The Darker Half ~ Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
By Janet Baldey
In another house, in another part of town, Anna is
also awake. Stiff with tension, she lies on her back while her tired brain
struggles to shut down. The room is so quiet its silence presses down on her
like the lid of a coffin and the muscles of her eyelids ache as she holds them
tightly closed. Blanking the present, she thinks about Romeo in the early days
when they were so happy she thought she’d die of it.
It hadn’t been love at first sight. She’d thought he
was an odd little man when they first met and that hadn’t been planned either. She’d
never have attended his evening class if it hadn’t been for Lucinda caught in
the grip of another of her fantasies.
“Anna, I’ve discovered my destiny!”
She’d come home from work one evening and found Lucy
posed at the foot of the stairs. For the first time in weeks, there was life in
her eyes and she was smiling, a huge delighted grin that almost succeeded in
turning her lovely face into a caricature.
Anna felt her heart sink. Not again, she prayed. She
opened her mouth to ask if Lucy had been taking her tablets but thought better
of it.
“Really? That’s
great.” She bit her lip, her soothing nursey voice even irritated herself.
“Yes. Isn’t it? Quick. Please read it. I’m dying to
know what you think. I’ve been waiting all day.” Lucinda thrust a sheaf of
foolscap paper towards her.
“Can I get in first? And I’d love a cup of tea.”
Afterwards, she’d sat beside the cooling tea, staring
at what Lucinda had written. She had no idea what to say. So this was what
Lucinda had been up to for the past couple of months. She’d known it was
something but had dreaded asking. Instead, when Lucinda had disappeared into
her bedroom for hours on end, she’d stayed downstairs, her head in the sand,
relishing the peace of the evenings.
Ever since they’d first met at college, she’d loved
Lucinda like a sister and after graduating they’d rented a house together. But things changed and not for the
better. She’d always known that Lucy
was prone to mood changes but gradually her behaviour became even more erratic.
She’d blow her wages on extravagant presents for Anna; totally unsuitable
clothes in lurid colours, expensive perfume and designer handbags. When Anna gently reminded her that, although
they were nice, perhaps she should help pay the rent first, Lucy had fired up
and stormed out of the house.
“You ungrateful bitch”, she’d screamed and the sound
of the slammed door had sent a flock of gossiping sparrows winging into the
sky.
Complaints from neighbours followed when she ran the
vacuum in the middle of the night or played her music so loud the walls
throbbed. One evening Anna arrived home to find her standing stark naked on the
sill of her open bedroom window declaring that she was an angel and could fly.
Whenever she thought about it, Anna’s blood ran cold. Why had she been so slow
in realising something was very wrong with her friend?
The medication helped. Lucinda took it willingly when
depressed, “anything to take the mental pain away” but when she was on a high
it was different. Her face glowing, she’d laugh at Anna’s fussing.
“Oh, do stop worrying Anna. I don’t need to take these
bloody pills – there’s nothing wrong with me!”
Almost visibly throbbing with vitality, Dervish-like
she’d whirl around the house, polishing, mopping, clearing cupboards from dusk
till dawn until inevitably, her energy ran out. Then Anna was left to sort out
the mess and it was time for another visit to the clinic.
Anna sat hunched over a manuscript she couldn’t make
head or tail of. What could she say? Then she had an idea - one that might even
work, one that might channel Lucy’s excess energy in a creative direction. She looked up, Lucinda was crouched in front
of her, hands clasped in a tight knot like a monkey’s paw.
“You like it don’t you? It’s good. I knew it all the time I was
writing it.”
She jumped up and twirled around the room. “Isn’t it
wonderful Anna? I’m going to be famous!”
“It’s a good story…” Anna remembers murmuring. “But,
it seems a bit muddled in places.” Her voice faltered as she saw Lucinda’s
expression change. “But that’s only my opinion and, let’s face it, who am I to
say? Tell you what, why don’t you think about taking some professional advice?”
“Professional advice?”
“Yes. From someone who knows what they’re talking
about. I know, why not try a writing course. I’m sure there must be some
running at the local Tech. You can learn the tricks of the trade, meet other
writers and so on. Find out what works and what doesn’t.”
“Oh no! I
couldn’t. Not on my own.” Lucinda’s
face drained of all colour and Anna had felt stricken. She always forgot how
vulnerable Lucy was underneath the veneer of confidence that masked her
illness. She looked away, dreading the onset of the tell-tale signs - the silence
that stretched interminably, the sudden twitches of Lucinda’s head as if she
was flinching away from barbs wielded by the demons invading her mind. They were the signs that usually heralded a
spell in the hospital. She couldn’t bear to be responsible for that. Desperately,
she groped for a way to ward off another of Lucy’s plunges into depression. She
forced a smile, “Tell you what, promise me you’ll start taking your pills again
and I’ll come with you. It’ll be fun.”
And that was how she’d first met Romeo. Despite
everything, she smiles into the darkness as she remembers how he’d bounded into
her life. Despite arriving at the college in good time that first evening, they
had got lost in the maze of classrooms and were very late. Scurrying down one
long corridor after another, they had peered into every room but each one
looked similar except none of the numbers on the doors matched the one they
were looking for.
“Perhaps it’s up here…” she’d said uncertainly and
they’d started to haul themselves up a narrow, twisting flight of stairs only
to meet a group of people coming down. Anna
had recognised their puzzled looks.
“Creative writing?” She’d asked. They nodded, “Not up there….” Shrugging their shoulders helplessly, the
group trooped back down the stairs and stood huddled together like a group of
strays.
Seconds later there was the slam of a door and a blast
of frigid air blew in the dishevelled figure of a small, skinny man. A slight
drizzle had plastered his lank gingery hair to his head but his face lit up
when he saw them.
“Creative writing?” Thank God. I thought no-one was coming. They’ve put us
in the basement. Had difficulty finding it myself.”
Remembering, Anna feels some of the tension leave her.
She’d always thought she’d fall in love with someone tall, dark and handsome. Whoever
could have imagined that such a comical little scruff-pot could have burrowed
quite so deeply into her heart? She
supposed it was because of Lucinda; difficult and demanding as she was, he was
so patient with her. When it looked as though Lucy was trying to hi-jack the
class by quibbling endlessly over some disputed point, gently but firmly he’d
disengage himself.
“Lucinda. I
think, at the moment, we’d better agree to disagree. Come and see me after
class and I’ll try and explain.”
This, he never failed to do, using patience, charm and
a large dose of flattery. Sitting watching
from the sideline, Anna began to see him with fresh eyes. Her admiration for
him grew. He was a sweet man, she’d decided and, looking back, realised by that
time she was already more than half in love with him.
Months later, she’d asked him why he’d taken so much
trouble over Lucy. He’d tilted his chair back and grinned at her.
“Because of you, of course,” he’d righted his chair,
reached over and cupped her face in his hands as if it was as precious as a Faberge
egg. Gently, he kissed the tip of her nose. Then, he’d let go of her and his
voice had changed.
“Mind you, that’s not the whole story. She’s got talent….people like her often have,
but it’s undisciplined.”
“What do you mean?
People like her…”
There was a moment’s silence.
“You know, Anna. As well as I did from the moment I first
met her. Mind you, I’ve got previous.” His
face crinkled and he brushed away a wisp of red hair dribbling down his
forehead. “Ever wondered why my name is
Romeo? Let’s face it no one could look
less like a Romeo than me! But, that was
my mother in one of her “florid” moods. She
thought it sounded romantic.” His smile faded. “To be honest, after years of living
with her, managing Lucy is a doddle.”
She’d stared at him, wondering about his childhood.
“It must have been difficult for you.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t think much about it at the time. To me, it was normal but Dad pushed off when
I was seven. Luckily, I had an older
sister. Poor old Liz, she bore the brunt of it. Mind you, it did her a good
turn. She’s a mental health professional now and doing well. Loves it,
apparently.”
She’d copied his smile and attempt at flippancy.
“Well, I suppose it could have been worse. You could
have been called Lancelot, or Heathcliffe, or Rhett…”
He grinned. “Or Apollo or Caesar or Orion…”
“Then, there’s Mario, Valentino or Florio…”
Reaching for her, his hand closed over hers. They
looked at each other and she felt a delicious tingle.
“Come on,” she’d said, “Let’s go to bed.”
Remembering, her muscles gradually relax and slowly
she drifts into sleep but the moment her eyes close, she is transported from a
living nightmare into one that is past and long-dead but still very much alive
in her mind.
Copyright Janet Baldey
Spun from golden strands of barley, lined with the softest thistledown,
