THE HAND

Sleep was eluding me. Eyes that wouldn’t stay shut gazed blankly at the ceiling, the faint glow of the streetlamp casting vague shadows across its textured finish. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was counting them, like sheep. It didn’t seem to be working.

My new friend Rosie the cat wasn’t having any such problems, curled up at the bottom of the bed, and once in a while letting out a gentle purr if I moved a foot.

I forced myself to stop the idiotic shadow-counting, and turned on my side into the Annie position. The red numbers on the clock said it was almost one in the morning.

I drifted away, kind of.  It seemed like only minutes later the clock said two-thirty, and the hand was doing the dangly thing over the side of the bed… always a sure sign sleep had come.

I was there once more, not asleep but not really awake. Blurry eyes wandered around as much of the room as they could without me having to move my head, and closed again as drowsiness fogged over me.

Then something touched my dangling hand.

Rosie? I didn't move, keeping my eyes firmly shut. A slight chill wafted through me. It had to be the cat, going walkabout.

It didn't feel like something furry.

I moved my foot very slowly sideways across the bed. I knew exactly where the furball had been laying a while ago. So now there shouldn't be a warm lump stopping my foot going any further.

There was a warm lump… Rosie was still there.

A million needles pricked me at the same moment. I couldn't move… not even the dangly arm.

Cold, I was freezing cold. No, that wasn’t true... they were hot shivers. Should I open my eyes? What might I see?

A hundred scenarios ran through my mind in a second, but still I couldn't move.

Where are you, Sally?

Then, all the possible options faded away in a millisecond.

Something touched me again.

It was a hand, reaching out into mine. My fingers instinctively curled around it. I couldn't pull away. I squeezed my eyes tighter together, and my heart wanted to pound right out of my chest… but I couldn't pull away.

Then it was going... drifting away, slipping to the tips of my fingers. I tried to reach further towards it.

It was gone.

It seemed to be a small hand, gentle not aggressive. Reaching out, and touching me softly.

I found I could move, sat up in bed and drew my knees up to my chest, my arms around my legs. I couldn't seem to stop rocking gently back and forth.

It was still dark. I hadn't switched the light on. I opened my eyes for the first time. My eyelids slowly parted, afraid of what they might see.

There was nothing. Rosie purred away reassuringly, the streetlamp still lit up the room in a soft diffused glow. No strange apparition stood there watching me. Then again the hand had reached out to me from under the bed.

Under the bed? Oh hell, the chills were back again. What was I sitting on top of? Now I switched the light on.

Think, Annie... and pull yourself together.

Like that was going to happen. I knew I had to do the one thing scaring the living daylights out of me.

I had to look under the bed.

Oh boy, ghost, you sure know how to time things. Of the two people I wouldn't mind sharing my duvet right then, one was sulking in London and the other staying the night in Colchester.

It was down to me. For some reason I still couldn't move. I told myself to give it a few minutes, and listen carefully to see if any slight noises were coming from underneath me. That was probably quite logical, but after fifteen minutes of doing that I had to admit the real reason for putting off looking was because I was just too shit-scared to do so.

The downside of waiting all that time was that I'd had too much time to over-think the situation, and found myself a real dilemma. No matter how much I thought about it, I didn't know how to look under the bed.

There wasn't much of a gap between it and the floor, just about six inches. I'd have to get down low to see. If I got out of bed first, I'd need to put naked feet on the floor next to it, and if something nasty was lurking there...

The only other alternative was to lean over the edge, and stick my head upside down on the floor to see.

What?

Some choice.

A half-asleep Rosie realised the light was on, and wobbled up to brush herself against my arm. Then I had an idea. I could be the privileged colonel up on the safety of the hillside, and send private flat-face to do my dirty work for me and engage the enemy.

What am I like?

Rosie lay against me, her paws draped over my shoulder. I stroked her head as she purred loudly. 'Now listen to me,' I whispered in her ear. 'I know this is rotten of mummy, but you're going to have to be my scouting party, and find out if there's any danger lurking below.'

Even saying that brought another cold shiver.

I tried to reassure her. 'So be a brave little flat-face, and go do your duty.' I kissed her brow, and lowered her ever-so-slowly over the side.

She reached the floor without incident, although I did drop her the last six inches because I couldn’t bear my hands getting too low down. She looked a bit puzzled, probably wondering why her new mum was as white as a sheet.

At least she wasn't growling. Maybe she was just too pissed off at being dropped on the floor. 'Go on then,' I whispered hoarsely, 'look under the bed.' She didn't seem to understand a simple order. I could see a court-martial coming when it was over.

'Go on, private flat-face... get under the bed!' I braved a hand, close enough to the floor to give her butt a shove. She finally got the message, and disappeared from my view.

Heart pounding out of chest time arrived again, but all seemed quiet. 'Well?' I croaked, not really expecting an 'all clear' to come back.

I didn't move a muscle for five minutes. All was silent.

Too silent. Had the damn cat gone to sleep in a sulk? I called her name but there was no response.

Now what?

Hell, I began to wish I was a smoker. I would have had at least six by now.

Three more times I called her name, but all was quiet on the western front. Then I really needed the bathroom, so there was only one option left. 'Oh, to hell with this,' I shouted to no one, and took a flying leap out of bed. I didn't give myself time to think…or think twice… just dropped to the floor and looked underneath the bed.

There was nothing there, which was a relief. It was also a panic-attack inducing moment.

There was nothing there at all.

Rosie had disappeared.

______

Chapter 1

A week earlier

London is not all it's cracked up to be. Not if you're a country-girl at heart.

Its fine if you're on a six-figure salary, don't mind an hour's fight with the human race to get to work every day, and like getting buzzed up with the city's club scene two or three nights a week.

Me? I was going back to my roots.

I guess I must have been in a bold and slightly crazy frame of mind when I made the decision two weeks ago. Although I spent the first twenty years of my life in Norfolk, for the last ten I'd not been back home that much, so there would likely be hardly anyone there I knew.

It’s going to be a big step. It was maybe also a knee-jerk reaction to the night I met my boyfriend's wife.

The one I didn't know existed.

Funny thing, she didn't know I existed either. She still doesn't. Thanks to my sweet darling ex-boyfriend, who pointed out ten minutes after I ran into them in Luigi’s that I may only be a minor celeb in the stacking order, but being thrust into the media limelight because I was having an affair with a respected London publisher wouldn't do my career any good at all.

Of course he was right. I slipped away unnoticed from the restaurant, and cried myself into a brandy-assisted sleep. We'd only been seeing each other four weeks, but I'd quickly fallen in love with the quiet, unassuming man, who plucked just the right strings in my heart because he'd seemed so nervous and unsure the first time he'd asked me out.

Now he was gone. But I'm insane, because I still love him…

'Annie!'

A shriek from my producer brought me out of the morbid train of thought, and I realised Sinead O'Connor was fading away into the background. It was time to sign off, I morphed into DJ mode.

'It's two o'clock guys, and time I let someone else have a turn at the mike. And it's Friday too, so I've got to break the sad news that you're going to have to wait three days to hear my sweet voice again. I hope your weekend is filled with good things... me, I'm moving home, so if the odd yawn or two creeps in on Monday's show, you'll just have to forgive me. This was Midday Magic, I was Annie Anderson, and this is Amanda with a news update.'

I pulled the headphones from my ears as my producer and best friend Sally flounced in. She flounces everywhere, the best word I can think of to describe it.

'Where the hell were you just then, trollop?'

She doesn't mince her words either.

'Sorry, I was miles away.'

'Yeah I could tell. You were thinking about shit-head, weren't you?'

'If you mean Andrew, no I wasn't.'

'Liar.'

She planted her slightly-ample butt on the corner of my console, and flashed baking-soda'd white teeth at me in a sarcastic grin. 'I might seem the arch-typical bottle-blonde Essex gal, sweetie, but I ain't no dumb-ass!'

'Ok ok, I was thinking about Andrew. Happy now?'

'Like hell I am.' She ran her hand affectionately up the back of my super-short auburn hair… not quite a Sinead-O'Connor but pretty close… and then gave my head a gentle slap.

'Get him out of that pretty head of yours, woman. Or it'll eat you alive.'

'Yeah well, tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life.'

'Oh where have I heard that one before?' she grinned, as she grabbed her imitation but scarily-real Bluewater fox-fur jacket. 'C'mon, there’s time for a swiftie before we get off to the back of beyond.'

'It's Norwich, one of England's finest cities. Hardly the back of beyond.'

I could feel her shaking her head slowly all the way along the corridor, and out through the door of the LCFM building into the rain-soaked London air. I knew it was coming, the same question she'd asked me every day for the last two weeks. I was right.

'So why Norwich, of all god-forsaken places?'

'Actually there are fifty-two churches in Norwich.'

'Don't try being a smart-arse with me, bitch,' she grinned. 'You'll never win.'

I wouldn't. The larger-than-life, curvy, arch-typical Essex gal had an answer for everything, and tended to dominate all around her. And she had become the best friend I could ever have.

Sally was the one who put me back together after that awful night, when all I wanted was a quiet meal for one at Luigi's, and instead got a faceful of Andrew, his wedding ring and his adoring wife. Then she stopped me from committing the ultimate act of obsession… calling him the next day.

Actually, she stole my phone so I couldn’t, but now I'm so glad she did.

Now she's the one who is selflessly braving the horrors of deepest Norfolk, and coming with me for the weekend to help me settle in.

She'll take over of course.

'You don't have to come, you know,' I said as we pushed open the door of Dave's bar to a chorus of 'Hi Annie... hi Sally's'. I swear she was just as well-known as me, despite the fact she never says a word on air.

'Don't be silly,' she smiled and put an arm around me. 'How can I leave my little Annie all alone with the natives on her first weekend in the sticks?'

I shook my head, and saw Dave doing the same as he prepared our cocktails.

‘Anyway, I quite fancy meeting a load of sheep-shaggers!'

Chapter 2

We parted company for an hour after the drink… Sally to go get ready, me to shove a few last-minute things into one of the three suitcases I was taking. I didn't need much more, the Norwich pad was fully-furnished, and it was only temporary while I looked for somewhere to buy.

I could have taken other stuff, but Andrew had spent a few nights at my place, and somehow half the things in the apartment seemed to remind me of him. That was a bit of an emotional give-away… I'd been there five years, and a few men had come and gone, yet just a few nights of Andrew's presence, and as I looked around the place all I could see was where he sat, where we made love. The things he used to cooked a beautiful meal for me, the spot where he told me he loved me...

Where's that damn taxi?

I hauled the suitcases down the stairs, and sat on the steps outside the apartment block like Little Orphan Annie, waiting for my ride to the station. The taxi driver looked a bit bemused, and asked if he was late. I told him it was fine, we had plenty of time.

I just had to get out of there, before I looked even more of a mess.

Sally was already at the station as we pulled up on the concourse. At least I thought it was Sally.

'We're going to Norwich, not Hollywood.'

She grinned. 'Well my dear, you gotta show the local yokels what they're missing! Anyway you never know... there are men in Norfolk, right?'

I shook my head again, something I seemed to do a lot when Sally was around.

Talk about the lady in red. Bright red lips perfectly matched a white fifties-style dress with big red poppies. The red shoes and bag matched faultlessly, of course. Everything was topped off with a mass of big blonde curls. She looked stunning… if we’d been going to a movie premier.

'Is all that hair really yours?'

'Sure thing, hun. Amazing what you can do with a big diffuser! Can't say the same about the colour though. Anyway, come on you, time to board the bumpkin express.'

She trotted off in front of me. I half expected Tony Curtis to swoon out of the building to meet her.

As the lights of Norwich came into view, a strange nervous shiver ran through me. It was my home town, but it hadn't been my home for ten years. I couldn't look myself in the eye and honestly say I was doing the right thing. There was only one way to know for sure.

The train was packed the whole journey. I guess I wasn't the only one who lived in Norfolk and would be commuting to London every day. For me, it wouldn’t be quite every day… I wouldn't need to make the trip home on a Wednesday evening. My dearest friend insisted I spent at least one night a week on a sleepover at hers, just to make sure I had at least twenty-four hours of civilisation.

Her word, not mine.

We zapped our tickets through the automated barriers, and walked through the bustling foyer into the late summer Norfolk air. It was a beautiful evening. A red sun was still visible in a cloudless sky, just above the rooftops as it dropped away to make room for the night.

The station car park was buzzing, so many people on the move. I didn't remember it being that busy, but it was the first time I'd seen the place for five years. The last time was when I’dvisited my parents just before they emigrated to Kenya.

Sally's eyes were everywhere, drinking in the scene all around us. 'Wow, these people look quite normal. Are they not locals?'

'Funny.'

'There's a taxi. I'll grab it.'

'It's only four hundred metres down the road.'

'Ok, so you wanna lug these fuckers a quarter of a mile on foot, yeah?'

She had a point. I had three big suitcases, but Sally's still managed to be the largest. I'd already joked that I was starting to think she wanted to move in too.

She didn't say a word. The look on her face was enough to tell me what she thought of that idea.

The taxi ride took all of five minutes, three of those sitting at the traffic lights outside the station. Then we were there, standing on the pathway looking up at my new home.

The blonde bombshell, her cropped-haired elf, and four super-sized suitcases.

It was the first time I'd seen the place for real. Everything had been done over the internet, mostly because I'd only been trawling through the to-let ads for an hour when it jumped out at me. A one-bedroom apartment, three minutes walk to the station.

It was handy for just about everything else too. Riverside Road ran from the station right along the bank of the River Bure, the front windows of the houses looking out over the yacht station. If that's what you could call it… nothing more than a long strip of concrete staithe, where holidaymakers on the Broads could pay a small fortune to moor up and sample the delights of Norfolk's first city. It did have a resident harbour-master, complete with badge and official-looking cap, so I guess that would classify it as a yacht station.

It’s just five minutes into the hub of the city, and that was on foot. That all made it a no-brainer… it was the right place for me.

It looked neat and tidy as we stood giving it the once-over. A neat three-storey town house, it nestled in a long row of similar properties, some of them converted into small guesthouses. My new residence had been turned into three apartments some years ago. The elderly landlady occupied the ground floor, and I was told a guy lived in the top rooms. I pointed to the first floor window.

'That's my pad.'

'Ooh,' grinned Sally. 'You can sit and watch the ships go by!'

'Boats dear, boats.'

'Ok, so I gotta get with the lingo, honey.'

Oh boy, the weekend was going to be an eye-opener.

'Let's go meet Mrs. Ranworth.'

My landlady opened the door with a big smile, and ushered us through into her living room. A tiny lady, her silver hair was curled in a tight perm, and her bright sharp eyes told me she was pretty switched-on. I liked her straight away. She looked Sally up and down, and said slightly worriedly, 'I didn't know there would be two of you, my dear.'

'Oh no, it's ok. This is my mother… she's just here for the weekend to make sure I eat properly.'

Poor Mrs. Ranworth looked taken aback for a moment, until Sally held out a hand.

'Please forgive my friend, she's just a little insane. I'm Sally, her producer at the radio station.'

'Oh... right then.' My landlady looked relieved. 'I didn't think you looked quite old enough to be Annie's mother.'

'Excuse...'

'It's quite an honour to have a celebrity living here. I've told all my friends.'

I cringed, awaiting the verbal onslaught over the word quite, but Sally amazed me by smiling sweetly and saying, 'Oh, she's not a celeb. Only a few friends and family ever listen to her. But don't let on... she thinks she's really popular.'

'Oh my dear, I think you're winding me up,' Mrs. Ranworth smiled knowingly. 'I understand Midday Magic is one of the top rated shows of all London radio stations. At least, that's what I read on Twitter.'

Every now and then there's a moment in life when you wished you had a camera at the ready. That was one… Sally's face was a picture.

'You... you're on Twitter?'

'Oh yes.' There was a twinkle in my landlady's eyes. 'And Facebook. I must confess I'm a bit of a social media addict.'

I was willing for this to go on. Mrs. Ranworth had got Sally in retreat. She fired a retaliatory shot, but it was weak and well wide of the mark.

'I didn't think you could get the internet in Norfolk.'

And the knock-out blow...

'Well you can my dear… you just have to make sure you keep up a good head of steam. To power the valves and transistors, you know.'

Oh joy. I didn't just like my new landlady, I loved her. Sally stood looking at the floor in stunned silence. I adore my best friend, but I've been waiting almost ten years for someone to get the better of her.

Now it had finally happened, the person responsible was a silver-haired, slightly stooped, frail looking pensioner, who obviously possessed a wit as sharp as a pin.

I think I'm going to like Norfolk.

Chapter 3

My new second-bestest friend ambled across the Axminster carpet to a stained oak bureau in the corner. Everything in the room was spotless… a contrast of traditional furnishings and the latest technology. An expensive flat-screen smart-TV sat on the wall above the tiled fireplace, and an iPod docking station lay on a woven tapestry mat on the matching oak sideboard.

'I think you'll find the flat to your liking, Annie,' she said with a smile. 'It's quite groovy... not like this.' She waved a hand around the room. 'I had the designers in to scheme it, you know. Cost a packet I can tell you!'

She pulled out a small bunch of keys, and handed them to me. 'This one is for the front door,' she instructed. ‘This is to your flat, and this one is the shed in the garden, should you need to put anything in there.'

'Thank you so much, Mrs. Ranworth.'

'Call me Doris, my dear.'

'Then thank you, Doris.'

'Roger lives in the flat above you. He’s in right now so you'll no doubt meet him soon. He's no bother, very quiet really, although you might hear him playing his guitar sometimes. He's very good.'

'I shall look forward to meeting him.'

'Now run along you two, and get settled in. I'm now going to watch Coronation Street on iplayer.'

I poked a still-stunned Sally, who hadn't moved or spoken a word for the last five minutes.

'Huh? Oh, um, yes. Thank you, Mrs. Ranworth,' she said meekly.

Will she ever be the same again?

I got my answer as we stumbled up the stairs with the suitcases. I guess you can't keep a top flouncer down for long.

'Norfolk designers?' she snorted. 'So we're sleeping on a bed made of straw bales, and hanging our coats on a shepherd’s crook?'

'I'd be careful what you say if I were you,' I grinned. ‘I could get my favourite landlady to come and shut you up again.'

'Aw, that?' she retorted. 'I thought I'd better let her win. You know what they say, never upset the natives on the first day.'

'Yes, mother.'

We reached the first floor hallway, and dropped the cases outside my door. I handed Sally the keys and told her to get the door open, said I was gasping for a cup of tea. I bent to pick up the cases for the last time as she pushed the door open. She spun round, and braced herself against the sides of the door frame, blocking my way. Her eyes were wide with... something.

'You can't possibly live here!' she gasped.

'What? Why?' My heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

She grinned. 'It's far too good for you!'

I cupped my hands around her ample boobs, and pushed us both into a heap on the apartment floor, giggling like schoolkids. Then a voice in the hall shut us up.

'Well… I can see life is going to be more fun around here from now on.'

A tall, slim, black-haired man stood in the doorway, a silly grin on his face. He looked straight at Sally, probably because it was hard not to, her feet pointing at him and the dress now covering nothing it was supposed to from the belt down.

'You must be Annie.' He held out a hand, which Sally took to help pull herself to her feet. She hastily persuaded the dress back to the knees, and flashed the cheesy smile.

'Actually this little elf is Annie.' She gestured to me, now sitting cross-legged on the floor, a dozy smile attempting to cover up my embarrassment, and then introduced herself. 'I'm Marilyn.'

What?

The man nodded, looking her up and down. 'Yes, you certainly are.'

'Why thank you, kind sir.'

My god… she even sounded more like the screen legend than Marilyn herself.

'And I do like diamonds, if you're offering.'

'Well you might have to wait until I finally write a number one hit.'

I found my voice. 'Oh, you're a songwriter?'

'Yeah. Not a very good one, not yet anyway.' He reached down to me, and we shook hands. 'I'm Roger, as you may have guessed.'

'Yeah we sort of figured that out,' said Sally... um, Marilyn. 'So am I to get a song written for me, big boy?'

'I think someone beat me to that,' his grin got even wider. 'Wasn't it called Candle in the Wind?’

'Oh I'm sure you could write a better one.' Now it was a grinning competition, but then Roger cut it short.

'Love to stay and chat, you two, but I've got a gig over at the Angler.' I saw for the first time he was carrying a guitar case. 'Come over later if you like, and I'll dedicate a song. It's just by the bridge.'

'Yeah I know,' I said. 'I'm a Norfolk baby.'

'Oh well done. Ok, catch you later maybe.'

He was gone, heading down the stairs.

'Here's looking at you kid,' called down the irrepressible Sally after him. Then, when she heard the front door slam, she finished the sentence. 'Or not. Hard to tell really.'

'You noticed his eyes then.'

'Yeah, they point in different directions. Bit disconcerting really… I can't tell which bit of me he's looking at.'

'I think there was only one bit when he first set eyes on you.'

'Oops!'

She pulled me to my feet, and we stood looking in awe around the room. Doris had only put a couple of tiny photos in the advert. I already knew it was smart, but it wasn't quite what I'd expected… to say the least.

We stood on a pale biscuit-coloured carpet. In front of us, an L-shaped black leather sofa wrapped around a simple but stunning black glass coffee table, with a matching vase holding a single red rose. The walls were a creamy yellow, and gold and black curtains with beaded tie-backs covered the large bay window.

A low black-glass storage unit swept across the space where the old fireplace once was, supporting a large flat-screen TV and ultra-slim music station, both of which seemed to be connected to a six-speaker sound system.

In one corner sat a glass computer desk with a twenty-inch monitor ready for action, and in the far corner was more black glass… a round dining table with four beautiful iron chairs arranged perfectly around it.

'I have got to see the bedroom,' announced Sally, padding over to a white six-panel door.'Oh my.'

I joined her in the doorway, and we gazed onto more designer heaven. The same yellow walls, but this time with a lot of red. The gorgeous satin curtains matched a sumptuous throw cocooning a brown leather king-size bed frame sitting on four chunky legs. There was also a thick footboard, with a flap in the top. I look at Sally.

'No, it can't be...'

I ran to the bed, and pressed a button on the tiny remote control unit sitting on one of the bedside tables. The flap in the footboard dropped away, and a TV rose up to say hello.

'It is!' we chorused.

The bathroom didn't disappoint either, a Jacuzzi P- bath and power shower dominating the decent-sized room. We finished the tour of the penthouse with the kitchen, which was small but must still have cost more than the average SUV, and then flopped down side by side on the bed.

'So what do you think of Norfolk now, Marilyn?'

'Well I was thinking...'

'Go on.'

'I'm still of the opinion this place is far too good for the likes of you,' she giggled. 'So why don't you have my pad and I'll live here instead?'

I grabbed a pillow and whacked her as hard as I could, but before it got to the cartoon stage of feathers flying around the room like snow, the door knocked and foiled our playtime.

'Only me,' came the muffled tones of Mrs. Ranworth.

I opened the door. 'Come in, Doris.'

She stepped just inside the room. 'I won't disturb your peace, dear,' she said, 'I just wanted to make sure everything was ok for you.'

'Ok? Its... amazing!'

'Well we like to do things in style in Norfolk these days, you know.' There was a cheeky glint in her eye as a slightly ruffled-looking Sally appeared.

'It must have cost a fortune to get London designers in though, Doris,' she said.

'Oh no my dear, they weren't from London. My brother did it all. He has a shop in Acle, six miles away.'

Round two to Doris.

'Anyway, I'll leave you two to get organised. Oh, I almost forgot… how are you with ghosts?'

'Ghosts?' Sally startled us both with a shrill cry.

'I don't believe in that kind of thing, Doris,' I said.

'Ah. Well I think there's one here somewhere, so you might believe soon, my dear.' She put a hand on my arm. 'But it seems quite friendly, so there's nothing to be afraid of. Bye.'

I closed the door as she ambled off, and turned to Sally with a smile.

'I don't have any truck with the paranormal, do you?'

My smile soon faded. There was a look on her face I'd never seen before. Ghosts didn't faze me, but the blonde bombshell sure wasn't happy about something.

Chapter 4

We decided to take my housemate up on his offer, and strolled into the Compleat Angler an hour later, to a chorus of wolf-whistles and the odd comment like, 'yes, we do prefer blondes love', to which Sally replied, 'Hello boys!' in her best Marilyn.

'You're mixing your screen icons, dear,' I remarked. 'That was Mae West.'

'I realise that, but they're only yokels. They won't know the difference.'

Roger sat on a tall stool in one corner, plucking away on his guitar, and singing in a soft but powerful voice. Doris was right, he was good. He spotted us, and nodded a greeting as he sang away. We stood and watched him while the barmaid pulled our pints of Wherry… I insisted Sally tried the local brew… then wandered out through the open doors to the terrace sitting up against the bridge and overlooking the river.

We sat at a wooden table, munching peanuts while we waited for the bar food to arrive, and I pointed out to Sally that we could actually see my lounge window from there… and just how short a distance it was to stagger home after a good night out.

It was a beautiful September evening. Roger's sweet music drifted through the open doors, and a gentle warm breeze caressed our faces. My fear of heading into the unknown was quickly melting away. My pad was gorgeous, my landlady a top girlie, and Roger seemed really nice. Everything was starting to feel right.

Well, almost.

'Ok you, spill.'

Sally looked up, half-startled. She was obviously miles away. 'Spill what?'

'You know what. You've been on another planet ever since Doris mentioned the word ghosts.'

'Oh that.' She looked down at her pint, cupping nervous hands around the glass. 'Ghosts scare me, that's all it is.'

'Nothing scares you, Sally Brown.'

'Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do.'

That pang of nervousness was back again. Here was a side of my best friend she'd kept well hidden. I reached out, and wrapped my hand around hers. 'Hey you… ghosts don't exist, they're just figments of the imagination of people who want to believe there's another life out there somewhere.'

'Maybe.'

I was just about to take the bull by the horns and ask if something had happened in her life, when Roger interrupted us. Through the speakers we heard him say, 'I don't usually sing songs written by someone else, but tonight two beautiful ladies are here from London, so I'm going to make an exception. So welcome to our little corner of England, Annie and Sally!'

The whole place erupted into a rapturous round of applause, with a few added whistles. Everyone seemed to know exactly who he was referring to.

'I am a lucky man because Annie is here to stay, and indeed is my new housemate, but unfortunately the gorgeous Sally... or should I call her Marilyn...’ he paused to allow some affectionate-sounding laughter and more whistles to die down... 'is only here for a short visit.'

Cue a chorus of 'aww's', and a big beaming smile from Sally.

Roger hitched his guitar strap back over his shoulder. 'So I have to take this opportunity to sing a song for her. And really, there is only one...'

He started to pluck the strings, the notes of a song so familiar to everyone in the room. He began to sing, his soft voice perfectly suited to the words. 'Goodbye Norma Jean, though I never knew you at all...'

Big, brash flouncy Sally looked at me with tears in her eyes. 'No one's ever sung a song for me before,' she sobbed.

I stood up, and reached out to her. Somehow I just had to give her a hug. 'So you are just a big softie after all.'

That was it. Drinks seemed to appear from nowhere, and we became the centre of attention. Sally hammed it up like a true A-lister, and I laughed until my sides ached.

There would be no more talk of ghosts that night.

It was just after midnight when the landlord finally persuaded everyone they had homes to go to, and the three of us headed back to ours.

Okay, staggered back was more the truth, at least for two of us. Roger seemed pretty sober, a true saint if ever there was one, because I don't think we would have made it without him.

Sally and me had caught some kind of disease, the primary symptom of which was uncontrollable giggles, coupled with an inability to walk in a straight line. We promised each other we’d see a doctor to find a cure as a matter of urgency.

Roger managed to calm us down as we reached the front door, telling us Doris would probably be fast asleep, and we should try to giggle a little quieter. Something told me though that even if we did wake her, she would just smile and know exactly where we'd been.

Saint Roger performed some kind of minor miracle in managing to shepherd us safely into our pad, and then with a shake of the head and a what have I let myself in for smile, he bid us goodnight, leaving us in more fits of giggles as we did our best to remove clothes that just seemed to get wrapped around bits of our bodies they weren't designed to fit.

'You know I sleep in the buff, don't you?' gasped Sally as the dress finally came off after a three-minute struggle.

'We have spent nights together before, remember.'

'Ah yes my little elf, but never in the same bed.'

Then she was stark naked, and somehow found her way into the bathroom. She didn't bother to close the door, I watched her as she attempted to brush her teeth. She was gorgeous. She could never be described her as slim… curvy suited her well… but somehow everything was in the right proportions.  Nothing wobbled when she moved, and when she came back into the bedroom, the double-dees were still firm enough to arrive a moment or two before the rest of her.

She saw I was watching. 'I do hope you're not going to take advantage of my inbr... inebriated state, you sexy mare.'

'Confirmed hetro me, as you well know. But if I was that way inclined I'd probably fancy the ass off you.'

She brushed a hand across my naked breasts. 'Hmm, if I didn't like real cock so much I guess I'd be sharing a dildo with you too.'

More fits of giggles as we fell into bed, and pulled the duvet over ourselves.

'You're such a dirty cow.'

'Yeah well, that's me, honey. Take me or leave me. On second thoughts, don't take me!'

More giggles.

'Even if I wanted my wicked way with you, I think tonight I'd probably fall asleep halfway through.'

'Gee thanks. Some friend you are.'

We turned out the bedside lamps with a final shared giggle.

'Sweet dreams, Marilyn.'

'You too, hussy. Oh, and if you wake later to find me fondling your tits, it's only because I move a lot in my sleep, so don't read anything into it.'

'Dirty bitch.'

I didn't remember anything else, except that I half-woke around four to find I was alone in the bed. I didn't think anything of it, assuming Sally had gone to the loo… and I couldn't stay awake long enough to have coherent thoughts anyway.

Chapter 5  

'What is it with that arm of yours anyway?'

I felt a foot gently kick my hand, dangling down the side of the bed, the place it always seemed to end up by morning.

'Go away.'

'Charming. I force myself to crawl out of bed just to make you a morning cuppa, and that's the thanks I get. Ungrateful bitch.'

'It's too early.'

'How would you know? I think someone's super-glued your eyelids together. Put it like this, sugar, if this was Monday, LCFM would be grabbing someone right now to start your show for you.'

That meant it was eleven o'clock. Eleven? I sat bolt upright, and then burst out laughing as I looked at my best friend. She was naked apart from a cotton pinny-style apron, covering some of the front view but none of the back.

'Wow… yesterday Marilyn Monroe, today Mrs. Beeton!'

'Did she bake cakes in just an apron then?'

'No, but she wasn't a slapper like you.'

'Watch it, trollop, or I'll go get my bag of flour.'

She plonked herself on the bed next to me, and pointed to the cup on the bedside table. 'Drink, woman. It'll help with the head.'

'How do you know I've got a head?'

'You must have after what you stacked away last night.'

'You can talk.' I took a sip of the tea, spluttering most of it over the duvet. 'Arghh! Did you put any tea in this sugar?'

'I told you, it'll help.' She went to the window, and thrust the curtains back to let the morning sunlight stream in. I winced, she laughed. Then she flounced around the room picking clothes off the floor, some of which seemed to have ended up in very strange places, muttering something about what a scruffy cow I was for only being there twelve hours and already trashing the place.

I sipped my cup of sugar with added tea and watched her with a grin, wondering how long it would be before I got forcibly yanked out of bed to do my bit. It wasn't long.

'Hey, what's a girl got to do to get breakfast round here, waif?'

'Breakfast? What with?'

'Oh, don't tell me there's no food in the place?'

'Did you notice us pushing a trolley around Sainsbury's at any point yesterday?'

We skipped across the bridge, the warm Norfolk sun burning away any residual thoughts of hangovers. We waved like teenagers to the happy holidaymakers passing beneath us in their plastic boats, and ran the last few metres to the doorway of the little supermarket just up from the Angler, fighting like eight-year-olds to be the first into the shop. Sally disappeared in the direction of the fridges, and I headed for the cereal shelf.

In seconds she was back, holding up her choice with a silly grin. 'Bacon,' she said, unnecessarily.

I held up my package. 'Muesli!'

'Oh god. How very European of you, darling. Eat like a Brit for fucks sake! Now, where's the eggs?'

She disappeared again, and I found the milk and a few other odds we might need. We met up at the checkout, where a familiar figure was just paying the cashier.

'Oh hello, you two,' said Roger. 'How are we this morning?'

'We are fine,' retorted Sally. 'Us Londoners can handle our partying.'

'Glad to hear it. And you'll be pleased to know your giggling didn't keep me awake very long.'

'Oops, sorry,' I muttered as I handed my stuff to the cashier.

'Only joking,' he replied. 'Didn't hear a thing. On the breakfast run I see.'

'Call that breakfast?' Sally snorted at my muesli. 'Ok if you're a rabbit I suppose. Oh, sorry Roger... no pun intended!'

'Oh feel free, Marilyn,' he grinned. 'That's what I'm here for too… breakfast.'

Got something tasty?' I asked.

'Oh yes.' He held up a tall slim bag. 'Chocolate doughnuts.'

'Ha… see?' exclaimed Sally. 'There's a Brit after my own heart. Put it there, pal.'

They exchanged high-fives, and the three of us wandered back to the house. Then I cooked Sally her bacon and eggs on my super-smooth halogen hob, and the damn bacon smelled so good I gave in and had a round myself, much to Sally's amusement.

So I stuffed down a bowl of muesli as well, just to make a point, and then suggested we hit the shops, an idea that brought a look for horror to Sally's face.

'Shop? Here? Are you winding me up?'

I wasn't going to take no for an answer, so despite Sally's protests that shopping in Norwich was probably ok if you wanted a smock or a new outfit for your scarecrow, we headed off to the shopaholic's heaven that was Castle Mall and Chapelfields... and boy did we shop.

We shopped so much we didn't stand a chance of getting back home without a line of pack-mules, so we took a second five-minute taxi-ride, shuttled a thousand bags up the stairs, and flopped down on the black leather sofa, our bare and slightly-steaming feet on the glass coffee table.

Then the blonde bombshell looked over to me and smiled, and finally admitted it.

'Well kiddo… as back-of-beyond's go, Norwich is ok really!'

Sunday morning arrived, and so did my new flat-mate.

This one had four legs, smoky cream fur apart from a dark-coloured tail that looked like it should be attached to a mongoose, and a funny flat face with even smokier blue eyes.

Doris told me on the phone the previous week that her friend was off to live in a care-home, and Rosie the cat wasn't allowed to go with her. She ever-so-gently hinted that if I wanted some company in my new pad, someone else could do with a new home.

I couldn't really say no, but I did quite fancy the idea of a furry friend. There had always been pets around as I grew up, but since relocating to London I’d been an animal-free zone.

Now I was back home, and at twelve o'clock Rosie arrived to share my space. She didn't seem quite as gob-smacked with her surroundings as we had been, just taking herself on a tour of the place, and then curling up on the bed like she'd been there for years.

'Aw, she's sweet,' said Sally. 'Even if she does look like she's run into a wall a bit too fast.'

'Leave her alone,' I laughed, 'She can't help having a flat face.'

'Don't worry, you've got a flat chest but I still love you.'

I thumped her, hard. 'It's not flat, just... perky.'

My voluptuous friend pulled me close, and buried my face between her ample boobs. 'There you go, my perky little elf... that's what a real woman feels like!'

We collapsed on the bed in another fit of giggles, forgetting about the cat. Luckily she leapt out of the way of our falling bodies, so we didn't flatten her face anymore. She was soon purring again after a bit of fuss, and curled back up into a contended ball of fluff. Sally looked envious.

'Tell you what girl, that cat's got the right idea. You wanna say fuck the world?'

She didn't have to ask twice. The Bombay mix got tipped into a bowl, and the three of us snuggled down and gave the groovy pop-up TV and nice long test run with a double-bill of Fred and Ginger.

When the Bombay mix got us in the mood for a bit of spice, we ordered a takeaway from the Indian restaurant in Magdalen street, which seemed to have been there as long as anyone could remember, and stuffed ourselves stupid on lamb dhansak, chilli chicken and a stack of popadums and mint sauce.

Then it was time to call it a day. LCFM's Annie Anderson and her no-nonsense producer had a seven-thirty train to catch in the morning. Back to dear old London. Back to employed reality.