For those of you new to my blog, this is one of a series of posts. I started joining in with #SummerOfWords (a linky started by Helen Braid) and writing my novel one bit at a time a couple of months ago; and whilst I enjoy writing these posts, I do find them incredibly difficult. Publishing them makes me more nervous than any other type of post I publish! If you’ve been following and need a re-cap you can read part 5 here. (and if you’re new to my story then you can start at the very beginning here.)

2006

“Hi, are you Megan?” Glancing nervously up from under her recently cut fringe, she took a proper look at Elliot. He was tall, very tall and as he’d asked her who she was she could swear his eyes had twinkled. Bright blue piercing eyes, in the middle of a few laughter lines under suspiciously neat eyebrows.

“Um, hello, yes…Elliot?” She answered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her heart was racing. ‘This is ridiculous,’ Megan thought, ‘ I’ve been in more nerve racking situations than this what on earth is wrong with me?’

“Phew thought I’d approached the wrong person for a minute! Hi, nice to meet you, you look lovely,” Elliot blurted out, knowing that this was a cheesy line and sounded as if he was just saying it because he knew he should. He’d been trained by Sarah to always compliment a woman when she had made an effort, the consequences if he’d forgotten had been catastrophic. Shaking himself out of that thought he looked at Megan. He hadn’t been lying, she did look absolutely lovely. She was simply wearing jeans and a top, but it looked well thought out and he began to relax. ‘Ok, not bad, worst part over,’ he thought. “Would you like a drink?”

“Um, yes please. I’ll have a erm a white wine please.” Megan attempted to smile as she said this, but still feeling nervous and awkward she thought it must’ve looked forced. Wine was a good choice, she must not get too drunk and make a fool of herself. No gin or vodka allowed, they did not mix well with her brain at all, the last time she’d drunk those particular spirits had been very messy indeed.

They found a comfortable sofa and table to sit down at the back of the bar and from a distance looked like a normal couple. No evidence of the nervousness or the fact that it was the first time they’d ever met. If you’d been in the bar that night you’d have smiled at the happy couple in the corner, deep in conversation about travel, family and work, laughing at each other’s jokes. You’d have seen her blush occasionally when he gave her a compliment and you’d have watched him stare at her and smile when she walked to the bathroom. And if you looked closely you’d have seen her relax over the evening, shoulders loosened and brow less furrowed. If you’d been in the bar that very night, you’d have witnessed the start of something initially so very wonderful.

I am joining in with #SummerOfWords and writing my novel one bit at a time! You can read Part 4 here. (and if you’re new to my story then you can start reading it here.)

2013

The B&B was dated but perfectly comfortable. Looking out over the local beach the room was full of items from the sea. Dusty old shells, red and white striped lighthouses and a beautiful painting of a sandcastle sitting alone on a sandy shore. They’d really gone overboard on the seaside theme and it made Megan smile. It reminded her of her son’s bedroom; he loved the beach and every morning woke up asking if they could go.

“No!’ She suddenly said out loud, and quickly that thought was pushed to the very back of her mind. She mustn’t think about them, mustn’t remember what she’d put them through and why she was here, it was too raw, too painful.

Tears pricking her eyes, angry that she’d allowed herself a fleeting memory, she hung her coat up on the back of the door and sat on the bed which creaked and gave way under her. Megan looked out of the window and rubbed her neck, easing her aching muscles that had been tense for so long. She was safe, no-one knew she was here, they were all safe.

The landlady, Mrs Lane, had seemed somewhat nosey earlier when Megan had explained that she didn’t know how long she’d be staying, but had seemed happy to accept payment for three nights. Thankfully Megan had had some cash in her rather worn purse and so was able to book in under a false name, not having to show her real one on a credit card. She really wasn’t ready to be found, not even close so it was important that a gossiping landlady didn’t know anything. Mrs Lane had explained that breakfast was served between 8am and 10am and had recommended a local pub for dinner. Not that Megan was hungry, she rarely was these days and had become gaunt and looked pale. Her physical appearance epitomising the weakness of her mental state. For her brain also seemed pale and was not functioning as it should. It didn’t have what it needed to work. Megan thought of it as something that was broken, that needing fixing, but couldn’t seem to mend it herself.

She reached into her coat pocket and once again twiddled the coin between her fingers. Heads. Tails. Heads. ‘What if it had been tails?’ She thought. ‘Would I still be here, would any of this have happened?’ Shaking that thought off, Megan knew she’d never know the answer to that question. Clutching the coin tightly, she lay down, closed her eyes, and uncomfortably drifted into another restless sleep.