Amelia's Story (Box Set the Complete Series Books 1 & 2) (20 page)

It was then that he told me he was heading back to
Ipswich the following day. My heart stopped. I could not stem the flow of tears falling down my cheeks. He brought his hand up to my face and wiped away my tears.

“Amelia, it’s only a few months. I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised.

“Why do I feel like I will never see you again, Damian? You will meet someone else and forget all about me,” I cried.

“You know that’s not true, Amelia. When I am in
Ipswich I don’t have the time for anything but training and sleeping. Trust me, I won’t meet anyone else.”

Before I knew it the bus was in sight. Dami
an said he would call me in a few days.

“Be good, Amelia,” he said. Then he kissed me once more and jumped on the bus. He walked to the back and waved through the window. I waited until the bus was out of sight. And then I cried all the way home. My heart was so heavy.
All I wanted to do was lie down on my bed alone and cry.

Over the next few weeks I didn’t hear from Dami
an. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The weeks turned into months, and I had all but given up on him. One day while I was out shopping for a new dress in the town centre, I bumped into his friend, Dexter. I asked him if he had heard from Damian. I was not prepared for what he told me. Apparently, Damian had been home recently for a weekend, and he had been seen out with another girl, who he believed to be his new girlfriend. I was devastated. Dexter was so kind, he hugged me and gave me a shoulder to cry on. I spent the rest of that afternoon drinking coffee in a café, pouring my heart out to Dexter.

Shortly after that day I started dating Dexter and we had become very close. We would often meet up and go to
Cascades
together. He would always see me home afterwards. I really liked him a lot, but not in the same way as I had liked Damian. It was not until many years later that I realised I had started dating Dexter on the rebound. And it was not until I was in my 30s that I found out that I had been deceived by Damian’s friend. He had lied to me, thinking I would never find out, as Damian was always away now, and did not come back home very often. Damian had not met anyone else at all. Who knows what may have happened between Damian and me, if his friend had not intervened. I discovered also that Damian believed I had simply just gone off with his friend.

I dated Dexter for a few months, until I discovered that he was also seeing my best friend behind my back. Back then mobile phones did not exist, if you wanted to make a private call to anyone out of earshot, you had to use a phone box. This particular night, I made my way to the phone box down the road, a typical red one, of the likes you don’t see very often these days as nearly all have been replaced. I phoned my friend Stacey; however, her phone was engaged, so I dialed Dexter’s number, and his phone was engaged too. I thought
I am not walking all the way back, just to come out again later
, so I continued trying both their numbers until one became free. That was when I discovered their secret; I dialed Stacey’s number once again. It started ringing. Then an awful thought formed in my mind. I tried to tell myself I was being ridiculous; however, I could not shake off this uneasy feeling. I placed the receiver back on the hook, and then redialed Dexter’s number almost immediately after dialing Stacey’s and his too was now fre
e‒
their numbers had become free at the same time. I felt sick. The thought of being duped yet again did not bear thinking about. With tears streaming down my face, and a lump in my throat, I dialed Dexter’s number again.

“Hello, Dexter speaking,” he said quite jauntily.

“Hey, Dexter it’s Amelia. I have just got off the phone to Stacey,” I lied.

“Mmm oh, yes well,
urm, so you know then,” he offered, assuming Stacey had told me everything and that this was why I was calling.

“No Dexter, I did not know, I just suspected. Thanks for confirming my suspicions. Oh, and by the way, I no longer want to see either of you again. You and Stacy are welcome to each other.

In a matter of minutes I had lost both my best friend and yet another boyfriend. I was so unhappy. I could not believe Stacey could do that to me. We had been so very close, we went everywhere together: clubbing, shopping, ice skating, and to the gym. What was I going to do now? I was not very good at dealing with loss; I discovered this seemed to affect me greatly. Once I placed my trust in someone, I expected their trust in return. It just did not occur to me in any way shape or form that they could possibly break that trust.

Was it me? I asked myself over and over again. I had just about had enough of people; I started to believe that the only real person who could be trusted was yourself. You know where you are with yourself, you can trust yourself. I decided the sooner I found a job that would take me away from this
Godforsaken town, the better. There had to be more to life than this small town. After all, there was a whole world out there for me to discover.

A road less travelled

Over the next few months I found a new job, working away from home. For me, it had been a scary move to enter the unknown, once again putting my safety into the hands of others, something I was never comfortable with. However, it was also something I had to do if I was to find my destiny. This was a job I had chosen to take for two reasons: it took me far away from my mother, and I got to see the whole of my country, from one end to the other. I was to be a sales rep for a company called Fire Guard
UK. This seemed the perfect answer to me. I was to be picked up the following Saturday and taken to Burnham-On-Sea. I was so excited, I couldn’t wait.

With
in less than two weeks, I had joined 20 other young teenage sales reps. We were all put up in a caravan park. We were given a brief training session and then the following Monday morning we were all taken out in the two red Fire Guard UK vans, and dropped off on well-chosen estates, two by two. The van drivers were also the owners of the company. We were armed with a folder, a poor sales pitch, and advised that we had to get at least six sales per day each. I had no idea that this company I had joined naively in my desperation to leave my small town was already the subject of investigation by the TV programme, “Watch Dog”.

I spent 18 months working for this company. The days were long, the pay was poor, and the expectations were very high. I was very friendly, and spent more time drinking cups of tea, and having conversations with most of my potential customers than I did trying to sell them something they simply did not want. I certainly was not going to force people to buy
anything, and I chose to ignore the advice given to me each Sunday evening when we had our sales meeting. This would always be about “Pressure.” “Don’t accept no for an answer,” we would be told. I did not like this door-step selling. And I needed to move on. This was not for me. I did not like the tactics they were using. The fact that they would make us feel so guilty if we did not make our daily quota of sales, just confirmed to me this was not a very moral company.

The staff turnover was quite considerable. The salespeople were never older than 21. Most teens lasted a month, maybe two at most. The reason I lasted so long was because I really did not want to go back to that small depressing town I had left 18 months previously. We pitched up in a different town or city every two weeks; we would stay there for a couple of weeks and then moved on. Our accommodation was always in caravan parks, or very cheap bed and breakfasts. This would initially be paid for by the owners of the company and then taken directly out of our wages each week. For the most part we would be lucky to receive anything more than £35 a week. However, our food, and accommodation
were paid for. And I got to travel around the width and breadth of the country. I discovered a great love for Devon, Cornwall, Somerset, and the Lake District, to name but a few. I was seeing the whole of my country, and the weekends were ours to do as we pleased. A few of us would go walking, or swimming, or just visit local museums and libraries.

I did not care about the low pay we received. In my view, it was a great trade off, as I got to travel and see my country. I could not have afforded to visit so many beautiful parts of
England at that age otherwise.

One day a young man called Dean, from
North Warwickshire, joined the company. He was a year or so younger than me. We became great friends. He was genuine and kind. We had such a laugh together for the duration of my time at Fire Guard UK. He was from a little suburban village called “Wotton.” He had told me so much about his beautiful little village and all his friends. He had many, and they had all grown up in the same village and gone to school together there. He spoke affectionately about his best friend, Peter, saying he would love for me to meet him one day, and that I must come and visit him and his friends. He would take me to all the local pubs, and I could stay at his mother’s house in the village. This sounded wonderful to me. As far as I was concerned, he had the picture perfect upbringing: a great family, lots of friends that he had grown up wit
h‒
all the things I had missed out on.

One day I decided it was my time to leave the company. I c
onfided in Dean, and told him that I would be catching the train home the following day. I was surprised to discover that Dean was also contemplating moving on. Although I was not keen on the job, I had enjoyed meeting lots of people from all walks of life. I had seen much during my travels, and I had also grown up some more. I had now seen all four corners of my country, and what a beautiful country England was. I favoured the Lake District, for its untouchable beauty and vast space. I felt so free there; I opened my wings and breathed in the natural air, unpolluted, and so fresh.

I had ticked a box on my ever-growing wish list; I had travelled the width and breadth of my country. Now I needed to travel the world. However, that would be sometime away just yet, as this wish of mine required lots of money I did not yet have.

I left Fire Guard UK. I had just £35.00 in my pocket, and a bundle of enthusiasm. I made the journey back to Shropshire with a heavy heart. This would be just for a short time, I convinced myself. As a teenager struggling to carve a decent life for myself, I was beginning to realise that my destiny was further away than I had imagined. A lot of hard work was needed to realise my most important dream of one day becoming a home owner and an author. I had a head full of amazing stories. I was already well read for my age, as reading was always my saviour, my escape from reality.

I was back at my mother’s house; we pretty much kept out of each other’s way. However, there were times when I saw a different woman, one that had not visited me often in my life. Some days she seemed to make an effort; she would be pleasant, and quite nice to be around. I actually found myself liking this woman; however, it never lasted long; that rarely seen nice woman would very soon be replaced by the she-devil. And once again my hopes of having a real mother would be dashed. I hated the feeling that it gave me. It was like giving your utmost trust once again in desperation that things would change for the better; wanting things to change for the better, and the possibility of having a proper mother and daughter relationship. Oh, how I needed a parent! A real parent. One that could advise me, help me on my way, point me in the right direction. But this would never be the case. Leopards never change their spots; they just get older, and less intimidating. This was my road
; I was destined to travel alone. There was no tour guide, no leaflet, just my own intuition. I just prayed for my intuition. My 0-Levels, of which I was very proud, and had paid for myself at night school, would get me to where I needed to go. I was very clear about one important fact: I needed to go back to night school at some point. I needed to do some sort of business course or accounts course, and then I could apply for a job that paid a decent salary. One that would elevate me to the next level of my plan. But first I needed to decide on my very immediate step. This proved difficult, with very little money and just my enthusiasm and energy to help me along. I had very limited opportunities. Why was life so hard?

Life was also very unfair, and it made no sense to me at all. Some people were bad all their lives and yet they were rewarded with good fortune and good luck. Then there were others who spent their lives trying to do the right thing, having nothing but bad luck, and bad fortune. Why is this? This made no logical sense to me. Sur
ely it should be the other way around, I would often tell myself.

One step forward two steps back

I decided to get in touch with Mr. Harris once more, in the hope that he could find me a modeling job or two. In the meantime I would look for a day job that would pay enough money to cover all my mother’s demands and save enough money to finally leave once and for all. Thankfully, Mr. Harris was more than glad to take me on again; he had a couple of jobs for me. The first was a one-off for an independent period costume boutique. I was
delighted; I got to dress up for the day in period costumes. I felt like Juliette, from the unrequited love story “Romeo and Juliette” it was an amazing day. I got paid £50, which was a huge amount of money for me then. I stashed it away towards my future. The next job had not been so easy to obtain. I had to go to a casting and just hope that I was chosen. There was a new hotel in the town where the castings were going to take place. We had to walk up and down in front of a panel of judges, who just looked you up and down, with very straight faces, giving nothing away at all. Then all the girls had to wait for a few days for that dream phone call. I know it wasn’t for supermodel of the year or anything like that, but it was for a fashion hous
e‒
one that would bring repeat work.

I waited for days for that call, which did eventually come. I w
as ecstatic to say the least. I had been chosen above 200 hundred other girls to model swim wear. And this brought with it a nice financial package for the duration of the job. It would be for one season only. And the shoots would take place all over the country. Over the next few months I went along to do five shoots. In addition, each time, I was also able to keep the swimwear I modeled, which was an added bonus. I loved modeling; I was taken good care of, and treated with great respect. I was sensible enough to know that at just 5.5 feet tall I could never be a catwalk model, I was far too small. I was a photographic model, which at that time had a much shorter life span. Also, thoughts on the size of models were much different then. You had to be a certain size, and maintain that size for continued work. Plus-sized women developed as an area much further in the future. Not that I was a plus-sized model. At size 8 to 10, I was an acceptable size for photographic modeling. But I feared if I put weight on I wouldn’t be hired any more. The pressure of that alone was intense. I didn’t tell my mother about this job, as I knew she would expect a cut from the money earned. So I was able to save it.

I started eating like a bird to ensure I maintained my weight. This was torture for me as I loved my food. I had to be very careful as I also discovered I put weight on easily if I took my eye off the ball. So my days were filled with eating very little, running like an athlete, and putting myself under incredible pressure. To me this was about my journey, my destiny. This was not to become a great model; on the contrary, it was a route towards fulfilling my wish list. After that summer the job came to an end. I was paid handsomely and had an updated portfolio to be proud of. I had a day job working in a music production factory, producing and packaging cassette tapes. In the very late ’80s computers were just making their way into manufacturing, and I seemed to take to them naturally. I was placed in the back office, on the Sinclair computers, testing all the cassette tapes! It was fun, and seen as a very good job within the factory. I was paid £95.00 a week plus over
-time. I was always working over-time. Saturday and Sunday mornings were the norm for me. There would only be a handful of us working on these days.

I would take any odd modeling job that I could get. With both jobs I earned a fair wage for my age. I was saving quite well. However, since I had started modeling I had developed a love for fashion. I went through a spending phase, one that saw my wardrobe triple over the months. I discovered that when I looked good, I felt good. Like all teenagers, I wanted to fit in, but not at the cost of my soul. I would not lose myself again. I would no longer hide in a corner praying I would go unnoticed, as I had done for many years while I’d been in care. No, I was now free, and it felt good to be myself, in the way I wanted to be, not the way others wanted me to be.