I awoke in Nick’s arms, same as I had accidentally several times but something was different. I had a claim on being there now; it wasn’t unplanned or filled with inelegant tension, I was meant to be there and that’s how we fell to sleep. Wrapped up in one another like there was no place the two of us would even think of being, no where we were even capable of being without the crucial warmth of each other’s embrace.
The living room was tinted with the tepid morning light and Hamish had gotten in through the cat flap to lay sleeping at our feet in a disordered mess of sandy fur. We were all nestled in the snug indent between the sofa and the coffee table where our sleeping bodies had wandered during the night, completely of their own accord searching for space to stretch out and forge as or own.
Hamish, upon seeing I was awake decided to negotiate the assault course of legs, cushions and layered folds of blanket in search of affection. However his new abundance of belly seemed to take him my surprise and Nick received claws down his chest as the feline attempted to stay upright and balanced. “Eurgh, morning Hamish”
Pulling the cat to the floor and rolling onto my stomach, Hamish began ramming his face against mine in affection; stroking his whiskers along my cheek bones. Nick remained on his back with a smile angled towards the ceiling that faded with realisation “We’re numb again,” pinching his arms, “why are we numb again?”
My reply was muffled by the layer of tabby fur still assaulting my face “I think it’s on a scale; when emotions run high it drags the feelings up with it. Maybe, who knows” It was certain that every moment where we fought, got close or . . . got very close as we had last night, physical sensation seemed to blossom.
Nick’s arms pulling me closer dragged me out of my attempt to piece all of this together. I could have happily stayed swathed in blankets, Nick and cat all day but we had to get the house back to normal. I could hear the babble of reporters outside like hyenas scavenging for a story and we couldn’t risk being detected. “We better sort the house out,” I pulled another blanket out from under the coffee table and clumsily wrapped it around myself in a tartan fleeced toga. “C’mon, time to get up!”
Nick heaved me back down into the sea of fabric strewn on the floor, “Can’t you forget about being careful and ghosty for a few minutes longer?”
Kisses laced along my forehead, down to my nose and then along my lips were enough to make me forget my name, let alone house chores. I was certainly being steered towards spending the day naked and floor bound with this gorgeous man and with each kiss a petal of feeling blossomed onto my skin, the rest remaining numb. It seemed we had grown accustomed to each other’s touch.
The flash of a journalist’s bulb broke through the curtains and brought me kicking and screaming back to reality “No! Come on! Time to get up!”
Standing up clad in my blanket dress, Nick cocked his head to one side in amusement “What are you doing Jas?”
“Getting up, finding my clothes, we just went through this!”
“No . . . I mean the blanket”
Finding my bra hanging from the bookshelf I donned it over my makeshift cloak providing hands free coverage “a girl needs a little mystery!” . . . Or to retain her dignity now that daylight had arrived to ruin everything.
Jeans? Where were my jeans? Oh! On the TV!
Nick jumped up and stood behind me, he didn’t entertain any sort of bashfulness in any light. In fact, light was glad for the sight of him; it soaked into his skin and highlighted every delicious curve of muscle. In my nude presence you could practically hear it shout “For the love of God, put some clothes on!”
I felt his frame encase around me, “You didn’t need any theatrical mysteries last night?” the gentle abrasion of stubble against my neck brought memories whistling back and my knees threatened to buckle in sensual nostalgia. His hands tugged at my fleeced shroud, threatening to remove it; the pleats of blanket momentarily began to lower under the distraction before I regained control “No, no, no! Save it Nick! We quite literally have forever, I need to see what’s happening outside!”
Once we were both clothed and the house was back to normal, we were ready to research Nick’s new found media coverage and waited for a suitable moment to evade the officer guarding the back door. We crept round to the front of the house and were met with several more police officers keeping a couple of persistent reporters at bay. Including the scrawny ginger guy who had accompanied Nick’s mother and Steve to his pre-death discovery, his obnoxious manner suited press control perfectly as yells of “If you don’t get back I WILL arrest you!” sounded above the general clamour.
The little front garden looked alien surrounded with toxic yellow “CRIME SCENE” tape and filled with foreign faces. All the activity had trampled down the flowers lining the gravel path and malicious flares of cameras were contaminating what was once a neat little patch of nature.
Nick’s interest peaked when a familiar silver car parked down the street “It’s my mum!” he called back racing towards the driver’s door. Mrs Cox got out of the car clutching a curious cardboard box to her bosom. Upon reaching the front garden, closely followed by Nick, she balanced the box on the front gate and beckoned familiar officer Steve over.
“Morning Mrs Cox,” he began tipping his hat “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to cross the tape”
She smiled back, straining the emotion out of her tired body “No need officer, I brought some supplies for yourself and your colleagues.” Delving into the cardboard box she produced a plate of bacon sandwiches, veiled in tinfoil and a flask of tea.
“I’m afraid we aren’t supposed to accept food from civilians” Steve commented, placing his hands on his belt. Upon seeing Mrs Cox’s disappointment he lowered his voice “but just this once, I won’t tell if you don’t”
“Thank you,” she replied “also would you mind keeping an eye out for a tabby cat? He belonged to Nicholas, I think he’s found his way home again”
Steve dipped a hand into the gleaming foil wrapped parcel to retrieve a sandwich “I know the one, Lovely little fella. I’ll make sure some food gets left out for him. How are you holding up?”
“It just doesn’t seem real at the moment. I suppose it won’t until the formalities are out of the way and we can hold a funeral. It’s better to keep busy at times like this.”
Mrs Cox looked so gaunt and frail; stress had traced the lines on her face and deepened them. She was still dressed immaculately and looked as elegant as ever, but you could feel tension fizzing out of her with every breath and a cloak of fatigue hanging around her.
At this point Steve was called back over to the hungry officers wanting him to share the wealth of bacon and after apologising to Mrs Cox and thanking her again he left her alone at the front gate.
Nick’s mother focused her attention to the flowers which had been laid by friends and neighbours outside the cottage. All bound to the fence with ribbons and cable ties, their cellophane wrappers crackling in the breeze. A sea of carnations; the choice flower to show you care but not overstep the line. The budget rose. Typically British. “I’m sorry for your loss, but it’s not my place to say . . . orchids would have been tastelessly forward”
Nick watched his mom paw the flower petals and comment on how they just don’t smell how they used to. She read a few of the notes taped to the railings, all talking of injustices and great losses, raising her hand to her mouth in an effort to restrain the grief choking to get out. Nick’s expressions mirrored hers seamlessly.
I almost wish I could have seen my parents like this, just so I could remember anything at all. My family just came back briefly to box up my things and I never saw them again. I’m not saying I would like to see them in distress or relish seeing them distraught, but I couldn’t remember being loved. I couldn’t remember people mourning the injustice of my death. Everyone wants to make their mark on the world; it’s a strange feeling to know your footprints have faded.
I grabbed Nick’s hand and applied a reassuring squeeze “You alright?”
He turned to me and snapped out of his sombre daydream, his face slack with placid concern “I’m fine . . . I just worry about her. This whole thing just needs to wrap itself up; I’m hurting people”
“YOU aren’t hurting anyone Nick,” he was burying his feelings so much I was secretly dreading the moment it all came breaking the surface like a tiger at a tea party. His very own Mr Hyde will claw at his brain and distort all emotions, blowing them out of proportion “If you’re upset you need to let it out.”
A gentle kiss to my forehead signalled that he knew, it just wasn’t the time “I’m fine. I just hate seeing her like this . . . thank god they still have my brother”
Looking at Nick’s mother fumble with the plastic wrapped posies I felt a pang of guilt “I feel so guilty having you here with me when you should be there with her”
Surveying my face with anxious confusion Nick took me by the shoulders “You don’t have any reason to feel guilty Jas! The life I’ve left and . . . whatever we have here are separate things. You’re no more responsible for me being here than she is for me not being there”
He really shouldn’t be the one comforting me, but I felt soothed and a tight embrace melted any anxiety I was grasping on to. But between the crack in Nick’s arms my eyes caught a familiar face approaching the front gate; I couldn’t place where I knew it from though. A woman, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt with her hair pulled back agonizingly tight against her skull. She looked uncomfortable in flat shoes; her walk plodding, like she spent most of her time in heels and wasn’t used to the lack of altitude. Those eyes . . . I knew those silver eyes. When she turned briefly to look back up the street and reveal a long, braided mane of red hair, it struck me. It was Kelly; Nick’s date, the cat burglar!
She looked so different not plastered in makeup or soaring atop her heaven skimming heels, I didn’t even register it was her. In fact I had forgotten she even existed with everything that had happened. “What’s she doing here?” I scowled, sliding out of Nick’s embrace and drifting over to where she was adding a limp bunch of flowers to the collection at the railings. Although ridiculous I could feel jealousy infecting my mind and staining my irises green, “she has no right to be here!”
Nick followed me over to the fence and stared in bemusement “who’s she?”
Unbelievable! He nearly slept with her and he doesn’t recognize her? I was allowed to not place her face, I hadn’t had her face so firmly placed on mine after all . . . I’d just screamed at her and then scared her out of the house “Your date? Your last date in fact”
Nick mentally ran through every woman he could think of until he found a match. He seemed quite taken back by her new look “oh . . . OH! Chanel! She must have been wearing A LOT of makeup. JEEZE!”
I was glowering at her across the flower beds, it felt like she was back; trying to reclaim Nick as hers despite the fact she never had a claim on him in the first place. She’ll probably try to announce she was his long term girl friend who was bequeathed his television or even worse that she was carrying his unborn child and entitled to a wedge of his millions. My hatred for the woman burnt white hot and at an immeasurable pace.
Nick noticed my anger “why do you hate her so much? Are you jealous?”
I didn’t want to answer either of those questions, and luckily I didn’t have to as she latched on to Nick’s mom “How’s the investigation going?”
How dare she address Mrs Cox! I wanted to run over and scream that this sympathetic redhead didn’t deserve to be here and exactly what she was planning on doing.
Mrs Cox however was unaware of Kelly’s past motives “Slowly! We don’t know anything new yet . . . how do . . . how did you know Nicholas?”
“We dated a little, nothing serious; it didn’t work out”
ARGH! The brazen little hussy!
Kelly pulled her long plait over her shoulder to fiddle with the loose ends “I can’t believe he’s dead though, he didn’t deserve that at all . . . such a nice guy. How did you know Nick?”
Mrs Cox continued fussing with the flowers, avoiding eye contact “I am . . . or was, his mother.”
Kelly’s face changed; surprise hardened to caution and then back to sympathy. “Oh . . . I’m SO sorry for your loss. I didn’t realize . . .”
“It’s fine, you weren’t to know. And thank you, he really was a great boy”
Kelly stood in awkward silence for a moment, “Are they any closer to catching whoever did this?”
Turning the massage cards around in the wilting flowers Nick’s mother attempted to save the inked messages from the elements and appear in control of her grief “I don’t know. I’m told news just before the world is. I’m level pegging with everyone else” Her eyes were welling up. The sensitivities of a full blown murder investigation vs. the frayed nerves of a broken hearted mother was a vicious battle.
Kelly took this as her cue to leave and after conveying more condolences, she left the crime scene. I inelegantly climbed over a low shrub and began to follow her down the street, my legs dancing to the same tune that lead me upstairs to overhear her disreputable conversation the last night I saw her.
“Where are you going?!” Nick asked, clambering through the hedge and catching up with me.
“I’m seeing what she’s up to!”
“She’s not up to anything! She’s sad I’m dead Jas, it’s not such a farfetched idea!”
Further up the street a ramshackle car, shrouded in chipped paint work, artistic dents and a shadowy male driver gestured her to get in. Kelly signalled that she needed a moment and sparked up a cigarette.
“I thought she smoked! She said she didn’t but I could taste it!” Slipped out of Nick’s mouth and was repaid with a glare over my shoulder “Sorry.” he continued making a zipping motion across his lips.
It was time to get to the bottom of this infuriating Kelly, Chanel, stupid bloody strumpet scenario.
Time to take the bull by the horns and get in that car.
