October 1st
Note: This is part of the NaNoWriMo Challenge, so this is a draft only.
Sunday
She watches the droplets slowly slide down the window on a wet, cold night as the humming noise soothes her thoughts.
It should be exciting, a new place, a new adventure. Still, she was more worried about leaving any breadcrumbs behind as her phone was off, with nothing better to do than stare out and watch the luminous traffic lights swoon pass occasionally.
She wonders if this was the best thing to do, but what else could she have done if she had stayed?
She clasps her fingers together, regretting bringing gloves. Luckily her thick tartan scarf has enough length to wrap her hands. With no hood or hat, the collar of her long swede jacket was enough for her to scrunch and cuddle.
She had to pack light, or it would be suspicious. But, as she gradually kept things in her car, it never looked too obvious.
It’s not the job; she loves it. A qualified primary school teacher who believes a kid’s education is one for a promising future. But she couldn’t stay for the kids. No matter how much she grew to love her class for over 2 years.
She found it challenging to be open with things. She thought hiding away under the covers of her bed was good enough in her day-to-day traumatic life.
Since it was a Sunday, she needed to plan her exit quickly. While there was no one around, she found the spare key to her car and drove. Without really a plan, but to only the Buchanan bus station. Whatever one was there would take her to her next destination.
The 926 Campbeltown.
Without needing to communicate with the bus driver and pay for a ticket by the app, it was the last time her phone would light up.
The anxious wait for the bus to pull off, she held her breath for a beat too long. Then when she let out a large breath when she saw the last sign mentioning Glasgow.
Her once city of Glasgow was now a distant memory.
The long 3-hour journey made the sky darken, the clouds casting over the dull sun as it set for another day. She takes the next stop to Tarbet. A quick Google search a few weeks before and was able to get a cheap place while she had small funds to carry her over.
She got off the bus and was keen to keep herself from being seen. But, somehow, she still felt like someone was watching her.
The town’s lights were poor and dull enough to badly see through a thick fog mist, let alone on a clear wet day. But she continued, hoping to find the place as soon as possible. With no google maps to guide her, she had to remember the route carefully to avoid making mistakes.
However, at a crossroads, she needed help remembering whether it was to turn left or right. In the distance, she saw a building light up, which she remembered but couldn’t quite recall if it was further past it or the opposite way to it. She needed help.
She was carrying her overfilled rucksack, which started to ache her shoulders. A warm place for a few minutes and taking the bag off her back should ease the tension.
The bar was packed, probably with lots of locals, getting their final drinks in before a week’s working days were about to start.
She made herself unseen as best as possible and saw they did food. With most shops shut this late at night, a little bite couldn’t do any harm.
However, she had a few glares that looked unforgiving that seemed to burn the back of her head.
Then, she made a trek to the bar, where a ginger bushy beard man stood in a fancy waistcoat, white shirt underneath, and flap cap—a very hipster, peaky blinders style.
‘Do you know where I can find Tarbert tools and repairs?’ She asks.
‘Out the door and on your left, love. But it’ll be shut now.’
‘Oh, no, I don’t need the store. I’m living in the flat above it.’
‘Ah. So you’re the lass that’ll be teaching the wee ones.’
She pulled her neck back like a turtle wanting to retrieve back into its shell, but her coat didn’t cover enough.
‘Don’t worry.’ He said, ‘We’re a small town. It’s not like we didn’t know you were coming.’
News clearly travels fast here, she thought.
‘Yes...I start tomorrow.’
‘Well, good luck, and I hope to see you around. Would you like a drink before you find your place?’
She kindly rejects and thanks him for the directions. He was being what local landlords do: being friendly. There was no need to be defensive. She knew where she was going, a small place easy for gossip to spread fast. She tried not to worry and quickly paced in the right direction to the tool shop.
In the faint distance, a light was dimmed in the tool store, just easy enough to catch the old scattered sign at the top.
As she reached the door, a taped envelope displayed “Autumn”. She pulls it off, feels the weight of the keys pulling the flimsy paper down, and picks them out with a letter inside.
“Here are the keys to the flat. The door on your right will take you upstairs. Will see you tomorrow at 6.”
At least they would give her some privacy tonight, but she didn’t want the privilege of actually meeting her landlord or landlady and would be happy to exchange text messages like before. They never gave the first name, just their surname, Henderson.
Without wanting to stay in the cold any longer, she turns the key to the door, walks up the creaky wooden stairs, and finds the only door at the top.
The struggle to get the key in should have been her first red flag that this apartment is in no way in great shape. Autumn managed to force the door to open with such force that she nearly fell over. Getting her balance, she glanced around the dark room. She found a switch by the side and flicked it on.
Yep, this was a bad idea.
There was particularly nothing. The wooden floor looked rotten, and she was scared she’d fall through. There were two outdoor metal chairs, a table, the only seating space, and a two-seated sofa torn slightly on one side.
The kitchen didn’t look great either, a small L-shape with battered doors and a few off its hinges. She could tell by the strong smell of bleach that the whole place needed a deep clean, probably using more than a few bottles to make this place liveable.
At least there was a decent oven, microwave, washing machine and fridge, which was the only thing that seemed pretty new.
Everything looked like it was from the B&Q clearance section, with no care if it matched. She tried the kitchen tap, which didn’t flow much water—something to raise tomorrow.
The bathroom was standard, with a shower block, sink and toilet. Unfortunately, this room had the most pungent bleach smell ever, and it went straight to the back of her throat after taking a solid vodka shot and then regretting it. Also, there was no window to air the room, only the extractor, which turned on when the bathroom light did.
Even though this was two bedrooms, it was a good enough price for what Autumn believed it was worth. She should have looked at some pictures but was in desperation. She was now regretting the thought.
The second bedroom was small, with the boiler in a cupboard on the other side of the room. At least there is central heating.
She dreaded the main bedroom and hoped for at least a bed for the night. She was hoping to see a mattress on the floor, but she was shocked—a decent bed with duvets and pillows.
Maybe they aren’t that heartless at all, she thought.
After a mentally tiring and confusing day, she tried out the shower, which was bloody lovely. Then, she got into her thick pair of jammers and snuggled right into the brand-new bedding smell.
Outside, the wind started to pick up, wistfully blowing harshly against the bedroom window. She tried to block it out. Also, the noise of the shower head plonking large drips on the tiled floor bounced into her ears.
What a horrible start to this new life. Please let it be better tomorrow.
