Old Friends

Old Friends

The sunlight shone brightly through a chink in the curtains. I hate these summer mornings, early bright sun after a late night working. Well never mind a day off today, a day of work at any rate, not that I have a quiet day. I have costumes fittings and a date with a hairdresser.

I swung my legs out of the luxury king size bed; the soft plush carpet meet my bare feet. Wriggling my toes, I smiled thinking back to the old days growing up when bare boards had greeted my toes. Now though I had luxury, only the best was good enough for me. But something was missing from my life. I felt his gentle touch against my ankle, soft teasing delicate; his neck rubbed against my ankle, his purr wishing me a good morning. Bending down I stroked Seafox behind his ear; his purr grew louder still. Always faithful, that was Seafox. I took him into my arms his soft fur brushing against my naked breasts. I really should wear a nightie to bed.

“Come on then Seafox, let's get you some breakfast”.

Putting Seafox on the chair by the window, I peeked out around the curtain, yep a lovely sunny day that calls for a cotton dress, but for now, a shorts and a t-shirt would do, one of the plus points about living alone. I pulled on a sports bra and pair of plain knickers and then the shorts and t-shirt that lay discarded on the floor next to the window. Running my fingers through my hair before pulling and twisting my hair back into a rough bun, securing it with an elastic.

I walked out of the room, the curtains could wait, I needed a cup of tea. I strolled out of the room and out onto the spacious landing, pausing briefly I surveyed my castle five bedrooms all en-suite, a guest bathroom, and a gym on this floor. Downstairs a large kitchen bigger than the house I grew up in I think along with three reception rooms, dining room, my study and the swimming pool of course. It seems such a waste at times, just me and Seafox rattling around I this big house, I was so pleased when I first purchased it.  My own unique house all mine, no mortgage. It feels so lonely at times, so empty, but I suppose it wa the only good thing to come from my marriage to Vic, his accident set me up for life.

“Ow Seafox, what was that for?” the pain of his bite brought me back to reality, I stroked the cat at my feet. “I know you want your breakfast, come on.” His soft purr reverberates through my hand as I stroke him.

As I scope out his cat food I hear the doorbell, damn who can that be. Carefully I peek out and see the Royal Mail van. Popping Seafox's bowl on the floor, I walk out and unlock the door.

"Morning, One to sign for," said the cheerful postman. Odd I thought not expecting anything, I sign the Postman's pod and take the small pile of post in my hand.

Closing the door, I discard the post on the hall stand before heading back to the kitchen for that cup of tea. Turning the radio on I dance around the kitchen a new record inspiring a new routine, jotting down the name I must remember to download that later, I have a costume in mind already.

Tea and toast in hand, I unlock the patio doors, before slipping out onto the cold stone patio. The warmth of the sun embracing me like a hug, I close my eyes allowing my nose to take in all the smells of the garden, the freshly cut grass, the roses around the patio, I love this time of year.  My skin tingles as I sit enjoying the fresh air, the heat of the sun.

The phone rings, and I dash into the house to answer it, knocking the post down as I do.  

"No I can't work today, I am busy." I shake my head, my first day of in weeks and they try and get me in.

"Yes, working on a new routine. Yes ready for Halloween."

"Great, a big show." Sounds good a gala show, running all of October with a Halloween theme. I put the phone down

Grabbing a large letter from the floor, I start to sketch a new costume. Black would be good, but not great under stage lights, charcoal, shimmery charcoal that's perfect. A witch of sorts. Shoes, no boots, lace up. Fishnets, of course, plain briefs or frilly.

Picking up the rest of the post before I wander back through the house to the patio. Frilly, with a skirt, no a bustle, perfect. A corset,  well yes of part of the uniform for me, a matching bra, maybe satin with a spider detail. Long lace gloves, fingerless I think. I look down at the sketch, a spider necklace and a pointy hat. Maybe a cauldron for a bath replacing my normal giant glass, yes that could work.

The post, God I should open the post, picking up the first letter, rubbish. I turn over the large white envelope on which I have been scribbling on, turning it over the silver special delivery sticker catches my attention. Slipping my well-manicured finger under the flap, I hastily tear open the top. Reaching in I pull out the printed paper. My chest tightens with the anticipation as I start to read. Blood rushing through my ears, my vision blurs. My mouth dry, I read it again, no it can't be, how, how is it possible. "It can't be," I say out loud answering my own question. I read it out loud hoping the words will seem different if I hear them as well as read them.

"Dear Ms Phipps, let me introduce myself my name is Mr Johnathon Sykes of Sykes and Sons. My client has instructed me to contact you in connection with the disappearance and the estate of her late husband, Mr Stuart Wall. " Stuart no, that was a name I  never thought I would have to hear again, it had been nine years, and now here he was, or at least mention of him. I picked up my cup taking a swig of cold tea, I didn’t care. He was dead, though of course only she knew that for sure, to the rest of the world he had merely disappeared, it was assumed by most that he had run off to escape the police or a gang.

I had done so much to disassociate myself from him, but now he was back.

I felt sick.