Rear Window

Disclaimer – I own many things but Skins is not one of them, and neither is Rear Window. Don't hate on me.

Author's note: Hello! This is an idea that's been running around my mind for a little while now. I'm a writer but I've never really written prose like this before but I've been itching to do this one so I'd love if people could review and let me know if you'd want me to carry on and what you think of it etc. Cheers! Hope you enjoy. Any mistakes are mine.

Moving house. Moving house is something that I have done an incalculable number of times. Having a mother of the bohemian persuasion, with an insatiable aversion to settling down; meant that my entire childhood was pretty much on the go, as it were. No sooner had we settled in one place, we'd be off! A few junctions up the M6, a ferry ride to the Scilly Isles. As I've said, my mother was insatiable. She still is. And of course, never settling down meant that as soon as I'd acclimatised to one place and formed any semblance of a circle of friends, I'd be unceremoniously uprooted and planted somewhere else.

Billy-no-mates, that's me. Well, that was until we moved to Bristol. My mother met Kieran and things changed. We've been here a year and a half and not even a squeak out of her about moving to another disenfranchised part of the Country that's in dyer need of our help, support and new age values. I suppose I should be happy for her. My dad fucked off yonks ago and as much as she drives me fucking mental, she deserves a little bit of happiness, I can't begrudge her that. She's my mum after all. Even if Kieran is a proper old fuck bucket.

But there comes a moment in every mothers life where she has to let her own flesh and blood fly the coop. After years of communal living, of moving place to place, it's me who's moving on and my mother staying put. I'm eighteen. That's right, fucking eighteen! The age to beat all ages! The age where I can say, 'Go fuck yourself', whenever and to whomever. Might not be the most sensible thing to do but I can fucking well do it if I like.

So I'm moving out. I've got my own place, I have a flatmate and most importantly I have a place at the University of Bristol studying Economics and Politics; the whole reason for the move. Effy's my flatmate, we met in college. She was all in her head and I was overly opinionated so we seethed and silently judged together, a perfect match. Two years on and we haven't really changed.

Eff managed to get a place at the Uni through clearing studying Photography, one of the only things she really showed much passion for at college, something that she's actually really bloody good at. This involved a lot of arm-twisting on my part. Over period of about seven months I managed to convince her that going to University and all the accumulated debt that comes with it is still slightly more beneficial than spending the twilight years of your lost youth in a pool of your own vomit. I'm never one to judge, who am I kidding of course I am, but Effy can be a little wild. But one of those in-the-peace-and-quiet-of-my-own-home wilds. They're the ones you have to look out for. So I made it my best friend duty to help her dig her way out of the little hole she'd created for herself. I'd say we're probably a good two thirds of the way out of there.

As for her, she's made it her own personal mission to get me laid at Uni. I have a low tolerance for arseholes, therefore me and almost every man I meet here in Bristol just don't seem to mesh. She blames it on my unspoken yet undeniable lust for her, which makes being with any other shag pretty traumatic. She's a modest girl. But we keep each other sane. Just and so.

'Naomi! Which room's yours?'

'The one on the right mum!' I call from the living room/dining room area as my mum carries another box of absolutely essential but miscellaneous belongings through to my new room. I always thought moving was supposed to be a stressful experience but so far things were going pretty well. So far, I had managed to avoid not most but all manual labour.

Eff and I had managed to do pretty well for ourselves considering we were pretty late into the flat hunting game. The block we were moving into was not on University grounds but close enough to campus that rolling out of bed 20 mins before lectures started and making it in before the Course Leader took the register was a realistic possibility. The flat has two bedrooms, a kitchen and bathroom and of course the lounge area I was in now. Effy and I had looked at a few places before deciding that this was the place for us. Eff had said that to her, a flat was just a flat, that it was my choice. I remember her smiling a coy smile and telling me as long as she could revel in my company, she'd be happy. Cheeky bitch.

Most places we had been to view had been your standard, no frills, student accommodation. And don't get me wrong, this place is just that, except for one thing. The view.

No there's no spectacular sunsets or mountain ranges, this is Bristol afterall, but from where I'm sitting, from my cushy seat on my slightly over-sprung sofa, I can see faces. Different faces. Different people. Our block is shaped like a horseshoe with a small yard for kids to play in in the centre. If I had kids, they would never, EVER play there. Rusty swings, rusty slides. Chavs. Gross. But across from the yard, passed the chavs and their tracky bottoms, passed the rust and the litter bins is the Block B to my Block A. And from my seat, in my small student flat, I can see every little window. Windows to a multiplicity of different universes that until now I've had no insight upon. Seeing things from someone else's perspective is hard, however much we try to Atticus Finch it and people watching at times can make you feel minute in the grand scale of things but it's nice, to able to just put up that wall and get to know someone without having to let them in. It's creepy yes, but as I said, watching people is what Effy and I did through college. We were known by eachother and only each other. To everyone else we were a mystery, we liked it that way, we still do. But you should see her photography. She sees things even I can't.

'Naomi dear! A hand please?'

I roll my eyes, fuck sake. I begrudgingly tear my gaze away from the window and remove myself from the sofa, stomping into the kitchen. I fix my mother with the Campbell death glare, one she knows well. Though my mother would rather use it in the face of hairy, digger driving men whilst she's chained to several tree with her band of merry hippies. 'Yes? Can I help you with something?'. Currently, my mother is struggling under the weight of a box of plates, bowls and mugs.

'Naomi love, Anthea is nowhere to be seen yet Effy has stilled managed to get everything moved up and into her room already. Now if you...could...just...' My mum begins to huff and puff as she attempts to push the heavy laden box up onto the kitchen counter. I shrug and move to help, I'm not always an ungrateful cow you know, supporting the box from underneath, pushing it up to meet the edge of the tops and then letting my mum shove the box the rest of the way. Blimey, that was a lot heavier than I thought. I glance at my mum who sends a tired smile my way. 'Thanks love.'

'Don't mention it. Though, I think I might have pulled something. Might need to have a sit dow-ow!' I yelp as mum swipes the back of my head playfully and I can't help but grin. She's no fool my mum. Maybe a mad cow but no fool. All of a sudden I'm enveloped in flurry of beads, linen and scarf. I stiffen up for a second before I realise my mother is hugging me. My mother. Hugging me. I exhale the breath I didn't realise I was holding and settle my chin on her shoulder and close my eyes.

'I'm so proud of you dear. All grown up. Out to change the world,' she sniffles into my shoulder. I find myself smiling again at the faith she has in me. 'I'll miss you love'. And that's when the tears begin to well in my eyes. Standing here, in my mothers embrace, it's weird but I realise all the things I'm going to miss about her. The mugs of tea in the morning, the trips to the local Spar for yet another pack of garibaldis to replace the ones she just bought me that I immediately guzzled. Her smell. You can always find comfort in the smell of your mum, no matter how fucking infuriating she is. It must be imprinting or something. I just feel safe. I remember when I was young she'd used to go to rallies and leave me at home alone, I'd sneak into her room and she'd find me asleep in her bed when she got home. It was like she'd never left me. But she had.

My eyes snap open and I pull away quickly, rubbing unshed tears from my eyes. There's an awkward silence as neither can bring ourselves to meet each other's gaze. When we finally do all I can see is defeat. Shit. She's been trying to make things up to me these past few years, building bridges, but I just keep knocking them down. I feel a pang of guilt so I decide to do for my mum what she does for me when she's feeling guilty.

'How about I make some tea for a change? Have a sit down mum, I've run you off your feet.' My mum's face brightens a little again.

'Sounds lovely dear. I've left you a few packs of biscuits in one of those boxes, how about we crack some open?' My smile doesn't quite reach my eyes as I turn back to rummage through the boxes whilst my mum shuffles through to the lounge, finding all the necessary utensils for superior tea making. Kettle, check, mugs, check, strainer, check, milk check and above all biscuits, check.

I pick out two mugs, two of my favourites. Although mum insisted I buy new things for my new life away from home, she did let me take a few old things from our collection, for nostalgia's sake. So my new flat felt like a home. Although we moved around a lot mum would never throw old things away. When we moved, everything moved with us. That's what made wherever we were living at the time our home, not the house itself but all the little trinkets we'd picked up over the years that adorned the walls and the shelves, each holding their own little tales that when put together told the story of our travels over the years as Mother and Daughter, whether the memories be good or bad.

'Make that tea for three.'

'Jesus Christ!' I practically jump out of my skin.

'A little in our head today are we?'

I turn to find Effy Stonem inches away from me, incredible blue eyes almost dancing with curiosity, hot breath on my skin. She likes to tease. Tall, brunette and absolutely stunning. You totally would, but she would fuck you up.

'You're one to talk.' She simply shrugs in response and slinks out of the kitchen. 'One sugar or two?' I call after her. She raises her middle finger and keeps walking, hips swaying with purpose. I scoff a little and shake my head. 'Charming,' I say to myself. Fucking Charming.

I'm stuffed, and covered in crumbs. Bliss. I've had two cups of tea and out of the three of us we've managed to polish off an entire packet of those wondrous, golden biscuits. Well, I had a good majority of them, but in all fairness, they were mine. Again I'm reclined in my favourite chair, unfocused eyes gazing out of the window. I can hear my mum talking Effy's ear off somewhere to my right about the patriarchal undertones of the current electoral system, and God bless Effy Stonem for she's actually sitting there and at least acting as if she's interested in what my mum has to say. I can hear her little interested 'hmms' every now and then and I smile to myself. Effy doesn't have the best relationship with her mother and I often think Eff enjoys my mother's company far more than I do. I turn my head to look at them and I catch Effy's eye, she smiles at me genuinely, both conspirators, both aware of my mother's madness. A laugh escapes me as I think about how care free Effy can be when she's around people she trusts. My mum sees Effy's look and scoots round to face me.

'Coming out of your fooma I see, Naomi. Effy dear, you're really going to have to keep an eye on her. Once she's alone with those things, who knows what she'll do?' I try my best to scowl at her as she rises to her feet and moves to kiss me on the forehead. 'Best be off girls. I'll leave you in peace. Have any plans for your first night as independent adults?'

'Bed,' I moan, holding my stomach, only a little for a effect. Maybe there is such a thing as too many garibaldis. Scratch that. Not possible.

As my mum looks round for her handbag I make an attempt at getting up off the sofa but mum spots me and shhs me back down. 'Don't get up dear, I can see myself out.' For such a significant parting of ways as this I'm a little surprised. No hug, no tears. I suppose we'd already tried that today. Guilt begins to tug at the back of my mind. Maybe I shouldn't be leaving her so soon. Will she be lonely without me? Of course not you dick, she has Kieran. I hesitate, I need to say something but I don't know what, why the fuck am I being such an idiot? Why has this suddenly become so difficult all of a sudden? It's not as if we'll never see each other again, this was inevitable.

'You'll have to come see us Gina, soon. Bring Kieran, it can be a double date' Effy digs me in the ribs, wearing a satisfied smile. She's winding me up but also by the way she narrows her eyes at me I can see she's trying to jump start me into action, giving me an out. Stonem to the rescue. I jump to and grab it.

'Yeah, absolutely,' I'm quick to my feet, nodding with enthusiasm which I think comes across as genuine. 'You've been great today mum, thanks. You'll have to come round when we're a little more sorted,' I offer.

After a few more half hugs and thank yous my mother gone. I'm back in my chair, casting my eyes across the many windows of Block B. The sun set a good half hour ago leaving the lounge in darkness and by now B Block's resident's have started switching lights on and off as they move from room to room, creating silhouettes against curtains and illuminating features that I wouldn't usually be able to make out in the dimming light. I spot a sandy haired man, standing close to what I presume is his window. He's shirtless and his gaze seems unfocused, almost vacant. He looks lonely. I make a note to send a smile his way if I see him in the yard. I keep my eyes on him as he finishes his cigarette and stubs it on the window's ledge. Hands then sneak round his torso, small hands with small fingers spread across his ribs, tracing the many tattoos that decorate his skins. But the man's eyes still look empty. His body language disinterested. He exhales deeply but slowly turns into the embrace, stepping away from the window and out of view. In the darkness a smile plays at the corners of my mouth. In those few moments I'd observed the shirtless man I'd probably seen a part of him that the person those tiny hinds belonged to had never been privy to.

I'm pulled from my reverie as the doorbell I didn't know we have chimes. It's late, is it late? And who the fuck would want to visit us? We've just moved in. No one knows us. I stretch as I make my way over to the door, switching the light on at the switch, and flattening my hair. Still half blinded and squinting from the sudden change from dark to light, I swing open the front door.

All I can see is red. I blink a few times, the blur in front of me slowly coming into focus, slowly becoming a person. A really tiny person, a really tiny person holding a cake?

'Hi, welcome to the building.' The small red head offers the cake in my direction. It's possibly the biggest cake I've ever laid eyes on, or it could just be that the holder of the cake was particularly petite. I look from the cake to it's maker, my eyes now completely adjusted to the light, and I see her in detail for the first time. My blues meet the most deep brown eyes they've ever seen. For a moment I'm lost. I've been told many a time that I possess a rather beautiful pair of blue eyes, whether it be a genuine compliment or a tired chat up line. My mother has brown eyes so the blue in mine was always something I've assumed I've inherited from my father. Though having never met him I could never know for sure. Some have said my eyes were penetrating, but these brown orbs in front of me are something completely different. I feel as if they're pulling me in, engulfing me. I drag my eyes away quickly before I get lost completely and quickly take in the rest of the girl's delicate features. A dainty button nose, small rosy lips and deep cherry red hair. I feel my eyes being drawn to her lips which I realise, after a moment, are moving.

'...so I made the assumption that we'd have some new tenants soon and well, here you are.' My lack of words must be unnerving her as she quickly looks down again, at the cake still in her hands. I shake my head in an attempt clear the visions of red appearing behind my eyes. Jesus Naomi. Must attempt speech.

'Err, thanks.' Good one. The redhead's eyes snap up to mine again, a smile now on her face, clearly pleased with the tiny amount of gratitude I'm offering her. 'I...shit...sorry...I mean,' I laugh a little at myself, shifting uncomfortably on my feet. My visitor is practically beaming now, I think she's finding my discomfort amusing. Cheeky bitch. 'It looks incredible, cheers,' I say, hoping she knows I mean it.

'No problem. Just a little something to make you feel welcome... from all of us. I'm Emily by the way, I live just across the yard, in Block B?' My eyes snap to meet hers again, my curiosity well and truly peaked.

'Nice to meet you Emily. I'm Naomi,' I offer my hand and she takes it, juggling her burden into one hand. Small fingers grip tightly around mine. We don't shake, we just stand there for a moment. Maybe a moment longer than I realise as she begins to look anywhere but me again, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. I smirk ever so slightly and I retract my hand, rather begrudgingly, to save her the embarrassment of having to do so herself. She sends an embarrassed smile my way as silence falls between us. 'Thanks for the cake.'

'Don't mention it,' she says, her voice huskier and lower now than before, causing my beat a little faster in my chest. Christ that was sexy. She passes me the cake, turns and in a flash skips down the corridor before I can thank her once more and I have to admit, I enjoy watching her go.

I exhale as I kick the front door closed behind me, the cake Emily made still in my arms. I look up to find Effy watching me struggle with the oversized confectionary. She's smiling at me silently, amusement in her eyes. This isn't a good sign.

'Aww, sweet.' I try to ignore the edge to her words, the implication of them.

'That was Emily, Eff. A neighbour,' I offer, ' She lives in Block B, brought us this.'

'Which flat?'

I shrug. I'm non committal. 'Don't know yet.'

Effy sniggers. 'Yet...' She knows I will before the evenings out, she knows I wont be able to put a stop on my curiosity. I'll be at my window, waiting and hoping to see one more flash of that beautiful red hair.