There's something wrong with Phoebe

11 - Phoebe

Two days later, I was getting changed into some shorts and a vest top, brushing my hair out, cleaning my teeth and bracing the morning sunshine with my Mum. I was finally getting to go home. I got into the car and fastened my seat belt. It was funny that, even after years without transport other than by foot, I still automatically did up my seatbelt.

It was weird driving back home. I sort of recognised some things, but the memory I had was slightly different to what I saw before me. I chatted to Mum quite easily, which surprised me. I remembered us having a close relationship before, but I assumed it would take a while to regain that. She told me about how we were going to go shopping and buy me lots of new clothes, though all I really wanted was my white fitted all in one suit. She said how next week I’d get to see the rest of the family, and she reminded me of their names, and as she said each one, they triggered an image in my mind to pop up.

Then we turned into a street which was familiar to me. I leaned forward in my seat a little. “Is this it?”

“Yep,” Mum replied. I felt a strange, warm feeling in my stomach as I saw kids riding on their bikes along the pavements and dads out mowing their lawns. Then, we pulled up next to a house that made my stomach roll over. This was mine. It was red brick and wisteria crawled up the left side. There was a white front door with the number eleven on it in gold. There was a cobbled path leading up to it, and green grass lay either side of it. I opened the door, looking up to the right side of the house at a window with open, pink curtains. That one was mine.

I walked towards the door and pulled down on the door handle. I walked in and instantly smelt home. I didn’t know what scent it was, but my nose recognised it immediately. I walked straight into the lounge, but not before taking off my shoes because of force of habit. I saw my family sitting on the two sofas that faced the television which was above the fireplace that we never lit other than on Christmas Eve, which had made Thomas cry for an hour as he worried that Santa would burn when he came, so we had to put it out. They all turned to look at me as I came in and smiled. They looked so at home and I longed to feel that way again. I walked further into the kitchen. They’d changed it since I last saw it. The cabinets had been fitted again, and the worktops had changed, but they were still sparkling clean, and the same round wooden table with six chairs was tucked in the corner, stained from paint and accidents with drinks and food.

I walked into the dining room we only used on Christmas Day, and smiled at how perfect it still looked before walking back through all the rooms and glancing in at the study and downstairs bathroom. Then, my body was itching to go upstairs and I walked, at first slowly, up to room, before breaking into a run. I remembered doing the same thing when I came home from school. I went to the door which still had the ‘No Entry To Anybody Annoying’ sign on it that I’d made when I was eleven. I grinned at it before opening the door and creeping inside.

I was a little taken aback at first. It looked exactly the same, as if it had not been touched. My bed was still roughly made like I had done it that morning, with my old teddies shoved underneath the bed. The walls were still pink and littered with images of me and my friends though I did not recognise half of the faces. There was a big poster of McFly up above my desk, and on the desk, books were scattered, some of them still open, pens resting in the spine.

I went over, flicking my finger on one of the pages to notice dust particles fly off it and into the air causing me to choke a little. I opened up my wardrobe and looked at all my old clothes, and looked at a pair of jeans I’d used to love. They were not dusty for some reason, and neither was the bottom of the wardrobe. However, as I looked closer, I noticed bits of dust still lay undisturbed. Somebody had obviously been in here. I looked around the room one more time. I was shocked. To this family, I had been frozen in time for six years. They’d come into my room and it would be that of a thirteen year old. It smelt unclean and I was tempted to scrub it all though I hated cleaning. I’d always had such a spotless room with Lily. I fingered the duvet and noticed that it stunk badly. The wall colour, which had been hot pink, had faded now to baby pink, but it was a dull version of that colour. You’d think I’d love to come home to a room that looked exactly how I’d left it, but it felt a little creepy.

I collapsed onto the bed only to find myself coughing as mounds of dust flew into the air. I got up, frustrated, and walked over to the window, opening it to let in the cool mid-morning air. It felt good on my face as the air in this room was badly circulated. Next to the window, pictures were stuck to the wall. I peered closer at them, and recognised a couple of faces. I saw a girl called Kristen with long brown hair. She’d been a keen dancer if I remembered correctly. There was me and my old boyfriend, whom I remembered to be called a name beginning with ‘a’. I noticed one other girl called Lucy, who I’d always envied for her shiny hair and singing voice, but other than that, I couldn’t put a name to any of the faces, or even vaguely remember knowing the people in the photographs.

I burst out of the room very suddenly, almost smacking into my Mum. She looked shocked as I drew away, and she smiled. “Like your room?” I pulled a face and the corners of her mouth dropped.

“It’s a bit dusty. I need to change the duvet, and I’m going to take down the pictures. I need to move the school books and paint the walls again, and also some new clothes as they’re all too small, but…it is still my room, I guess.” Mum nodded.

“We can go out whenever you want and buy some new stuff.”

“Today?”

“If you want to.”

Two days later, the old pictures were in a box, along with my schoolbooks, surfaces were wiped and my new duvet  lay just outside of my room whilst me, Mum, Kayla and Thomas painted my little room a fresh blue colour. We had to put lots of white over the pink before the blue, so it was going to take a while to finish, and my room wasn’t that large so it was a little cramped, but we were having fun, chatting whilst Kayla selected songs from her IPod to play to me, updating me on new music. There was a boy band called ‘JLS’ that sounded quite good, and she said they were very good looking. It was nice to hear music again. I hadn’t heard sound like this for a long time, and we never really sung at Jack’s.

“I’m just going to get a drink,” I said, putting down my paintbrush and running downstairs. I loved being able to do this, and act like this place really was my home. However, on the way to the kitchen, I was stopped by my Dad, sitting on the sofa, hunched over, with his head in his hands.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” I asked, cautiously. He snapped up at the sound of my voice and I jumped back a little. His eyes were wide and white and he looked angry.

“Nothing, Phoebe,” he said, his gaze softening, but his eyes stayed the same. “Just having a tough day.”

“What’s tough about it?” He shrugged.

“I’d rather be left alone.”

“Oh, OK then,” I said, backing away into the kitchen. Kayla had told me how Dad’s obsession with finding me had ruined the family, but now I was back, he was acting cold and distant; like he was wary of me, and this scared me.

I went to the cupboard with all the hand painted mugs, mixed in with expensive wine glasses and plastic kids’ cups from restaurants and took out a normal cup. That was what I found funny about this house. There were the remains of a lifestyle where we’d lived comfortably but not with everything we wanted, and then there were the visible signs of a family with a few million pounds in the bank.

I poured myself some juice and sipped it. I was in no hurry to get back to my room. It smelt horrible in there because of the paint fumes, and it meant I was sleeping on the sofa downstairs for now. It had made me shudder at first; thinking of sleeping on a sofa again, endlessly watching television, but I reminded myself that was the story that had been drummed into me to tell everyone. That wasn’t what had happened to me. Jack had given me a lovely room while I nutured my offering to him, and when I gave birth, I then moved in with Lily and Jack taught me everything I needed to know. That was what had happened.

I grabbed some biscuits from the cupboard to bring back up to everybody, but as I was on my way up, there was a knock at the door. I opened it and instantly, I was blinded. I squinted to see who was there and there was a pack of about ten men with cameras snapping my photo. I shielded my eyes with the back of my right arm, attempting to close the door though some of them were intruding onto the doorstep.

Then, I felt a grip on my arm as I was slammed to the ground and some shouting as well as a whack as fist met flesh. The door slammed shut and I lay there, shaking for a moment. I saw my Dad standing over me, clutching his right hand. There was fire in his eyes. I had just been 'papped'. Kayla had warned me I was famous and should be careful, but I hadn't realised how serious the situation was.

“Don’t answer the door again,” he muttered, and went back into the living room.