Authors: NC Marshall
I
awake the following morning feeling like what I can only describe as a giant axe
jammed into the side of my head. I rub at my forehead, trying to dull the
throbbing. The clock tells me it’s past eleven and I can’t believe I have slept
for so long. I vaguely recall a dream last night, but it’s just a passing
thought and quickly vanishes.
There
is a packet of painkillers and a small bottle of mineral water placed on the
bedside table next to me, with a sticky note attached to the bottle:
THOUGHT YOU MIGHT NEED THESE! CALL YOU LATER. LOVE
YOU XXX.
Dan
must have let me sleep rather than waking me before he went off to the airport.
A brief feeling of embarrassment hits me as I remember my drunken state last
night. The fact that he had been sober makes it even more cringe-worthy.
For
better, for worse, right?
I dismiss the feeling as I pick up the blister
pack, impressed as always at Dan’s amazing ability to be so proactive. I
quickly throw back the tablets in one and hope their effect will hit
immediately.
I
manage to stumble my way out of bed and practically crawl to the bathroom. I’m
wearing just my underwear. I can smell the remains of the strong floral perfume
I wore last night lingering on my skin. I can’t even remember getting home last
night, never mind taking off my clothes and getting into bed. I look around the
room to see where my clothes are, and notice them neatly folded on a chair. Dan
must have done that, I very much doubt I was capable. I spot my reflection in
the mirrored bathroom cabinet as I turn on the shower. My overall state just
confirms why I am feeling so rough; my black eye makeup from last night is half
way down my face and my eyes are bloodshot. My hair is greasy and knotted. I am
still wearing one of my long silver earrings; I must have managed to lose the
other in the taxi on the journey home. I climb into the shower, feeling very
fragile, and let the hot water wash over me.
I
eventually clamber out of the shower, and I feel like throwing up, so decide to
try and sober myself up with some breakfast.
This is the reason I don’t go
out anymore.
I toss on a pair of jogging bottoms and one of Dan’s hooded
sweat tops before heading downstairs to make myself some food.
Two
cups of coffee and a full English breakfast later, I feel more human. I am
still dehydrated to high heaven, but the nausea and the migraine have all but
vanished. I call Kate to see how Josh had been for her last night. As always,
she loved having him and he has been a little angel. She tells me she’s in town
with him at the minute and she will take him for some lunch before she brings
him back. I thank her and tell her she is my saviour, I will be forever in her
debt.
I
busy myself around the house and get a few jobs done before the doorbell rings.
Kate stands in the doorway, wrapped in a thick red coat and white scarf. Her
long dark hair is curled and thrown back into a grip. She has fair skin, but
her cheeks are rosy from the icy cold wind outside. She’s grasping a large box
of chocolates that she holds out in front of me as I urge her to come inside
out of the cold. Josh runs in after her. He’s dressed in a full Superman outfit
and proceeds to ‘fly’ in circuits around the kitchen.
“I
thought the hangover might benefit from these,” Kate says, as she hands me the
box of chocolates.
“What
are you, psychic?” I ask, taking the large box from her and turning my
attention to my son. “Have you been buying for Josh again, too?” I add, raising
my eyebrows suspiciously at her. I know she has; he doesn’t own a superman
outfit, so I certainly didn’t pack one for him to take to Kate’s. She takes off
her coat and scarf, then neatly folds and places them on the kitchen table and
shrugs at me.
“Well,
if his Auntie Kate can’t spoil him, then who can?”
“Thank
you Kate, I appreciate it,” I say. I rub her arm, before reaching down to hug
Josh. She truly is the best friend I could wish for.
*
It’s
beginning to get dark outside. Kate’s still here. We have spent the remainder
of the afternoon lazing around, stuffing ourselves with Belgian chocolates and
having a well overdue catch up. Kate kindly baths Josh and puts him to bed
after reading him a story, while I iron his school uniform and prepare my own
stuff, getting ready for my first days training at work tomorrow. I sort out my
handbag so I know that I have everything I need, then pick out some clothes,
laying them out in the spare bedroom, ready for the morning.
Once
Josh is asleep and I have finished getting organised, we order a pizza and
watch recorded soaps. Soon, Kate announces that she’d better be making a move.
She has to go to work herself tomorrow and has an early start, too. I thank her
again, see her to the door and wave as she reverses her car off the drive and
disappears into the evening. She really is one in a million.
I
lock the front door and rush upstairs to check on Josh. He is sleeping deeply,
with his blanket pulled over him securely. He clutches onto a Superman toy, I
assume that the poor dinosaur has now been relegated in place of a better
option. I stroke his fair hair lightly, kissing him on the cheek before I
switch off his night light and leave the room.
I
head back downstairs, as I approach the bottom steps the phone starts to ring.
I jump, startled, briefly wondering why I am suddenly a little on edge. I
quickly snatch the phone from its cradle in fear of waking Josh. It’s Dan,
calling to see how I am. I wonder why he hasn’t called my mobile as he always
does, but on retrieving it from my pocket notice that I accidentally switched
it to silent mode.
He
tells me he has arrived safely in London and is now settled in his hotel overlooking
Oxford Street. He continues the conversation, telling me more about his work,
and says that he is all prepared for the week ahead. He had endured a heavy day
by the sounds of things, but is now sitting in the hotel bar having a few
drinks before catching an early night ready for his meetings tomorrow.
We
have talked for a while. Dan wishes me luck for tomorrow's training, before we
say goodbye and I hang up. Although I’m now used to him working away, I still
miss him when he’s not around. We spend more time apart than we do together,
and have done so for the past couple of years. The firm is expanding, and Dan
is a vital cog in its operation. I know that once the expansion is complete, I
will have him at home more often. I just need to be patient.
As
I put the phone back into its cradle, the lamp next to it makes a quiet pop,
and the hallway is plunged into darkness.
“Shit,”
I whisper to myself, rushing through the kitchen to find a replacement light
bulb for the one that has just blown. I rummage through numerous kitchen
drawers before I find one that will fit. Returning to the lamp, I screw in the
new bulb. There is a brief moment before the light returns, in that moment,
something in front of me catches my eye. I see my reflection in the mirror hanging
above the table where I stand. In the darkness, my eyes are shadowed, and my
face is illuminated by the moon’s sudden intense bright light shining through
the glass blocks of the front door.
I
stare hard, studying my eerie looking appearance, but as I move closer to the
mirror, I notice that it’s not my reflection staring back at me at all. My hair
is too long and too light, my cheekbones are more prominent, my whole face
looks thinner and younger. My eyes remain unchanged. I’m looking at my sister.
I
stare at the reflection for a few seconds before it registers. Once it does, I
stagger back, unable to look at the image staring back at me any longer. Goose
pimples rise on my arms, and an icy chill runs the full length of my spine as I
acknowledge that I’m frightened. My ankles hit the edge of the wooden
staircase. I crash down onto it, trying to duck down low enough so I can't see
directly in the large mirror anymore. I stare at the floor for a few moments
before I pull myself together. Eventually, I drag myself up and sit on the
bottom step, trying to steady myself, still not daring to look back in the
direction of the mirror in case she is still there.
The
light is back on, the room once again bathed in a warm light. I stand from the
step, slowly moving back to face the mirror, and summon the courage to look.
It's just me staring back now. Jess has gone, but the ghostly image of the
reflection has triggered something buried deep in my mind. The dream from last
night floods back to me in abundance, and I remember every last detail.
Jess
had called Matt and needed to speak to him, she wanted to talk, and was upset
about something, I don’t know what, I can’t figure it out. I remember the
figure up on the cliff top standing behind her. Matt had been there. He had
gone there to meet her, as she had asked him to. The reality hits me with a
horrible jolt as I consider the possibility that the night my sister died, she
hadn’t been alone at all. Her husband had been there with her.
The
feelings of anger and confusion inside me are agonising. I replay the memories
of the dream over and over in my head as I drive to the city the following
morning, each replay exactly the same as the last. Were these just meaningless
dreams concocted from my own subconscious? If they were, why did they feel so
real and why are they affecting me in this way? It now seems even more tangible
than it did in the flashbacks from last night.
I
remember Jess’s vision in the mirror willing me to remember. I can still see
her as clear as day.
It was her, she was there with me.
I try to talk
myself out of believing what I saw is what actually happened, but then the
image floods back and I find it increasingly impossible to ignore.
I
feel betrayed and upset by Matt. If this dream was showing me the actual images
of that night, then why did he lie and say he had not seen Jess on the night
she died, when apparently he had gone up to the cliffs to meet her? My head is
spinning, and I could do with not starting training at work today. I know that
I’m not going to be able to focus and give it the full attention that I should.
I have to talk to Matt. I have so many questions that I want answered, if for
nothing more than to return my own sanity. I know that for now this will have
to wait. This job is too important, I need to get off to the best possible
start that I can.
I
approach the familiar glass doors to Wallis and Spoors, straightening my pencil
skirt and smoothing my hair over the fur collar of my coat before I enter,
using the doors as a makeshift mirror. My eyes have dark circles under them,
which a dense layer of the most expensive concealer I own has unsuccessfully
managed to camouflage. I am not surprised by my appearance, I know I didn’t
sleep a wink last night, my thoughts wouldn’t let me. I had tossed and turned
until my alarm went off this morning. I need to get a grip and focus on putting
this whole thing to the back of my mind for now, although I have a feeling that
this task will be easier said than done.
I
walk across the large lobby. Strangely, I am not very nervous about starting
work today. I figure this must be because my mind is currently attending to
other matters of much higher importance. I head to the floor on which Mr
Wallis’s office is based and calmly prepare myself, ready to face the next few
hours, and hopefully will get through them in one piece.
*
Four
hours later, I sign out and leave the office behind. The first day hadn’t been
too bad and had passed a lot more quickly than I had anticipated. Richard was
in meetings all morning. For this reason, I had seen very little of him. So, it
had just been me and Sophie; Sophie is Richard’s other assistant, and the girl
I had met in my interview, as I had suspected.
She’s
a sweet and friendly girl who appears incredibly bright and very competent at
her job. I now see that I was too quick to judge her on her looks, rudely
assuming that she would be a bit materialistic and superficial, when in fact
she is anything but. Sophie looks up to Richard. It’s clear from the way in
which she speaks about him that she holds him in very high regard. By the
sounds of things, the company is currently performing incredibly well. Because
of this, Richard’s current workload has multiplied, meaning that Sophie is
happy for the help I will provide her. The morning had been more of an
induction to the company, putting faces to names and getting to know a little
about my colleagues. It appears to be a good place to work. Everyone had been very
friendly and welcoming, but I was glad that it hadn’t been too full on. I don’t
think I could have coped today. At least I now know that I have a couple of
days before I have to return. Hopefully, by then this dream business will be
firmly cleared up and then I can continue on in normality and get on with my
life. At the back of my mind, though, I have a feeling that this won’t be the
case.
I
climb into the car and pull away from the busy car park, but instead of heading
towards home, I swing back in the opposite direction towards the outskirts of
the city centre. I know Matt doesn’t start his new job until next week, so I
hope that he is home. We need to have a discussion that simply can’t be
postponed.
*
Fifteen
minutes later, I pull into the large car park of Matt’s apartment block. It’s
lunch time now, and I hope that he hasn’t gone out. I park the car and get out,
looking up towards the window that I know is his apartment. There isn’t any
movement. I may have to come back later. I walk over to the entrance and press
the button, calling through to his number, then lean back heavily against the
wall and tell myself that I'm stupid. Hasn’t the poor guy been through enough?
Does he really need his dead wife’s crazy sister worsening the situation?
I
briefly contemplate walking back to the car and shift my weight off the wall
behind me. I start to move away from the door, back in the direction of my
parked car, but as I do, I hear Matt’s voice crackle through the intercom and I
know that I have to go through with this.
It’s too late, you can’t back out
now, Nat.
“Hello,”
says Matt, in a pleasant voice, waiting to hear who his visitor is.
I
can’t get out of it now. He will look out of the window and see me. I jog back
to the intercom, moving my face into the camera’s shot so that Matt can see me.
“Hi
Matt,” I say, stamping a foot to the ground, angry with myself and already
regretting this.
“Natalie.
Hi, this is a surprise! Come on up.” He sounds genuinely shocked that I’m here.
I push the door as he buzzes me in and I head to the lift, to get to the top
floor where his apartment is situated.
Matt
greets me affectionately as I walk to the front door of my sister’s old home.
He invites me in, politely taking my coat and asking if I would like anything
to drink as I follow him through to the open plan living area. I fake a smile,
nodding.
“A
cup of tea would be good,” I reply quietly, not able to raise my head to look
him fully in the eyes.
He’s
dressed in black jogging bottoms and a white T-shirt. I steal a quick glance at
his face. It reveals a thick layer of sweat lining his forehead, which makes me
assume he’s just returned from his daily jog.
I
head over to the sofa, perching myself timidly on the edge of it. Matt hurries
off to get me a drink as I glance around. I am quite shocked to see that the
place looks exactly as I remember. Nothing has been changed since the last time
I was here before Jess died. The small apartment is still very tidy,
considering Matt is living here without a woman to keep a handle on things.
Not
that Jess was the neatest of girls, the apartment was always a little
cluttered; she hardly ever put anything back into the place that it had
originally belonged. “Life is too short to be always tidying up, Nat,” she
would say whenever she had visited my house and observed my almost fanatical
need to be clutter free as I tidied around her. Sadly, in her case, she hadn't
been wrong.
The
apartment is very contemporary looking in both style and decor. Although it is
quite small, it has an excellent location, in close proximity to the city
centre. It’s still decorated as it had been since Jess and Matt had moved in
three years ago, with stark white walls, black and red furnishings, and a pure
white sofa. There is still a photo of them from their wedding day sitting on
the modern electric fireplace’s surround. Another of Josh and Liam—Ryan and
Lola’s son—rests on the window sill. Matt’s acoustic guitar is propped on a
stand in the corner. He used to be quite good, if I remember correctly. I
briefly wonder if he has kept on partaking in his passion for writing his own
songs.
I
feel as though Jess should be bursting through the door at any moment. The
feeling makes me uncomfortable and a little jittery. It’s almost as though I
can feel her presence around me. I’m sure I can still smell her perfume
lingering on the sofa scatter cushions. The almost overpowering, sweet and
fruity fragrance is impressed so thickly in my mind.
Although
I’d been here many times in the past, the last time I had visited had not been
long before Jess’s death. It brings back memories I would rather forget.
Jess
had called me, and was in a bad state. Even though it was only late afternoon,
I could tell she had been drinking and was well on her way to being drunk. She
sounded depressed and said it was because she had a crappy day. She was crying
softly, and I couldn’t calm her over the phone. Although this was getting to be
a regular thing of late, I always seemed to jump at her command. I couldn’t be
angry, I knew she was going through a tough time at the moment and needed all
the support she could get. Matt had still been at work, so I knew she was alone
and I didn’t like the idea of her being so upset with no one there to comfort
her.
I
decided to go and see her, to ensure she was okay. I knew I wouldn’t settle
until I had. I remember Dan had been annoyed with me about going to see her
that afternoon. He felt like she was taking advantage of me and thought that I
was too soft when it came to Jess. In reality, Dan wasn’t Jess’s biggest fan,
especially not at the moment. The two of them used to get on pretty well. I’m
sure Jess even had a little secret crush on him when she was a teenager, back
when Dan and I had first started seeing each other.
Things
had changed between them lately. Jess barely spoke to Dan on the rare occasion
that she saw him. I could see that he was finding Jess difficult to tolerate,
too. He barely even listened when I spoke about her anymore. I didn’t
understand why, and still don’t. Maybe it was because she was such a strong
person. She could be outspoken and opinionated at times, much like Dan could,
so maybe they had been too alike. He had tried to put me off going to her
apartment, but I had disagreed with him and gone anyway, knowing that he would
be unhappy I had gone against his wishes. What was I supposed to do? She was my
sister. Dan didn’t have any siblings and admittedly had been raised as a
slightly spoiled only child. He could never understand.
When
I arrived at the apartment, Jess met me at her front door and I cuddled her
tightly. I can remember feeling her small frame in my arms. She had always been
thin, but recently she had lost more weight and seemed so fragile and
vulnerable. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and her long hair was tied
messily into a loose ponytail gathered at the nape of her neck. She was wearing
a pair of ankle length black leggings and an oversized pink sweat top which
hung loosely off one shoulder, baring the pronounced edges of her collarbone.
I
followed her into the living room and sat down as she went over to the kitchen
and opened the fridge door. I watched as she poured herself a reasonable sized
measure of neat vodka into a coffee mug and proceeded to switch on the kettle
to make me a cup of tea. I didn’t make any attempt to tell her not to drink the
alcohol. I had learnt from past situations that this would only lead to her
ignoring my plea and doing the complete opposite by drinking even more. She had
never liked being told what to do. I wasn’t optimistic enough to believe she
was about to start now.
She
came over with my tea and handed it to me, smiling warmly as she sat down next
to me on the sofa. Although she was still drinking, she seemed to have sobered
up somewhat to how she had been when I spoke to her on the phone earlier. She
was now able to string together a sentence to a moderately good standard.
“So
what’s up, why has your day been so bad?” I asked her coolly, trying not to
sound as though I was speaking to a six-year-old after a bad day at school. I
didn’t want to patronise her, I knew that if I did it would only add fuel to
the fire.
“I
just keep screwing things up Nat,” she replied, rubbing at her reddened eyes as
they filled up once again with tears. Suddenly, without any warning, she
slammed her mug down hard on the table in front of us, making the legs wobble
slightly and making me jump. I was surprised that the force she had used hadn’t
caused any damage.
“I
thought things were already bad enough,” Jess said loudly. “Matt and I are
arguing all the time, we just can’t seem to get on at the moment. Things are
getting worse between us, Nat.” She paused and took another drink. “And just to
top things off, I was fired today. So I am now unemployed too!”
I
tried to act shocked, but in truth, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest by the
fact that Jess had lost her job. It had been a long time coming, to be honest.
Greg, her boss, had been more than fair with her, especially over the past
couple of months, and I assumed his tolerance levels towards her had eventually
vanished.
Jess
had worked as a writer for a magazine since her return from Australia. She had
been lucky and managed to secure an excellent position six months after she
returned home from travelling. The magazine was the rival brand to the one
published by the company I had worked for, before I left to have Josh. Jess and
I used to joke regularly about how competitive she was over which company was
doing better. Usually it had been hers, which I knew was largely due to the
work that she did there. She had written a monthly feature based on the latest
celebrity gossip, and Greg had fallen in love with it, and I suspected, a
little in love with Jess, from the moment she started working for the company.
Her work had been so creative, witty and even humorous at times. It would
always leave you wanting to read more, and she had a lot of followers.