The Woman Next-Door
by Emma-Jane Freychet @ejfreychet
- 132
- 4
- 2
Synopsis
Emily knocks on her neighbour's door but discovers a man living there instead. Only he has never heard of the woman Emily thought was living next-door. Has the woman disappeared? Was she ever living there at all?
First 1000 words:
CHAPTER 1
The overhead neon lights flickered. Silence had fallen on Heathrow’s Terminal 1 main baggage reclaim area. Emily had been waiting for her luggage to come through for over half an hour. As the only other waiting passenger grabbed his suitcase right in front of her, she realised hers was probably lost. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Don’t cry. Deep breaths. One. Two. Three.
She opened her eyes, clutched the handle of her empty luggage trolley, and made her way to the information desk.
They’ll find your bags. This sort of thing happens all the time. Everything will be fine.
As she dropped off the useless trolley on her way, she suddenly realised that she was staring at a very loved-up couple with certain disdain and disgust.
Oh, snap out of it, Em. Seriously, let them enjoy it.
Back in the day, Paul and Emily had probably inspired the same sort of feelings of revulsion from the broken-hearted, she thought.
The apathetic lady at the information desk confirmed to Emily what she had been dreading. Her luggage had indeed stayed at JFK.
Perfect. No … it’s ok. Everything will be just fine. They have your bags, they’re not lost. They’ll just fly them over on the next flight.
She had been teaching herself to think positive thoughts and not fall into the self-pity trap of seeing the glass half-empty all the time. Not that she was particularly succeeding in that endeavour.
Just a minor set-back. Keep going, one step at a time.
Waiting for the Tube on the chilly platform, her head started to throb. She could feel the pressure of her own blood pounding against her temples. She wished she hadn’t gulped down those four gin and tonics on the flight, but they had done the job and she had slept during most of it.
The platform was busy, bustling with excited tourists ready to discover London. As the travellers poured into the train, Emily realised she’d be standing for most of the journey. The train got busier as it got closer to Central London. It was early morning rush hour. She changed at Earl’s Court which was an overwhelming experience at the best of times, even for a Londoner who had lived in New York for twelve years. At that moment, trying to get to the District Line platform was like swimming against the current. She kept on walking awkwardly into people and their large laptop satchels making their way to work. Most muttered a barely audible sorry under their breath before she got a chance to. She had almost forgotten how Brits always apologise even when they’re the ones who should be receiving the apology.
At last, she was seated on the not-so-crowded Southbound District Line train, with her holdall at her feet. Closing her eyes to sooth her throbbing head, she thought back to the chain of events that had led her to that moment. And how she hadn’t seen them coming even though she should have.
Paul was one of those confident, brash, Upper-East Side New Yorkers and he was no stranger to casual flirtatious behaviour. To be honest, that aspect of his personality is probably what had attracted her to him to start with. That unapologetic in-your-face extrovert trait that made him seem so free had been so appealing. Fun and laughter had been the main focus of their seven-year relationship. Deep down, Emily had known something wasn’t quite right and the relationship never got as serious as most long relationships do.
As soon as she had opened the door to their small Brooklyn apartment, she had known. Crumpled up clothes strewn all over the floor in the narrow corridor, that lone high-heel shoe that she recognised on the kitchen counter, a knocked-over lamp in the living room. Emily had spotted all the obvious clues within five seconds of stepping into the flat. Nonetheless, as if on autopilot, she had headed straight for the bedroom to find what she already knew to be true. Paul and Bethany, her supposedly best friend. How ridiculously ironic. The best friend that she had comforted for months over her own breakup, had found a more effective way of comforting herself apparently.
Not that Paul was innocent in the whole humiliating situation. As it turned out, these consolation sessions were regular occurrences and happened as soon as Emily was out of town.
So, she had decided to cut short her American dream after twelve years in the City That Never Sleeps and head back to South West London, where she had grown up. Naturally, her parents had told her to stay with them as long as she wanted. But she couldn’t bring herself to accept sleeping in her childhood bedroom for more than a couple of days. She had a little money saved up and could rent out a small studio flat if it was just for a few months, the time she needed to sort herself out. She’d probably look for a job in London a little down the line too.
Her decision to leave the US had been sudden and she had chosen not to say her goodbyes for fear of being convinced to stay. That would have been unbearable. After quitting her job, she worked the mandatory two weeks’ notice required by her employment contract and left quietly. So very English of her. No tears, no shouting. She had ignored Paul’s calls and texts. He’d had the decency to take his things and sleep elsewhere after that fateful night. Probably at her place. Bethany hadn’t even reached out, probably too ashamed. That was the worst part of it. Nine years of friendship over in a flash, without a phone call nor an apology, nor even an explanation. After two weeks of silent tears and sleepless nights, Emily had packed three suitcases and taken a flight to London. She had left most of her belongings behind because she wanted to take with her as few memories of her life in New York as possible. She had cancelled her direct debit of the rent and sent Paul an email to tell him that their shared flat was now his sole responsibility. She hoped she wasn’t going to get into trouble for it as it probably wasn’t the right way of dealing with things, but she had no intention of ever going back anyway.
2 comments
emily_barr
Teacher PlusHuge congratulations! This was such a gripping opening. I love the way you got the backstory in along with her journey across London, and I felt that I was reading the opening of a published novel. I'd definitely read on if I could! Thank you for taking the course, and I hope you finish this novel, as I think it has huge potential.
Emily
ejfreychet
@emily_barr Thank you so much for your encouragements, Emily! Your course is really helping me structure my ideas and move forward :)
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