Chapter 1 #2
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose before I set off walking towards Clifford's tower, my usual route home. Usually I feel so much joy walking through the city of York, everything I need under one polluted sky, free of stars. I don’t mind the rush of people, a busy pace that I’m so used to having to keep up with two particular blonde siblings.
They’ve always propelled me forward, but lately it feels like I’m floating, prepared to fall into the next hardship alone.
Despite fighting back hard on the whole codependency thing, I’ve wondered if I feel less grounded lately because of Phin's unexpected departure.
Unable to bring myself to be honest with her, I grit my teeth and form a tight smile she can’t even see. “It’s coming together, just working on the crisis in act two and then the resolution will be the same as always. Detective Featherton gathers them in a location to reveal all.”
She hums with approval. “Maybe add distress to the situations this time and don’t be afraid to leave a little cliff hanger in there, tease them for the final book.”
Ah yes, book three. Another novel I have no fucking clue how I’ll write.
My debut came together in the span of two years, the writing process slow for reasons I still struggle to come to terms with.
Flashes of blonde hair, darker than his siblings assault me and I want to cower in on myself, my breath hitching the only tell that I’ve been mentally taken somewhere else for a brief moment.
Aurora continues to talk about my book deal, terms of my first book tour and once I hand over my outline draft for the second book, the deadline for at least four chapters.
I hum and say yes mindlessly, steps picking up on an automatic route home.
Dodging drunk students as I go, the buzz of their chatter over music from outside bars fizzles out to the rush of traffic.
The grass around the tower is dry and crunchy under my shoes, bringing a smile to my face as I remember all the early mornings sitting up that hill with new friends I eagerly welcomed for once.
I wanted the full university experience and this time Phin didn’t even need to make friends for me.
I remember heartfelt speeches as we watched the sun rise, colder times watching fireworks and even races.
Such simple acts of unconditional joy, from one silly, big hill.
The feel of the city is enough to ground me for now, but I’m pretty sure the turn in conversation would have been enough to bring me crashing back to earth.
“You‘ve already said no to his offer, but Jasper just wants to put the true crime deal back on the table. He wants you to really mull it over. He has that friend at the BBC, you’d probably get a documentary out of it if you wanted.”
Today of all days, I do not want this conversation. “Aurora, I’m not a non-fiction writer. I don’t want to write about true crime, especially not about that.”
“I know, I know you said no initially, but with it being the twentieth anniversary of the case, your story would sell like hot cakes. Please don’t think I’m being insensitive, we all know how hard today must be on you.
I arranged for flowers to be sent over. I just really don’t want you to miss out on such a good opportunity to get your name out there and tell your story. ”
“My story doesn’t need telling, the case was closed. We all know the outcome.”
She pauses, calculating her next move to get me on board. “What about a survivor twist? Tell the case from your perspective as a child and how it changed your life. We’ve had plenty of emails from different podcasts wanting you on.”
“I’m not going to go on a podcast and talk about how my Mother was murdered whilst I was sleeping down the hall!” I spit, instantly regretting losing my cool and I get a couple of hesitant glances my way as my eyes start to fill.
“Say no more, I’ll tell him to never bring it up again.
You’ll have some free slots here and there on the tour, so maybe do look into some podcasts you’d like to feature on for Detective Featherton.
Speak next week, once you’re back.” she says chipperly, completely unaware of the turmoil she’s left to fester the streets.
All day I’ve managed to distract myself, because even twenty years later I'll never forget the day my mum was ripped from this earth. It never gets easier and I’ve still not learnt how to get on with my life.
I used to think I was but a simple and sensitive creature, but now there is a tough layer plastered to me.
A complex labyrinth I can’t help but unleash on anyone who tries to step too close.
It took all my courage to send out enquiry emails and thank my stars, I only received a handful of rejections, but with great feedback.
Quicker than I ever dreamed I was offered a book deal with my favourite publishing house—they’d wanted my full manuscript out right.
My debut was out there in the world, yet even the idea of that same audience being let in on the horrors that fell upon not only me, but Lily’s family too, would just be too much.
I could never take the podcast deals, the book or documentary. It would all be too real.
Want to know the suspenseful plot twist? Their mother and my own were both murdered weeks apart by Mr Claythorne; their father. Today is the anniversary of my mum’s death.
With a practised pleasant tone, I wish her goodbye and consider hurling the device over the side of the bridge as I cross it, until it starts to ping repeatedly.
Dramalama: Where are you?
It is past your bedtime young lady.
Has someone managed to drag the eighty year old that usually resides in your body out?
Hellooooooo I can see you’re reading all these messages?
Ok, so I can see you’re out with Lil from her Insta stories. Thanks for the invite.
Not.
*Gif of a baby crying*
When will you be home?
The wine in your fridge tastes off.
I’m so close to my apartment on the riverbank I don’t bother grabbing my headphones, but I do pause when I realise I don’t keep any wine in my fridge. Is Phoenix in my apartment? I stare down at my phone again as two more text messages come through seconds apart.
Dramalama: Omg. The body in the library is just starting on telly, come home alreadddddddyyyyyyyy.
Are the open packet of biscuits in your cupboard vegan?
Sighing, I continue down the street in silence, tapping a quick reply before dumping my phone back into my tote.
Retrieving my keys, I use the fob to let myself into the building and start ascending the stairs.
Each floor has long windows which let in light from the city across the river, creating pools of silver onto the carpet running to my front door.
The landlord of the building allowed me to change it—as long as it fit with the building's aesthetic, so a cosy sage green door with my apartment number greets me.
As predicted, I turn the handle and find it unlocked, spotting a human form on my corner sofa in the living room.
Pale blonde hair falls into his eyes, longer than when I last saw him and Phoenix flicks it off his face.
Wearing a black loose shirt, cream shorts and layered jewellery, his rings catch in the lampshades stream, as he fiddles with the television remote.
His skin has a sun kissed glow and he looks incredibly healthy—healthier than I’ve ever seen him, if I’m being completely honest. He’s handsome in an elite way, but fits right in with my snuggly chic home.
Everything in here is for comfort, whether I’m writing or reading.
“Oh thank god you're back, Miss Marple is still at the hotel.” He throws the remote onto the cushion, lifting his phone next to show me the screen with our text exchange on it. “This is a horrid way to text back to your best friend. I've been waiting here for ages.”
Smirking, I shrug off my tote bag and dump my keys onto the side table next to the door, closing it whilst I kick off my shoes. “Maybe said best friend shouldn’t break into apartments and root around in their fridge like a feral badger, or something.”
He tuts. “You barely have anything in there I can eat anyway. Also, don't forget up until a couple of months ago I also lived in this building—I still have keys!” shaking the phone at me again, he turns it to read my reply out loud. “I’ve been out with your sister. Stop being clingy. Do something useful for once and get the kettle on.”
I shrug. “How is any of that horrid?”
Phin sits up, swinging his long legs until his fuzzy socked feet–my bed socks–touch the floor. “You went out with Lily instead of asking me to do something! I'm majorly offended.”
“You're such a dramalama!”
“Am not! You didn't even invite me–me! I'm the life of the party.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk across the plush rug in the middle of my living room, passing my cramped nestles of house plants and the armchair which is my usual reading spot. The rooms are spacious enough, but with all the little nooks I made for reading, the entire place feels snug. Cosy; my sanctuary.
“Well it’s a good job you weren't with us then, because there was no party.” I don't tell him about trying to get into The Larks gig, which I'm surprised he wasn’t at anyway.
Letting ourselves into each other's apartments isn't anything new, but Phin not being with his other friends when they're in the same city is unusual. Not that I'm complaining.
“You're twenty-six, you're going to die of boredom–"
He doesn't finish his sentence because I push my palm against his face, throwing myself down beside him on the sofa. Wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, I essentially turn myself into a straight jacket and attach myself to his side. Smushing my cheek against his, I let out a long exhale and finally the feeling of having a missing limb ends. Maybe I’m a succubus, lending energy from him to recharge my own batteries.