door before a moment’s hesitation. Her bed was calling. By ten that night, she was sound asleep.
Penny had got a text from Millie on the way to school that Monday. Millie had said her mum had been suspicious about Saturday night and might be contacting Penny. Millie wanted to prepare her. Penny felt she could handle the situation. There was also a voicemail from Clive, something she must have missed the night before.
He told her how much he’d enjoyed Saturday night with her and her friend, and hoped they liked it as well. He said he’d see her around. Penny deleted the message. She would see him at work before too long, anyway, she was sure.
Being in school that day felt altogether different for Penny. She was no longer a child. The weekend had been her coming of age. All around her kids surrounded her, the likes of who had no clue of the things into which Penny was now getting. A rave, cocktails, drugs and an orgy.
More secrets that Penny had to store away; and this time a shared one. That felt different. It connected her to Millie in more ways than just Millie’s hidden gift. Penny had never had to use it since first giving it to Millie. It just sat dormant, prepared, ready.
Penny battled through the day, working hard to stay awake, wondering about the effects of speed on her body, wondering if it would still show in her system. She missed the sensation of limitless energy; unlimited and unbridled. Boundless. She found herself longing for a little more of those white tablets.
Sleep would have to wait for Penny, as she drove home. She’d missed her appointment with Joy the previous morning––Sunday’s used to be an almost religious occurrence for the pair, time to talk with each other, compared to the snatched chats they got in the week. Homework was building up. Penny already knew she had a few hours each night for the next three if she was going to have a hope of keeping up with her deadlines.
Penny picked up a fresh bunch of flowers from the shop around the corner from the care home. Joy had told Penny that pink carnations were her favourite, and even though Joy would not be able to see them or smell them, just Penny telling her what she had bought would surely bring some warmth to Joy’s heart.
Penny dreaded the questions about the weekend. She felt like a lapsed Catholic going before the Priest in the confessional. Penny would do her best to avoid the details of her gallivant with Millie on Saturday night and Sunday morning.
“Penny,” the nurse exclaimed as Penny walked in through the front doors, “we’ve been trying to get hold of you. The University said they had no details for you, said you weren’t even a student. We couldn’t speak to you, therefore.” The frantic nature of the nurse as she instinctively rose at the sight of seeing Penny walk in through the doors set Penny on edge immediately.
“What’s wrong?” Penny demanded.
“It’s the money. It ran out last week. The insurance company won the case to have support withdrawn. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
“She’s not going to recover, Penny, you must know that.” Penny was well aware of that. “She was gone the moment she had that stroke, just a body being kept alive by machines.”
“No!” Penny screamed, afraid that they’d done something that couldn’t be undone, fearful that they were going to say something Penny knew she wouldn’t be able to handle.
“I’m sorry, Penny. I know you’ve been
coming to visit Miss Olomaya for months. We tried to contact you,” said the nurse, as a couple of the nurses, all known to Penny, had emerged to comfort Penny. She brushed past them, desperate for one more look at Joy, running to room number three. Maybe it wasn’t too late.
“Penny!” they called after her, Penny ignoring the pleas as she worked down the corridor, getting to the third room to see an empty bed, empty room. Penny turned back towards where she had come, the nurses moving towards her in what seemed like slow motion, their mouths moving, words no doubt coming out, but Penny was unable to hear any of it. She screamed, collapsing to her feet. Joy was gone. She knew that. She knew that the moment she pushed past them. Other nurses and a doctor had now appeared, no doubt concerned about the disturbance, but all aware of Penny, aware of the girl who had materialised some months before and just sat with the Nigerian patient.
The two nurses were now next to Penny, one crouching down, the other standing, as Penny cried her eyes out, not hearing a word of anybody around her, barely feeling an arm help her to her feet as between them both, the nurses slowly walked Penny towards the staff room.
Half an hour later, Penny was numb to her core. She’d come back to her senses so that she could at least hear people talking around her. The nurses had left her for the time being, having made her a cup of tea and then sitting with her briefly, but Penny needed time.
A doctor had come in to explain. The patient was not responding to medication, showed no signs of life. A legal application had been raised to switch off the life support. No one had challenged the ruling; the machine switched off that morning. Joy had been pronounced dead just minutes after, peaceful, painless, not even aware.
Penny knew otherwise. She was sure the end was painless––Joy had no sensation, no feeling of any kind––but Joy was far from a shell, far from uncommunicative. Except Penny had chosen never to reveal that. She’d known, she could have made others see, Penny could have granted Joy her request, but she hadn’t. She couldn’t.
Instead of seeing her friend again the previous day, she had missed their appointment. Maybe the nurses would have said something; perhaps there would have been a chance? Instead, Penny had been raving, living a wild life, waking in a strange house, sleeping through her one final opportunity to have made a difference in Joy’s life. And she’d missed it. She’d blown it.
Penny needed out. She needed to not be in that building anymore. Penny couldn’t stand what it represented, what it revealed about who Penny was. Most of all it reminded her of a dear woman for whom Penny should have done more.
Penny left, no number given, no address noted. Vanishing from their midst as easily as she’d first appeared. Gone.
Penny drove home, tears still threatening for a girl who didn’t cry. And yet she did. Penny had cried more recently than she had ever thought possible. She ached with a deep ache she knew not with how to deal. Getting home, walking in through the front door, the world suddenly became a sadder place because of Joy’s absence.
Penny had lost the voice of wisdom. Penny knew now she couldn’t repeat what she’d done, she couldn’t go through that all again with someone else. It had been so much more than that with Joy. It had been friendship, respect. Penny had irrevocably lost a mother figure in that dear lady, as well as a grandmotherly warmth. That gave Penny only one other option, someone to whom Penny could speak. Going back to Isabella Boothroyd-Turner would require money, however. Now Penny had no choice, though. She would have to continue with therapy in Joy’s honour. She would seek professional help, now with more reason than ever.
In a quiet corner of the park that had formed Penny’s playground as a young girl, Penny walked with a plastic box as solemnly as she had ever done before. This park had been where it had all started with Penny, where she had first seen Abbey run, and where she had first seen Jack go invisible. It seemed only fitting that she would spread Joy’s ashes in a place she’d taken the Nigerian in so many conversations. Penny had no idea if joy had even been there in person, when she was well, before her stroke.
The cremation had been a small affair. There was no one else there besides Penny and a few of the staff from the care home. No family, no former colleagues, no one from the insurance firm who had insisted they pull the plug. Penny had requested the ashes, and no one would argue that she couldn’t take them. The nursing staff who had made it to the short service had thanked Penny for all she had done for Joy and wished Penny all the best. They had never been able to make the connection between the two and were not going to bother with that anymore.
Penny found the tree she had climbed on the day that the dog had chased Abbey.
“This is where it all began,” Penny said aloud, talking to the wooden box containing the ashes, though there was no voice coming back anymore. “I’m going to sprinkle your ashes on the spot where I began,” Penny said. She’d cried enough tears. Now was not a moment for that type of emotion. She opened the box and allowed the contents to fall to the ground all around her, some catching in the wind, though most hit the soil around the base of the tree.
“Rest in peace, Joy,” she said, aware that she was as much part of Joy as the Nigerian had been a part of her. A small bit of Penny had just been laid to rest. “I won’t ever forget you.”
Author Notes
T H Paul is my pen name. I am in fact a seasoned novelist under my real name of Tim Heath. The titles (which are also links) for the novels I have written follow in the next section and are available on all good online retailers. Plenty to keep you entertained between Penny Black books!
I hope you are enjoying this series, which, seeing as you are six books in, I trust you are. If you haven’t managed to pick up the second book yet, The Parents of Penny, and are wondering why it isn’t available on Amazon (it will be soon), that is because at the moment it’s a FREE sign up for mailing list subscribers. So, if you want in, click on the link below, enter your email address, and you’ll get a confirmation with all the details for the book.
Or just wait a couple of months and get the book when it’s back on sale, as it will be.
Here is the link: http://eepurl.com/c5UlTb
I trust you’ve spotted that each book has a question that is asked at the beginning (before chapter one) and I hope gets answered by the end. I wanted to mention it here as it doesn’t show up in the contents list and many of you might just start at chapter one and read right through.
Organic reach for books is no longer enough. Gone are the days when a book was published and, as if by magic, it started selling all by itself, and readers quickly discovered it for themselves as they looked online. The primary way is advertising, which as an author, I will start doing this coming year heavily. You have your part to play too, however. Word of mouth is still fantastic, you sharing your reviews and enjoyment with others also helps. Plus, by putting reviews for each book you’ve enjoyed, it doubly helps my advertising efforts as potential new readers click through to see a book with a growing number of brilliant reviews!
There will be eight episodes in season one. I hope you’ve enjoyed this sixth instalment, and are ready for the seventh.
That should be out in three weeks (assuming you are reading this at time of publication). If not, maybe they already are all out.
There will be a second series, plus at least one new spin-off where I focus on one of the characters who will feature in this season and take things….well, no spoilers here. But it’ll be awesome. Trust me.
So stay in touch. Message me on Facebook (fb.me/PennyBlackBooks), connect to the mailing list or Follow my author page on Amazon. Better still, do all three. That way you will not miss a future release.
Thanks again for following this series. The aim is that each book will be like watching a show on Netflix, small bite-sized episodes that you can complete in a day, maybe one commute, in fact.
I’ll see you on Facebook soon, I trust!
The Darkness In Penny
Book 7––Penn Friends se
ries
How does it feel to be truly broken?
1
It was my A-Level year where things would go from bad to worse, in many regards, but I was also about to learn so much. Not only about the world, and what people do behind closed doors, but about myself. My gift. About who I was. Why I existed.
I didn’t, however, start my final two years in college with that clarity. I was beginning to hate everything about myself, in fact, and the life I had led––the life I was continually living.
Joy was gone. For the first time in years, I had cared about someone else more than myself, and her absence had left a hole. Her departure was some months before; college started that September, my classmates back to school for yet another new term, taller and more grown-up than ever before––yet I’d changed the most.
My rage was back––it had never really gone, in fact. I had managed to suppress it. Blackpool felt a long time ago, too, and yet none of it was.
However, I was about to discover as my A-Level exams approached, and thoughts turned to what to do next with my life, that my darkening feelings had nothing to do with my sins catching up with me––it was just this gift inside of me making me feel that way. I say gift––I mean my curse.
The transition into A-Levels and Year Twelve from the previous term was a marked change. Gone were the school uniforms that had stayed with them all for the last five years. The sixth form allowed students to dress as they wished, while always being smart. Suits and ties for the boys, business attire for the girls. Penny at least had some freedom in her choice now, though with a limited budget, despite the bar work, if anything, the change brought greater pressure. Now she had to think about what she was going to wear.