Open Writing

Jessica ran to answer the phone before it rang off. As she picked up the receiver she remembered that was how her introduction to Donald had been; with her racing across the room in anticipation, to try to assess the voice and the man behind the voice.

That's what Susan had promised her; a man. This time Jessica hoped - fervently hoped - that it was her brother ringing, so that her cry for help would be heard by someone who loved her.

Susan had called a few weeks ago and found Jessica surrounded by the chaotic muddle which always assembled around her whenever she started on one of her Open University assignments. Jessica was on the verge of tears, Susan could see that easily enough.

'Hard is it? she asked sympathetically.

Jessica stared back, blankly. Realisation dawned.

'Oh, no,' she answered. 'It's not this.' She waved an arm, indicating the work. 'No, it's Dad again. He was so different when Mum was alive; you know that.'

Susan nodded.

Suddenly Jessica exploded with, 'Life's passing me by, Sue! I want my own life, someone to love; someone who'll love me!'

Tears welled in her eyes.

Susan nodded. 'I know.' was all she said.

She glanced at her watch. 'Got to go, love. Taking the kids swimming,' she explained. 'Leave it with me; I think I've got an idea.'

And Susan was gone, leaving Jessica forlorn.

Jessica had invented a fantasy lover years ago. His name was 'Simon', but the idea - the name - that Susan came up with wasn't 'Simon', it was Donald. 'I'm sure you'll like him,' she said to Jessica.

The very idea of love made Jessica excited, so excited that she failed to hear her Father calling, demanding, demanding, demanding.

Then, all hell was let loose and she was reduced to tears again after picking up his plate, his cup, his paper. Or to change his TV channel.

'Here now, Dad, try not to drop it again; please!' she pleaded.

'I'll try,' he snapped back. 'But didn't you hear me shouting? If only you'd turn off that music of yours, sometimes!'

'All right, Dad,' she answered, wearily. 'I'm going to ring Sue now.' (this was her most frequent excuse) She left his room, and the words followed her, dogging her brain, nurturing her guilt,

'I bet she cares about her parents!' came the sarcastic shout - always guaranteed to reduce her to an emotional wreck. Jessica closed the bedroom door behind her and threw herself on the bed, sobbing.

Susan had invited Jessica to supper on Friday evening, with the suggestion of a development which she thought might just help her friend.

'I've asked Donald,' said Susan as the three of them sat chatting.

Jessica waited patiently in anticipation. Slowly, so slowly, that her exited anticipation began to drain away, leaving only the dry husk of her mind churning with a torment of emotion, passion, desire.

Susan and Chris became unusually quiet. The clock touched ten. Chris, embarrassed, rose and excused himself to make a drink.

Sue spoke. 'I'm sorry, Jess,' she said, softly.

Jessica looked into her friend's eyes and saw deep, sad compassion. Jessica hated that look. She wondered, did they laugh at her after she'd left? They weren't helping her - not really; they were playing with her, she decided with mounting anger. She stared at Susan, suddenly loathing her friend.

'She's looking like that because I'm so useless!' The flash of realisation suddenly struck Jessica and jolted her senses.

Determination seized her, 'It's no use sitting here, moping.. I'll show them,' she muttered to herself through angry, clenched teeth, the words inaudible to Susan. 'I'll teach them.'

Jessica stood up. 'Well, thanks anyway, Sue,' she said, calmly, the fiercely burning coals of her eyes helping to fire her bitter words.

Susan, unusually, had no reply for her friend.

Jessica ran to answer the phone before it rang off. For a moment or two, she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

'It is Jessica, isn't it?' queried the voice. 'Look, I'm sorry about last night. Something came up; couldn't avoid it.'

The words wrapped Jessica in a feeling she'd never known before, a feeling that started in her hearing, caught her mind - then spread, warming, exciting, starting a tingle in each part of her body as it touched.

But she couldn't reply, her mouth was dry. Fear smothered her ability to speak. In response to her silence, the voice started again.

'How about tonight?' The voice sounded pleasing, she thought, having put the initial shock behind her.

But now she was back where she'd been before; she must make a decision. Did she put the phone down? Did she want to meet this MAN?

She knew this was her difficulty; she didn't know what to do; she was afraid of making any commitment, however slight; she always had been. She longed - how she longed for the unknown. But she feared.

Finally, seizing control, she gasped, Hello - yes please!'

What a stupid answer, she thought afterwards. Other words cut through her confusion. Another voice intruded,

'Jessica! Come and change this television will you? And bring me another cup of tea, girl!'

'It was a lovely thought,' smiled Jessica as she and Susan sat in the coffee shop some two weeks later, refreshing themselves after the exertion of shopping for bargains in the sales. 'Thanks very much!'

'My pleasure,' responded Susan with a warm smile. 'Do you like him?'

'Oh, yes!' her friend answered. 'I shan't let Sim.. - Donald, I mean, get away.'

Susan thought Jessica looked happier than she had for some considerable time.

Jessica blurted out, 'I'm having a party on Saturday.'

Susan was amazed.

'A celebration, you know,' went on Jessica, shyly. 'You'll come, won't you?' She sounded anxious, rather as if she might cancel the party if Susan said 'No'.

'Of course I'll come! You don't think I'm going to miss out on the start of your new life, d'you?' grinned Susan. 'D'you want any help?'

'Would you, Sue? That'd be great.'
So lists were made, provisions bought, the wine shop visited.

'What about your Dad?' asked Susan. Jessica shook her head, slowly, and smiled broadly.

'You'll never guess. I've persuaded him to go to his sister's for the weekend; isn't that clever of me?'

Susan was astounded, and overjoyed that her friend had at last managed to clear the hurdle and, as Susan herself had told her many times, 'get a life'. Susan could not recollect, however, any previous mention of a sister to Jess's father.

'Enjoying yourself?' asked Jessica of Susan, through the noise of the party.

Everything seemed to be going well, thought Susan, even if Jess was now distinctly the worse for the wine she had been consuming with great enthusiasm. Susan knew Jessica wasn't used to drink, and was concerned for her friend.

'I am, thanks. How about you? You seem to be getting on all right with Donald,' Susan commented, smiling cheerily. 'You've done all this so well, Jess.' She looked round. 'Where is Donald?' she asked. Jessica ignored her.

'I've done it with your help, Sue,' was the response. 'Couldn't have done it without you.' Swaying slightly, Jessica smiled, strangely, at Susan, 'He's around somewhere,' she said, this time through lowered eyelids as she saw Donald approaching.

Jessica was hoping she looked sexy, alluring. In reality she looked dreadful. She looked suspiciously at Susan and Donald as they stood side by side looking at her.

'Oh, come off it Jess!' said Susan, encouragingly. She didn't recognise the jealousy, that little green worm. 'Most of this food is your idea. It's great. I always said you could do better if you tried.'

Susan could have bitten off her tongue as she realised what she'd said. Donald's laugh broke the embarrassed silence; he stopped abruptly. Jessica's face was icy; she didn't say a word.

'I think Jess and I are going to see a lot more of each other,' Donald said.

Susan nearly choked.

'Yes, well. I hope you like what you see, Don,' she spluttered.

'Sue! That's very naughty,' admonished Jessica frostily, and her eyes narrowed even more. 'Come and help me pass round these sandwiches.'

The two women turned to the food-laden table.

'That flan is wonderful, Jess. Can I have the recipe? What's in it? ' asked Susan.

Jessica grinned, 'No way! That's my secret. Ask no questions, and,' she said, and they both chanted together, 'You'll hear no lies.' They laughed hysterically - for this was one of Jessica's father's favourite sayings; they'd heard it many, many times; now it was hilarious.

Jessica's laughter was now almost uncontrolled, causing worried glances.

'You do like Donald, don't you?' asked Susan.

'Of course; very much. I told you, I don't think I'll ever let him go,' smiled Jessica.

They continued passing out the food. Susan was uneasy. Her problem was that she wasn't sure that Donald was particularly fond of Jessica; she had a suspicion he was simply using her to fill in some free time.

Later, she couldn't find Jessica anywhere, so she hazarded a guess and, taking Chris by the arm, ushered out the last of the guests and left. She assumed Jessica and Donald were otherwise engaged, and just hoped for the best.

As Jessica later said, there were things she just couldn't explain. After cleaning her teeth (a ritual she carried out religiously every night and morning, no matter what) and as she was preparing to collapse into bed, to lay luxuriously stretching herself between the cool sheets - something she invariably enjoyed to the uttermost - she realised she could remember nothing of the time before she reached the bedroom.

Further, there was a figure already in her bed. 'Donald...?' She giggled.

She liked Donald; what he said and what he did to her. 'This is very naughty of you,' she mumbled softly, almost incoherently. Giddily, she fell into the bed.

As she gently stroked her toes against the leg that was in bed with her. Jessica was pretty sure that the leg was dead, it felt so unimaginably cold.

Her heart flipped.

Carefully, she eased herself out of the bed and groped for the light switch. Shortsightedly, in no small degree of anticipation, she peered back to the bed and moved back to it.

Slowly, she began to pull down the duvet. Triumphantly she breathed, smiled, 'Yes!' She was right; her heart leaped again, it was Donald - and he was dead; stone cold dead. He'd never leave her now!

Jessica's brother had rung the police after his call to Jessica. He watched them gently lead his sister to the car, where she sat huddled in the back, softly crooning, 'Donald, where's your trewsers?'

In the house, the Sergeant approached his Inspector. He held up something for inspection.

'Big for a chicken bone, don't you think, Sir? he asked wryly.

They never did find any more traces of Jessica's Father.