As soon as my head hit the leather car seat I was asleep. It was a child's bedtime but I had been exhausted in a game of revelation hide and seek that I hadn't intended on playing. There was a fuzzy memory of Jessica placing a blanket over me and the offer of a sandwich but beyond that, I did not recall much of the car journey home.
At around eleven Jessica's phone rang, waking me into a drowsy state of consciousness. I saw her check the screen and peer apprehensively at Andrea who stole a moment from looking at the road. From beneath my hooded eyelids I saw them both inspect me but they didn't offer me question, assured that I was asleep.
Jessica's words were undistinguishable as she answered the call. She muttered away whilst every couple of seconds shooting me a sly glance. I needed no further evidence this phone call was about me, general paranoia aside. An aggravated scowl tormented Jessica's face an I wanted to know what it was. I hoped I might be spared of another secret to uncover but who could tell any more.
When she ended the call I was made non the wiser to the drama as Jessica signed the conversation to Andrea. The driver too looked puzzled, biting the nail of her thumb as she processed. It didn't take a genius to figure out something wasn't right.
However, whatever it was, I didn't pursue it. I remained silent in the back and continued to assuming my sleeping façade. If it was something important I expected I would be enlightened soon enough and if not, well it appeared much of the Indigo's business was not mine and it was not my place to pry in matters that did not concern me.
The Land Rover pulled up outside my flat just after midnight an I allowed Jessica to think she had roused me by shaking me gently awake. I blinked a moment until my eyes Jessica became fixed on hers.
Anything to share with the class, Jessica?
"You're home," Jessica said. There was something definitely afoot and Jessica, it seemed, didn't own a poke face. I unbuckled myself and pretended it was my drowsiness that kept me from speaking as opposed to confusion. "Would you like me to escort you in?" Jessica asked, standing to attention beside the car door.
"No, no it's fine," I replied, stepping out into the summer's night. We regarded one another and though I was sure I saw something of doubt in her face as to my ignorance, she didn't raise it. "Thank you for today, I had a lovely-"
A gust of cool air caught me by surprise as I attempted to be polite. I looked over my shoulder, inspecting the car I had just clambered out from. I swallowed. Somehow Sophia had not only managed to run all the way from Oxford to my house in record time but also had slipped straight past me and into the car.
"We need to talk," she demanded.
Something was going on and I was being kept in that dark, kept in my place. Sophia offered me a death stare, encouraging me to head promptly inside. I took the hint and began to head for the front door without offering anything of a goodbye.
"We'll speak soon Chris," Jessica called after me. I paused on the stairs and hoped I was right in understanding her meaning - I was only to be kept in the dark for now.
"I'd like that," I relplied nonchalantly before hurrying up the rest of the stairs. No sooner had the door shut behind me, the Land Rover went speeding off down the road, leaving me alone in the pitch darkness.
What in the hell had happened now?
I decided that if it was a threat towards me I would not have been left behind so briskly. And though that should have appeased me, it didn't.
What I should have been more wary of was my own drama awaiting me beyond my flat door.
A light was flooding into the hallway from the kitchen. It was an odd sight, seeing as everyone was usually in bed at such an hour. I dropped my keys on the hall table.The likelihood of the matter was that Jackson had gotten up for a glass of water and had forgotten to turn of the light off.
Hoping, rather than knowing this was the case I proceeded to mend his error.
However, sitting at the kitchen table in her nightgown was my mum. She had a mug in her hands and was reading the book I was sure I had left on my bedside table. I stepped into the kitchen, on my guard as was only proper. Mum's tired green eyes met mine as I approached and a withered smile flickered across her lips.
I wondered which Red might have been playing her, she was supposed to be mad at me.
"What you like a cup of tea?" she asked, getting up to prepare me a cup. There was almost a frightened tone to her voice, one which worried me. We were on bad terms but she almost sounded scared of me.
"Umm-I-uh. Yes?" I replied, pulling my hand through my hair and biting my lip. Mum nodded, pouring a ready boiled kettle of water into a mug that sat waiting for me. Silently she stirred the tea bag, took it out, added milk and sugar. While she was preparing it I sat at the table, recognising the title of the romance novel I had though below me.
"It's a good book." Mum commented, handing me my steaming cup of tea. I took it gladly, giving a nod of thanks.
"It's a little too far fetched for my taste," I lied. Mum sipped her tea and pondered this for a second.
"If I can remember correctly you used to like stories that were impossibly ridiculous and unrealistic."
Perhaps it was an omen for my own story.
"When I was nine, but some things change and my dependence on reality is one of them," I informed her, putting down my scolding cup. A small smile played with the corner of her lips.
"I don't believe that for a second. You read too many fiction novels too truly mean that," Mum replied, knowing me better than I gave her credit for. Seeing my poker-face slip, Mum enjoyed a victory sip tea.
"Believe what you like but it's the truth."
"I have a feeling there is something behind that, do you mind if I share my theory?" she asked.
"Be my guest." I picked up my cup, blowing the tendrils of steam into disappearance. Mum fanned the pages of the book and studied me.
"I think that you believe that your relationship with Kieran and your life is normal, you don't believe that all the complications in stories are relevant to you in real life. I mean vampires don't exist and even if they did you'd be sucked dry before feelings came into play. I mean I'm no Dr. Collins but I expect she's part of the reason for having had the desire for adventure taken out of you."
I peculiar smile played at my lips. How predictably wrong my mother was. No, I didn't believe vampires existed, but then neither would people think Kieran existed if I told them about him.
In truth the book had reminded me to much of the delicacy of Kieran and my situation. Love, in both circumstance, was a powerful weapon both used against us and for us. It was complicated being a sardonic romantic but I was willing to battle on despite the endless implications.
Clichéd as the book dictated our relationship was, Kieran and I fitted together without reason as to why.
"That's spot on," I said to humour her. Mum smiled smugly, placing the book down and replacing it with her mug.
"I know you Christine, as much as you'd hate to accept that." I glanced up from my cup, guilt panging my heart strings.
"That reminds me. I- uh-owe you an apology." I cringed and tried not to maintain eye contact, I would have only sought to challenge her by doing so. She appeared startled, almost spitting her drink.
"How so?" I cleared my throat, my palms sweating underneath the table. I'd told myself I'd prepared for this but I had been rather side tracked.
"I know about Dad," I said simply, knowing she'd click instantly. She cupped her head in her hand.
"I'm so sorry Christine. I thought it would be best not to tell you. He is your dad and you had a right to know but I was concerned about your reaction to it all, even I found it hard to take and I've not been to see him in almost seven years." Her hands were shaking, pale and white. I reached across the table to take one of them in my own hand and the surprise of it was enough to pull her from her own shame.
"Thank you, I know you were only trying to protect me. After I found out I understood your reasons," I admitted, finally finding something of a mother-daughter relationship to cling on by the fingertips to. What ever this moment was, we both recognised its significance and despite the seriousness of the topic neither of us could hide of gladness for it .
It occurred to be I could not remember the last time I had said something nice to my mother and that hurt.
"I went to see him, after I'd heard," she confessed and I understood the weight of it.
"Really?"
"Ross wasn't too happy about it at first, I mean he's your dad and, well, you know?" she hinted embarrassedly. I reverted into defensiveness of me moment, banging my mug on the table.
"It's none of his business!" I replied. Mum sighed, probably regretting her confession. She picked at a patch of nail varnish on her nail tried to avoid my gaze.
Calm down Evans, this won't help anything.
"Well it is Chris, he's my husband. Don't forget your dad and I...eh...well." Mum tried and failed to summon the gumption to finish. Yes, my mum and dad had once, and only once, been intimate but it was a long time ago, Ross had no reason to be jealous.
But then, it was probably difficult to understand why after so long my mother might have still harboured a desire to see my father.
"Even so, it wasn't as if you went to bed with dad while you were there. Ross is just being paranoid." I snorted, downing the last of the tea dwindling at the bottom of my cup. Mum did not appear so confident.
"Yes, I know but Chris even after the length of time it has been since your father and I did...it there was a possibility I could still feel attracted to him."
I faltered.
"And were you? Still attracted to him I mean?"
Mum blushed.
"Well he still is a very handsome man," She declared timidly. I slumped back into my chair, a little bit lost for words. "But no love, not even a crush, just an attraction," Mum reasoned, wringing her hands. I chewed my lip. Perhaps I was too harsh on Ross. "I mean it's not that bad."
"Yes mum, it is," I said, attempting to be gentle. I felt slightly numb. Never had I considered the possibility...
"You must understand though," Mum said. I lifted my head to question on her. I wasn't really sure I did. "You can't honestly say that even though you're smitten with Kieran that when you see Tom you don't still feel an attraction – even just a little one."
It was unthinkably under the belt but still, mother was most certainly calling check mate.
I would be lying even to myself if I had said I didn't feel something of an attraction Tom when I'd last seen him, despite the fact he'd been in such an awful state. There was and always had been something about Tom I found irrevocably alluring. His eyes, his laugh, his gentleness – everything about him told me he was right for me, if only a little part of me thought so. In contrast to Kieran, Tom was and would always have been the practical option and maybe mum was right - I didn't want for that.
"Maybe I do understand," I conceded.
"It doesn't make you a bad person, it's not like you're cheating or lusting over Tom, like I'm not lusting over your dad," Mum reassured me, picking up her empty mug and taking it to the sink. She stood there, rinsing it out in silence while I sat and mulled the feelings stirring inside of me over.
"Then why do I feel like one?" I mused, eyeing the book I had judged before looking at myself. Mum straightened up from being bent over the sink and turned to console me.
"Christine, you are not a bad person. You can't decide who you feel a true attraction to, that isn't how it works. If you feel bad because you think you're being unfaithful to Kieran then go and talk to him about it. I'm sure he would understand."
If Lucia happened to turn up again I didn't know how much Kieran would still be attracted to her - he was in love with her enough to marry her. Maybe in knowing of her I might have found something we could share in deeply ad make us stronger.
But Tom is alive and Lucia is not.
"So what happened when you went to see Dad?" I asked, changing the subject before I became consumed by it.
"Not much really, I just went in and reintroduced myself. That lovely nurse Cathy gave me a cup of tea and a biscuit and updated me on what had been going on with your father. Then I went up to see him. I didn't expect him to remember me." I had to stop her there. He remembered her? My dad didn't remember his name some days, let alone Mums'.
"How?" I interjected. Mum put down the clean mug and came back to join me at the table. She sighed sleepily. Everything that had happened recently with her and my breakdown had drained her and I was sorry for that.
"Well I just walked in and he acted like he'd only seen me yesterday. I thought maybe one of the nurses had told him about me but all not a single member of the staff could possibly know much about me other than what you had possibly said. I was just as surprised at you are."
The whole prospect of it was a mystery, one I intended to solve. Whatever was going on inside his head was perhaps unlocking memories, leaving me with the dilemma of whether or not I was pleased. Was my life being bought in the exchange of lost memories?
"Anyway, we just sat and chattered for a while. He told me of these nightmares he'd been having, ones he could get out of his head," she pondered, recalling them between a yawn. I had a feeling those nightmares were that of which I witnessed him consumed by but I did not want to alarm Mum in revealing the ferocity of them.
"What nightmares, what are you talking about? I pushed, convincingly casually. Mum put her head in her hand, trying to recall.
"I remember he told me there was a man, from what he could make out. He was tied to a chair to stop from trying to run from the dream, or something strange like that. The man apparently asks him questions, asks him to do things he doesn't want to do. Sometimes the man threatens to hurt you, me, Ross and Jackson – not that he even knows who Ross and Jackson are – I checked," Mum professed shakily.
If there was one way to get to Mum, it was threatening Jackson and Ross. Reluctantly she locked onto my gaze, about to tell me something I was sure I didn't want to know.
"The man, in the dream, sometimes tells you father to do something I know he would never do, not to you," Mum hesitated, trying to find some alternative way of breaking it to me. Eventually I could see there wasn't. "The man asks your father to um...convince you to kill yourself." Tears gathered in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.
Unlike Mum, this news didn't faze me. I knew what was going on, what was happening. Red was really going all out to be able to call me his own but I wasn't having any of it.
But isn't dream manipulation Kieran's forte?
I didn't want to believe it but it occurred to me in a way that I could not ignore.
Nothing made sense.
"Oh I see," I said. Mum stared at me strangely.
"Is that all you can say Christine? Did you hear what I said? Your father is dreaming that someone wants you to kill yourself and all you can do is sit and stare at me blankly?" Mum yelled. I took that criticism on the chin. I was going to just sit there blankly because there was no use getting worked up. Mum could read books and believe the unrealistic love stories and phony plots but my life was more than something between the pages of a novel, it was past the realms of the believable.
Yes, I was in a relationship with Indigo (an abnormal being created first from holy particles), yes I was wanted by Indigo's enemy – Red (created from the particles of Satan himself) – and yes I was an ex suicidal and if I told my mum all of that I'd probably be deemed a psycho too but adding that to the list would just have complicated things further.
"Yes Mum I am just going to sit here, because while I have Kieran and my family and friends supporting me nothing could convince me to do such a thing. My intentions for suicide aren't great enough, OK?" I said firmly. This seemed to settle her a little but her and I both knew that I couldn't even remember my previous attempt.
We both know what I'm capable of.
"Fine but I'll be keeping an eye on you. I don't want you disappearing off anywhere on your own. Stick with Jessica and Andrea, I like them. I only want you going out with Beth, Mandy and Jude if you're all together," she instructed sternly, I knew Mum was being deadly serious by the look etched into her face - it wasn't a face to lie to.
"Fine but I'll be going to see Dad on the bus, on my own," I compromised. Mum went pale as a sheet.
"Oh no you won't! Do I have to remind you how you broke your wrist? If you're going to go see your dad then I want to you to ask Kieran or Mrs Langford to give you a lift," she wheedled.
Little did Mum realise the questions of Kieran I had now consuming my mind. Though I could not process the likelihood of his involvement the fact I had to doubt was there.
"I can't go asking people for lifts without compensation," I mumbled.
"Oh I'm sure you can think of ways to convince Kieran," she smirked playfully, winking awkwardly.
"Mum!" I shouted in disgust, actually glad of being shaken. Mum giggled.
"Don't shout, Jackson and Ross are asleep and I don't want them getting up at such an hour. Besides I know what you get up to behind your bedroom door," she confessed, not really knowing anything.
"One, that is wrong on so many different levels and two, nothing happens, not in that sense anyway!" I defended, not caring if I woke up the whole neighbourhood. Mum just shrugged, unphased as to whether I believed she was right or not, she was enjoying riling me up. But her audacity brought me back to something important I had wanted to discuss with her, something Tom had impressed on me.
"Er- mum in all serious can I talk to you about something," I uttered, like it was a secret I didn't want leaving the four shabby walls of the kitchen.
"Sure honey, what is it?" I was surprised how quickly teenage mum had left and considerate mum had come.
"You'll hate me for this but I feel it's something I should have spoken to you about before," I started unsurely. Mum sat, unblinking, waiting for it to all slip out. "It's just that, and I've been feeling this for a while but I feel I'm second best to Jackson and I know he is yours and Ross's son but I just feel like I'm not wanted here. Jackson, since I was small, got the attention, the new toys, the sporting opportunities and the love. It sounds childish, pointing out all of the things that Jackson has better than me, making out that he's spoilt but ever since he came along I've always been on the sidelines."
"I appreciate that you've clothed me, fed me, kept a roof over my head but ever since Gran died, I've felt there's an empty space inside," I paused, waiting to see if Mum wanted to interrupt but she appeared preoccupied by being stunned.
"I was wondering why I guess. Why have I been pushed aside, put on the shelf? Was there something about me that repulsed you – was it that I am my dad's daughter and not Ross's?" Tears I'd forgotten to shed over the years streamed down my face . I could feel the ache of the empty part of me. Mum got up from her chair, and knelt in front of me. She took one of my hands and wiped my tears away with the other.
"Listen to me Christine. I know I haven't been the world's best mother to you and it isn't and never has been your fault. When I found out I was pregnant with you it was a shock, a big one and your father had disappeared so it looked as if I was to be raising you on my own. I had no money, no house and a baby on the way. I tried the best I could to look after you but I'd planned to go to university see the world and to have baby and do all those things was impossible." She sighed, gripping my hand tighter.
"When Ross came along he saved me. I'd not slept in two years and to have someone who willingly loves you for every mistake you make and burden you carry taught me how to love again but it was too late for us, I never allowed myself to love you when it was important and though, please understand how much I do and did love you, by the time you were three you and I both suffered the effects of the, you most greatly and I am so, so sorry." I tried to say it was OK, I tried to reassure her but all I could do was cry.
"Jackson was the child we'd planned, the child I was prepared for and so I was ready for him coming along. When I look and looked at you, I see those first three years of your life that I messed up. It's not that I love you less but when I look into your eyes I see all the mistakes and all the pain you and I both experienced. By the time you were five you were dressing, reading, bathing and cleaning by yourself, you'd become independent, shutting everyone else out. Ross said you were the most 'autonomous five year old in the world' –whatever that meant."
"I remember the day you walked into the door and got that big bruise on your eye. I remember you walking into the kitchen, getting the first aid kit from under the sink, finding the ointment and applying it yourself and then walking back out again. You wouldn't let me do anything."
"I didn't trust anyone," I said.
That isn't true, don't you remember the boy...
I brought my hand to my head and frowned.
What boy?
"Only your father." Mum sighed, the hurt still dwindling in her eyes. Maybe that was who I was remembering.
"I'm sorry Mum."
"No, I'm sorry, for not being there. I will try to be in the future, try the hardest I can," she promised, embracing me tightly. I hugged her back, tears tumbling down both of our cheeks.
We sat talking for a little while longer, laughing over forgotten memories. I had never known a time when I had felt so at ease with my mum. All wounds were not healed but there was forgiveness and new beginnings and I was glad of it.
Only when one of us happened to look up at the clock did we decide to turn in for the night.
"Thanks again mum...this ha been kinda great." I said, giving her one final hug.
"We have a lot of catching up to do, huh?" We both smiled shyly and laughed.
"Well goodnight Mum."
"Goodnight Chris." She disappeared of into her room, a soft smile I had never seen for only me. It was sort of wonderful...
I went to brush my teeth before bed. I could not say I was completely carefree but resolving things with my mum was a start. I spat into the sink and eyed my own tired expression in the bathroom mirror.
"Good job Evans," I said.
As I was tip toeing back to my room from the bathroom I was halted by a urgent knocking on the door. My heart beat skipped in my throat. Ross and Mum emerged from their room, Mum peering questioningly at me and Ross waking himself up enough to look threatening. The thumping continued hard and heavy and I backed away, petrified of the possibilities that lay behind it.
"Who the hell could that be and this hour?" Ross questioned, manoeuvring past Mum and gesturing for us to remain back. A door creaked beside me and Jackson peeked out dozily from his doorway.
"Who is it?" he mumbled tiredly.
"Get back to bed Jackson," Mum snapped.
"Typical," he muttered storming back into his room and slamming the door shut.
All remaining eyes were on the door as Ross approached it. Three harsh knocks resonated in the hallway and I sought reassurance from my parents. They nodded as another four knocks followed and Ross began to turn the lock.
How I hoped Red was not a gentleman who had the consideration to knock before entering.
*~*~*~*
And that my lovely Indies was you second instalment. All I can say is with what is to come, Chris is going to need to know her mother loves her.
Now, who could be knocking at the door? Please share your thoughts!
Much love,
Bekah x