Amelia's Story (Box Set the Complete Series Books 1 & 2) (21 page)

The call that changed my life

One day on my arrival home from work I received a phone call. It was Dean, my friend from Fire Guard UK.

“Hey
Amelia, it’s me Dean, how are you? He enquired.

“Oh my goodness, Dean! I can’t believe you actually called me,” I cried.

“I promised I would do you silly girl. Look, I am back in Birmingham now and was wondering if you fancied coming up to stay one of the weekends. You can meet all the friends I told you about.”

“I would love to, Dean. In fact
, there is nothing I would love more,” I told him.

I was so happy, not at receiving the call, but that he had kept his promise and had actually called me. I was not accustomed to this. It was agreed that I would travel up to
Birmingham the following Saturday, to join Dean and his friends on a night out in Cosley Town to celebrate his friend’s birthday. I was to stay at his mother’s house and would have my own room.

I was so excited; I spent the rest of that night tearing through my wardrobe, deciding on the right clothes to take to
Birmingham. I wondered what his village was like, he had talked about it so often, how it was a real community, where everyone knew each other and where all the kids had grown up together and went to the same school. I could only wonder at a life such as Dean’s.

The following Saturday, I was packed, and sitting on the platform, eagerly awaiting my train. The journey would take approximately 45 minutes. I was to be met at New Street Station by Dean and Peter, his best friend. I was looking forward to meeting Peter as I had heard so much about him. The train arrived on time and was soon pulling into Birmingham Station. When it stopped I waited for the doors to open and stepped off the train. I was
so nervous as I frantically looked around for my friend. As if by magic, he appeared out of the blue. He ran up to me and gave me the tightest hug. Pulling away, Dean introduced me to Peter.

Wow!
I thought, Dean had failed to mention how incredibly handsome Peter was! He shook my hand, and our eyes locked. It was right there that fate intervened. I suddenly felt very self-conscious, nervous; I had butterflies in my tummy. This was a sensation I had felt with Damian. And I was not expecting to feel like that ever again.

We walked through
Birmingham City and did some shopping, and then caught the 590c bus to Wotton village, which was at least a 50-minute bus ride away. Wotton was a beautiful little village sitting on the border of Warwickshire; it was in the country, quite away from the bustling city of Birmingham. As we passed by all the houses I looked on in amazement. They were all privately owned and so big too. The gardens were for the most part, beautifully cultivated. I was in suburbia! I instantly felt out of place. My heart was racing, as I looked around at the other girls my age passing us by as we stepped off the bus. They all seemed so perfect, dressed to perfection, manicured to within an inch of their lives. I remember looking down at my own not so perfect nails, and made a ball with my hands, so they could not be seen.

Dean said goodbye to Peter, and advised me we would be meeting up with him later in the local pub. I looked back as Peter walked away, and to my astonishment he too was looking over his shoulder, smiling in my direction, and then he gave me a wink before turning on his heels.

That weekend was one of the best of my teenage life, I fell in love for the second time, I made lots of new friends, and the best part of it all was at that time they knew nothing of my past. They accepted me into their tight, neat world, and I felt truly happy. I loved it in Birmingham. I felt instantly at home. This was where I wanted to live. That weekend, there were around 15 of us that went out on the Saturday evening; we all went on a pub crawl in the next town called Cosley, a beautiful old coaching town, steeped in history.

We started at the top of the town and worked our way down, one pub at a time. That night Peter took it upon himself to be my protector from the guys who were all vying
for my attention, he said to me,

“Amelia, if you get nervous at anytime, just kick me under the table, okay?” he suggested.

“Okay, Peter,” I agreed.

The rest of the evening Peter and I exchanged many kicks under the table, followed by sweeping touches of our hands. I had fallen hook, line, and sinker, for this amazingly kind and sweet guy. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world, and totally unworthy of him. At the end of the night, once we had all reached W
otton village, Peter and I briefly broke away from the crowd. We ran behind the back of the library. There against the wall was our first kiss, I was totally blown away. We could barely prise ourselves apart. If it were not for a set of headlights beaming directly toward us, we quite possibly would have stayed like that all evening!

Dean stepped out of the car, with a scrunched up look on his face. I could not understand why he was so upset.

“Amelia, I have been looking for you just about everywhere! I was worried about you!” he shouted.

“I am so sorry, Dean. We have only been gone a few minutes,” I replied.

I said goodbye to Peter, and climbed into the car with Dean and his other friend. Dean just threw Peter a scornful look and drove off. I sat in the back of the car, trying to understand what had just happened. It made no sense at all. We were dropped off outside Dean’s house, and then his friend drove off home. We walked in silence up the front path to Dean’s parents’ house.

“So, Amelia, do you like Peter?” he asked rather sullenly.

“I think I do, Dean. But if you would rather I didn’t, then I won’t go near him again,” I replied, the reality of the situation suddenly dawning on me.

“I was just surprised. That’s all, Amelia. I was not expecting to see the two of you together like that. You see
, I was kind of hoping that you and me would become more than friends in time,” he confessed.

To say I was utterly shocked does not even begin to explain how I felt. In all the time I had known Dean, he had never once given me the slightest indication that he liked me in that way. He had always treated me like a friend. He had never tried to kiss me, and had never looked at me in a way that would have betrayed his feelings. I was now finding myself in a very difficult situation. I got the feeling I was about to lose a good friend. That was something I didn’t want to happen at all. We walked into the house, and Dean showed me to my room and then said goodnight.

I could barely sleep that night. I felt awful that Dean was so hurt. Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about Peter. The following day was the last one of my stay. I was catching the afternoon train back home. I was sad, as I felt this was the last time I would be visiting this pretty little village. I packed my bags and made my way downstairs. Dean had gone to football training as he did every Sunday morning with all his friends. I sat down in the kitchen with his mum, who was profoundly deaf. She was a lovely lady, and it was not long before she was teaching me the alphabet, and then the vowels on my fingers. Before I knew it I was communicating in sign language with Dean’s mother, albeit quite badly! I was in awe of this wonderful woman who had raised two grownup children, who were both of the hearing world. They were a credit to her and her husband. She was totally independent and caught the bus everywhere. In fact, she lived her life as every other mother of a family did. The only difference was, there was a light that went off in the house when the phone was ringing; to alert her when there was an incoming call. The same went for the doorbell.

I held her in such high regard. It made me
realise that everyone has their own personal obstacles to overcome. It was how you dealt with them and then overcame them that mattered. I suddenly felt more normal than I had ever done in my entire life. I was not a freak, with a hidden disability; I had just been born into the wrong family, and that had resulted in many obstacles being placed in my path for me to overcome. I was not a freak. People could not tell just by looking at me that I was brought up in the state-care-system. I was beginning to learn that I needed to overcome my own inner fears.

After spending a lovely morning with Dean’s m
um, I waited for Dean to return so we could catch the bus to New Street Station. Dean arrived home, smiled and then ran upstairs to take a shower. Within 20 minutes I was saying my goodbyes to his parents and heading out the door. Dean and I walked towards the bus stop, and then totally unexpectedly Dean grabbed my arm and guided me towards Peter’s house. My heart was doing ten-to-the-dozen by now.

“I thought you might want to say goodbye to Peter,” he smiled.

“Oh Dean! Thank you so much! I don’t know what to say!”

“You don’t have to say anything, Amelia.”

Dean knocked the door. We waited patiently for what seemed like an age. Then Peter opened the door. He had the widest smile on his face; I noticed his hands were shaking too, as he was not expecting to see me again. Dean went on to explain that it would be cruel of him to stand in the way of true love. He knew his friend felt the same way as I did and apologised for his behaviour the night before. He added he had been naïve in thinking that I had feelings for him, and that it was not my fault at all. I wrapped my arms around him and gave him the tightest hug.

Dean smiled at Peter and said, “I thought you would like to take Amelia to meet her train.”

“Dean, mate, thank you!” was all Peter could say.

We both said goodbye to Dean and
then I followed Peter into his house to meet his parents.

Peter escorted me into the back room, which was rarely used. I sat down nervously crossing my legs. I was so surprised that Peter was just as nervous as I was. I knew I had fallen in love with him, and I equally knew Peter had also fallen in love with me too. There is no greater feeling than that of reciprocated love. Over the coming months I spent almost every weekend in
Birmingham. I completely adored Peter’s parents. They were down to earth, loyal, and adorable. Most of all they accepted me into the family with welcoming arms. I became very close to Peter’s mother; she was like a mother to me as well as a friend. She was honest and open, and all Peter’s friends liked her too. I remember thinking how lucky Peter was. However, I now felt lucky too, as I was blessed with their acceptance of me. This meant more than anything in the whole world to me.

Moving to
Birmingham

After a fair few months, an opportunity was put before Peter and me. One of his friends had been offered a job on a cruise ship, which meant he needed to rent out his flat. He knew Peter and I were thinking of moving in together so he gave us first refusal. We jumped at the chance; Peter informed his parents that we were moving into his friend’s flat together. They were truly amazing about this revelation, which took them by complete surprise. I am not saying they were happy about it. Of course they would rather Peter stayed at home a while longer. However, they just gave us both lots of parental advice about money and bills, and how expensive we would find it. But they also said that they would be there for us if we needed anything. I left Shropshire for the very last time, without a backward glance, just a feeling of sadness at leaving Jake behind, with promises of one day when it was within my power I would come back for him. We hugged and cried that day like we had done once before.

My first couple of weeks in
Birmingham was spent living at Peter’s parents home in Wotton village. I was now working for the Royal Life Insurance Group. I had been sent on a month’s intensive training course, during the weeks before I left Shropshire. The training was held at the Cavern Walk in Liverpool. We had an all expenses paid hotel, a five star hotel no less, called The Adelphi: one of the most impressive hotels in Liverpool at the time. It had two bars, a night club, a beauty salon, and a spa. It had just about everything you could imagine. All meals, all drinks, entry into the night club and just about everything was covered by the company. We could even have free use of the beauty salon. We were very well looked after and treated like royalty by the hotel staff too. This was because Royal Life brought a lot of business to the hotel.

The training was from 9 to 5 each day from Monday to Friday. It was very intensive, and I was not sure I would pass all my modules. The homework we received at the end of each day was just incredible. We would all work in teams of four, and sit in the large tearoom and do our homework together and help each other out with each of our difficult areas of understanding, as the modules were really hard. We all desperately wanted to pass. Once we passed we would become qualified financial advisors, with certificates of qualification to take away with us. Without these we could not work for the company. We had to be F.S.A registered.

I had the most amazing time on this course. Most of the other students were from London. I became very close to a girl the same age as me called Portia. She was very clever, and very elegant. We hit it off straight away because of our love of reading. We were both reading the same book on arrival at the hotel, which sparked an immediate conversation. And from there our friendship was born. The one part of the course that was particularly easy to me was the case studies; I loved reading about all these and equally enjoyed the homework on this section of the modules. The part I disliked the most was having to learn all the legal side of things. It seemed so monotonous, but was a very important part of the course.

At the end of the four weeks, we all sat our exams. It was a very intense two days. Once we had all completed our papers we headed straight for the hotel bar. That night there was a party to end all parties. I danced until 4
.00 a.m. with Portia and a few of the girls. Around 4.30 a.m., we all fell into our rooms and did not surface until lunchtime the following day.

I
awakened with a throbbing headache; Portia had slept where she had fallen. We needed to find our way to the vast tearoom for two o'clock that afternoon to receive our exam results. It was already nudging one o'clock. I shook Portia awake, until she started moaning!

“Come on, Portia. We have just under an hour to wakeup, grab a coffee, shower, dress, and meet the director in the tearoom for our results,” I shouted excitedly.

“Ugh! What time is it Amelia?” groaned Portia.

“It’s just after 1
o'clock in the afternoon, Come on! Get up! We don’t want to be late, Portia. It wouldn’t look good, would it?” I shoved a coffee in her hand and made my way to the bathroom.

At 1.50 pm, we both headed downstairs towards the tearoom. This
was one of the most impressive rooms I had ever seen. I just loved it. It was like those incredibly vast rooms, filled with beautifully upholstered furniture, chaise lounges, chestnut tables, high back chairs on delicately carved legs. The ceiling was so high and impressive, with a beautiful giant chandelier in the centre. The ceiling was painted beautifully; a mural adorned the vast space. A period painting lovingly painted by some incredible artist.  I thought that was awe-inspiring.

We waited for what seemed like a lifetime for the Director to arrive with our results. I was so nervous I could hardly bear it. The anticipation was almost too
much. Then he walked in, cool, confident, and very serious. I was just 20-years-old, the youngest on the course. Most of the students ranged from 27 to 40 years old. We all sat in complete silence while he gave us all a pre talk. A waiter came to each one of us offering us all a glass of wine. The sight of alcohol made me want to throw up, as I was still suffering the effects of the night before.

Finally the speech was over and we were each handed a large white envelope, this envelope was holding our future in it. As we took our envelopes, some paused, some walked to the back of the room, and some of us stayed seated where we were. I opened mine, took a deep breath and read the contents. I really had to contain myself; I was screaming inside, I had the biggest grin on my face. I had passed with a Distinction. I could not believe it: me! Amelia! A girl from nowhere with a very poor education had passed the very stringent financial advisors’ course. I had passed each and every module. I just could not believe it! I was a qualified financial advisor at the grand old age of 20
-years-old. I had never felt so proud of myself in my entire life. I held onto my certificate as if my whole life depended on it. It might not have seemed like much to some, but it was everything to me. This piece of paper would open so many more doors for me that would have otherwise been slammed in my face.

I was now fully equipped to advise people on mortgages, financial advice, pensions, savings, investments in the stock market, and so much more. Whatever happened in the future, this certificate gave me wings. I was on the ri
ght path towards my destiny. Nevertheless, I still had a long journey ahead.

I spent that last weekend in
Liverpool, shopping, celebrating with my new-found friends and generally touring that great city, before I left.

So here I was, living in
Birmingham, a fully qualified financial advisor a few months into my job, occasional model, armed with a whole stack of new friends! I was happy, in love, and had a great job. Peter was training to be an accountant studying his AATs. The day came for us to move out of Peter’s parents’ home and into our rented apartment. It was a studio; it was small, but it was all ours for 12 months. We felt like we were on the top of the world, I went shopping to Wellsbourne Market with Peter’s mother for all the immediate things that we would need: bed linen, quilts, pillows, a kettle, crockery, an iron and ironing board and a fair few other bits and pieces. Peter’s mum was so kind and bought those first items for us both as a moving-in present to save us some money.

I felt like I had won the jackpot. I felt richer than a millionaire. I had everything I wanted. We made our rented apartment look like a hom
e, rather than the bachelor’s pad it was before. We were just two miles up the road from all of our friends and Peter’s parents. Once we were settled in, we took regular walks to the village for Sunday lunch at his parents’, and to meet our friends in the local pub on a Saturday night. Sunday mornings was football training for Peter, and aerobics for me. I would head off to the sports centre with Peter’s friends’ girlfriends. Afterwards, we would all jog the two miles back to the village. We were all so super fit. We became good friends and soon we were going to aerobics four times a week. Peter and his friends were football training at least two or three times a week. Our lives were full and busy for the right reasons.

There were about six couples; we were all pretty close. We often went out for dinner together, or we would go clubbing together. On long summer days we would all head over to the water parks for lazy afternoon picnics. It was quite perfect for a long time. Before I knew where
the time had gone I had been living in Birmingham over 18 months. My relationship with Peter was an intense one; we were both so deeply in love. I thought he was just perfect, he was so fit, and gorgeous, and I noticed many other girls thought so too. But at that time I was confident enough in my relationship for it not to bother me. Peter’s parents always remained supportive; they were incredible parents.

I admired Peter’s parents. I thought he was very lucky. However, I felt very blessed that they had accepted me into their family unit whole heartedly. I could see why he was so confident in all that he did. He had a brother called Kyle who was completely different. Peter and I did everything together; it was as if we were one person at times. We had a great social life; we went out most weekends, whether it was an evening in the local pub or a visit in the city for a night of clubbing.

One lazy Sunday afternoon we decided it was high time we took a trip abroad together. After much deliberation we chose Greece. I was so excited: my first trip abroad with a boyfriend! We went to the travel agents and booked a ten-day self-catering holiday. We were to fly out in early September, and staying in some lovely apartments with a south-facing balcony, just a stone’s throw from the beach. Peter and I went on a few shopping trips to stock up on bikinis and shorts as well as all the usual stuff one needed for the perfect holiday. I was in seventh heaven: the perfect boyfriend, a holiday to Greece, and our own little rented apartment.

All was going so well, until we received word from Peter’s friend who had been away working on the cruise ships. He stated that he was coming home to stay, and that he would need his apartment back. This was the last thing we needed to hear the week before we were heading off on our holidays. I was really upset. Where were we going to live? How would we find somewhere so soon? I had got so used to living in our little studio apartment, I never really thought about what we would do on his friend’s return. Peter was not worried at all. He was very laid back, and nothing fazed him at all. A couple of days after the call, I received news from my employer that my services, along with those of five other temporary staff, were no longer required. So
, within less than five days I was going to be homeless and without a job.

I could feel my old friend tapping on my shoulder: the darkness, my nemesis. To me this meant everything; but to Peter it was just a blip. We always had his parents’ home to return to, he advised me. This was not what I wanted; although at the time I loved them as if they were my own parents. I preferred
for us to live on our own, independently from anyone else. This was so important to me, and something I could never quite make Peter understand. I had noticed a shift in our relationship before we headed off on our holidays, but I chose to ignore it. I did not want to face the reality that maybe; just maybe, we were not quite as close as we had once been.

I was starting to feel insecure. I had noticed his eyes wan
dering when we were out socialising. This had never happened before. At first I thought I was just being paranoid, but it soon became apparent that I was not. I prayed that our holiday would bring us closer together once again. We would revert to the way we used to be, impenetrable. Over the coming days I carefully and lovingly packed both our suitcases, sorted out the traveler’s cheques, and made sure we had an ample supply of sun cream. I did everything possible to put all negative thoughts to the back of my mind. After having a talk with Peter he convinced me I was being silly and that I was his princess and always would be.

It was easier to accept Peter’s word, than contemplate life without him. I knew that if we were to split up, I would lose not only a boyfriend, I would also lose my friends, as they were the friends he had grown up with. I would lose his family, who I had taken on board as my own. And I would have nowhere to live. Peter could always go home; but me, well, I couldn’t. I would lose everything that I had in my life at that time. I just knew I was not ready for that or strong enough to deal with yet another loss in my life, as this usually resulted in me losing everything I had.

Our holiday to Greece came and went in a flash; we had the most amazing time. It was both romantic and adventurous. We made love just about everywhere we could on that holiday. We hired a moped to take us around the island; we happened upon small private coves with cut-off private beaches to which we had to climb down. The only alternative would have been to reach those coves by boat. We headed down the side of the cliffs with a picnic basket in hand. The moped was parked at the top and we just hoped that no one decided to take off with it!

We laid out the picnic, and stripped off naked, it really was that private, no one could just walk by, and we could soon dress if we heard a boat coming! We lay sunbathing, catching
a tan, reading books for hours and occasionally getting up for a lengthy swim to cool down. Eventually, we fell asleep on the beautiful white sandy beach for what seemed like an age, and then I was woken up by a man talking.

I sat bolt upright, feeling very conscious that I was stark naked. Coming out of the water before me was a much older man, totally naked, walking towards me with all the confidence in the world. I nudged Peter awake. He sat up and struggled to hold back a laughing fit which was proving very difficult for him. I then had to look away, while struggling to pop on my kaftan! I could not look the man in the face. However, after a few minutes of talking it soon became apparent that he was harmless, and that he had a boat anchored around the corner, he said we could join him on the boat for a drink if we liked. We declined, and wished him a good day after sharing our sandwiches with him.