FOUR
In another house, in another part of town, Anna is also awake.  Stiff with tension she lies on her back while her tired brain struggles to shut down.  The room is so quiet its silence presses down on her like the lid of a coffin and the muscles of her eyelids ache as she holds them tightly closed.   Trying to ignore the hollow emptiness of the house, she thinks about Romeo in the early days when they were so happy she thought she’d die of it.
It hadn’t been love at first sight.    She’d thought he was an odd little man when they first met and that hadn’t been planned either.  She’d never have attended his evening class if it hadn’t been for Lucinda caught in the grip of another of her fantasies.  
‘Anna, I’ve discovered my destiny!’   She’d come home from work one evening and found Lucy posed at the foot of the stairs.   For the first time in months there was life in her eyes and she was smiling, a huge delighted grin that brought a feverish beauty to her thin face.
Anna felt her heart sink.  Not again, she prayed.  She opened her mouth to ask if she’d had been taking her tablets but thought better of it.
‘Really?  That’s good.’   She bit her lip, her soothing nursey voice even irritated herself.
‘Yes.  Isn’t it?  Quick.  Please read it.  I’m dying to know what you think. I’ve been waiting all day.’  Lucinda thrust a sheaf of foolscap paper towards her.
‘Can I get in first?  And I’d love a cup of tea.’
Afterwards, she’d sat beside the cooling tea, staring at what Lucinda had written.   She had no idea what to say.   So this was what Lucinda had been up to for the past couple of months.   She’d known it was something but had dreaded asking.   Instead, when Lucinda had disappeared into her bedroom for hours on end, she’d stayed downstairs, her head in the sand, relishing the peace of the long slow evenings.  

Ever since they’d first met at College, she’d loved Lucinda like a sister and after graduating they’d rented a house together.   But things changed and not for the better.   She’d always known that Lucy was prone to mood swings but gradually her behaviour became even more erratic.  She’d blow her wages on extravagant presents for Anna; totally unsuitable clothes in lurid colours, expensive perfume and designer handbags.   When Anna gently reminded her that, although they were nice, perhaps she should help pay the rent first, Lucy had fired up and stormed out of the house.
‘You ungrateful bitch’, she’d screamed and the sound of the slammed door had sent a flock of sparrows winging into the sky.
Complaints from neighbours followed when she ran the vacuum in the middle of the night or played her music so loud the walls throbbed.   One evening Anna arrived home to find her standing in front of her bedroom window, dressed only in a nightie declaring that she was an angel and could fly.   Whenever she thought about it, Anna’s blood ran cold.   Why had she been so slow in realising something was very wrong with her friend?
The medication helped.   Lucinda took it willingly when depressed, ‘anything to take the mental pain away’ she’d say but when she was on a high it was different.   With sparkling eyes and glowing face, she’d laugh at Anna’s fussing.  
‘Oh, do stop worrying Anna.   I don’t need to take these bloody pills – there’s nothing wrong with me!’ 
Almost visibly throbbing with vitality she’d whirl around the house like a dervish, polishing, mopping, clearing cupboards, working from dusk till dawn until inevitably her energy ran out.   Then, Anna was left to sort out the mess and it was time for another visit to the clinic.
Now she sat, with her head bowed, hunched over a manuscript she couldn’t make head or tail of.  What could she say?  Then she had an idea.  One that might even work.  Lucy’s excess energy needed to be channelled, perhaps in a creative way.   She looked up.    Lucinda was crouched in front of her, hands clasped in a tight knot like a monkey’s paw.
‘You like it don’t you?   It’s good.   I knew it was all the time I was writing it.’
She jumped up and twirled around the room. ‘Isn’t it wonderful Anna?  I’m going to be famous!’
‘It’s a good story…’ Anna remembers saying slowly.  ‘But it seems a bit muddled in places’.   Her voice faltered as she saw Lucinda’s expression change.   ‘But of course that’s only my opinion and I’m no expert.  Let’s face it, who am I to say?  Tell you what, why don’t you think about some professional advice?.’
‘Professional advice?’
‘Yes.   From someone who knows what they’re talking about.   I know, why not take a creative writing course.   I’m sure there must be some running at the local Tech.  Learn the tricks of the trade, meet other writers and so on.  Find out what works and what doesn’t.’
‘Oh no!   I couldn‘t.  Not on my own.’   Lucinda’s face drained of all colour and Anna had felt stricken.   She always forgot how vulnerable Lucy was. She looked away, dreading the onset of the telltale signs - the silence that stretched interminably, the sudden twitch of Lucinda’s head, again and again as if she was flinching away from weapons wielded by demons invading her mind.  They usually heralded a spell in the hospital and she couldn’t bear to be responsible for that.   Desperately, she groped for a way to ward off another of Lucy’s plunges into depression.      
‘Tell you what,’ she said with a forced smile.   ‘Promise me you’ll start taking you pills again and I’ll come with you.   It’ll be fun.’
And, that was how she’d first met Romeo.  Despite herself, she smiles into the darkness as she remembered how he’d bounded into her life.    She and Lucy had got lost and despite giving themselves plenty of time, they were now very late.   Scurrying down one long corridor after another, they peered into every classroom but each one looked very much the same except none of the numbers on the doors matched the one they were looking for. 
‘Perhaps it’s up here…’ she’d said uncertainly and they’d started to haul themselves up a narrow, twisting flight of stairs only to meet a group of people coming down.   Anna had recognised their puzzled looks.
‘Creative writing?’  she’d asked.  They nodded, ‘Not up there….’  
Shrugging their shoulders helplessly, the group trooped back down the stairs and stood huddled together like a group of stray waifs.
There was the slam of a door and a blast of cold air blew in the dishevelled figure of a small, skinny man with lank gingery hair that a slight drizzle had plastered to his head. His face, already finely wrinkled, lit up when he saw them.
‘Creative writing?’  Thank God.  I thought no-one was coming.  They’ve put us in the basement.  Had difficulty in finding it myself.’
Remembering, Anna feels some of the tension leave her.   She’d always thought she’d fall in love with someone tall, dark and handsome.  Whoever could have imagined that such a comical little scruff-pot could have burrowed quite so deeply into her heart?   She supposed it was because of Lucinda; difficult and demanding as she was, he was so patient with her.   When it looked as though Lucy was trying to hi-jack the class by quibbling endlessly over some disputed point, gently but firmly, he’d disengage himself.  
 ‘Lucinda.  I think, at the moment, we’d better agree to disagree.  Come and see me after class and I’ll try and explain.’
This, he never failed to do, using patience, charm and a large dose of flattery.   Sitting, watching from the sidelines Anna began to see him with fresh eyes.  Her admiration for him grew, he was a sweet man, she’d decided and, looking back, realised by that time, she was already half in love with him.
Months later, she’d asked him why he’d taken so much trouble over Lucy.   He’d tilted his chair back and grinned at her.
‘Because of you, of course,’ he’d righted his chair, reached over and cupped her face in his hands as if it was as precious as a Faberge egg.   Gently, he kissed the tip of her nose.   Then, he’d let go of her and his voice had changed. 
‘Mind you, that’s not the whole story.   She’s got talent….people like her often have, but it’s undisciplined.’
‘What do you mean?   People like her…’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘You know, Anna.  As well as I did from the moment I first met her.   Mind you, I’ve got previous.’
‘What do you mean?’
His face crinkled and he brushed away a wisp of red hair dribbling down his forehead.   ‘Ever wondered why my name is Romeo?   Let’s face it no one could look less like a Romeo than me!    But, that was my mother in one of her ‘florid’ moods.   She thought it sounded romantic   To be honest, after years living with her, managing Lucy is a doddle.’
She’d stared at him.
‘It must have been difficult for you.’
He shrugged.   ‘Didn’t think much about it at the time.   To me, it seemed normal but Dad pushed off when I was seven.   Luckily, I had an older sister.   Poor old Dee, she bore the brunt of it.  Mind you it stood her in good stead, she’s a mental health professional now.   Loves it, apparently.’
She’d followed his example and attempted a flippancy.
‘Well, I suppose it could have been worse.  You could have been called Lancelot, or Heathcliffe, or Rhett…’
He grinned.   ‘Or  Apollo or Caesar  or Orion…’
‘Then, there’s Mario, Valentino or Florio…’
He reached for her again and his hand closed over hers.
They looked at each other and she felt a delicious tingle.  
‘Come on’, she’d said, ‘Let’s go to bed.’
Remembering, her muscles gradually relax and slowly she drifts into sleep but  the moment her eyes close, she is transported from a living nightmare into one that is past and long-dead but still very much alive in her mind.