Trojen one chapter 2

chapter two of my novel. an actor is pulled into a world he doesn't really understand.

A warm stream of sunlight had broken through the clouds and burned through the window onto Blake’s face. The comfort of that warmth brought a smile to his face before he had opened his eyes. Shifting his body weight he felt the book slip from his chest, hitting the floor. He let out a humoured breath and got to his feet taking the book with him. Blake returned the book to its place on the shelf before moving to the bathroom to take a shower.

A shadow caught his eyes and Blake stared out of the window. The front yard of the cottage was encased by large well pruned hedges, an overly ornate fountain with cherubs holding urns and several colourful flowerbeds. What he couldn’t see was what had made the shadow. There were many things in the yard that could have cast a darkness across the room but Blake was sure there had been weight to the shadow.  

No he had to be imagining it, his tired mind playing tricks on him, it had to be. He attempted to reason with himself as he stepped into the shower. The water was cold, he had forgotten how the weak the plumbing was and resolved to have someone come and fix it whilst he was there.

Around an hour later Blake was making his way into the village. There was a café on the main street that he had always enjoyed. The woman who owned it was a plump older woman who always gave him an extra cake with his coffee. The walk would only take him ten minutes and he was glad to be out in the spring sun. Yet as he walked Blake couldn’t help but hold onto the feeling of being watched. Of course he used to having fans or paparazzi following him but this was different. There was something darker about the feeling that crept up his spine. Blake had been sure he saw somebody in a dark coat slip behind around a corner when he glanced over his shoulder. No matter how much he tried to push the thoughts to the back of his mind, or reason with himself Blake couldn’t shake the feeling.

Mr Gordon, a tall thin aged man was stood in his front yard, a pair of sheers in his hands. Blake had known the old man from childhood and decided to stop for a quick chat.

“Oh it is lovely to see you, Blake. How are your parents?”

“They are well, thank you Mr Gordon. Wow your shrubs are even better than I remember.”

“Why thank you I do try.” Both men laughed. Mr Gordon had won four awards over the years for the sculptured bushes in his gardens. At least eight of the other residents in the village paid the older man to tend their gardens.

Blake declined the offer of tea, but voiced his worry to Mr Gordon over the hedge.

“I don’t know maybe I’m just paranoid.”

“Could be, but we’ll keep an eye open for you, Blake. Don’t worry.”

He thanked Mr Gordon before continuing his walk toward the café. He let himself be comforted by the old man’s words. Though Blake knew he would be useless if anybody was attacking him, Mr Gordon was not a man without means. If somebody did find a way of getting to him, Blake knew his neighbour would be keeping an eye on him for the rest of his stay.

Allowing himself to enjoy the rest of the walk and ignoring any aboding feeling of stalkers Blake quickly found himself at the door. He let out a small laugh, it had been seven years since he had last entered the café and nothing had changed. The old woman still stood behind the counter, giving out her sweet motherly smile to every customer. A young woman, who Blake was sure he had seen here as a girl was whipping down the used tables and collecting empty mugs.

Putting on his sweetest smile Blake ordered a cup of coffee and a newspaper.

“Oh I don’t mean to be presumptuous Mr Hollingberry but are you sure you want to read the papers?” the woman asked him, biting down on her bottom lip. He nodded his reply attempting to keep his face plan. It wasn’t until the tabloid was placed in front of him that Blake understood the woman’s warning. It was plastered all over the front page. The media had decided that Blake was drug addict and an overdose had coursed his collapse. Blake asked for any other papers or magazines they had in the café. His heart sank down each time, the headlines getting worse. He dropped his head into his hands as he looked through the last glossy magazine. Blake was flipping through quickly to find a certain page; an interview with his friend Thomas. Part of him found a new appreciation for his fellow actor. The interviewer asked what his thoughts on Blake’s drug habits were and Thomas answered sternly.

He doesn’t have a drug habit. After spending almost twenty four hours a day with him for six months I never once saw him touch anything stronger than a whiskey. The guy doesn’t even smoke. No I have spoken to with his family and believe what they have told me. The guy was tired, he had worked dead straight hours for the last three years the guy needed a break. I think we all need to have a good look at ourselves and re-evaluate how we look at things. Blake is a respectable man who has strong values and principles he wouldn’t put his health at risk by doing something like that.

Blake took in Thomas’ words feeling a little lighter. The woman had returned to the table with his coffee. She placed it in front of him along with a Belgium bun; his favourite. He grinned to the woman behind the counter who winked back at him. Her attention was broken by the ringing of the bell over the door and the entrance of another woman. Blake decided she was probably about his age, maybe a bit younger. He couldn’t help but watch as her long brown hair waved down her back and danced as she walked. She gave a wave to the café owner and took her place at a table she was obviously accustomed to.

Blake watched her as she pulled a book from her bag and opened it to the bookmark. She didn’t say a word whilst she was there, but read and drank the tea that was placed on the table. There was something about the way the sun framed her face that intrigued Blake. Still he had always prided himself on his gentlemanly ways and agreed with the voice in his head that he would leave her to read her book, for now.

A few hours passed and Blake had managed to read through every article about his supposed drug problem. He didn’t normally bother himself with public reviews, it wasn’t a good place to put yourself in when they attacked you. Still this was different, he wanted to know everything he was accused of and would be sure to do as many interviews to deny all of them.

It was futile he was sure the media would spew whatever drivel they wanted and the public would believe every word. He let out a sigh, thanked the owner for his coffee, paid her and left the café. As he left he looked down at the woman who still had her nose buried in the book and glanced the title. ‘The curious case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde- by Robert Louis Stevenson.’

‘She’s got culture.’ He thought to himself.

The feeling of being watched fell over him almost instantly. He glanced around the street, nothing appeared to be out of place. He took in everyone that was there. Two women chatted or more likely gossiped outside a florist. There was a slight murmur of voices from inside the pub.

One man was sitting alone on a bench. He wasn’t dressed to dissimilar to Blake, plain jeans, a jumper and a light spring coat. However his presence peaked Blake’s attention. The way he sat with his arms draped over the back of the bench. Glaring eyes that appeared to stare into nothingness narrowed by the sunlight.

Once more Blake pushed his unnerving thoughts to the back of his mind he made his way to the green grocers corner shop. The cottage hadn’t been stoked with many provisions so Blake was taking his time to choose each piece of food. It was fairly small shop but held almost everything you could need on a daily basis. It took no time for Blake to start filling the small trolley in front of him. Three bottles of milk, a block of cheese; as far as he was concerned every meal was made better with cheese.

He came to a standstill in the biscuit aisle. He was sure he wanted some but couldn’t make a decision on which ones to buy. Close beside him he saw the shape of a woman lean forward and pick up some double chocolate chip cookies.

“These ones, you want these ones they are the best.” Blake turned to look at her, it was the woman from the café. Her voice was nothing like he had imagined. Though it was gentle and womanly there was a strength and a hardness behind it. Blake wondered if she had been in the army or position of authority.

He took the packet of cookies from her and placed it in the trolley.

“Thanks.”

“You are being followed.” It was abrupt and to the point her eyes had gotten purposeful. “Don’t look around, try not to react, do you know why they are following you?”

Blake shook his head.

“Carry on with your shopping, I’m going to keep an eye on you. Don’t ask questions. I will meet you back at your home.”

With that she was gone. Blake couldn’t even track her movements. A panic picked up in his chest that he tried to ignore. His mind went on spiral and he could hardly concentrate on his goal.

‘Ok act normal Blake, you’re an actor you can do this.’ His internal voice kept telling him, repeating the mantra over and over.  Almost in a daze he placed food products into his trolley and queuing up at the till. He felt slightly odd as he placed his food on the black conveyer belt. Blake glanced around himself at the other customers, nobody appeared out of place. That was a fact that worried Blake more than seeing someone unusual. The cashier was someone he had known as a child in fact almost everyone in the village knew Blake well and welcomed his return. He attempted to joke with her as he packed the groceries into plastic bags. He slightly regretted walking from the cottage, he had purchased a few heavy products and they would pull on his fingers during the walk.

Blake handed over cash to pay for his food, told the cashier he would see her again soon and left. Trying to keep the nerves pressed down and the fluttering in his stomach still he walked back through the always narrowing streets back to the cottage.

He couldn’t be sure but at times he thought he caught sight of the woman’s brown hair flick behind a tree or around a corner. A new thought flashed into his mind, what if it was here? How could he have been so blind? It was painfully obvious now he thought about it, she was a fan and had taking the stalking to a whole new level. He wondered if he should drop the bags and run in the opposite direction.

‘No come on Blake you’re a grown man, you can handle one fan.’ Pulling himself together again he unlocked the cottage and dropped the bags in the kitchen. There was nothing frozen so putting it away would wait for a while.  His backdoor opened and closed with barely a sound and she was standing in front of him.

“Ok who are you?” Blake asked trying to fill his voice with command.

“No I am not the one following you. I am not a fan. They have backed off for now. Before you ask no I will not give you my name. Why are people following you? You are just an actor!”

“I- I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, extenuating the scar that ran down the left side of her face, Blake hadn’t noticed it before. Her stare bored into Blake, he had to break it so he went back to the shopping and started putting it away.

“What are doing?” she asked from behind him.

“Acting normal. They’ll get spooked if I start being different right? So I just thought . . .” he trailed off not really sure what he thought.

“Of course. You’re right. Normal. We need a plan.”