The unexpected

CARLA

P R E S E N T D A Y:

It had been four months since I left. I was now living in the beach house in Torquay(Devon), after a long and hard think, I decided to stay here officially.

Initially, I only wanted to be here a few weeks, a month tops, but as soon as I got here I fell in love.

It wasn't directly on the beach, but it had beautiful views. It was only a ten minute walk, maybe less, and the neighbours were so friendly. Of course I didn't tell them my situation, or at least not the full story, but they were very welcoming.

I'd made a few acquaintances, but no one enough to be a friend. But then no one would ever compare to Alison anyway. She visited frequently, and luckily is coming to stay during the summer period. She's a teacher like James so as soon as July 21st hits she's all mine.

Just one week to go.

I also made a investment using my inheritance. I decided to purchase an old hotel on the sea front. It cost me five hundred thousand, but that's nothing compared to what's actually sitting in my bank account. Or shall I say my savings.

I still hadn't come to terms with the money. Every time I looked in my savings my stomach would roll over into a mess until I was nearly sick. It's more to do with the fact he never told me. That he kept a secret for so long, and pretended it wasn't there. Then what's even more confusing is the fact he made a will so he could leave it all to me. How did he think it was going to plan out? That I would jump up and down and say 'your dead, but I've got all this money I never knew about. Great!'. Of course he probably never planned on dying so soon, nobody does, but that doesn't make it logical. It just gives him an excuse to do it. Nevertheless, no one gave him a dignified reason to lie to me. There was no reason to lie to me. When you marry someone you're supposed to tell them everything.

I sighed, letting my head fall into my palms, as I realised I'd had this mental rant with myself nearly everyday over the past four months. I was starting to get bored of it, yet I was still repeating it in my head.

It's as if I was trying to find something, anything, like an explanation for it all. Like when you proof read your university essays over and over so you can find what needs changing; eventually you pick the bits out. But right now I've been trying to pick bits out for four months, and I've got nothing. Completely, utterly lost.

Maybe the Hotel was a rational choice because I didn't know what else to do with the money. I was starting to panic having it in the bank staring at me. It's as if it was judging me, telling me I had to do something with it; pressuring me even.

But another part of me was also motivated to start something new. I realised, after moving here, I couldn't carry on living my old life - a nurse, in our two bedroom small apartment, in the centre of Birmingham. I needed more. Not just because I had the money - because trust me it changes things (whether I wanted it to or not), but because everything in my previous life was associated with Max. It revolved around Him.

When I first met Max I lived at home with my parents. I was happy doing that. Especially once I was qualified. Being a nurse never paid much, but I still had around fifteen hundred a month to myself, a few hundred went to mom, but the rest was all mine. It was easy. Then I met Max. We hit it off straight away, and within three months I'd moved in. Along with a beautiful diamond on my left hand. I suppose you could say we'd only been together a year and a half altogether being married and dating, but I felt I knew him. I thought I could trust him. Anyway, since then everything has revolved around him. My friends were friends with his friends, the apartment we shared, everything had his name on. So I needed to start anew.