All entries for Wednesday 28 January 2009

January 28, 2009

Notes to Jilly

Notes to Jilly

You know what, Jill? Every time you come around to ask me a vaguely unsettling question you always follow up my answer with the words “Don’t worry, there’s nothing to worry about. Thanks for your help.” And you know what? That always sets alarm bells ringing. And we’re not talking little hand bells on a shop counter to get the assistant’s attention, oh no: we’re talking about standing next to Big Ben at twelve o’clock on a really quiet day. You say something like that and you know something’s wrong.

         Every time you say that I can’t help but worry.

         Every time you say that it means another sleepless night for me.

         And every time you say that, I can’t help but fear, somehow, that it’s all my fault.

-x-

So what’s happened then? You came around to my house last night all concerned questions and “don’t worries” and then left without another word of explanation. You don’t even have your phone with you, so I couldn’t call you.

         It’s Timothy again, isn’t it? It’s always Tim. I don’t think he deserves you, Jill. He always takes and takes and never gives anything back. He’s no good for you, Jill. You care for him too much.

         So tell me then, what’s he done this time? Got drunk and fallen into the canal? Got high and assaulted the policeman? Been so out of his head that he’s set fire to one of the local tramps, because, after all, they make such pretty torches? Or has he tried to kill himself again?

         Please, Jill, I wish you’d keep your mobile with you: I hate having to slip these notes through your door all the time. Oh, and you seriously need to get your answer machine fixed; it’s been broken for ages.

-x-

I’m really sorry, Jill. I know I exaggerated. I know Tim probably wouldn’t have done all those things I said. He’s not that bad. He’s not good, mind, but… look, I know I’m harsh on him sometimes; I just worry about you. Please give me a ring when you get this note. Thanks.

-x-

Hi, Jill. I know you’re at the hospital today, but just dropping a note to say that I think your Mum called round. At least, I think it was your Mum. I mean, it could have been someone else, I haven’t seen your Mum for years. She drove a green car.

-x-

Has somebody nicked your mobile or what?

-x-

Hi, Jill. Just wondered if you wanted to go for a drink tonight?

         I’ve found my old phone if you want it. I don’t use it anymore and you’d have to delete all the numbers from my contacts list, but it works just fine.

-x-

I’ve just told my parents the news! They’ve asked if they can have permission to send round ridiculous fluffy toys in varieties of pink and blue with little hearts embroidered all over them?

         You’ve left your phone behind again, you silly thing. I can hear it ringing in the hallway.

-x-

Your phone was switched off.

         I heard Timmy coming in this morning. He seemed in a right bad mood; I could hear him from right across the street. Is everything alright?

-x-

You know you came round yesterday and asked if I’d seen Tim? Well, I went out clubbing with some work friends afterwards – it was the Blues House we went to – and I spotted him there in the sea of people. He was with some shifty looking bloke.

         Hope everything’s ok. Please answer your phone when it rings next time.

-x-

You’re not really pregnant, are you Jill? I saw you coming home yesterday. You looked ill.

-x-

Jill, where are you? I can’t find you anywhere. There’s police here saying Timmy’s been found dead, hanging from a tree. Please, pet, where the hell are you? Your Mum’s here and she’s going frantic. The police are preparing to break the door down. Please, Jilly darling, please answer a phone or come to the door and read the note and answer it or something. Please let us know you’re alright.

-x-

Dear Milkman,

         Please stop delivering to this house. They won’t be needing it anymore.

         If you’ve got any problems with anything then just slip a note through the red door across the street.

         Sofia.


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