Finding time to sit down with Jackson proved more challenging than I'd initially anticipated. Somehow, we were now in February and he'd been away on business or just ridiculously busy for most of January for one reason or another. If it wasn't for the fact that Constance hadn't seen him for more than a couple of fleeting moments, I'd have been forgiven for thinking that the man was avoiding me. Jackson was so flat out that he'd not even made it over to Constance's for a single meal since the night we'd initially discussed the project. I was starting to worry that he was working himself into the ground, but Constance assured me it was only a short term issue.
Regardless of only living there a short time, Jackson's absence weighed on my mind more than perhaps it should have. The last week or so, I'd suffered heavily with disrupted sleep thanks to flashes of things that were again making no sense. Jodie and Ruby were both baffled by the details I relayed to them, so I was hoping that by being more detached, Jackson could give some objectivity. One tiny shining light was that I was once again able to jot things down in my journal, as the police had returned my stolen property. The relief at having my belongings back and the knowledge that my tormentor had finally been charged thanks to some pretty damning forensic evidence was much needed. To say I was shocked, was possibly the biggest understatement of the year so far, and something I was keen to share with Jackson given his involvement. I also needed to tell him about my burgeoning relationship with Tristan before things got too serious. While we didn't think Jackson would have cause to be concerned, I was keen to make him aware sooner rather than later just in case. It would be much easier to resolve any issue he might have while things were still in the early stages than when we might be more attached to each other or invested in things.
Staring out of the bedroom window, the trees in the walled garden opposite were just beginning to show the first buds of spring. A strong breeze whipped around the boughs, jostling the fledgling leaves and blossom hypnotically as my fingers toyed idly with the mobile phone resting on the desktop. I contemplated for maybe the hundredth time whether to call Jackson, eventually talking myself out of it, gently shoving the shiny gadget to the far edge of the table that now served as my centre of operations for Constance's project. The dining room had proven impractical for me to use as a base seeing as I'd have to pack up what I was in the middle of every time the table was needed for a meal, or so Constance could use it when she hosted her bridge ladies.
The piece of furniture had been a bargain find on an afternoon wander around Camden Market with Tristan the previous weekend, having spotted it tucked at the back of a stall filled with upcycled wooden furniture. The legs had been coated in paint a few shades darker than the wardrobe in my bedroom, while the surface was stripped right back to the grain and coated in a light wax, leaving the faint scars of imperfection visible. There was nothing remarkable about such a simple piece of furniture, yet the affinity I felt for it was found in the similarities I could see between myself and its restoration. The real character was there, buried beneath layers which had been lovingly and painstakingly stripped back to reveal the truth beneath, along with the history. It was the very same reason I'd bought the armchair that Jodie was currently storing for me, but I digress.
That little table was perfect for what I needed, and for the space available by the window in my room. It was also thankfully, small enough that we could get it in the back of a cab for the short journey home. Leaning back in the chair Constance insisted I take from the corner of the kitchen, I exhaled in frustration. The urge to speak to Jackson scorched at the edges of my mind, preventing any form of concentration on the latest pile of papers I was trying to shepherd into some semblance of order.
From the moment I opened up the fluorescent box Constance handed over, it became glaringly apparent that it was going to take some time to get things in order. I'd made some great progress on getting Constance organised for the arts centre but today, it just seemed to be too much of a task for me.
YOU ARE READING
A Fractured Echo
RomanceWhat would you give to be able to erase your history, to start your life over with a clean slate? For some, this is the stuff of dreams, but for one woman that reality is laced with fear and uncertainty. Building a new life becomes infinitely hard...
