The Other Me

Chapter One

Chapter 1

I knew something was up the second I stepped inside my house.

“Hello darling!” My mother sang from the kitchen. I found this very strange because usually she never sang anything or ever referred to me as ‘darling’. What was also very abnormal, was that she was having tea with someone who was not one of her irritating friends, who usually reminded me more of large gobbling turkeys rather than actual human beings.

“Rosy, this is Mrs Kapoor! You must have seen her before, she runs the local newsagent,” Mum trilled a little too excitedly as I reluctantly approached them. 

“How do you do?” Mrs Kapoor beamed. She was a small woman, with long, black hair, streaked with silver. She was wearing one of those glittering saris and a pair of tiny glasses perched on her nose. She reminded me of one of a tiny, beaky bird. Her short legs didn’t even touch the ground from the wooden stool she was sitting on and her bony arms could barely reach the side of the breakfast bar that cut across the middle of our kitchen.

“I’m great thank you,” I stammered, my mind still reeling in surprise. I was trying to figure out why my mother had suddenly befriended her now, even though we had visited her shop and had known her for over a decade. Never had my mother uttered more than a ‘hello’ to her and here she was; sipping some watery tea from one of our hefty supply of ancient, chipped mugs, in our not-too-tidy kitchen. Something just wasn’t right.

“I was just telling Mrs Kapoor all about you!” Mum gushed, her light hazel eyes sparkling, her once slender and graceful frame- which unfortunately was now slightly tubbier around the middle due to a recent addiction to McVites  Chocolate Digestives- was trembling in anticipation. “She has been waiting here for you to get home…“

An awful, awful feeling churned through my stomach. It was all coming back to me, for I’d been in a very similar situation only a few weeks ago. How could she? After what happened last time?

“Mum,” I interrupted haughtily before she could say another word. “I want to talk to you.” I grabbed her arm a bit more tightly than I really needed to and steered her to the hallway, away from the kitchen and Mrs Kapoor’s ears.

“Oh Rosy!” she cried happily, oblivious to my obvious outrage. “You know, Mrs Kapoor has a son…”

I groaned loudly, despite my attempt to be discreet about it. I knew it! My mother was trying to set me up with a boy. Again.

I had always thought I was pretty normal for a seventeen year old. I mean, I’m not too short or too tall, my hair is a straight, brown at shoulder length- nothing out of the ordinary. My bust isn’t too extravagant, yet it can be viewed without the need of a magnifying glass. My face isn’t the most unpleasant thing to look at, though I wouldn’t win any beauty pageants exactly. I’m not the stupidest in class, but I’m not exactly the smartest either. I don’t smoke or do any of the crazy drug stuff; only a little alcohol now and then if my parents are in the right mood. I’m right-handed. I like brown bread. I brush my teeth twice a day. Clearly I, Rosaline Brown, am normal. Right?

The only thing that would suggest otherwise is that I never had a boyfriend.

It’s not that I’ve never had the odd crush or admirer. It’s just that I am not too bothered. I could never understand why teenage girls these days wanted to sprout and transform into middle-aged women and be burdened with all the adult responsibilities at such a young age. Get a boyfriend, get married start a family; the idea of these things never appealed to me at all. What was wrong with taking things more slowly?

 My childhood was the best time of my life, and I wasn’t in a rush to leave it all too soon. The truth was, I suppose I was a little afraid of growing up. The idea of mortgages, rent and heating bills made chills go down the back of my spine. Soon I would spread my wings and battle with all the changes and expectations of adulthood. But for now, I would remain a big kid; at least whilst it was still acceptable to scrounge off and depend on my parents.