THE ONLY THING THAT GEORGINA CAN REMEMBER is having doubts about the stranger renting next door. She’s been ignoring him.
George, her preferred name, but only close friends can call her that is beginning to wonder if the informality should continue, well she doesn’t see any of her old friends anymore.
Can’t for the life of her think what she’s doing here, what possessed her to live out an existence in limbo in this backwater of a place.
Georgina hangs on to things, can’t abide letting go, and that includes her memories. The house is up for sale, and the odd person shown around the place just ignores her if you please, as if she’s not there. How rude. She finds a lot of time to reflect now, hell! Even wonders if anyone knows she’s here.
She thought herself popular among the crowd, kinda was a social creature. Always been eccentric taking risks and all that, especially with those she got involved with, or you could say entangled.
Thing is, its not the acquaintance she needed to be careful of, no, they’d to be careful, or better to avoid Georgina.
She won’t admit that she’s losing it. I mean come on, wouldn’t you think it’ll be strange to anyone knowing she talks to the wallpaper.
Just because the patterns in it look like faces and she’s trying to hear what they’re saying. She’s wondering if that’s putting people off the place.
Georgina likes to take the cards from bouquets of flowers left outside for next door and do it before they get to know.
That’s Georgina through and through. She pins them to all her dead flowers in the house. Scribbles out and adds a name, past acquaintances, although she would never add the name… William.
He put up a fight.
She didn’t know how she got away that night and got back home.
She drifted away then and missed the latest bunch of flowers for next door. Blast too late, they been taken into the house. Georgina didn’t see her do it, or did she?
Well that’s strange, a face on the wallpaper wanting her attention. Georgina got close, it was Michael again, the one before William. She shouldn’t be thinking of that name.
Michael, last heard of, dead in her deep freezer. She thinks the face is saying something to her; better listen to it this time, Michael always did want to help her, she’d have been better clinging on to him. Sounds like he’s saying – answer the front door.
There’s someone approaching.
When she looked up, on cue, there’s a knock at the door and looking through the glass, a shadow.
Looks like that stranger renting next door with the carpetbag. Georgina felt she might need to leave and told Michael; tell the others she might not be coming back…
story by John Riley