Author's Note: you guys are probably getting sick of me drawing this out right? LOL. I'm sorry, but Theresa's got secrets that need to be shared first.
Would like to thank LucretiaDecoy for letting me bounce my shoddy ideas off her head.
Okiloveyoubyebye.
Kevin: What on earth was that? You call that an introduction to a chapter?
Author: you know; you're pretty fussy for a man who I've seen cast as Ultimate Muscle's equivalent of a "3 dollar holler". Now be a good boy and shut up before I forget that I like you hetero and write you a love scene with Mantaro Muscle
Kevin: You wouldn't DARE!
Author: Try me Mask-boy, I have a ton of free time AND Microsoft word installed.
Kevin:………(grouches but sits down and shuts up)
As she held up one of her only clean shirts from her chest of drawers, a blue, brown and green patchwork vest top that'd originally been made by and belonged to her grandmother during her 'misspent youth', Theresa realised that she really needed to keep up with her laundry.
With a sigh, she pulled the shirt over her head and very carefully arranged the shoulder straps a certain way, so that they concealed certain parts of her back and then stood up.
Today was Saturday, almost a week since she'd last seen Kevin (she tried not to think about him but he kept popping up in her mind every now and then…gave her some odd dreams), Gramps was at work in the garage and probably would be until midday, Micky was visiting his grandparents out of town for the weekend, Devloek was spending time with her family, her boyfriend, her son and her grandson, so had called off bad practice and Theresa had already done all of the homework her teachers had assigned for the weekend.
The prospect of spending a Saturday doing her laundry didn't really appeal to her, not right now anyway even though she REALLY needed to wash her shirts that actually had sleeves.
"What're we going to do with ourselves today, Banksy?" she asked, flopping down on the bed beside her pet, who'd been half dozing until she'd flopped down beside him, and lying down flat.
Banksy simply yawned hugely, showing off his slightly yellowed teeth and then laid his head on Theresa's stomach, contentedly closing his chocolate brown eyes.
"That's alright for you," she chuckled, gently petting his ears and neck, "but it doesn't help me much,"
The dog's only reply was a light chuffing noise, almost as if he was laughing at her, but more likely it was a pleased noise due to having his ears scratched. Theresa had no doubt that HIS plans for today involved sleeping on her bed for as long as she allowed it and possibly go for a walk at some point.
Without much else to do, and not really able to move because Banksy wouldn't move his head, she flung out an arm and hit the radio button on her digital clock, just in time to catch the end of the radio station's jingle.
"…OooOOOOooooooOOOOOKay folks! Let's get this show on the road!…isn't it good to know it's Capitol Radio?…Oops!……BBC Radio twooooooooo…Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this Cuddly Ken and I've…I've joined the BBC!"
"No way!" Theresa sat bolt upright, (seriously surprising Banksy in the process) wondering if she was imagining this.
Kenny Everett was back on national radio?
An actual radio station that didn't involve a lot of tuning just to end up with a ton of static breaking through all of the music and the commentary?
Really?
"Yes folks," the DJ cooed flirtatiously, as if answering Theresa's thoughts, "from this Saturday on, we bring you a feast of heavenly delights: All the great tunes of the world, contests with soul wrenching prizes, classical items that'll turn your brain into crème de menthe…and your liver and onions into a side street…But mostly we'll have records!"
As the first song of the show started, Theresa smiled, suddenly a morning of washing her clothes didn't seem too bad…not with a Saturday radio show that was actually entertaining to listen to. (She'd always liked radio more than television…she really didn't watch much television aside from the news and some music channels)
So that decided, she switched off the clock radio, apologised to Banksy for waking him up and headed downstairs to the kitchen with renewed vigour.
With the radio on and 'Cuddly Ken' for company, sorting out her shirts from the washing basket, whilst still tedious, wasn't so bad at all, at least she could sing along and sort to a type of rhythm.
Music always made her feel energised, and a DJ with a much passion for it as she had was even better. Her mum had been the same, her grandmother too.
Oh well…this musing wasn't getting the washing done…a quick look out of the window told her that she probably shouldn't risk putting anything on the line in the back garden…
"Would you like a little weather?" the DJ asked, showing off amazingly good timing, "Yes, so would I…(thunderclap)…and that's about the sound of it for this weekend, I'm afraid. Lot's of rain and cloud around Britain…so if you're going outside, take an umbrella. Most depressing, so we won't dwell on it…"
When she finally had a load of shirts on the go in the washing machine (with non-biological powder and eco-friendly conditioner – be more nature-like, man!) she stood, stretched and grabbed the kettle. She was thirsty and wanted a cup of green tea and Echinacea.
As if on cue, a knock came on the door just as she put the kettle down on the lit stove.
Banksy got there first, bolting from Theresa's bedroom to bark a warning at whoever had dared knock on their door.
"Banksy, shush," she scolded, reaching for the twist lock to open it, "sit down,"
He did so, poised to start barking again and, possibly attack, if the visitor turned out to be hostile. It'd never happened yet but you never knew.
She stopped when she saw who was on her doorstep and her polite greeting of 'can I help you?' died before it even reached her lips whilst Banksy chose that moment to pounce, barking excitedly. He knew this visitor! It was that nice man that had saved him from the lorry that time, who patted his head whenever he saw him and sometimes came by.
Kevin…
"Are you tuned in to when I've just put the kettle on?" she asked, a lot more calmly than she felt, her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage that she was surprised it wasn't audible.
"No, it's just good guess work and happening to be on your street," he replied, gently pushing an enthusiastic Banksy off himself.
"C…" she swallowed, her throat suddenly drier than it had been a few seconds ago, "come in…" stepping aside to let him in…then remembered what shirt she was wearing and pressed herself up against the wall.
If he thought it was strange, he didn't comment, something she thanked god, any god, for. Just to be safe, she added a quick prayer to whichever deity was listening.
Please don't let him see my back! He'll think I'm a freak!
She didn't think about why she was worried about that…
"OK, friendy-poos!" Kenny Everett trilled from the radio, cutting across her thoughts and reminding her that she still had to shut the front door, "now it's time for an oldie but a goodie…a 10cc's shot of music!"
"I'm not in love, so don't forget it
It's just a silly phase I'm going through…"
Theresa was acting oddly…well, oddly from what he knew of her, which wasn't much, he admitted, but still oddly.
He couldn't see a reason for her to be quite so nervy (no, he wasn't being honest with himself right now) so decided it was probably nothing.
So he sat at the kitchen table, making, or trying to, friendly chatter with her as they waited for the kettle to boil and Theresa once again gathered up the loose leaves to make the tea. He wasn't very good at it, but she didn't seem to notice. He was also, on a certain level wondering why she was wearing a summer shirt when it was almost December and freezing outside…not that he had many complaints about it…
Then Theresa turned her back to him to reach for the whistling appliance, and, as she did, her shirt shifted and his jaw dropped in shock. It looked like someone had slashed her back twice, leaving two neat but long and angry looking scars that started just below her shoulders and ended just below her shoulder blades
"Good god!" he exclaimed loudly before he could stop himself, "What on earth happened to your back?!"
Then he saw her stiffen and pause just before pouring the water into the teapot.
O-K, he tried to calm himself because it was obviously upsetting her, it seemed he'd accidentally hit a raw nerve…that appeared to be all he did with her, but he STILL kept coming back here…probably said something about his mental state…
"They're my birthmarks," she said eventually, resuming her task of pouring boiling water on the tealeaves.
"I'm…sorry," was all he could think of to say and wished for some kind of distraction…some deity or other (probably the one who'd screwed up and not heard Theresa's original prayer and was now trying to make up for it) granted that wish and Banksy came trotting into the kitchen with his leash in his mouth, dropping it into Kevin's lap with a soft 'woof' and hopeful look that was accompanied by encouragingly wagging his tail.
Banksy didn't care about all this emotional tap dancing and denying that his owner and her male friend with the iron-clad clad face were doing and he certainly didn't care about 'social blunders' and faux pas. No, what Banksy cared about, right now, was the fact that he'd been indoors since last night and for most of this morning, so now what he really, really wanted and was making painfully clear, was to go for a walk outside in the fresh air, where there were things to chase and fetch and different scents to sniff out, to stretch his legs.
"I believe your canine companion wishes to go for a walk," he said, holding up the blue nylon leash, grateful for the distraction.
"Right…" Theresa held out her hand and took the leash from him before fastening it to Banksy's collar, "I'll…get a jacket…" she paused, seemed to think something over, then said, "would you like to come with us? It's not much of a compensation for tea…but I can make more afterwards…"
Dear lord but the girl was an enigma at times! He expected one reaction and got another. She'd had the perfect excuse to get rid of him after he'd made her uncomfortable but she'd still invited him to walk the dog with her…
"Alright."
It was a pleasant walk despite the impending promise of rain, he had to admit, Theresa seemed to relax after a few minutes, now that she had her blue fleece jacket on over the vest shirt and he hadn't mentioned her birthmarks again.
The street they were walking along was quiet, which was probably due to the fact that these were residential streets not part of the city centre. Nice enough, but Kevin couldn't quite shake the feeling that they were being watched and followed. However, Banksy didn't seem bothered so he put it down to mild paranoia.
They talked about this and that, no particular subject, though he was surprised to find out that she didn't believe in fate or pre-destination. She didn't think she was here for a particular purpose; she was just here, with only the one life to lead, so she might as well make the best of it.
"We should start heading back," Theresa said suddenly, looking up towards the sky where the clouds were getting darker "looks like it'll rain soon,"
Just as they turned to head back, Banksy stopped and looked into a shadowed alleyway to their right, bearing his teeth and growling dangerously low in warning.
"What is it boy?" Theresa asked gently, patting him between the ears, "did you spot a cat? Come on, we've got to go now" and gave a tug at his leash, but the dog refused to move
"No cats here," a voice that crackled with static said, "Only us devils…"
Author's Note: dun Dun DUN! OH no! Not ANOTHER random encounter? I don't think these ones are too friendly though…Who are these self proclaimed devils? And what does this mean for our two main characters? Stay tuned! ………(waits for theme tune)………(remembers this is a fiction, not a television show)…damn.
Musical references: Just to clarify - I love Kenny Everett; that guy was a god and if he were still alive today I would DEFINITELY tune into his radio show. So, in his honour, I bring him back to life for my own twisted amusement by playing the AU card (evil cackle) Cuddly Ken lives!
Also, the title is from a song by Bjork and the song that plays on the radio as Theresa closes the door is 'I'm Not in Love' by 10cc