Room Wanted Ch. 01

It was going to the 'antique' shop; she asked John if she could have it seeing as Mum had promised it to her. He replied that Mum hadn't put it in the will. She said that he was in the room two or three times when Mum had said it; he grinned and just pointed to the list.

He said that as soon as he got a price from the dealer, a couple of prices actually, she could have it for the lowest one. He'd smiled like he was doing her such a favour, but she knew that he'd taken Dad's lovely old rocking chair whatever the list said.

She said that after the deposit on the room she had rented she had about twenty quid to her name, and would that cover it. He shook his head in great disappointment and said perhaps she could buy it from the dealer on terms or something.

"We're letting you keep the bed Naomi..." he said with an admonishing tone at her apparent theft of it, as if that made it all worth it.

But Pete, the youngest, cheekiest and always the closest of her 'brothers and sisters' had at least taken the photos from Ruth and put them in his car. Insisting to Ruth that he wanted to take some out for copying, he'd slipped them into a box with Naomi's things whispering,

"Take what you want Hun, that snooty bitch will never look at them ever again, you know that. I'll get Mum's dresser for you."

She wiped her face, "Thanks Pete," she said, "but you know what, I don't think I want it anymore."

As if to drive home her reduced status, at the funeral she rode in the car with Ruth's husband and John's wife, not in the car with her two brothers and sisters even though there was room. At the crematorium, she was put two rows back, nudged further and further from her 'family' by those with a better claim. She could see Pete arguing with the Funeral Director who just pointed at John and then Ruth who just dabbed her eyes and smiled that false smile of hers. In the end she sat bleary eyed, being held by Pete's fiancée Julie as her former brother and sister, and former aunts and uncles systematically removed her from the heart of her happy family.

At the end of the service Julie smuggled a heartbroken soon-to-be sister in law out of the main entrance through the next funeral party waiting to enter so she wouldn't have to face the hypocrisy of the rest of the handshaking, headshaking, 'sad day, very sad day' conclusions that always occur at funerals. She sat in Julie's Ford Fiesta with Julie snarling, "Fuck 'em Naomi, fuck the lot of 'em." She drove out of the car park mouthing foul words to Pete. She had nothing to do with John and Ruth for a further five years. The strange thing was they were the ones who resented her for it.

Pete had been good to his word though, and when his share of the money arrived he'd split it in half, not worrying that it wasn't what Mum and Dad would have wanted. It was the right thing to do, end of story.

Naomi used it wisely; she held off from her last year of her teacher training, and got a job as a teaching assistant. She rented bedsitters, using only the interest from her nest egg and her wages to live on. She was promised support from the school she was in to finish her course but it was never forthcoming -- always next year, next year, when newer girls without her qualifications took the limited training places over her. Eventually two years ago, she got back into Uni' full time and with a student loan and some caring jobs evenings and weekends she had enough to keep her on the straight and narrow and be more than enough to get her the mortgage she would need for her new flat in her new life.

Pete stayed in weekly touch and phoned, emailed, texted and invited her for dinner, Sunday lunches and Christmas. His lovely wife Julie slagged 'that snooty, two faced so called God fearing bitch Ruth and that spineless twat of an elder brother John.

John had arrived at Pete's place one Christmas morning with some forgotten gifts and there was a bit of a family reconciliation. She came to the large New Year's Eve party thinking that with the passage of time things might have changed but as soon as she saw Ruth, there was one of those over energetic cheek to cheek m'wah kisses that didn't touch and within minutes Ruth introduced Naomi to some 'new people' as 'an old friend that lived with us for a time'.

She shivered a bit thinking back on that. She refocussed and started to think about which chest of drawers to start on first there was a knock on the door, "Naomi? Dad says come down for some tea," it was Lizzie.

"OK Honey, I'll be there in a second," Lizzie put her head around the door.

"Do you need a hand with anything?"

"No thank you sweetheart," Naomi grinned at her new friend, "I need to get my head straight before I get the room straight."

"Right," said Lizzie, "Tea is getting cold, and I hate cold mash."

"Mash?" Naomi had figured that 'tea' was going to be in a mug with a splash of milk.

"Yeah, pie and mash -- Dad's pies are the best."

"Oh... OK," she was pleasantly surprised, "I'll come down then Lizzie, show me the way," and gave Lizzie her hand.

As she came into the kitchen she saw that the huge table she'd admired was now surrounded by a clutch of other young people and she grinned at them all.

"Aaaah Naomi," said Rob, "Now the gang's all here; guys, this is Naomi who's renting the flat; Naomi, this is Paul, Matt, Carla and Carolyn -- Lizzie you already know."

As he listed the names it was obvious that this was a 'different' family, Paul was early teens, glasses, skinny, breaking out in acne, with dark hair; Matt sat in a wheelchair, his cerebral palsy obvious to Naomi's trained eye. Carla was the youngest by a few years, short, very slight, with faintly dusky skin and deeply soulful brown eyes while the rest of the family had blue, and Carolyn was a late teen's/early twenties redhead college student that didn't yet realise quite how stunningly attractive she was.

She paused, "Right," she said with her pointer finger paused, "Paul, Matt, Carla, Carolyn -- and of course Lizzie,"

Carla put a hand to Matt's, "What's up Matt?"

The boy took a deep breath and after some concentration said, "No-mee," and smiled.

"Yeah!" everyone around the table smiled and clapped. It was all Naomi could do not to cry, the boy's smile was infectious and she took the empty seat across from him taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. She knew from the start that she would, in that particular household at least, forever be No'mee.

After tea Carla and Carolyn had made Naomi's bed, and were perched on the end as they watched Naomi unpack her bags of clothes making comments on what they thought stylish and what they wanted to borrow, while Lizzie sat on the swivel office chair Naomi had brought with her looking through the collection of books she was unpacking from boxes and loading onto shelves. Naomi had a sudden fear as Lizzie hit the 'Fifty Shades' trilogy. Carolyn saw her look and grinned.

"You'll have to change the combination Naomi," she said.

"Reckon I will, I saw you making eyes at my little black dress." Carolyn giggled again.

"No way," said Lizzie, "She'd have to grow some boobs first." That was a terrible slander, while bordering on the Junoesque side, Carolyn would easily have fitted in the thing. Carolyn smiled and stuck her tongue out at her... sister?

Naomi giggled and didn't for a second want to over-analyse this strange family that had made her so welcome.

She slept late; the morning sun came through the dormer windows and she woke gently. It was a real pleasure to realise where she was, and that appalling damp flat with the appalling landlord was a thing of the past. She made herself a cup of tea, listening to the radio and realised with all of yesterday's move she had almost no food in the place. She thought about going downstairs and asking if she could pinch a bowl of breakfast cereal, but decided instead to use the last of her sliced bread and make some toast.

She had enough marmalade to scrape across both slices and decided that after a shower, she'd go grocery shopping. The shower was just the right size for her and she enjoyed an extremely pleasant twenty minutes under it, a hangover from the last place when she only had half an hour on the bathroom rota between 6 and half past in the morning.

The nicest thing was that she didn't have to try and get dressed on a wet floor or take the risk of walk along the corridor to get back to her room in a dressing gown being letched at by the pervy landlord who always seemed to be around at six thirty.

Wrapped in just a towel she sat in her warm living room watching her TV drinking more tea and thinking how fantastic it all was.

A few minutes before 12 she padded downstairs in her jeans and a bright T-shirt. She had gone with a nice lilac shirt instead of the tailored yellow one she liked so much that clung to her every curve, but the last thing she wanted to do was upset Mrs Rob and spoil things.

She assumed there was a Mrs Rob; the house was huge and there were all of these children to consider. He didn't look like he managed it all himself.

At the bottom of the stairs he found that the entire family was at the door ready to pile into the large people carrier on the drive.

"We're going shopping," said Carolyn, "do you need anything?"

"Yeah, virtually everything," she giggled. The six week school summer holidays had just started and she wouldn't be able to take advantage of the variety and availability of school catering as she had for the last three months.

"Room for one more," said Rob appearing with an arm load of empty shopping bags.

"What? No... I..." stuttered Naomi, "I don't want to kick anyone out."

"Seven seats honey," he said, "enough room, jump in."

Carolyn was sat in the back next to Matt with Paul on the other side, with Lizzie and Carla right at the back, so she took the empty front passenger seat. They drove to the out of town supermarket, and at the shop she found herself with Carla and Lizzie each side of her trolley and she followed Rob with his trolley and Matt's chair. Paul was perusing the shopping list.

Lizzie and Carla tried to convince her to buy all sorts of things that she absolutely didn't want or need. She purchased the essentials and a few niceties and barely filled the small trolley. They made one big noisy group all around Matt's wheelchair with Rob and Naomi trying to keep control of the whole thing.

"Doughnuts!" shouted Carla, pointing at the Krispy-Kreme booth and dragging both Carolyn and Naomi towards them.

"Easy Carla," warned Rob.

"Oh come on Daddy, you promised last time," she threw in with just a touch of girlish petulance and an extended bottom lip.

"Oh yeah," Rob said, "I do believe I did; OK Lizzie, find a big table..." his sigh was lost to the cackle of young people all excitedly looking forward to the delights held within.

For Naomi it was like when she was little. Mum and Dad weren't poor not by any means, but the occasional treat was made all the more special by its rarity.

Rob had bought a mixed box but no one seemed to complain when Paul was given first choice; Naomi noticed he seemed to take a long time in choosing. His sisters looked on kindly. As soon as he'd picked the noise continued as before and the coffees and hot chocolates arrived.

Naomi just sat among them and watched them laughing at the banter between them all. Once finished, they all made their way back out to the car and returned home. Seeing Rob and Carolyn unpacking the mountains of food for this huge family she helped Matt into the stair lift and helped him into bed for an afternoon nap. She went to her own room and slipping off her shoes and jeans did the same thing.

She woke at around six, wondering where she was again. She put her jeans back on and made herself a coffee and switched on her TV. It was an old fat cathode ray tube style television that had been replaced by a sleek 50" plasma model that the family sat around downstairs. It got the standard collection of channels and even a video and DVD player. She sat and watched it stretching her feet out on the large comfy sofa that was there also.

She switched over to the BBC and found one her favourite TV shows, and from the laughter she heard from her open window, she knew that the family downstairs were watching it. Since she moved out of her 'home' those years ago, other than a short period when she lived with her then boyfriend, the thing she missed most of all was 'family'.

Her boyfriend Steve had been another teaching assistant at her school. They'd started off as mates and after a particularly good night out, they'd ended up dancing and smooching each other late into the night. He'd asked her out on a date, and after a few months they were living together. This had lasted for almost two years up until Steve found her yearly bank statement and saw the money she had there. He demanded to know why they were going without holidays and living from pay day to pay day, when she had all that money. His bitching insistence that he'd shared everything he'd had, (which was bugger all) was seriously pissing her off. Brother Pete had always said it was so she could go back to Uni and finish off her teaching degree and she felt bound by it, after all, it was a lot of money and could have bought Pete and Julie's small house outright when added to his share.

She learned that money and relationships were difficult bedfellows and his eventual bad tempered departure had been one of the things that led to her going back to University. She'd guarded the money closely and after Uni' it would still just about enough to make up five percent of her mortgage and enough furniture to make it liveable.

She had decided that she would try and bank a bit more, seeing as house prices were constantly rising, and was going to find a decent cheap flat, so she could build up her funds and this was perfect. This flat was the best value, most comfortable, best equipped, poshest digs she'd ever had; yet she felt sadder than she had two months back when she found out that Mr Bastable her creepy landlord was going through her room when she left it and routing through her clothes drawers. Even though he'd kept her two weeks rent in lieu of notice, the old bastard had tried to screw her out of her £300 deposit for 'damage'.

An expert at this kind of thing now, she'd run through the photographs she'd taken of the place showing that in fact she'd actually improved it in the two years she'd lived here. In the end he'd argued that the bolt she'd screwed into the door to secure the room when she was asleep had significantly damaged the door, which was an original fixture. She was starting to lose her temper and said that the bolt was because he, Mr Bastable, had a key to her room and used to walk in.

He argued that this was just because he kept it in case she lost hers; he'd said that it was written into the contract that he'd come in every now and again and check his property.

She pointed out that it didn't include going through her underwear drawer -- he flustered that he'd done no such thing, she 'couldn't prove anything!' he'd snarled pointing his pudgy, nicotine stained, dirty nailed finger at her.

"Oh really," she'd said pulling the four A4 still photographs out of her handbag showing him with his face buried in her panties and clutching his crotch. A friend at university had loaned her a 'nannycam' she'd bought to check on her dog when she was away. It had a motion sensor on it, and fitted nicely into an innocent picture frame.

She noticed that her things in her room were being disturbed. She'd stuck one of her long hairs on her bedroom door and would find it broken in two when she got home. Once she realised that her intruder wasn't going to any other room she spoke to her tutor.

The nannycam came home the next day and she set it on her bedside table and checked it when she got home. It caught nothing until the third day when she got two side-on shots of him and it became evident that he was going through her clothes drawer. That night she moved the photo frame and two days later felt like she would vomit as he went through her underwear drawer moving with delight to her laundry basket, sniffing at the crotches of the panties she'd put in there. She binned her favourite dildo having seen him licking it with his eyes closed -- her only delight was it had used it anally last time!

She suggested he gave her the £300 he owed her on the understanding she didn't contact the police and worse, the university housing office and give them a copy of the photographs. He growled at her, and she growled back telling him that she had emailed the pictures to her best friend, and should anything happen it wouldn't take Sherlock Holmes to put two and two together.

With extremely bad grace his pulled a roll of notes from inside his stinking overall jacket and peeled off twenty pound notes, Naomi counting them so she could even tell him it was £20 short.

He snarled and called her a bitch.

She snarled back, "Bitch I may be, but they won't arrest me for being a bitch and put me in prison. They do that to perverted old men that sneak into young women's rooms and go through their underwear drawers. They'd love a stinking old fuck like you in prison," she grinned and moved as close as his rank body odour would allow, "they'd beat shit out of you, and drop what's left down the stairs."

"Get out..." he hissed, "get out of my house you cow."

"Try and stop me you stinking fucking perv..."

As she sat in the car out front of the house she saw him stick two fingers up to her. In pure revenge she pulled out her smartphone and emailed the pictures to the University Housing Team anyway suggesting they don't send any more females there, and if they wanted to contact the police she was more than willing to give a statement. That was yesterday and what seemed like a whole lifetime ago.

The sounds of happy family life two floors down, made her almost wish that she was back in that void; OK it was a void made bearable by visits to Pete and his wife and kids and her few mates, most of whom had now moved on seeing as they had all graduated.

This was her second night here and there was no sign of Mrs Stanley; tonnes of girls clothes but no 'ladies' things. Lizzie and Carla had shown her round the house and it was huge. During her tour she only saw one photo of a woman with Lizzie, evidently her mother, they had the same wild blonde hair, but that picture featured nowhere else. In the living room there were dozens of photos, but only of this 'family'.

She sipped her coffee and thought about getting up and getting herself one of the biscuits she'd bought. There was a knock at the door, "It's open!" she said, and was delighted to see Carolyn.

"Hi Carolyn," she said moving over on the sofa to make room, "the kettle's just boiled Darling, would you like a coffee?"

"Yeah," said Carolyn, "I'd love one." Naomi sprung up and made for her tiny kitchen, digging out the jar of Nescafe.

"It's not the good stuff like you've got," said Naomi.

"Oh that's once a day a coffee and twice at weekends," giggled Carolyn. "It's Dad's favourite but dead expensive, and it's leaping with caffeine so no one gets to sleep if we have too much."

Naomi sat back on the sofa and reached for the chocolate biscuits she been snacking on. It was proper girlie.

"Here," said Naomi handing over the packet, "don't tell your Dad I've been feeding you between meals."

Carolyn took one and scrunched hungrily. "Don't worry," she said, "Dad's as guilty as anyone; we're all downstairs eating bread pudding, you should come get some."

"THAT'S what I could smell all afternoon," said Naomi, "it smelled wonderful, my Mum..." she paused, "my Mum used to make bread pudding."