Beyond Repair

Chapter 5 - Clara

I couldn't help but laugh as he left the room. He deserved it. He had used my favourite thing against me and looked down on me in the process. Treated me like some silly little girl. Well, he would soon realise I was a fair match for him. There was nothing silly about me, and the only little thing about me was my height. I had more than enough knowledge to run rings around him, and I would take pleasure in doing it.

I had purposely left him waiting until I had finished wiping down the skirting boards. With that finished, I decided to go and find the guest suite that Dickie had told me came with the job. I hadn't brought much with me, just enough to last me a couple of days, packed in my oversized handbag. One of the advantages to the job was being able to give up my rubbish bedsit.

I hated it. The battle with black mould alone made my life hell. The neighbours weren't remotely desirable. The bloke living above was almost certainly some sort of drug dealer and the woman below was a single mother. She was okay, but the noise drifted up through the floorboards and her son was rather vocal for a three-year-old. I would be glad to see the back of it, but I wanted to make sure the job was going to work out before I moved everything over.

I didn't doubt for a second that the guest suite would be a big improvement, even if I had to put up with Mr Matthew's attitude. It was a small price to pay for somewhere nicer and, more importantly, safer to live.

Dickie had told me the rough direction of where to find the suite and I was grateful it was on the other side of the house to where Matthew's room was. I opened a few doors but came up empty. I found a bedroom, but it wasn't as described to me, so I assumed it was the wrong one. Trying the next door down the hall on the right-hand side, I found what I was expecting.

It was more extravagant than I was expecting but I should have known better. I stepped inside and going from the slick black laminate in the hallway to the deep plush beige carpet in the bedroom was quite the contrast. I slipped my black converse from my feet and bent to collect them. It wasn't the sort of carpet you wore shoes on. My toes seemed to sink into the woollen goodness. It was almost cradling my feet as I took in my surroundings.

Dickie had said it had a small living area, but given the corner sofa in brown leather in the corner, it was hardly small. I was pretty sure it was bigger than my entire bedsit. There was a decent-sized but not huge TV in the corner and beside it a small walnut desk which would suit my laptop well. There was a matching end table beside the sofa complete with an industrial-style copper lamp. As I stepped forward, I noticed the two walnut baby bookcases, with mismatched shelf dividers.

It was a cute and usable space and I could imagine myself being quite at home there. Curled up in the corner of the sofa with a good book. The only thing missing was homely features. The sofa was calling out for a couple of throw cushions and a blanket laid over the back. I might not be making it a permanent home, but I would still like it to be more welcoming. Seeing it as the calming space I would need when escaping Matthew's moods.

I had known he had a reputation for being a bit of a d**k since the accident, but I hadn't really been prepared for his level of entitlement. I knew a lot about him and knowing the background he had come from, I had expected him to be more down to earth, not the spoiled rich kid he was pretending to be. It made me wonder how he would cope if he returned to his east London haunts.

I headed straight into the bedroom and popped my bag on the bed. It was very similar to the living room. Neutral colours and walnut furnishings. The bed had a very plush looking duvet on it, and as I laid my hand on it, I realised it was a feather duvet. Again, there was a lack of finishing touches, and I wondered who had been behind the decorating. I couldn't imagine Matthews deeming a guest room necessary, given that he seemed to hate people. I started unpacking the few bits I had brought with me into the wardrobe. It wasn't a walk in one like his, but it did take up an entire wall and had sliding wooden doors with a huge mirror on each door.

Even if I brought everything I owned, I would struggle to even fill a small percentage of the space in there, and the thought was a little depressing. I learnt a long time ago to live with less. It made it easier to live in a small space for a start, and I had never really had a lot of disposable income. Neither of my parents had life insurance when they died, and they were still paying the mortgage on the house. By the time everything was settled, I had about twenty thousand pounds, and I still had most of it in the bank. I was saving it for when I was ready to buy my own house. I didn't want to waste it on things that didn't really matter, but on something that I would be keeping for a long time.

I slipped into my PJ's and regretted that I only really owned the hot pants and vest kind. They were the cheapest to buy, and it had never mattered before that moment because I had never had the risk of bumping into anyone before. Deciding that as soon as I got my first lot of wages, I would invest in some that were a little more modest. Although Matthews didn't strike me as the sort that would be roaming around the house at night. From what I had seen, he had barely left his bedroom.

I tiptoed from the room and down the hallway. Poking my head around the corner into the kitchen to see if the coast was clear. The lights were all off and there was no sign of Matthews or anyone else. Not that I expected anyone else to be there. It was getting late, and the sun had set. With the huge glass windows in the open-planned living area and kitchen, it was easy enough to see where I was going without having to turn on the main lighting. The full moon was casting plenty of light already.

I grabbed some bits from the fridge to make myself a sandwich and set it down on the worktop. Switching on the under cupboard lights just to ensure I didn't accidentally chop a finger off while I made the simple supper.

It was an odd house. Modern in style, but it seemed to creak and groan like a Victorian mansion. As though it had been standing empty and lonely for decades. It had that coldness about it as though no one but long dead spirits lived there. As though the same ghosts of the past Matthews was preoccupied with plagued it. When I had gone to put his washing away, I had seen his eyes dart from the photograph of him and his girlfriend. I had heard the intake of breath as he tried to contain his grief and keep it just for himself. That at least I could understand, grief was something private, intimate even. It could only really be shared with the people who knew your loved one as well as you had. Which, in my case, meant no one at all.

I wouldn't feel sorry for him or make allowances for it though. It would be the last thing I would want in his position. I wouldn't be pulling any punches when it came to his attitude. He might have been through a rough time, but there was always someone worse off than you, no matter how bad things were and pandering to his temper tantrums wouldn't do him any favours. I did wonder if that was how he had grown so bitter, too many people letting his behaviour slide and not saying anything for fear of upsetting him. Well, he wasn't the only one who had been dealt a bad hand in life and I, for one, wouldn't be tolerating the way he spoke to me.

I was just lining up the bread to cut my sandwich when I heard another creak. The house was already starting to freak me out and I couldn't wait to be back in my room, away from all the shadows. Then I heard a slight cough, too human to be a ghost or the house. Turning slowly, half expecting to see some sort of white floating object, then wishing that I had. Anything would have been preferable to finding Matthews staring at me, a rather too amused look on his face.