However Absurd

Chapter Nine

Darcy discarded her jacket on to the hanger by the door, and slumped on to the sofa. Yes. She had somewhere to stay, and she bought it using Paul's money. She felt a burning guilt in her stomach, but she was going to send him the money back with an apology the moment she had enough. 

She was exhausted. First sleep deprived, then all the walking and travelling. Then again, there was nothing she wasn't used to. She got up and chucked her bag on to the bed in her plainly furnished bedroom. She would add her own touch herself when she could. She decided she would have a quick nap, look around, get a newspaper and dinner, then look for a job. 

She took off her dress and crawled underneath the bed covers. They were cold, but she could feel them heating up due to her body temperature. On the soft pillows she lay her tired head, and she drifted off.

---

She awoke to darkness. Oh. She had overslept. She was also very hungry. She got up and rustled around in her bag for the oversized jumper, and pulled it out. She pulled it over herself and walked into the kitchen. She had nothing in there. She sighed and started walking over to the television; her stomach grumbled as she sat herself down on to the leather sofas. She turned on the TV and found a familiar face staring at her from the screen. Her eyes slowly welled up as Paul's cheeky grin flashed itself in her direction, complete with the wink and all. 

They were doing an interview. All of them. The interviewer was a bit dim, but they gave their clever, witty answers and made Darcy giggle through her tears. She missed him, she had to admit it. She missed him so much. The day was beautiful with Paul. From start to finish. She'd wake up to a kiss on the cheek and the smell of tea coming from her bedside table. They'd have lunch together and he'd look at her the whole time, even if she told him not to because she was having an eating disaster. He told her it was cute. Then she'd go to sleep with his strong arms around her, feeling so loved and protected.

But that was gone now. And she wanted it back. But she needed to earn it first, make a living by herself, and stop burdening Paul with providing for her. 

All she knew of Paul now was his smiling face on the screen. His beautiful face, in all it's black and white glory. She wished she could have woken up to that.

Another little tear rolled down her pale face, and she sat there for the rest of the night, crying. 

---

"I..um.. I would like to apply for a job here," Darcy nervously said to the woman behind the desk at the theater. 

"Well, there is a vocation available for costume designing. Do you have the skills for that?"

"I suppose you could say I'm very resourceful when it comes to materials," Darcy replied, remembering her times on the street in winter.

"Here," the woman in the tweed skirt and horn-rimmed glasses handed her a piece of paper. "This is the application form. Fill it out and I'll put in a good word for you. Sadly I don't run the place... yet."

Darcy giggled slightly and took it. "Thanks," she nodded at her. The woman also handed her a pen; Darcy smiled her thanks.

Darcy had been talking to this woman for around half and hour now. She was businesslike, and very prim and proper, but wasn't the mean kind. She was slightly aged, but still bouncing around the reception like she was full of beans. They seemed to get on, but as she got busier, the woman had asked why she was here. That is how she had got to filling out a form for a costume designer at the local theater. She had always loved the theater, and has fond memories of when her mother and herself went out on evenings at the theater to watch plays together. 

She filled it in and handed it back to her. She smiled and took it in and placed it in a box on the desk. "Thank you," she grinned at her, as though she was wishing Darcy luck.

"Thank you," Darcy smiled and walked over to the doors, "Goodbye."

"Bye."

Darcy left and smiled. Hopefully, she would get herself a job, and she'd work her way up from there. She longed to be an actress. Being someone else, without a gruesome past, and have everyone look at you like you are beautiful. It was an artificial look, but it was better than the look she got on the doorstep that fateful day at sixteen. Anyway, she loved to perform. She just... loved it. She also loved the way the acting industry went about. She didn't crave limelight, she craved work. Good work.

She walked down the street and went to go get something cheap for dinner. She was only living on Paul's money, which she had to pay back. She waltzed into a little shop and picked up some tea, milk, bread and the ingredients for a cheese and beans jacket potato, and thought of how Paul was doing the whole time. 

---

He wiped off more make up. He needed that make-up to cover up the dark circles under his eyes, and to make him look less ill and more like his usual immaculate self. 

He just didn't see the point anymore. What was the point of making yourself look good when the one person who you really tried to impress, who's opinion you really cared about, was gone? He  just didn't see it. So he was a mess. He did shower and comb his hair, otherwise he felt dirty, but he couldn't sleep without the darling, slender figure next to him. He couldn't think of what Darcy liked him in, so he chucked whatever he first touched on. He couldn't eat. He just... couldn't. Life had left itself almost careless for Paul McCartney.

As an escape, he delved into music. Producing more songs a week that he usually did a month. A fair few were scraped, but many made it into the recording studio for demos after a bit of fine-tuning with John. 

It, admittedly, was good, heart-filled music. What he wrote did convey his feelings, but sometimes he broke down in the middle of singing it, or it just didn't work with the album. Paul was left to play his instruments alone, and only sang when it wasn't too related to his loss. 

Amongst his unwavering sadness, however, there was a flicker of determination. He was going to get through this. He was going to move on. He was going to show himself how strong he had to be to deserve Darcy. If he proved to himself, he made up in his head, then she'll come back to me. She'll come back once he can earn her.

--

Okay so I'm rather pleased! It hasn't taken me too long to update, yay!

However I'm a bit depressed at the moment, so I might just be overflowing with badly written, sad poetry. But I shan't forget my fanfictions! I will update them as soon as I have a good idea of what to write.

Until the next update, thank you ever so much for all the support this book has recieved. I really am delighted with how well this book is turning out. If I please you in future, keep it up!

Thanks again,

-Abbey xx