* * *
Marcia nervously walked towards Yates. She didn’t really understand quite why she was so nervous. After all, she had been on plenty of dates and was a very confident lady, but Smithy had touched something deep inside her and she didn’t want to blow it. She didn’t want this wonderful day to end.
She could see him sitting alone at the bar, as she walked in. As soon as he saw her he got off his stool and went over to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, this was embarrassingly cheered by the usual Saturday group who had earlier teased Smithy about his date. Marcia turned to stare at the group who all had smiles on their faces, all except Darren, who didn’t appear too happy, but Marcia neither noticed or cared.
“Take no notice of them babe, they’re just jealous I’m taking a beautiful girl out. Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”
They left the pub to a chorus of further cheers. Marcia took it just as friendly banter and realised they were friends of his. She kind of liked that the man she was with was so popular and yet she was the one walking out on his arm. That’s exactly what Marcia did; she put her arm through his as they walked and Smithy gratefully accepted it.
“Do you fancy a steak?” he asked her,
“Mmmm... my favourite,” she replied, hungrily.
Smithy wined and dined her like a true gent. They ate steak and chips followed by sticky toffee pudding, whilst sharing a bottle of wine with the meal. They then went on to a wine bar where neither of them could stop talking. The time flew past and it was into the wee hours before they knew it, with the bars closing; the inevitable happened and the evening drew to a close. Smithy offered to walk her to the caravan once more, which Marcia gratefully accepted.
Outside of the caravan, they shared long passionate kisses, only stopping for the chance to breathe. It was during one of these breaks that Smithy said, with the enthusiasm of a child, ““I can’t just let it go like this, I’ve got to see you again, I think you’re fantastic.”
Those were the words that Marcia wanted to hear the most, “I thought you would never ask, you must come down and see me and stop for the weekend.”
Smithy’s heart was all of a flutter, as he fumbled for his phone. “Give me your number,” he said in a somewhat panicky tone. Marcia gave him her number and watched as Smithy clumsily punched it into his phone. No sooner had he done it, than her phone beeped. Getting it out of her handbag, she read the message. ‘I think you’re fantastic and beautiful’.
She quickly typed something back, ‘You’re not so bad yourself’.
They shared a few more lingering kisses before Smithy left. “I’ll call you,” he promised her, as he walked away.
“You better,” she replied wistfully. She let herself into the caravan and noticed Matt’s stuff was there. As she was getting into bed she heard him shout out.
“You could have brought him in and fucked him if you’d wanted.”
Marcia didn’t reply; all she wanted to do now was go home. She knew she would be sleeping with one eye open, still unsure of the Jekyll and Hyde character who slept in the next room.
* * *
Whilst Carla had sat in her beach house merrily typing away on her new novel, Matt had taken his laptop to the rocks in front of the house and made himself comfortable, as he typed the next chapter of his novel ‘The Stalker’. It was nearing midnight when he had finished. He had no real recollection of the day he had spent with Marcia. His head had drifted into that other world he sometimes experienced; his own little world of hurt and torment; a world where his Gods were Gods of Evil, the sons and daughters of Satan. He had entered again the world the tablets were designed to stop him slipping into.
Matt Conner stripped himself naked and lay his clothes next to his laptop on the beach. He slowly walked over to the retaining wall of Carla Reid’s garden, armed only with an umbrella. Clambering up the wall, scraping both knees as he did so, he felt no pain. He could feel his penis hardening as he neared the window. It now stood fully erect. He opened the umbrella and laid it softly against the floor and masturbated until he orgasmed all over the umbrella. It was a powerful orgasm and it took him a moment to compose himself afterward.
He picked up the umbrella and rested it very carefully, so as to not make a noise, against the patio door windows. Then he gave two sharp bangs on the glass and turned around and ran, jumping down the six-foot drop. He didn’t stop until he reached his clothes still on the rocks. Quickly dressing, he took hold of his laptop and ran until he reached the caravan he was staying at. He needed his bed, it had been a long day and he was feeling exhausted. He recalled Marcia coming in later and shouting out to her, but he wasn’t sure what it was he had said.
* * *
Carla had spent most of the night on her new novel; she had only had one glass of wine, but she had grown tired and wanted to go to bed. Pleased with her night’s work she closed her laptop and picked up her glass to take to the kitchen. The glass dropped and shattered on the floor, when she head the bang on the window. Her heart leapt into her mouth and began to pound furiously as she ran to the front door to make sure that it was bolted on the inside; it was.
She rushed back into the living room and turned off the lights, before turning on the outside lights of the patio. She could feel herself shaking as she slowly opened the curtains. The garden was lit up and she was grateful she could see no one there. She immediately thought of Darren and that was when she saw it. She screamed in terror at the sight of the umbrella leaning against the window, in all of its bright colours. She could see on the side of the umbrella that was facing her a sticky substance she thought she recognised. Still shaking with fear she got out her mobile.
Donna and Kelvin were having a quiet, sober, night in at Donna’s flat. They were already experiencing the joys of chapter seven and with her leg persituated precariously on top of the bookcase, the naked Donna’s phone beeped. She knew, from the beep tone, who it was. Kelvin, who was also naked, but with his hands tied behind his back and standing on a stool near the bookcase, shouted in frustration,
“Leave it,”
Donna couldn’t, she carefully lowered her leg and got to her phone, where she read the message.
‘There was a big bang on my window and when I looked there was a umbrella there, with what looks like cum, all over it’.
“I gotta go, babe, Carla needs me, sorry. Get your head down here, I’ll be back,” she told Kelvin.
She could see the disappointment written all over his face. “At least, untie me first,” he begged.
Donna did as she was asked and got dressed and made her way to Carla’s in her car. She mumbled to herself that Darren was going to get one hell of a thrashing. I was about to have my fifth orgasm, damnit.
* * *
10. Time to Love; Time to Hate.
The journey home from Porthcawl to Doncaster was a long and arduous trek for both Marcia and Matt, but was uneventful. Matt had not mentioned the previous night’s comments and seemed oblivious to anything he may have said. They made two stops at the services and small-talked during the journey, Marcia spent some time exchanging texts with Smithy. The trip took five hours and they arrived home at around six on Sunday night. Matt carried Marcia’s bags into her place, kissed her on the cheek and thanked her for a good weekend.
Marcia was in a much better place than she had been for a long time. Smithy was going to try and visit her the following weekend. She had told him he could stop at hers and since she only had one bedroom, she knew it would be inevitable they would have sex. She just hoped Smithy did not think she was easy in any way. The truth was she was lusting after him, she longed to make passionate love with him. She hoped she would be able to get another weekend off work.
It was after eight by the time she’d showered and settled down for the evening in front of the tele. She was doing the morning shift at the pub and although it wasn’t an early start, the journey had taken it out of her and she wanted to get to bed. Besides which, she reasoned, i
t would be another day closer to the Friday when she would be seeing that one special man from Porthcawl. She was dozing when her phone beeped, but wide awake immediately, she rushed to pick it up, hoping it was a text from Smithy. She hadn’t heard from him for at least an hour, but a cold shiver ran down her spine when she read the text.
‘Dinner’
In a panic she threw the phone beside her on the sofa she was sitting on, not quite believing the word she had just read. She just sat staring at the phone as if it was cursed, she could feel herself shaking and a taste of acid welled up inside her mouth. She rushed out to the kitchen to get herself a glass of milk and she swore she could feel herself sweating even though the room was relatively cool and she only wore light pyjamas. She sat back down on the sofa, before realising she had not even noticed who the text was from.
Maybe it’s not from Matt, maybe it’s an innocent text from someone!
She slowly picked up the ‘cursed’ phone and opened the message; the name at the top said ‘Matt’. Confusion, along with grief overcame her, she felt she had to reply and she chose her words carefully; retyping misspelt words, as her fingers shook.
‘I’m sorry Matt, I’m not available for dinner anymore. I thought that was clear between us and we were just friends’
She pressed send, hoping beyond all hope that it was sent as a joke and not a funny one at that. She knew he would respond. It didn’t take him long.
‘Don’t you realise I can have dinner anytime I choose’
“The bastard,” she said aloud, “Who does he think he is.”
Her fear had now grown into anger. She felt she could not let him treat her like this, she had to end it, and end it now. In a rage, she texted him back.
‘This restaurant is closed for business, now fuck off’
She hit send with furious intent. She wasn’t going to let him ruin her life, she waited for a reply, but one didn’t come, which she was thankful for. She got herself off to bed, hoping that the message was loud and clear and she wouldn’t be hearing from him again, but as she drifted off into a restless sleep, she had an inkling, this wouldn’t be the last of Matt Connor.
* * *
Matt laughed out loud as he sat in his kitchen reading the text from Marcia. He couldn’t believe the audacity of that girl, telling him to ‘fuck off’, after all that he’d done for her. He didn’t even want ‘dinner’; wouldn’t touch that bitch with a barge pole, he told himself, but he needed to make it clear where she stood. She was his property now.
His laugh quickly grew to a snarl. After everything I’ve done for her, the ungrateful fucking cow.
He sat in his living room looking into space for a while, his thoughts drifting in and out of the both worlds he was now living in. one world where he was kind and caring, the gentle person that sometimes come naturally to him. The world in which the medicine that he used to take was designed to keep him in. The gentle side of Matt Conner still existed but sometimes lay comatose. The other world he was drifting into was more macabre, where the damaged side of Matt Conner was allowed to re-surface and the demons inside him set themselves free to wreak havoc. To some extent Matt Conner understood both those worlds, and had the presence of mind to control each one. It was when both of those worlds emerged together would cause turmoil. It was then he struggled to control the mayhem that he could trigger. Jekyll and Hyde were living nicely together in his head at that moment, and that was fine to him.
He opened up his laptop and browsed through the novel he was writing before logging on to face book. He clicked on Carla Reid’s profile, at that moment he was oblivious of his attempt to contact her by leaving a semen stained umbrella outside her door. All he wanted to remember was the time he spent on the beach and sitting on the rocks. The moments he felt inspired to write. That place and the fact that the beautiful author Carla Reid was only moments away had enthused him, he had felt a bond with her and the town that she lived in. So much so that he had to return, sooner rather than later.
He studied her profile, it didn’t tell him much, just the one photo of her and links to her novels. He clicked on send message, which opened up messenger. He stared at the blank page for a while before typing in the words.
‘Hi. I have just returned from a weekend in Porthcawl, I must say what a wonderful place you live, it certainly inspired me to write. Sitting on those wonderful beached were motivation enough, no wonder you right such amazing novels. I intend visiting the place again on Tuesday and I was wondering if you fancied meeting for a coffee and to share some of your writing experiences. I do understand that you probably have loads of requests of this nature and fully understand should you not respond.’
Take care
Lots of love
Matt xxx
He hit send without hesitation and smiled at himself as if he had accomplished something significant. He got onto the Porthcawl website. It wasn’t going to be a caravan on some grotty website this time, he told himself as he looked for hotels. With a three night stay safely booked, he got himself off to bed and soon fell fast asleep. His dreams came fast, he dreamt of his daughter Aimee who was crying once again. He dreamt of his ex-wife Hayleigh, she was crying and seemed upset over something. Then he dreamt of Carla Reid and his body shifted uncontrollably as he did so, he was dreaming that he was stood at the end of her bed as she slept, only she wasn’t really sleeping, her eyes were flicking heavily in the rem stage, her mouth trying to form a scream as her whole body shook with convulsions. For in his dream he was watching Carla Reid through her sleep paralysis, he was crying uncontrollably as he watched her tortured soul.
* * *
The Danum was not the poshest hotel in the Doncaster area, but it had afforded him a bed and given him the time for reflection. He needed to find somewhere more significant to stay, whilst Hayleigh got over her tantrum, because to Dale Simpson that’s all it was, ‘ a tantrum’ she would soon come crawling back, he would help to make her understand what made him do what he did regarding the decimation of the grave. Besides it was all that idiots fault. Crazy Cavan had messed up big time. He paid the bill of his hotel. Stuck his holdall in the back of his 4x4 and drove to the Nag’s Head pub in Barnsley.
He pulled into the car park of the Nag’s head with a determination and vigour of a man who was about to claim what was rightly his. It was still early but it came as no surprise to see Crazy Cavan at the bar drinking a pint of bitter. Cavan’s eyes widened when he saw Dale, it was certainly the last person he expected to see walk into his local. He watched the solicitor walk with purpose to the bar until he stood beside him, this will be interesting! He thought.
“Can I have a word please?” Dale suggested in his usual authoritive tone. Cavan asked for a top up of his beer and the barman obliged. Dale refused the offer of a drink, to which the barman told him,
“If you aint drinking you aint stopping,”
Dale produced a ten pound note from his wallet and slung it on the bar, Cavan noticed the barman’s face turn to fury at this gesture and it was only the intervention of Cavan that prevented the situation escalating. Dale stood there nonplussed, probably under estimating the situation he had just got himself in.
“Come into my office,” Cavan exclaimed and took a seat at a table at the back of the bar. Dale followed and they sat down facing each other. Dale produced an envelope from his inside pocket and laid it on the table in front of Cavan. Cavan looked at it with interest.
“There’s two grand there and another three when the jobs done, and this time don’t mess it up,” Dale told Cavan. Cavan did not take the envelope, he left it laying on the table, and curiosity was getting the better of him.
“What’s the job?” he simply asked, the reply was instant.
“I don’t care how you do it but you have to convince Hayleigh that it was her ex-husband who paid you to desecrate the grave, and that you only told her it was me to extort money from me, she hates him enough to believe you, there’s another three if you con
vince her, I want to be back in my house tonight, sleeping beside the woman I’m going to marry.”
“Yep she’s quite a dish,” commented Cavan. Dale ignored the remark and pushed the envelope closer to Cavan. Cavan still did not take it.
“Five grand to fuck up yet another life just to cover your sorry shit.” Cavan told him.
“Money talks,” he replied,
“Sure does, just don’t be late with the other three, you know what happened last time,” threatened Cavan. Dale stood up and leant forward to within inches of Cavan’s face,
“Your small fry, I could have you washed up by tomorrow if I wished, you get the three grand when I’m in my bed.” Dale turned and left as Cavan pocketed the money.
If you’re that big a hitter then why are you coming to me? Cavan thought, he let out a snigger,
“Drinks all round,” he shouted to the bar man.
“There’s only you here.” Came the reply.
Someone Else's Dream Page 17
