* * *
Darren had been true to his word and not bothered Carla again after he had gone to her beach house drunk. He was still besotted that she let him make love to her; not that he hadn’t before, but the fact that he just turned up for sex and she had let him, then only for him to leave after. It said to Darren she really did love him and he knew he loved her. This weekend he was going to show her just how much. It was a Friday and they finished work on a Friday early, so he quickly got home and showered and changed; leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, knowing Smithy would later pick them up and put them in the washing basket. Darren didn’t do it deliberately; he really must have thought his clothes took themselves off to the washing basket.
Stepping out of his flat, he was straight onto the High Street of Porthcawl. Porthcawl is a town on the South Coast of Wales. It is situated on a low limestone headland on the South Coast, overlooking the Bristol Channel. Initially, it was developed as a coal port in the nineteenth century. Northwest of the town, in the dunes, known as Kenfig Burrows, are hidden, the last remnants of the town and Kenfig Castle, which were overwhelmed by sand in the fourteen hundred’s. It now houses a large, static, holiday park. Trecco Bay is a large sandy and rocky beach overlooked by caravans and the beach house where Carla Reid now lives.
Sandy Bay is the beach in front of the fairground, which is also known as Coney Beach. Sandy Bay is a popular spot for surfers and every Christmas morning since 1965, hundreds of swimmers brave the waters, in a mid-winter plunge; drawing in thousands of spectators and thousands of pounds for local charities. Smithy and Darren were always two of those swimmers, whereas Carla and her friend’s choice were to watch and donate.
The typical, cloudy, seaside weather had clouded over, but it still felt warm to Darren. Even if there had been a chill in the air, he still would have worn a t-shirt and jeans. He checked out some cash from an ATM. It would leave him skint, but he could always go and visit Mum and Dad, for a sub, if need be. Like an excited child, he entered the store he had been looking for.
* * *
Carla arrived at Yates around seven pm. She’d walked along the beach past Coney Beach Fairground and into the town. It was a good forty minute walk, but it was one she enjoyed. The beaches were full of parents and toddlers playing and many people had taken to venturing into the murky waters, as the tide came in. The caravan sites themselves were busy, as people sat outside their holiday homes, eating their tea or drinking a beer. It reminded Carla of the holidays she herself had when they were young. Her father was then a miner before they shut all the pits down and they used to holiday here, during the period they called ‘Miners Fortnight’; the time the pits closed for two weeks and all the mining families ventured on their holidays to Porthcawl. She recalled you had to book up to a year in advance, at that time, if you wanted to holiday during the fortnight; the place used to be packed to the brim. It always brought back great memories. It wasn’t as popular as it once had been but Porthcawl still remained a popular holiday resort in South Wales.
Darren and Smithy were already in Yates surrounded by people, some years younger than them. Darren came over and gave Carla a kiss, which she gratefully accepted and reciprocated. She waved to Smithy and he waved back as the teenagers that surrounded him gave her the glare. Darren ordered her a white wine and soda and they sat at the table adjacent to Smithy and his friends. Whilst they weren’t the type of people she would usually associate with as these were a lot younger than her friends, she didn’t want to deny Darren his friends and she sometimes found Smithy to be funny and charming. She knew if she wanted a change Darren would accommodate her and towards the end of the night they would usually find somewhere quieter.
Darren would usually be tipsy by then, but he was always a nice, sweet, drunk. She sipped her wine, quite enjoying the banter going on around her, although not really taking part. Darren was goading some of the younger ones to get up to some antics but he never left Carla’s side unless it was to get her another drink. He felt like the cat who got the cream. He wanted everyone to see that Carla was his; she was his own special ‘winner’s medal’.
Over an hour had passed and Carla was on her third wine, thinking by the end of the night she was going to be drunk; as they were certainly going down too quick. She was beginning to feel a bit bored until her eyes caught the beautiful blonde who walked in through the door; and more importantly, the six foot four, hunk that was with her. She felt her eyes drawn inexorably to the hunk’s groin, as they both walked toward them. She immediately reddened; she had been inadvertently thinking of Donna’s comments about being ‘split in two’; she hoped they didn’t notice her red face.
Donna introduced him as Kelvin Lewis. He kissed Carla’s cheek and shook Darren’s hand. Kelvin asked what everyone was drinking but Carla gracefully declined, indicating that she had a full glass. Darren asked for a pint of lager and Donna a large G&T.
“He’s a good looking lad,” said Carla, referring to Kelvin.
Donna checking Darren wasn’t listening, before replying. “You know that scene I wrote in chapter four where Charlotte got the…”
Carla shushed her not wanting people to hear, she gave out a giggle.
“Well it works,” Donna told her and both girls burst into fits of laughter causing Darren to turn around, just as Kelvin came back with the drinks.
“What do you two find so funny?” Kelvin asked, which only brought on more laughter from the two girls.
Darren turned to Kelvin and said,
“Do you play C.O.D at all Kelvin?”
“Kindergarten,” whispered Donna to Carla.
They stayed a further hour, Carla only having one more drink whilst her companion had two. Kelvin was a perfect gent and tried to appear interested as Darren ranted on about his PlayStation games. Carla found it sweet, whereas Donna just found it annoying... and Kelvin? Well, he really didn’t care, so long as it made the blonde-haired beauty he was with, happy.
“Right I fancy a restaurant,” said Donna getting fed up of the antics going on around her. Yates wasn’t her usual type of place, at least not this one, as it seemed to attract the younger element.
“I know a lovely Indian and they do a good English meal too,” Kelvin told them.
“Sounds great to me,” Carla exclaimed excitedly.
Darren didn’t look so keen and his face dropped. Carla recognised the look and bent over and whispered in his ear.
“It’s okay, I’ll pay;” that was music to his ears, as he was down to his last tenner.
“Oh I do love you,” he whispered back; somehow, though, his words didn’t resonate with Carla. It always sounded hollow and that was just the way she preferred it.
Kelvin ordered a Chicken Madras; the two girls also going with chicken but a somewhat milder version. Darren ordered steak and chips; accompanied by four bottles of San Miguel. The restaurant was bustling, with couples enjoying the romantic surroundings before the late and rather intoxicated crowd adorned the premises.
They small-talked as they ate, Kelvin doing his best to keep on Darren’s wavelength, but he was finding it difficult. They were on desserts and sipping a glass of dessert red when Darren stood up; only to kneel in front of Carla. It was the moment he had been waiting for; he had finally plucked up the courage. He had butterflies in his stomach.
Carla had no idea what was happening. She thought for a moment he had fallen over drunk, until she saw him bent on one knee, tottering a little, but on one knee nevertheless. Kelvin and Donna knew exactly what was about to happen as Donna looked on open-mouthed, at the man she thought of as a big child, on one knee.
He took the package out of his pocket and opened it to reveal a ring. He was swaying from side to side, with the effort of staying on one knee.
“Will you marry me?” he slurred. By this time, most people in the restaurant had noticed and a lot had even started cheering for the happy couple. The waiters were about to come over and offer them a celebra
tion bottle of wine on the house.
Donna, finally shrieked, as she looked at her friend. Despite the alcohol, Carla looked as white as a ghost. With her mouth open and tears starting to form, Carla put her hands to her head. She could only think of one thing; sobriety had amazingly returned during this earth-shattering moment. How could he have gotten this so wrong?
She looked around the restaurant and all eyes seemed to be staring at her. It felt like the room was spinning and all she could see was people laughing and cheering. She felt the room was closing in on her and at that moment she truly thought she was going to suffocate. She looked at Darren still on his knees, waiting for her to say ‘yes’, as he was sure she would.
“No... no... no,” Carla spluttered; but not really in response to the question. It was the whole scenario she was saying no to, and besides, there were no other words she could think of saying.
She ran out of the restaurant in a flood of tears, not knowing where she was running to or what she was running from. Donna ran out after her and the waiter put back the bottle of red he’d had at the ready. The other customers went back to their meals, feeling slightly embarrassed at what they had just seen.
Darren was still crouched on one knee.
“I guess that’s a no then,” said Kelvin.
Carla ran down the road with tears in her eyes, having no idea where she was heading. Donna shouted for her to stop and on hearing her voice she did. The night had grown dark and they stood in a doorway of a local bank. Donna hugged her in the doorway.
“He was just a bit of fun, I never looked at him like that, and I never expected that.” Carla cried. Donna gave her some tissues and she wiped her eyes and nose. Donna hated seeing her friend upset.
“I never knew he felt like that and now, I’ve hurt him,” she cried.
“He’ll get over it, come on let’s get a taxi. I’ll take you home.”
She texted Kelvin, ‘Sorry, taking her home, chapter four will have to wait xxx’
‘It’ll be worth waiting for, call you tomorrow, what shall I tell crying boy’ came back the immediate reply.
‘Tell him he’s a dick-head’
“Come on sweetheart. I hope you got some vodka in,” consoled Donna, as she put her arm around her friend.
Carla was glad she had.
* * *
Donna poured two large vodka’s and cokes and took a large gulp of hers, Carla had taken one little sip. They were sitting in the lounge of the beach house on a, beige material, sofa, with various shades of scatter cushions. Donna had put the radio on low and Carla was still wiping the odd tear from her eyes. No words were necessary. Donna was just letting her take it all in before telling her Darren truly was a dick-head and now she could find a real man.
Carla was upset because she thought she’d led Darren on. She’d thought he realised it was just a bit of temporary fun and they would both move on to find someone more suitable. Donna was about to ask Carla if she wanted another vodka when she realised she hadn’t even touched it yet. So she poured one for herself and just as she sat down there was a tap on the patio doors leading out to the veranda. The only way you could get there was via the beach and a clamber over the retaining wall. Both girls instantly guessed who it probably was.
“I’ll go,” Donna pronounced, determinedly, but Carla immediately got up to stop her.
“No, I’ll go. He needs a proper explanation.” She composed herself, a little, before she opened the patio doors from the lounge and stepped out onto the veranda. Darren looked like a lost little boy and Carla’s heart went out to him. They both sat on the patio furniture.
“I’m sorry I got it so wrong,” he said sheepishly. “Maybe it’s just a bit soon, “he continued, probably in hope more than anything.
That was the problem for Carla; it wasn’t too soon, because there never would be the time. She put her hand over his and Darren looked down at her hand clutching his own. It was the same hand he’d wanted to put the ring on.
“I’m so sorry Darren, I thought it was just a bit of fun. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t love you, Darren. You know, I like you a lot and think you’re a wonderful lad... and...” she cut herself off, realising she was patronising him.
Darren pulled his hand away. “I’m just a dick-head, thinking I could ever marry someone like you,” he spat sorrowfully at her. The words clutched at Carla’s heart.
“You will find someone better than me, you’re gorgeous Darren.”
“Just not gorgeous enough hey?” She didn’t answer; she knew what he meant and really there was no answer to give him.
“Is it over?” he asked, knowing the answer before he even asked the question. Tears welled up in his eyes, as they did Carla’s. She just nodded.
“Kelvin had to pay the bill, I only had a tenner,” he told her.
“Don’t worry, I’ll sort it”.
He stood to leave, “I’ve loved every minute of it,” he told her; “and I do really love every inch of you.” He had to turn around and clamber down that wall then. He really didn’t want her to see him crying. If he had looked back he would have seen Carla leaking buckets of tears. She loved him too, in her own way.
She composed herself, once again, after a few moments; feeling like she had described Charlotte in one of her heroine’s worst moments. She let herself into her lounge.
Donna was on the laptop.
“Your book’s been live for just over an hour and you’ve sold eighteen bloody copies already, ‘Charlotte Fights Back’ is going to be right up there, my girl.”
Carla didn’t even have had the inclination or desire to listen. Donna stood and just pulled her close to her. Carla let the tears flow.
* * *
4. Congratulations.
It was two young lads who found her, as they walked home from the Bluebell pub, literally stumbling across her as they too decided to take the short cut home. Marcia was conscious at that time but her head was woozy and she couldn’t stand. They had found her sat against the wall, after hearing her sobs. The two lads called the police and ambulance and managed to escort her back to the pathway where the streetlights lit up the street. They could see her injuries and the blood.
* * *
Matt Conner was just walking into the Bluebell pub to grab himself a pint before last orders. He had work to go to, in the Garden Centre, the next morning, if he could even be bothered to go in. He was looking forward to his bed and he stood and watched as an ambulance roared past, before he entered the pub. It bore him no concern when the ambulance pulled up a few hundred yards down the road.
The landlady poured him his beer and called last order’s. Matt ordered another to go with it, along with a whisky chaser.
“You look dead-beat,” she told him.
“Yeah, it’s been a long day,” he replied. He sat and drunk his two pints, thinking of his ex-wife, thinking of Marcia and thinking of his next chapter. He was feeling tired but somehow his mind would not shut down and he was feeling a bit on edge.
* * *
Badly bruised and beaten with a closed swollen eye, but no serious injuries, well not physical anyway. Mentally, the injuries may last a little bit longer, Marcia lay in the hospital bed after being admitted for a concussion. It was the next day before the police interviewed her. She tried to recall the events but couldn’t recall much, other than she was sure it was a man. She was asked if she knew of anyone who had a grudge against her, anyone she may have barred from the pub that she worked at. Marcia could think of no one that she had upset or would harbour a grudge. It was not in her make-up, she was the pub’s most popular barmaid; always had a smile on her face and a nice word to the customers. Everyone knew Marcia from the Bluebell, no one would ever bear her a grudge?
The next morning showed the extent of her injuries and when her mother and father visited the next day they both had to take a step back in horror. Her eye was completely swollen and closed. Her top lip was cut and had doubled in its size. She assu
red her parents she was okay; “nothing’s broken,” she said, “just swollen”.
Her parents stopped there for a couple of hours and were there when the Doctor did his rounds. He had confirmation from her x-rays that everything was as it should be, however, they would be keeping her in for another night, just for observation. Marcia was kind of glad of that, she didn’t want to go home just yet.
The tears didn’t flow until her parents left. When she cried, those tears literally stung her eyes. She tried to recall what had happened. She remembered walking through the alley thinking, at first, she heard rats, then realising it was just somebody walking the other way. All she could really remember after that was pain and then two boys tending to her. She closed her eyes and voluntarily re-lived the night before, in her mind, going over it again and again. Nothing came!
Someone Else's Dream Page 7
