Amelia's Story (Box Set the Complete Series Books 1 & 2) (23 page)

My complete breakdown

My nemesis had returned almost immediately following my breakup with Peter. I hadn’t seen it for a while, and then one morning there it was. It had a strong hold on me, choking me, I could barely breathe. Once again I had fallen into my abyss. I had no wish to open the curtains, or get out of bed. I had no appetite. My will was weak, and getting weaker by the day. I had no one to help me through it; no one to tell me everything was going to be okay. I had no idea where I was going to live.
I didn’t have the strength even to think about all the practicalities of my life. It was all finally too much. One step forward and then two large steps back. It was becoming truly exhausting. How much optimism did a person have to have? At that moment I was not quite sure if I had any fight left in me. I had given up completely.

My breakdown resulted in a bottle of Paracetamol. I just had no fight left in me; I couldn’t bear to trust anyone ever again. Why? Why? Was it me who had to lose everything each time someone wanted to walk away from me? This was the last thing that ran through my mind on that fateful day I was rushed into hospital. All alone in the flat, lying on the floor, it was a young man from the village that called the ambulance. He even came with me to hospital. He was at
university at the time and studying hard; he stayed at the hospital all that first night with me, and studied while I slept. He was so kind to me, and so thoughtful. I was simply heartbroken; I could not imagine ever being happy again.

Peter never came to see me in the hospital; however, he had heard that I had been rushed in. However, Peter’s parents were amazing. They looked out for me, and made sure I did not feel alone. In fact
, it was their kindness that helped me through the awful mess I had found myself in. Sometimes you really have to hit rock bottom before you can truly appreciate life.

Eventually I gained a little weight, I was crying less, and it was then decided that I was fit to be discharged. I went to stay with Peter’s cousin for a few weeks, until I found somewhere cheaper to live. I was on sick leave from work, and still getting paid, so all was not lost. Peter’s mum was very kind and worried about me. She watched over me, and even gave me money to help me get back on my feet again. I really don’t know what I would have done without her support. She truly was like a guiding light through a very dark time.

It was not Peter’s fault I had decided to give up on life that particular day. It was the fault of my entire life and the lasting effects it had on me up to that very moment. It was all the bad things I had gone through collectively that had finally brought me to a standstill that day – not just the break up of a relationship. Peter simply did what most young people do and that was out grow someone, and moved on. He was not to know the devastating effect the breakup of our relationship would have on me.

Starting over once again

A couple of weeks later Olivia came to see me. She had some good news. There was an elderly lady who lived at the other end of the village, who just happened to be looking for a lodger. Her current lodger of three years had recently gone on to pastures new. The lady was called Blanche; she was 64
-years-old, single, and a member of the amateur dramatic society in the village. She still worked, part-time these days as a secretary for a firm of solicitors. She was rather posh and liked things just so. I agreed to a meeting with Blanche to see if we would get on.

The day I met Blanche was a life-changing day, only I did not see it that way at the time! We were so different, I was 24
-years-old, 40 years her junior. I was afraid at first that she would be too strict, and that in her house I would not be able to breathe without her commenting. However, they tell you not to judge a book by its cover. Blanche turned out to be a Godsend. We were good for each other; she understood me, listened to me, and really made me feel as if I could do anything. She was like a guiding angel sent to me at a very low time in my life. Of course, it did take us both a while to adapt to one another. Olivia had brought us together, two single women both in need of companionship for completely different reasons, and it worked.

Blanche had given me a lovely master bedroom. I had a free run of the house, and we soon became friends.  She had already been told about my recent action that had landed me in hospital for a few days. She never once mentioned it. She seemed to understand my heartbroken state. When she could hear me crying after work in my room, she would simply knock on the door, she would not enter; she would just knock it twice and then walk back down the stairs, not wanting to enter my private space without an invitation. Once I opened
the door there was no Blanche; instead, a beautifully made-up tray would be outside my door, with a hot cup of tea and a slice of cake, or a sandwich complete with a napkin. Blanche knew I was not eating very much and was a bit under weight. Again, she never lectured or advised me. She would simply do the most thoughtful things without saying a word. It was because of these very silent gestures that our unspoken bond was formed forever.

I was in awe of her. I had the utmost respect for her. I warmed to Blanche very quickly, and she wanted only a small rent in return for board and lodgings in her beautiful home. She took me in not knowing me at all, and gave me a home; she made me feel welcome in a way I never had expected. We had our meals together each evening after work. She would make me breakfast each morning for when I came downstairs. She was truly amazing. I was very depressed when I moved into Blanche’s home. My nemesis had insisted on moving to Blanche’s with me with no intention of leaving anytime soon. I had lost the man I thought I was going to marry, and I had never considered my life without him. Now here I was single, alone, and having to restart my life on
ce again.

My nemesis would not leave me. Each day I woke shrouded in this dark nothingness.

I felt despair, and discouragement. I decided to apply for a new job in the hope it would make me feel better, and have more prospects for me. There was a huge buzz around about a new project in the West Midlands called “The Channel Tunnel Project.” I applied for the job as “Design Scrutiny Assistant” and within a few days I had totally convinced myself that I had not got the job. Until one day when I received the all-important call advising me that the job was mine. It was on a two-year sub-contracted basis due to the nature of the project. This was the best news I had received in a long while. I jumped up and down and could not wait to tell Blanche. This was just the lift I needed. I was always lucky with positions I applied for, never remembering a time when I had failed an interview.

That evening over dinner, I told Blanche the news. She was delighted. She was genuinely happy for me. The following Saturday I caught the train into the city to go shopping for some new work clothes. I wanted a new suit, shoes, and a coat. I had a lovely day. I met my friend for lunch. We had a bottle of wine to celebrate; we laughed; we talked and we hugged each other. That was the first day out I had been on since parting with Peter. It was a great day, and I went home with a new-found confidence.

The following Monday I turned up at my new place of work early and eager to please. Dressed in a black pencil skirt and white fitted shirt finished off with a pair of black high heeled sling back shoes and my long hair knotted at the nape of my neck. I looked like the ultimate professional woman and I felt confident and very proud of myself for landing such a great role. The job itself was very intense; I occasionally went into work on the weekends to keep on top of my workload. I made new friends from the Derby office and once again my social life picked up. It was not long before my weekends were filled with invitations to wedding receptions, parties and dinners.

I was asked by my friend Sadie, who lived in Derbyshire if I would attend her birthday party the following weekend. She said I could stay at her mother and father’s country pub. She also advised me that there would be lots of local single bachelors and maybe one would catch my eye. I assured her I was not in the market for love anytime soon! Too often I had allowed my heart to get in the way of my head. I was on a journey, and I would not be deterred again. At least not until I had bought my dream house, anyway!

Before I knew it, the following weekend was upon me. My bags were packed and I was on the train to Derby. Sadie met me at the station, and we headed off into the country to her parents’ pub. It was an amazing elegant country pub. The food was their specialty, and people travelled for miles to dine there. This particular Saturday evening the pub was closed to the public and instead kitted out with their daughter’s birthday balloons and banners just about everywhere. It looked amazing. There were fireworks set up in the garden, ice sculptures strategically placed around the pub. I could not believe the trouble Sadie’s parents had gone to for their daughter’s 21
st
birthday party. It was the talk of Derbyshire.

We grabbed a bottle of wine and headed up to Sadie’s room to get ready. A-line mini skirts
were the fashion at the time and I had a beautiful black one and a little fitted jacket to change into topped with black diamante strappy heels. I loved my new outfit and felt excited about the party. Nearly eight months had passed by since I moved in with Blanche, and my whole life had changed: my job, my friends, and my home. Pretty much everything had changed in a short space of time. My nemesis had taken leave a couple of months beforehand, and I was on a roll. I was determined not to encourage a trip into my abyss.

After two hours of preening, drinking, laughing, and dancing to the Ministry of Sound in Sadie’s bedroom, we eventually made our way downstairs to the party, which was already buzzing. I couldn’t believe how many handsome men there were at her party
: some with girlfriends and some without. I was not ready for a new partner, so I mingled from one group to the next, grabbing a glass of wine here and there. I eventually had enough of the loud music and decided to make my way into the garden. It was such a beautiful night. I sat down on the garden chair and just looked out to the vast rape fields in the distance blanketing the scene before me, a beautiful bright yellow. Before I knew it a man approached me,

“Hey my name’s
Adrian. May I ask yours?”

“My name is Amelia,” I replied shyly.

“Lovely name, Amelia. Can I join you?”

“Sure, take a seat, but I am warning you I am not looking for a boyfriend.” I offered just like that!

“Well at least we are clear on that, then. Now, how about I join you and share the view you are admiring so dreamily?” he replied.

I assented with a smile. He was pleasant and unassuming. I felt comfortable with him. It turned out he was a professional “Deep Sea Diver” for a living, with an Engineering degree. He was strawberry blonde; another word for a touch red. He was very pale skinned. We talked for hours. He bought
me many drinks, and by the end of the night I pretty much knew all about him and he knew next to nothing about me, and that was how I liked it. I had mastered the art of having a conversation with someone and revealing very little about myself.

That evening I spent the night with
Adrian. We had a one-night stand. I was not proud of it, and when I woke up the following morning, I looked to my right to see him still there fast asleep. I could not have jumped out of bed quickly enough. I got dressed and flew downstairs, looking for my friend.

“Ah there you are, you little minx, you,” said Sadie.

“Oh my God, Sadie, what have I done?”

“Oh don’t beat yourself up about it Amelia. You just had fun that’s all. And
Adrian is an okay guy. You are both single, so what is the problem?”

“I had one of those mornings after the night before moments, you know, when you look at the person next to you and think, oh God!”

“Well, look, it’s happened. He will be fine about it if you don’t want to see him again. It was probably good for you to let your hair down and have some mindless raunchy sex,” she laughed.

I had to agree with her, so I stopped thinking about it and made my way into the dining room for breakfast, where everyone else was already eating.

“Morning Amelia, come sit over here,” suggested Sadie’s best friend.

At that moment
Adrian walked into the room. He made his way straight over to me and took the vacant chair next to me.

“Do you mind, Amelia?”

“No, no, please sit down,” I replied, a little embarrassed.

Adrian

We sat in silence over breakfast, neither of us knowing what to say. I knew I didn’t want to date
Adrian. I had simply had a drunken one-night stand and was not looking for a boyfriend. Adrian, on the other hand, was in the market for a girlfriend and he made it very clear that he fancied me. I had put myself in this situation so I had to get myself out of it.

I told him I could be friends but nothing else. He seemed fine with this, and said he could do with a new friend. I thought
how sweet
! I really liked him. I just did not fancy him. The following day he offered to take me back to Birmingham and drop me off home. We talked and laughed along the way, and over the weeks became great friends. I believed that he had accepted our friendship and no longer saw me as a girlfriend but more of a best friend.

He was a great friend. He would take me all over the country visiting castles and stately homes… We both loved walking and hiking, so we often went to the
Malvern Hills hiking on summer days. We had the perfect friendship. I had a great deal of respect for him. But I never developed any feelings for him other than those of friendship. Adrian spent months at a time out of the country, in Abudabi, Dubai, Russia, Norway and many other faraway places. During these times he often asked me to board a plane and meet him at his expense. However, I refused for a very long time as I did not want to take advantage of his good nature. But eventually he wore me down and I agreed to meet him in Amsterdam for the weekend. He had sorted out my plane tickets, which would be waiting for me at the desk in the airport. I boarded the plane, and within 45 minutes I was walking through Schiphol Airport, nervous, and praying that Adrian would be there waiting for me at Arrivals. That was the first time I had ever flown in an airplane by myself.

Thankfully, as agreed, he was waiting for me
as promised. The airport was so huge that I could hardly believe it, considering Amsterdam was quite small. Amsterdam was on my places-to-visit list, so I smiled and made a mental tick in my head off my list. We spent the weekend like real tourists, visiting the sites of Amsterdam, including both sides of the canal.  The last special place before I departed Amsterdam to visit was “Ann Franks” house. We walked around the city and we ate in many little Bistros. I even tried a space-cake, which had me giggling all day. No wonder everyone in this city seemed so chilled out, I thought, they were so friendly. Of course they would be with space-cakes and weed on the menus!! But you could not go to Amsterdam and not try one of those famous cakes! The truth was I had eaten three of those cakes, they tasted so good, and the more I ate the more I wanted.

We had a simple hotel, with separate rooms,
Adrian never assumed anything, and made it clear we were best friends now. So I felt totally comfortable with him. The following day he waited with me until my flight arrived, and then waved me off.

I didn’t know until I reached
England that Adrian had slipped a credit card into my pocket, a kind gesture that I couldn’t accept. I was in the taxi on the way home from the airport, sitting back for the ten-minute journey home, when I discovered the Visa card in my pocket with a note stuck to it:

“Amelia, I know what you’re thinking, but please, I have more money than I know what to do with. Please accept this, even if you don’t use it. Keep it for emergencies; at least you know you will always have that security should you need it. Love, Adrian.”

A tear fell from my eyes. Why could I not fall in love with him? He would be perfect. But I just didn’t have those sorts of feelings for him. I started to wonder if he had hopes of us getting together in the future. I needed to know, as I didn’t want to lead him on, and I needed to make sure he understood we could only ever be friends. He was a great friend, sometimes too perfect. I wrote him a letter subtly asking him about our friendship, to make sure he was happy with everything the way it was. I waited two weeks for a reply. A long letter arrived, saying I was being silly, and that of course he understood that we were just best friends, which was better than marriage really as friends often last longer! I laughed at his letter and once again was assured we were singing from the same hymn sheet.

On his arrival back in Britain three months later, he called me and we arranged to go out for dinner. I could not believe the gifts he had brought me back from his trip. There was a large box. On opening it I saw that it was filled with Chanel perfume, Chanel body lotion, Dior sunglasses, and a D&G watch.

…..“Please don’t refuse them, Amelia. I would be really insulted. After all, I have no one else to spend my money on. So who better than my best friend?” he assured me.

I accepted the gifts, and it was that day I developed a great love for Chanel perfume. It is still a favourite to this day.

I said goodbye to Blanche and off we went to dinner. He had booked us a table at none other than the beautiful Walton Hall, a converted stately home which was now a five-star hotel and restaurant. I was very impressed indeed. He ordered Bollinger
Champagne and poured me a glass very elegantly. It was that night I caught him looking at me in a way not used for looking at a friend. He really looked at me with deep and thoughtful eyes. In just an instant I felt his eyes glide all over my body in a dark way. Then before I knew it, he was smiling once again, and my best friend Adrian was back with me.

I convinced myself I was over-reacting, even a little paranoid perhaps.
Adrian only had one glass of champagne, so I polished off the lot slowly during the three courses and over four hours. Adrian said he had a surprise and I was to close my eyes, so I closed my eyes. When I was prompted to open them there were two waiters holding the most amazing pure chocolate cake which said, “For my wonderful best friend.”

I was truly blown away. I could not believe he had gone to all this trouble. He took my hand and said that my friendship meant the world to him, and that he did not
know how he ever managed before without me in his life. I guess right there and then alarm bells should have rung in my ears. But they didn’t – not for a long time afterwards.

Adrian
advised me that he would be heading out to Dubai on a six-month diving contract the following week. Laying pipes at the bottom of the sea bed. I congratulated him on yet another fabulous contract, and told him we could go to dinner before he left the country. Over the next couple of days I worked long hours, and literally came home from work, showered, ate my dinner and fell into bed. So I did not take any calls on Blanche’s landline or at work.

On the third day, I was walking out of the office at the end of a long hard day, and there was
Adrian, standing at the gates waiting for me, not looking at all happy.

“Where have you been?” he shouted furiously.

“What are you talking about Adrian? I have either been here or at home sleeping. I told you I would be working long hours this week. Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet up tomorrow night.”

“Well, I just had to come Amelia. I hadn’t heard from you. I was worried,” he explained.

I looked at him; his eyes were full of confusion and silent anger. I explained to him that I had been busy, and that I was just on my way home. He told me to hop into his car and he would take me home. He drove really slow, I asked him to put his foot down, and he said he didn’t want to, as this way he got to spend longer with me. Then I felt uncomfortable. I wanted to talk to him about his behaviour that day, but I didn’t, I chose to ignore it and hoped it would blow over.

Once we reached Blanche’s house, I climbed out of the car and told him I wanted an early night as I had an early start the following morning. He was not happy at all and begged me to let him come in for a while. I stuck to my guns and said no. He drove off in a stroppy mood leaving tire marks on the road behind him. Blanche opened the door and gave me a hug,

“We have chicken tonight, Amelia.”

Oh how I loved Blanche’s dinners! She was a great cook, and always prepared meals with fresh produce, never frozen or tinned. Blanche could always tell when there was something on my mind.

“Come on, Amelia. Out with it, what’s troubling you?”

“Well it’s
Adrian. He’s just being a bit full on. I mean, he knows we are friends, and I think he wants more than that, but I don’t see him in that way at all.”

“So, have you explained this to him, Amelia?”

“Yes, I have, but I don’t think he is taking what I said on board at all.”

As always, Blanche was a great listener. I felt much better having spoken to her about it. Over the following weeks I withdrew from
Adrian slightly. He had left the country for Dubai on a six-month contract. He would be based out at sea, which would be his home for the immediate future, diving, and sleeping for the most part. I did not see him before he left and I felt really bad about this, as I knew how upset he was. I thought about him a lot and, of course, I missed my friend. Life was not as exciting when he was away. However, I didn’t know how to solve my problem, as I dearly loved him as a friend and didn’t want to lose what we had. At the same time, I did not want to give him false hope of there ever being anything more between us than as friends.

After a few weeks I received a letter from
Dubai. I was very excited and tore open the signature blue envelope indicating that it was an airmail letter. As I read the words my jaw dropped to the floor. Adrian had proposed to me. He stated he knew I was not in love with him. However, that did not matter. What are marriages based on anyway, he said, friendship and trust. We have that, Amelia. Please consider my offer. I will take care of you always. Give you the life of your dreams. You will never want for anything. I will always be there for you, no matter what. I will never leave you, hurt you, or abandon you when you need me the most.

As I continued to read the words, the tears fell from my eyes. They were the words I had so desperately wanted to hear from Peter at the end of our relationship. Why oh why could I not fall in love with
Adrian? Why did I keep pushing him away, not allowing myself to give us a try? My mind was running wild with thoughts from every direction and from every possible scenario. Then the craziest thought came into my head: would it really be such a bad idea? I love his company. I love our friendship, and we had the same love of the great outdoors, hiking, swimming, climbing and much more. He knew all about my dream to be a published writer one day and fully supported it, rather than making me feel silly for even imagining I could be an author one day. So what was the problem? Why could I not love him? I didn’t have the answer to this question, which kept me awake at nights for weeks. This friendship confused me. We were very close, yet there was something about him I could not put my finger on. I knew he could be controlling at times. I really did not like that side of him, and he assured me he was just being protective of me.

I did think about his offer very seriously. Then I did the only thing I felt I could, I said no. I replied with a long heart
-felt letter, explaining that his friendship meant far too much to me for it to be ruined by marriage, a true friendship lasts forever I advised him. How many marriages can you say that about? I said I would understand if he no longer wanted to be friends with me and I would await his reply.

Due to the slowness of air mail to and from
Dubai, I didn’t receive a word for two weeks. I could tell from his words that he was saddened by my response. However, he said he understood and totally respected my decision. Adrian advised me not another word would be spoken about his proposal. Our friendship remained as was, and he would see me in a few months. At the end of the letter he asked me to take myself shopping with his credit card. Please buy yourself something nice, a gift from a friend.

I was sad, and yet relieved, that finally he knew where he stood with me. I felt in my heart
-of-hearts I had made the right decision. I could never marry anybody for anything less than true love; my heart would not allow it. I was a hopeless romantic and believed that love was the answer to everything. That when two people fell in love with each other there was truly no better feeling in the world, and everything just fell into place. I knew this from experience, and I missed it immensely. I longed to be in love again one day, but not just yet.

During the time
Adrian was away, I worked hard, went jogging, and did one or two modeling jobs. I had my portfolio updated, and went for a few castings. The Channel Tunnel project was the talk of the country. This was to bridge the gap between England and Europe; this was history in the making, and to be able to travel under the sea by train to Europe was an incredible thought… I was privy to lots of information about the overnight sleeper trains which were being built at Met Cam just outside Birmingham City Centre. One day our office was taken on a tour to see the “Mock up trains” which had been built in the large hanger. They were really amazing! The engineers talked us through the technical problems confronting them at the time, saying that much work still needed to be done. I was fascinated, and could not wait to go on a trip to Europe via the sleeper trains.

A couple of months later a meeting had taken place with the directors. They had decided to hire a female model for the night trains. They needed a model to take a shower in the mockup trains, to wash her hair, and dry herself off to test the mockup shower that had been erected. This was to take place in front of at least 20 engineers from all over the country. The idea behind this was to see if the size of the shower cubicles on the overnight trains would work efficiently, not just technically, but also practically. They needed to ensure there was enough space for one person to comfortably take a shower and wash their hair, and also that water flowed out as it was supposed to and did not over flow. The model would not be naked of course; they were to wear a swimming costume.