Roses (A Ricky Wilson Fanfic)

Fifteen

A/N

I'm sorry these updates are so slow, but I'm really trying hard to get you at least one update a week. It's just exams are so close, it's so hard to get time for this!

Enjoy this chapter!

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There was a knock at our flat door. I had just finished packing my bag, and I was putting it near the door when someone knocked.

'I'll get it!' I shouted through to Lexi, to save her from coming through.

I opened the door, and standing there was my mum. Okay, so that wasn't what I expected.

'How did you know where I was staying?' I asked, hugging her.

'Well, a very nice man told me to come.' She said, smiling.

'Ricky?' I asked.

Mum nodded. Of course it would be Ricky. How did he get her number? I made a mental note to ask him that some time.

I let my mum into the flat, closing the door behind her.

'And you wonder why I don't like it when I leave you home alone?' Mum said, looking around at the flat.

Okay, so it was in a major mess, but we were moving out. And we may have slightly celebrated a bit last night. So it wasn't too bad.

'We're moving, mum.' I said, laughing. 'Of course it's a mess.'

Mum laughed, obviously pleased that she was finally able to point out that I wasn't ready to move out yet. To be honest, I had missed having all of the cleaning and cooking. Doing it yourself can be so boring day after day. 'Talking about that,' Mum said, 'I've got loads of your stuff in the car, want to give me a hand to bring it in?'

I rolled my eyes. 'I don't need much mum, just my guitars, and a few more changes of clothes.'

Mum laughed. 'You only brought one book. I've got you a few more. And loads of your sheet music in case you need it while you're here.'

I sighed. She always went a bit over the top. But I had missed it.

I went out to the car with her to get my stuff. At least she hadn't brought too much extra. There was a suitcase of clothes, both of my guitars, and a couple of bags of books. I'm not sure how many books she thought I would get through though. There must have been at least ten.

I grabbed both of my guitar bags, and slung one over each shoulder. I pulled my suitcase out, and mum grabbed my bags of books, and we carried them into the lift.

I got everything back into the flat, and left it with my other suitcase, ready to go to my new flat.

'Anyway,' Mum said. 'There's something I want to tell you, but I didn't want to have to say it over the phone.'

'Okay?' I said, going to sit down on the settee. That was just about the only spare space in the flat now. I had no idea what mum would actually want to talk about that she couldn't have said on the phone.

'Your dad found my number. He says he wants to get to know you.'

My dad. The dad that I didn't know. He wanted to talk to me now. After all of these years.

'He says he saw you on The Voice.'

Well done to him. He saw me on TV. Big whoop. 'I couldn't care less about him. He never cared about me.'

'I know. But he just wants to talk to you, Hazel.'

I shrugged. 'I don't care.' I said. 'I really don't care. He's saw me on TV. He thinks I'm all famous, he thinks he can get something out of this. Well, he can't. And he can't ruin this for me.'