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"Well& " Denise paused and took a deep breath. "I've been approached by a woman claiming to be Sara's daughter." When she heard no reply Denise
asked, "Diane? Did you hear me?"
"Umm& yes I did& and?"
"And? And what?" DJ brushed her fingers roughly over the puckered material of her jeans, flattening the fabric around her knee. "She is just some crack
pot right? I mean she seemed to know some details but& " Denise waited for Diane to speak.
"What did she say?" the older woman asked. "Did she give you her name?"
The poet frowned at this. "She said her name was Maggie and she really seems quite hostile towards me. At first I thought she was just a loon, but she
knows things, Di. I don't know what's going on."
An audible sigh echoed down the line. "DJ, this is something I think we should discuss in person and not over the phone. My coach leaves here tomorrow
afternoon. Can we meet and talk then?"
"But I'm& " Denise paused, wondering why Diane thought it was best that they spoke in person. Surely Diane knew she was to leave for the States the
next morning. "This is something we need to discuss in person, isn't it?"
"Yes," Diane answered. "It seems we have a great deal to talk about."
Denise nodded and rose to her feet. "Okay& I'll see you soon." Walking through the house the poet made her way into the kitchen. "Diane& is there an
element of truth in her claims?"
The older woman hesitated. "We'll discuss this when I get back& it is for the best, DJ."
"Okay, see you then, Di."
"Goodbye, DJ."
Disconnecting the line once again, Denise pushed the phone into the back pocket of her jeans. Suddenly, trepidation as to what Diane wanted to discuss
with her plagued DJ's mind. Sara couldn't have a child& She just couldn't. Turning towards the kettle Denise picked it up and filled the electric container
with water before returning it to its base. Switching the device on she then opened a wall cupboard and pulled out a large mug. Looking down at the
multicoloured porcelain cup she ran her fingers over the design. Denise had painted it herself, the mug and colours being an arts and crafts Christmas gift
when she was eleven. Denise had designed the mug for Sara, writing her aunts name in large blue letters encased in a wobbly pink heart. That had been
so long ago. Her childlike writing and the faded paint a testament to the age of the mug.
Ignoring the boiling kettle and with the container still within her grasp, DJ wandered out into the back hallway and on into Sara's room. A cold chill of
memories passed down her spine. It was the first time she had allowed herself to venture into the room. The hospital bed and medical equipment had all
long since been returned leaving the room feeling quite empty. The bed was bare and apart from a wooden chair, dressing table and wardrobe there was
not much else to fill the bedroom. Unused floral curtains hung half open at the window and a box containing Sara's personal possessions stood in the
corner. Hair accessories, a shawl, an assortment of ornaments and a multicoloured scarf filled the box. Upon its closed surface and keeping the flaps of
its lid down, lay the last novel she and Randa had read to Sara, Les Miserables.
Pushing her free hand into her pocket dejectedly, DJ stepped into the room. Her socked feet almost shuffled upon the thick pile of the carpet. Confusion
clouded her mind and the notion that Maggie may indeed be speaking some ounce of truth scared her. Leaning against a bare wall, Denise slid down to
the floor and sat with her legs crossed upon the beige carpet. Placing Sara's mug between her thighs she pulled the cordless phone out of her pocket.
DJ sighed as she let her head fall back against the wall. I suppose whatever it is, I will find out soon enough. Not knowing what Diane was going to say
caused her heart to hammer with apprehension. Looking back at the phone resting in her right hand DJ hit the speed dial to connect with a certain long
distance number.
After long moments a sleep filled voice answered the phone. "Hello?"
"Hey& Did I wake you?"
"Hmm& I wasn't working last night so yeah, I guess."
DJ smiled as she said, "Sorry." She could just imagine what her lover looked like at that precise moment. There was no doubt about it; the adorable
expressions Randa pulled while waking up managed to warm more than just her heart!
"S'okay," Randa mumbled. "I've just got to get in enough rest before you get back!" she chucked evilly before adding, "God I've missed you."
DJ bit her lip nervously. "Me too, but& "
"But?" Randa asked.
"But I can't come back."
"What?" The blonde asked clearly alarmed. "Ever?"
"Of course not ever!" The poet chuckled despite the situation. "The thing is that I've discovered the identity of the mysterious letter writer."
"You have? Who is it?"
DJ wrinkled her forehead. "I'm not sure. Supposedly she is claiming to be Sara's daughter."
Randa was momentarily silent before saying, "Daughter? Sara doesn't have a daughter& does she?"
"No, not that I am aware of!"
"Oh! Denise& what the hell is going on?"
"I'll find out tomorrow when I meet with Diane. That is why I can't come back& she is in Bournemouth for the night. Gosh Randa, I am so confused I don't
know what to think." Denise sighed as she said, "I'm not sure when I will be able to return at the moment."
"Oh!" Randa said dejectedly.
"The thing is& " DJ ran her fingers over the rim of the coffee mug. "Randa, I can't cope with all of this on my own. I need you here. I really want you to come [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]