Chapter Nine
Naomi
“Naomi?” I heard Imogen call and then a loud crash resounded through the room, I sat up with a start just as she barged through my bedroom door,
“What the fuck?”
“You tell me! Are you OK? I heard noises.”
“I’m fine. What was that crash?” I reached over to turn on my lamp but it wasn’t there.
“Where’s the lamp? Can you get the light?” Immy felt on the wall by the door for the switch and I shielded my eyes as it flicked on.
“Ow! Damn, what time is it?”
“It’s around three I think. What the hell happened to your lamp?”
I followed her gaze to the floor where my bedside lamp lay shattered next to my notepad.
“I must have knocked it, I don’t know. Bloody hell, I only just bought that lamp! Immy, could you get me the dustpan and brush from under the kitchen sink please? I don’t want to step on the floor, there’s glass everywhere.” She nodded and went to get it. I was bummed about the lamp, it was relatively new and it wasn’t cheap. I bent over to pick up a few of the larger pieces along with my notepad, it was open on a totally different page to the one I had left it on. It was open on the page with Joe’s name scribbled all over it. The weirdest thing was that I could tell the other pages had been neatly folded back on themselves. It was also a few feet from the table, no way had I done that. The strangest feeling washed over me and I shivered. I could see how I might have knocked over the lamp in my sleep but I couldn’t explain the notepad. That was just downright unsettling.
Immy came back with the dustpan and brush.
“You stay there and I’ll sweep towards you.” She said. “I got a bag for the bits.”
“Thanks.” I closed the notepad and put it back on the side table. I’d been writing for hours about Joe so I guess I must’ve opened it on that page and just forgot.
“Brrr, it’s freezing in here! Is your window open?” Immy asked. I looked,
“Nope, it is a bit cold though.” I said. I held open the bag for her as she tipped in the glass and shards of ceramic and then I put in the bigger pieces and tied up the bag.
“I’ll take it” she offered, “you go back to sleep.”
“Thanks. Sorry I woke you.”
“It’s alright. I was in the bathroom when I heard noises anyway, so.” She shrugged. “Long as you’re OK?”
I smiled and nodded, she smiled back and closed the door but left it ajar- on purpose I was betting. So she still didn’t trust me then? What on earth did she think I had done or was going to do? Half of me wondered if Mum had sent her round to keep an eye on me, rather than believe Immy’s story of wanting a sisterly night in- it wouldn’t surprise me. I got up and shut the door a little harder than was necessary, hoping she heard it close. Honestly, between the two of them they made me feel like I was totally failing at life. If only they could see just how hard I was trying to change my stars. But it wouldn’t matter soon anyway, they would both be living their own lives in New Zealand, leaving me to get on with things in whatever way I chose. I’d miss Mum, I mean she was the only parent I had left, albeit overbearing but she was still my mum. Perhaps I’d miss my sister a little less than the first time she had gone. The thought brought a wry smile to my lips. From now on it was just me, my writing and Joe. My Joe. The way I wrote him. This was going to be my story and nothing and no one was going to get in the way. For the first time in ages, I felt in control. I accepted I had some issues but show me a person who doesn’t! I’d carry on seeing Dr Blanchard, at least for a few more sessions anyway and I had a couple of regular proofing jobs in the pipeline to keep the money situation ticking over. Yep, this was me, Naomi Douglas, taking my life back and not giving a shit how it looked to anyone else on the outside. Soon I would have no one to answer to but myself and I could not wait!
***
It was after 8.30am when I awoke to the smell of sizzling bacon- Imogen was cooking breakfast. She’d made coffee and bacon, eggs and tinned tomatoes.
“Woah! What’s this? I didn’t know I had any of this stuff in the fridge.”
“You didn’t, I wanted to make us breakfast so I popped round to Tesco and got it.” Immy beamed. I had to admit it was nice waking up to a cooked brekkie, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d even had one.
“Cheers Imms. It looks delicious, did you put sugar in my coffee?” I asked, taking a sip
“Yeah, was I not supposed to?”
“It’s fine, I take sugar. I just like a flat teaspoon that’s all or it’s too sweet. You got it just right though, thanks!” I smiled at her.
“I’m going to have to eat and run I’m afraid, Mum called earlier, she needs me back to finish up.” There was a hesitant pause and she looked at me over the rim of her cup,
“The answer’s no.” I said firmly.
“Oh come on Naomi? Please? I could use your help and I’m sure Mum wants to make things up with you. I already told her you would come!” She pouted at me.
“Then you’d better un-tell her because I’m not going. Before you start, I’m not being stubborn, I just have things of my own to do.”
“Like what? I thought you’d caught up on all your outstanding proofs?”
“I have, it’s not proofs. I’m writing my own book.” I took another sip of coffee.
“Really? That’s great Naomi! I mean are you really doing it this time?”
Sheesh, thanks for the vote of confidence little sister.
“Yes, really.”
“What’s it about?” She asked. “How much have you done already?” I couldn’t decide if she was genuinely interested or she was trying to trip me up. I decided on the latter, she’d already betrayed my confidence once and I wasn’t going to let it happen twice.
“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” I winked at her, not wanting to tell her anything about it. If she knew it was about Joe she really would think I’d flipped my lid and I could just imagine the ensuing chaos. Mum would probably want me committed!
“Aww, meanie!” She poked out her tongue and giggled. “Crikey! I’d better run, I told Mum I’d be there for 9.30, she wants to crack on today. Are you sure you won’t come?”
“I might pop down this afternoon, maybe, if I get enough done.” I only said that to placate her, hoping it would get her off my back and off to Mum’s sooner. I was itching to get writing. She seemed satisfied with my answer thankfully and after putting her breakfast pots in the sink and grabbing her overnight bag she hugged me at the door.
“See you later maybe?”
“Yeah, I’ll try.” Not a chance in hell. I closed the door after her and virtually ran to my bedroom to retrieve my laptop and notes with gleeful abandon. I felt happy, really happy for once. I could spend the entire day, guilt free, concentrating on myself and doing something I loved. I had purpose.
Back in the lounge, I turned off my mobile and switched on the TV. I liked to have films playing low in the background when I worked, it helped me to concentrate strangely enough. I started flicking through the channels for a film while my laptop was warming up. Movies Gold was showing the 1953 Dean Martin/Jerry Lewis film-The Caddy. I plumped for that, it was an easy-going comedy and I liked the old films. Even more so that it was set in Italy, I noted that fact as a sign. I tuned the TV volume low so I could only just hear the dialogue in the background. The duo were performing a comedy dance sketch with hats and canes, it made me chuckle. I made myself another large coffee and, when I got the milk, I noticed other food stuff had made its way into my fridge. Eggs and bacon weren’t the only things my sister had bought this morning. Well at least I wouldn’t have to order takeaways for the next few days. I assumed Mum had given her money to buy food for me. It was a nice gesture but as she so fondly liked to remind me, I was twenty-nine and perfectly capable of feeding myself. I could cook quite well as it happened, I just sometimes, quite often these days, didn’t feel like it. Maybe I’d cook myself a nice Italian tonight. Fucking a nice Italian wouldn’t go amiss either.
“I’m coming to get you Joe!” Yeah, you wish you were. Settling down in front of the TV with my coffee on the low table and my laptop on my knee, I readied myself to begin. I opened my notepad and glanced over a few roughly jotted down plot ideas. I still had Laney Marsh’s original manuscript with my previous ‘rewrites’ on so I was using that as a starting point. Although I was basically using Joe as my main character, I planned on totally re-jigging the original story, this book was going to be as unashamedly self-indulgent as I could make it and get away with. It would never be published but that didn’t matter. This story was for me, it was my way back to sanity and my way of seizing control of my own life. If nothing else, it got me back into writing, which is essentially where I wanted to be. It was a win-win situation.
It was a good half an hour or more at least when I took a quick screen break, had a little stretch and glanced at the TV. I watched for a few minutes, chuckling to myself at Jerry Lewis, the guy was a nutter but funny as hell. It was then I took note of the name of Dean Martin’s character, he was called Joe Anthony, Joe! That really did make me laugh. That confirmed it, I was definitely on the right path.
It got to the part in the film where Dean sings his iconic song ‘That’s Amore’, I loved that song and found myself signing along when the volume on the TV suddenly shot up so loud I had to cover my ears,
“Arghhh! What the bloody hell?” I dove for the remote and turned it right down again. I must’ve caught the remote with my foot or something, Christ, it’d nearly deafened me. I put the remote away from my feet this time and settled back down to begin typing again, a few seconds passed and the volume rose of its own accord yet again, Dean was really blasting it out! The speakers on the TV vibrated.
“What is up with this thing?” I turned it down again and shook the remote to see if anything inside was broken, nothing rattled.
“Do that again and I swear I’ll throw you out the ‘effin window!” I threatened it and put it down on the sofa near my leg instead of on the coffee table so it was nearer, just in case it taunted me again. I glared at it for half a minute, waiting to see if it dare. It didn’t, so I continued to type. Five hundred more words in and the TV turned itself off. I looked up over the lid of my laptop at the blank TV screen.
“Fucking great! I really need a busted TV right now. Fine! Stay off then.” I tried to work but the silence was quite distracting. I needed some sound.
Sighing I put down the laptop and went to find a CD, I needed something easy listening and finally settled on a compilation album called ‘Lazy Afternoon’. There were some decent tracks on it, perfect for my needs. I put the disc in the player and clicked ‘play’ and left the case next to it, face up with the songs showing. Deciding another coffee was needed and maybe a snack, I headed for the kitchen. I’d noticed Immy had left a packet of biscuits near the kettle and I was just stuffing one in my mouth when the song that was playing skipped forward to song number two. Trust me to have a faulty TV and CD player! I didn’t mind too much, it was a beautiful song called ‘Dancing on my Own’, it was a Robyn cover by a local guy made good- Calum Scott I think his name was, he’d been on Britain’s Got Talent or something. I started singing while I waited for the kettle and then about a third way into the song, the volume went up. OK, now I was a little perturbed, it was one thing having the TV do it- I could discount that as a faulty remote…but the CD player too? Nope, something else was going on. My palms began to sweat, torn between wanting to go and investigate and nervous about what I might find.
“Man up, Naomi!” My heart was pounding, shuffling tentatively towards the lounge area, I held my breath. The song was still blaring out and at first glance nothing looked out of place. Then I noticed the CD case was on the floor and not where I’d left it. The TV was still off and my laptop was still on the coffee table but when I looked closer I could see something was different. Edging closer, one step at a time, adrenaline pumping, I read the three words on the screen, three words I knew I had not written.
I AM HERE.