Blue at Midnight (4 page)

Chapter
8

Something struck me as sharp as thunder, frightening me out of my
nightmare! Quickly, I sat up wondering where I was. Was I still in my room? The
sudden rush of panic had blurred my vision. Everything just looked dark with
shades of blue moonlight shining through the gaps between my curtains.
Desperately, I looked around trying to focus when I realised I could feel the
warmth of my duvet. This familiarity enabled me to calm down. Even though I
could hear my heart pulsating through my chest I was able to make sense of my
surroundings. Thankfully, I was still in my room and it was night-time.

Thunder
clattered through my ears as lightning flashed upon my white dressing table,
highlighting the violet diamonds in my favourite earrings. Relieved by the realisation
that I was safe in my room and that everything I had just seen was just a
nightmare, I tried to go back to sleep. However, I just couldn’t shake off the
horrific fear that ran through me. If nightmares were not real then why didn’t
every bit of its effects disappear? If my heart didn’t slow down it would
surely find its way out very soon, I thought.

Through my
window the rain smashed its fierce bullets. This was the weather in my
nightmare. Disturbing flashes of images started to re-enter my mind. I usually
remembered most of my nightmares as soon as I woke up but for some reason I
could only remember parts of this one. If I was going to face college tomorrow
I needed to be well rested and not get worked up over this. Luckily, it was
only one a.m. so I still had a couple of hours to catch up on my sleep.
 
As I lay back and closed my eyes I saw a
clock face, which struck midnight. It appeared to be wet, a bit worn out and
the numbers were larger than I expected.

Suddenly I
opened my eyes, sprung out of my bed and raced to my bedroom window only to
find that it was the clock tower in front of the beach, not far from the
derelict factories opposite my house. It read five minutes past one. Confused,
I tried to make sense of it all by tracing all the moments I could remember: I
fell asleep just before midnight and for some reason I’m sure that was when the
dream started. The clock read one a.m. and that’s when I woke up. How could
real time correspond with the time in my dream? Does that mean I had been
dreaming for a whole hour? Even if I had it doesn’t matter I thought, it’s only
a dream. I couldn’t recall all of the events chronologically but deep down I
felt as if I needed to be more cautious.
 

Whilst gazing
out of my window, a sudden movement caught my eye. Within seconds it
disappeared making me almost doubt what I had seen through one of the smashed
windows of the old shoe factory.
Probably a cat.
It’s
not like anyone would want to enter that place anyway. Especially after the
murder that took place there, five years ago.
 

As soon as I
closed my eyes again I saw dark hiking boots racing towards me. That’s when I
remembered that I had been running. There were empty crates surrounding a cold
and damp room. It looked like an open plan floor with an exit sign at the back.
The sign lit up amongst the darkness of the night and I ran towards it but
tripped over a box. Swiftly, I managed to crawl behind the crates that were
stacked up only to find a large parcel behind it with the word ‘Fragile’
stamped on it.
 

Next I was on
the beach, the sand was wet against my skin and the breeze swept the rain
aggressively into my face as I lay there in fear, watching him walk on the
surface of the sea, towards me, barefoot. Something about him seemed different
and unusual.
 
Filled with horror I jumped
up to get away. When I woke up, I was still in my room. Again I had fallen into
my nightmare again.

How was this
possible? Who was that barefooted man? That’s when I realised I was getting too
carried away. My imagination was starting to run wild; no one could walk on
water, I told myself. However, there was also someone else in this dream,
wearing hiking boots. I could only see them from the floor when I was crouched
behind the stack of crates. Were there two people?
Two men?
Considering the difficult time I had been going through lately, it was
inevitable that this would happen, I thought. Covered in goose bumps I made my
way to the kitchen. Hopefully some chamomile tea with honey would help me get
back to sleep and reality.

Chapter
9

Christian didn’t understand why such constructions would be built, only
to be left and forgotten about. In Orsa everything that was built was needed
and it remained that way. Ironically, a sign with the words ‘waterproof
traveller’ hung lopsided off the top of one of the old factories, which looked
like three floors of emptiness. Christian took this as a welcome sign and
entered.
 

He barely
touched the front door when it fell back as if it had been holding onto its
hinges just for him.
 
Anxiously, he
walked onto the cool, hard concrete floor, lit up by the rays of moonlight that
was seeping through the cracks of the aged building. On the right side of the
room sat an old crooked fireplace expecting to be lit up by the remaining
pieces of wood scattered on the neglected floor. Amongst them were wellington
boots and other waterproof footwear. Ironically, a shoe factory had invited him
in, even though this was the one item Children of Orsa never had the need for.
 

Christian pushed
a few crates in front of the doorway then picked up the front door and propped
it on top of the crates, covering the entrance. This room was quite small but
to his left was a metal, spiral staircase which led Christian onto a larger
open-plan floor. The twin of the wooden fireplace below was on his right and it
seemed to be in better condition. Holes in the wooden floorboards were filled
with puddles. There were two large windows to the right which looked out to sea
and two windows on the left which looked onto a street with a house and some
flats. One window was boarded up.
 

Opposite the
fireplace was a shorter wooden staircase with an oval mirror on the wall.
Seeing his reflection reminded him of how far he was from Orsa. The
surroundings looked alien and the more he stared into that mirror the more he
felt unsure about himself.
 
The top floor
looked like a small office, with an old desk to its right and a large window
overlooking the sea. To the back of the room was a black metal bin overflowing
with old shredded bits of paper. Christian found this room to be more habitable
than the others. Whilst walking towards the back window he accidently kicked a
parcel. The words stamped on the box made him wonder why anything marked
‘Fragile’ would be left in such a lonely place.

Chapter
10

Anxiously I approached the bottle-green college gates with a proud
welcome sign above it. As I glanced towards it I caught the eye of a petite Asian
girl with long black silky hair, wearing a red trench coat, a blue wool scarf
and black jeans.
 

“Izzie,” she
beamed as she ran towards me in her heels, attracting attention to the both of
us. Excitedly, she plunged straight into me not realising she had stopped a bit
too late. This was a typical Sonia hug.
 
She was quite short so heels were a must for her. No matter how long
she’d been walking in heels, she was still a bit rusty when it came to stopping
in time. This was one of the things that made Sonia so funny and likeable.

“How are you?
It’s so good to see you.”

“Much
better thanks.
How’s
everything been?” I asked, hoping she’d tell me if word had spread about me
being rescued at sea and ending up in hospital.

“It’s been OK.”
Then she looked up and sighed.

“Listen hun, are
you sure you’re ready to come back?”

“Why? What’s
been said about me? You can tell me exactly what’s going on. Nothing will
really surprise me. I sort of have an idea already.”
 

“Well, people
have been gossiping about you, saying you tried to commit suicide and horribly
failed.” Rapidly the words rolled off Sonia’s tongue like water. I was the
latest gossip and it all started with Jenny Summers. My first college day
absence started with Jenny telling my tutor, in front of the whole class, that
her dad had rescued me from drowning in the sea.
 

“Jenny isn’t a
saint. She knew she was planting a seed by saying this and, just for the record
Sonia, I did not try to end my life! You know that’s not me. You can believe
what you want, but that is the truth,” I explained frustrated.

“I believe you.
I know you wouldn’t do anything like that. I just wanted to warn you before you
entered,” she answered softly before putting her arm in mine like she always
did.
 

“Well, I’m on
your side as always but being late to Chidlow’s class will not help, so let’s
go,” she marched on dragging me with her. It was nice to see that some things
hadn’t changed.

Luckily everyone
was rushing through the bright corridors. The college had undergone a
refurbishment five years ago (before I started) but it always looked
immaculate. The white shiny floors always gleamed from the sun shining through
the many windows that made up one side of the corridor. Personally I preferred
looking up at it from the outside as I wasn’t keen on heights and, with most of
my classes on the fourth floor (top floor), I found myself trying to avoid
looking through the windows.

As I entered I
could see Chidlow, a heavy-set, well-groomed woman who always dressed like an
executive’s personal assistant. She noticed me, which was a first, and walked
towards me slowly showing an unusual Chidlow expression: a smile.

“How are you
Isabelle?” she asked.

“I’m fine
thanks, oh.... erm my assignment, I handed that in before erm… have the marks
been given out?” I grovelled. She responded with her usual expression: furrowed
brows, an intimidating pause followed by a brief reply.

“Yes, you can
collect your assignment from the office.” Abruptly she turned, reminding
everyone that their assignments must be collected from the office as they
needed to be signed out. Apparently, a student had accused a lecturer of having
lost their assignment when it had already been given back.
 

Sonia had saved
me a seat at the back of the room.
 
However getting there was a bit awkward as I had to walk through many
fake smiles, kind hellos from people I didn’t know followed by the stares. Like
a heavy weight I fell into my seat, almost nudging Sonia who had managed to
fold her coat, jumper and scarf into soft balls and used them to attempt to
turn her chair into a soft armchair. Even though she was small she appeared
taller in her chair than me. This enabled me to sink lower and block myself
from the view of all those that were sitting on the right side of the classroom.
Not that it stopped Jenny from leaning forward every ten minutes to catch a
glimpse of me.
          

Half way through
the session I got fed up with her and stared back. If she had something to say
she should say it straight to my face, I thought.
 
Even though I could only express anger
towards her I had managed to calm down by the end of the session. I had never
been the kind of person to hold a grudge but if someone kept on frustrating me
it wouldn’t be long before I gave them a piece of my mind. Every time I confronted
Jenny in the past, she would soften her tone of voice to explain how she had
been misinterpreted and as always was a ‘victim of hateful gossip’. This time
she clearly had gone too far, telling everyone that I had attempted suicide. It
was even more hurtful knowing my own dad had done the same. When I felt at my
lowest I always asked myself, “What’s the worst that could happen?” In this
case I was a little relieved to know that the worst had already happened so
hopefully things would get better.

“Hi Isabelle,
how are you?” I had raced out of the class like a cat and was about to leave
through the back staircase, which no one really took as it led to the fire
exit. Now I found myself facing a slender blonde, covered in all the make-up
her mother could buy. She barely gave me a chance to respond before she clasped
her hands and took a step forward with her wide hazy-green eyes observing me
cunningly, like a wild tigress.

“Well you must
be feeling a bit weird being back and so soon…”

“I didn’t
realise you took such notice of me Jenny,” I smiled.

“Well after my
dad returned from work and told me about what happened at the beach, I just
became really worried about you.”

“And what was it
that happened at the beach?” I asked her firmly, trying not to slap the
cattiness out of her.

“Well,” she
paused before speaking in a softer tone. “Honey, we know you tried to end your
life and I can’t imagine for one moment how low you must have felt to have
actually taken such a shocking step.”

That was the last
straw! My skin was vibrating with anger and I found myself shouting at her.

“I did not try
to end my life! Maybe your dad should get his facts right before he goes around
spreading false information, and isn’t this something he should be keeping to
himself anyway, as a professional?”

“Excuse me, who
do you think you are talking to?”

“Oh give it a
rest,
just shut your stupid…,”

“Izzie,” shouted
a deep voice. I ignored it and swung my arm to slap Jenny when someone grabbed
it.

“What are you
doing?” I screamed at him but he was too tall and strong for me to push off as
he dragged me off the staircase. Angrily, I started to shove back so that he
would let go but with great force he pushed me into the closed photography
studio. I fell back into the hall with the contents of my bag everywhere.

“What the hell
do you think you’re doing? I was going to knock that stupid cow out and you
butted straight in!” After realising the great opportunity I had just missed I
was struggling to control the urge to scratch this guy’s eyes out.
 

“Everyone would
have found out. What were you thinking hey? That you’d beat that girl up and
get away with it? The argument echoed through the third floor and from what
I’ve heard the last thing you need is exclusion,” he yelled, clearly
annoyed.
 

For some reason
I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t care what he looked like. I just felt that by
looking directly at him he would see that I was on the verge of breaking down.
I sat there with my head in my arms, panting trying to figure out how all of
this had happened. Jenny wanted me to hit her, to prove herself right and I,
being the hot-headed wreck, almost fell straight for it. Suddenly, it dawned on
me. I had lost control and was about to ruin everything. What was I thinking? I
felt like a fool. Sitting there on the cold, wooden floor my heart sank. There
was a lump in my throat, pins and needles all over my body and my eyes were
starting to well up.

“Well, what are
you still staring at? Show’s over!” I screamed, without facing him hoping he’d
get the hint and leave but he stood there, still. “Go away! Leave me alone!” I
shrieked like an evil witch.

Before storming
off he stared at me with his top lip curled, trying to stop himself from saying
something equally rude. This was completely out of character for me but I
didn’t care. The last thing I needed was another stranger witnessing another
moment of crisis and sharing it with someone who would then tell the whole
world. I sat there gathering my thoughts, trying to calm down and catch my breath.
  

After a few
minutes, I started to feel the coldness of the wall I was leaning against. The
shiny wooden floor was equally freezing, making me rigid. There was a set of
ladders poorly covered by a white sheet and half-ripped wallpaper hung on the
back wall. Cans of paint and an open box of light bulbs were sitting on the
floor with me. As I looked to my left towards the double doors (the way I was
dragged in) I realised that one of them was open and outside the door was a
wooden sign which had been broken in half. In fact parts of the sign made their
way into the studio. It looked as if this room had been broken into. Suddenly,
the impression this would give people of me made me eager to leave.

As quick as a
thief I grabbed my bag and ran towards the door, listened for anyone that might
be walking nearby and then slowly stuck my head out.
 
Thankfully, there was no one around so I
raced down the corridor, turned left to go up to the next floor and straight
into the ladies. What a relief it was to look in the mirror and see that I did
not look like the exposed mess that I seemed to have become. My hair was a bit
out of place after being man-handled by that guy but other than that you could
not tell that I’d been on the brink of crying. At that moment I heard my phone
ring. It was Sonia. She must be wondering where I am I thought.

“Hello.”

“Hey, are you
OK? I just bumped into that Jenny and she said that she’d bumped into you. What
happened?” She sounded frantically out of breath from speaking too fast.

“Meet me outside
the entrance and I’ll tell you what happened,” I sighed.

“OK, I’m on my
way now.”

“Oh and make
sure no one comes with you.” I almost panicked at the thought of having someone
else there.

“No worries.”

After a walk
towards Sonia’s car (an almost ancient motor) which was parked imaginatively
between two spaces in the car park, I found out that Jenny had already
expressed her concern for ‘the girl who had lost her mind and become the town
nutcase’.

While I was
sitting in the studio trying to get my head around what had just happened,
Jenny had not wasted a single second in spreading more rumours.
 
However, when Sonia told me that she’d
responded to Jenny’s accusations by telling her to ‘go comb the bird nest on
her head’ I found myself giggling hysterically.
 
I loved how Sonia always had a comical response when confronted. This
was also why she was rarely impressed by chat-up lines. She always had
something even wittier to say back and it always expressed how offended she was
by being interrupted to listen to such a poor remark.
 

Pigeons roamed
the high street as the soft, subtle winds danced among the golden leaves. I was
relieved to see that it wasn’t as busy and noisy as usual, probably because it
was just after the lunchtime rush.
 

“I’ll park
outside Coffee Time. You still working there?” asked Sonia.

“Yeah I’m doing
an evening shift tomorrow.” I was actually looking forward to it after having
spoken to Hugo. I needed to be around nice people. We walked in swiftly and I
ordered a chai tea latte for myself and an Americano for Sonia who had found us
a cosy window seat. I noticed there was a new girl serving us; she had hair as
black as soot with candyfloss pink tips, a nose piercing and pale complexion.
 

“Hi Izzie, how
are you?” said a red-haired male in his late teens. This was Craig. I’d worked
a couple of shifts with him. I didn’t know him that well but he was always
bubbly and pleasant.

“I’m fine
thanks.
You?”

“Never
better.
Hugo’s gone out
for a couple of hours and I’m holding the fort whilst training Leah.” He cocked
his head towards the new girl, who looked nervous.

“Hi Leah, I’m
Izzie. I also work here as a barista.”

“She’s lying,
she doesn’t really work here,” mocked Craig.

“Very
funny!
Anyway I’d
better go join my friend.
Nice to meet you.”

Sonia was
absorbed by tweeting on her phone when I sat down opposite her. I felt like I
owed her an explanation for everything in detail but at the same time I didn’t
want to dwell on it anymore. The main thing was that she understood that I
didn’t try to end my life and leave our friendship like that. If I didn’t talk
about it then maybe it would just bury deeper and deeper into the past. After
an hour long chat about how rubbish Sonia’s love life had been and how my home
life wasn’t any better, we decided that we were only going to surround
ourselves with positivity. This then inspired a humorous conversation about the
different ways to eliminate negativity, in other words Jenny. We laughed and
joked about endless possibilities, one of them being Jenny waking up in the
morning and finding that her bird’s nest of a hair style had evolved into the
mother of all knots. Therefore, she would have to stay indoors detangling her
hair for the rest of her college life. Sonia’s impressions of Jenny detangling
her hair reminded me of the wildlife video we had watched in school once. It
involved an orang-utan and some vines. We laughed so much that Sonia looked
like she was crying and I was struggling to breathe and speak at the same time.
Four coffees later, the image of Chidlow nagging me sprung to my mind.