Stranger At My Door

12. In The Shadows Of The Past

I couldn't sleep. Every time I drifted off, the man in the hooded coat would invade my dreams, his presence looming like a shadow I couldn't shake. And when I wasn't asleep, Amber's snoring drilled into my brain like an insistent hammer. It was relentless. By the time my alarm went off at half six, I felt more tired than when I had gone to bed.

Amber, on the other hand, was wide awake and upbeat, her usual morning energy undimmed. She moved around the flat with ease, as if today were the start of an exciting trip rather than the uncertainty we were about to face. I forced myself out of bed, heavy and sluggish, the sense of dread clinging to me like a second skin.

We left the flat by seven, the early morning air biting. Amber couldn't stop talking about Ridge. She chattered on, her words tumbling out in a steady stream of excitement about whatever new thing he had said or done. Meanwhile, I wrapped myself in silence, my mind consumed by the hooded figure from last night. Amber didn't seem to notice my distraction, happy to fill the silence on her own.

"Can you stop?" I asked as we sat at the bus station, the exhaustion thick in my voice.

Amber's smile faltered as she reached for her cigarettes. "I'm just trying to keep things light, Sam. I'm scared too, you know. About what happened yesterday. But we need answers... you need answers."

Her words stung. I knew I wasn't being fair, but everything she said—especially about how handsome Ridge was—felt trivial compared to the storm swirling in my head.

The bus arrived, and we boarded in silence. The hum of the engine did nothing to calm my nerves. I stared out of the window, gripping the edge of my seat, trying to hold onto my sanity. The rolling hills blurred in front of me, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.

I'd never felt anxiety like this before, as if something dark was creeping up behind me, ready to swallow me whole. Every breath felt shaky, uneven, and the more I tried to control it, the more it spiralled out of control.

What would've happened if the hooded figure had caught up with us last night?

My hands felt cold, despite the warmth of the bus. I rubbed them together, desperate to ground myself. The thought of Moulding Springs—the unknown that lay ahead—was gnawing at me. I had no idea what we were walking into, and that terrified me.

Amber must have sensed my unease because she slipped her arm through mine. She didn't say anything, but the gesture was grounding, pulling me back from the edge. I let her arm stay linked with mine, silently grateful.

As the bus rattled along the narrow country lanes, the landscape outside became less familiar. The closer we got to Moulding Springs, the tighter the knot in my stomach became.

"What are we even going to do when we get there?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. We hadn't actually made a plan, and the uncertainty was making my skin crawl.

Amber shrugged, resting her head on my shoulder. "I don't know. I was thinking we could get breakfast at Mr Malone's restaurant and see if we can spot him."

"And then what?" I asked, a humourless laugh escaping me.

"See if he looks like you," she said with a grin.

"That's it?" I laughed again, properly this time.

Amber's grin widened sheepishly. "Hey, I'm not the mastermind here. We'll play it by ear."

The laughter faded quickly. "But what if he does look like me? What if he recognises me the second he sees me?"

Amber paused, her smile softening into something more thoughtful. "I have no idea, Sam. I really don't."

The bus hissed to a stop, and the screen dinged, announcing our arrival at Moulding Springs. Amber stood up, grabbing her bag, her earlier cheerfulness slipping slightly as she looked at me. "We're here now. We might as well face it."

I nodded, forcing myself to stand. My legs felt heavy, the weight of everything pressing down on me. As we stepped off the bus, the town greeted us with crisp air, but instead of feeling refreshed, it made my chest feel tighter, as if the entire place was holding its breath.

The soft chime above the door of Malone's Pub rang out as we stepped inside, the sound unnervingly loud, like an alarm. The early morning sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm, golden light across the wooden floors. The smell of breakfast—bacon, fried eggs, and fresh coffee—filled the air, but all I could feel was the anxiety twisting tighter in my stomach.

Inside, the pub felt warm and familiar, with dark wooden beams and sturdy tables that looked like they'd been there for decades. A few regulars were scattered around—a man reading the paper, a couple in quiet conversation, and a woman sipping tea by the window. It was calm, almost ordinary, but nothing about today felt ordinary to me.

I wasn't scared of this place, not like I was back home. Back there, the fear came from the hooded figure. But here... here the fear was different. It wasn't something chasing me. It was something I might find.

"We need to sit somewhere in the back," Amber whispered, nudging me forward. "But we need a good view of the bar."

I nodded, feeling the anxiety settle deeper into my chest. We found a booth near the back, half-hidden by a pillar, but with a clear view of the bar. I slid into the seat, the cool leather creaking beneath me. I glanced at Amber, who seemed calm, though I knew she wasn't.

My fingers fidgeted with the edge of a napkin as my mind churned with possibilities. What if I really was Casey Malone? What would that mean for my entire life, for everything I thought I knew about my mum? The idea made my stomach twist painfully.

Amber leaned in slightly. "We're just here to take a look, Sam. Don't overthink it."

I nodded, but before I could say anything, the barmaid approached with a smile. "Hi, guys! If you want breakfast, it's self-serve over there. Drinks can be ordered at the bar."

"Thanks," I murmured, barely registering her words. My mind was spinning too fast to focus.

"We wait," I said, glancing towards the bar. "He owns the place, right? So he'll be here eventually."

Amber nodded. "Yeah, and when he does, what then?"

I shrugged, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me. "No idea."

Amber sighed, sliding out of the booth. "I'll get us some cappuccinos."

I watched her walk to the bar, her stride casual and confident. Every time the pub door opened, my breath caught. Any moment now, Mr Malone could walk through that door, and everything could change.

But what if I wasn't his daughter? What if all I did was give him false hope?

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. If I wasn't truly my mum's daughter, what did that mean for everything I thought I knew about my life? She had never been warm, never been there for me, not really. But I'd always assumed it was just who she was.

I heard the pub door open again, but this time, I didn't look up.

"Sam, look," Amber whispered, her voice uneasy.

I turned my head slowly and caught a glimpse of a denim jacket.

Ridge.

He walked to the bar, his face serious, an envelope tucked under his arm.

"What's he doing here?" Amber asked, her voice mirroring my confusion.

I didn't respond. I was already standing, my body moving on its own, everything feeling slow and surreal. Ridge reached the bar, handing Mr Malone the envelope just as Mr Malone turned towards us, his eyes catching mine.

"Casey?" Mr Malone's voice cracked.

"Sam," Ridge said at the same time.

The moment hung heavy, suspended in a surreal kind of stillness. My mind couldn't process what had just happened—he called me Casey. The word reverberated in my chest, making everything else seem distant and muted. Amber's grip on my hand tightened, but even that felt far away.

My legs felt weak, l had to get out of here.