Somebody That I Used to Know

“Charlotte,” I heard my mother call through the front door of the house as they walked inside. Stepping out of my room where I was listening to my iPod quietly I ran down the hallway before launching myself into my Mum’s arms. I felt her body her tense at the sudden show of affection before her arms slowly encased around me in a firm hug. “Hello, what’s wrong?” she asked worry ringing in her tone.

“Nothing just wanted to give my Mum a hug,” I looked up and watched as Dad walked inside lugging an oversized bag in his hands clutching the car keys in his mouth. I smiled up at my father and watched as he struggled into the house. Giggling I pulled away from Mum and walked over to help him bring the luggage in. I reached out and grabbed the leather straps from Dad.

The keys fell from his lips, clattering onto the ground.

“Squirt, what happened?” he asked as he ran one of his big hands over the material that covered my hand.

“Nothing, just a bit of an accident. A vase broke and I was silly enough to pick it all up,” I smiled looking up at him, he smiled but questioning flashed in his dark irises. He let go of the bag leaving it for me to bare the weight. “Geez. What have you got in here?” I grunted as I struggled with the case.

“Some surprises,” my eyes suddenly lit up and I hobbled toward the lounge room trying to be as fast as I could, I heard Mum laugh from the kitchen her shoes tapping on the floor boards as she followed me into the room.

“How is Nana?” I asked as I began to unzip the case.

“Fighting fit, she misses you.”

“I miss her,” I stated as I flipped the top open my mouth fell agape. In the case were several shopping bags filled with clothes and shoes as well as a few books and novels stuffed down the side. “Oh my…”

“They’re not all for you.” I pouted before reaching into the bag and pulling out a bright pink plastic bag with the word Billabong written across it. I reached in and felt the soft material before pulling out a pair of bright red polka dot bathers, a one piece that had been inspired by the nineteen fifties era. I squealed before clutching it to my chest.

“I love this… it’s gorgeous.”

“You’re Dad thought you’d like it.”

“Well he certainly knows me,” I giggled as I placed the item of clothing down and begun to dig around in the bag for more. I skimmed across the plastic bags until my fingers grazed over a course paper bag, grasping it in my hands I pulled it out and looked at the logo on the front.

Angus and Robertson.

I squealed before tipping the bag up and three books fell from the bag Stolen: A Letter to my Captor, The Lost Hero and Jessica. I picked the novels up scanning the covers intently, feeling the smooth plastic covers, opening them I inhaled the intoxicating smell of new paper and ink.

“Thanks, I love them,” I smiled looking up at my mother my dark eyes locking with her mahogany coloured ones.

“Oh your Nana sent over a few classics they’re in there somewhere… I think she sent Peter Pan, Treasure Island, The Wishing Chair… and a few others,” my eyes widened and I began to dig through the bag removing everything until I saw a green shopping bag, grabbing I pulled it out and undid the top.

I gasped when I saw the old stories, stories that I remembered from my childhood, stories that Nana and Grandpa would read to me before I went to sleep. Reaching in my hand I pulled out one of the large books, a picture book.

The Twelve Dancing Princesses.

“She still had it,” I whispered as tears filled my eyes a watery smile spreading across my face at the memories of my Nana sitting on the side of my bed as Grandpa cuddled me close. Memories of my Grandmother dressed in her floral night dress and flannel dressing gown a warm smile on her face as she read the words from the pages bringing them to life.

“Of course she still had it Lottie, she refused to part with it.” Mum whispered her words soft, I looked at her a faint smile was on her face, one mixed with happiness, sympathy and pain. I sniffled and swiped at my eyes.

“Gosh look at me, crying over a book…” I laughed weakly.

“And the memory that goes with it.”

“I miss them Mum… I want to go back home.”

“I know you do but this job is important… plus you Nana said you can go over and visit whenever you want,” I smiled weakly and looked down at the book clasped in my hands.

“There’s more to it isn’t there?”

“What? No.” I lied, I wasn’t ready to tell Mum about what was really going on and why I wanted to leave London, why I wanted to go back home and spend time with my family and friends away from all this drama.

“Lottie, I am your mother, I know you… what’s wrong?” I bit my lip and tore my eyes away from Mum’s shaking my head.

“Nothing.”

“Is it about Niall?”

I shook my head even though my chest constricted at the memory and a sour taste rose in my throat, “no,” I mumbled forcing a smile across my face to make sure Mum didn’t suspect anything. After I had said that Dad wandered into the lounge room falling down on the couch an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he closed his eyes.

“Tired are you Honey?”

“Mmm…” he mumbled a deep sound from the back of his throat. I looked at my Dad taking in his appearance, his flaming hair curled around his face framing his sleek face, I had gathered my flaming hair from my father but got my mother’s brown eyes and curvy figure, however I had gained my father’s prominent cheek bones, the one feature I loved.

“Thanks for the bathers I love them,” a ghost of a smile spread across his face.

“That’s good,” he muttered his voice thick with sleep. I smiled and got to my feet grabbing my bags cradling the picture book to my chest as I rose to my feet and walked toward my bedroom.

Entering I walked over to my wardrobe and pulled out an old shoe box, blowing the dust off the top I slowly flipped it open.

There were several envelopes all different colours, some bright red others a plain white, there were yellow envelopes, tattered envelopes anything under the sun. Reaching in one of my hands I pulled out the most recent envelope, beautifully curved handwriting spelled out my name.

Charlotte Evans.

Flipping the red envelope over I read the name.

Charlie Liddle

Pulling the letter from the envelope I unfolded it and smiled at the first few opening paragraphs.

Holy shit!
You’re dating the one and only Niall Horan… you are dating that Irish sex God!
Screw the Dear Lottie!
Wow… Congratulations my dear sweet innocent Lottie.

I looked the date and saw that it was dated in the 12th June.

It was September.

Three months had passed and I still hadn’t written.

Reading over the letter again I walked over and grabbed my letter writing kit from my bedside table and set myself down at my desk.

I needed to get this out.

I wanted to tell her.

She was my best friend.

One of my only friends that I would share this with.

How I really felt.

How Niall Horan was my first true love.

Gently I placed my pen to paper and began to write.

Dear Charlie Bear…