Invigoration

- Chapter 4 -

Chapter 4

BONMOUTH WAS CAUGHT IN THE STORM, wind rustled whilst thunder rumbled, as bolts of lightening cracked the sky in to two; rain washed down the roads, hissing as the downpour swept dirt from the pavements in to bubbling gutters.

Katisha forcefully tried to shut the rugged tangled blinds over her glass outer-walls, as the rain hammered against them, echoing throughout her flat in harmony with the large amounts pattering on to the skylights.

She was soaked through: her dyed blonde hair reaching her waist was plastered to her body; she had just been sunbathing on the terrace, in the morning sun. Her bare feet had laid a wet path across the wooden laminate floor, droplets of water which had fallen from her hair were scattered either side.

‘Stupid rain!’ she moaned, as she swept the floor dry, moving cautiously in order not to slip. ‘Can’t get a full day of sun in this country’ she continued. ‘Maybe if I get the job as anchor-woman I’ll be able to buy a nice holiday home abroad’ she thought to herself, grinning at the prospect; which reminded her that her contract renewal would be arriving in the post that day: either an elusive promotion to anchor-woman, or another predictable year as weather-lady – Katisha cringed at the thought.

On the way to her bedroom to dry herself off, she stopped by her post-box to check: nothing. “Typical Bert” she laughed, as she sat down and began to dry her hair. Bert was Palm Street’s postman, and was renowned for not delivering peoples post until early afternoon, as apposed to late morning.

She had spent the day reflecting upon the disastrous afternoon at her mother’s funeral: she had never meant to be noticed, especially with the disguise she arrived in. She began to breathe heavily as she realised that perhaps they’d come to visit her soon; they’d get dirt from the forest on her floor, they’d mess the place up.

She calmed herself down as she reminded herself that, in reality, Brody and her father would unlikely make the trip in to Bonmouth, and so, most probably, the only form of contact she’d get from them would be a letter.

Her thoughts were interrupted with the sound of her post crashing against the base of her post box.  In anticipation, she strode over to it, as she continued to ponder upon how the invitation for the funeral got to her in the first place: someone close must have somehow deduced her whereabouts.

A gold-tinted envelope with the words ‘Bonmouth TV’ proudly printed in glittering red caught her attention: she knew it was her new contract. She cringed as the read the letter, before slowly sitting back down.

“STUPID PEOPLE!” she yelled, consequently resulting in several residents knocking on the walls, indicating her to keep the noise down.

She cried as she came to terms with the fact that her employer’s only wanted to renew her contract as weather lady, rather than promoting her to anchor-woman, at last.

“SOMEONE MUST’VE GOT THE JOB OFFER – WHO? – I MEAN, JULIE’S LEAVING!” she continued, kicking and slapping everything within reach. Julie was Bonmouth TV’s anchor-woman, renowned for being completely plastic and fake: she’d never open up about her private life, nor would she speak to anyone from work out of hours; and after twenty years at the job, she was finally hanging up her suit… much to everyone’s relief. The producer’s had assured Katisha that they were going to promote an existing team member, rather than go through the trouble of advertising the job: she thought it was finally going to be her moment.

“I’ve already told dad and Brody I was anchor-woman, I presumed I’d get the role, what if they see me? What if they’re ashamed of me?” she sobbed, as she hushed her tone. She quickly wiped away her tears, as she reminded herself that she was ashamed of them, not the other way around. Bumping in to them at the funeral had only reminded her why she left: dirty, smelly country people… she certainly wasn’t one of them.