I sat on the train, stunned. I simple couldn't believe that I was going to live with Him. It couldn't happen, I couldn't be this happy, but I was. I was looking down at the ticket in my hand. It felt so insubstantial, yet it was proof that I wasn't dreaming. I sat there with a stupid grin on my face the whole way home. Even changing trains was no problem, I felt completely insulated from the world, nothing could touch me, nothing could go wrong. Eventually I pulled up at my station. I'd left my car at home, getting a taxi to drop me off. Mother wouldn't give me a lift anywhere since I'd gotten my licence and it was too expensive to park it over night. I got a cab back to the house. That was one of the nice things about living in a small city; even the suburbs were easy and cheap to get to from the town centre.
I was back home by lunchtime. Mother was still out at work, she was an event organiser for one of the local hotel and they had a big do on this weekend. Her yappy little Pekinese was shut in his cage. He pissed all over the furniture if he was left free and even though Mother had been told that getting him neutured would fix it she wouldn't do it. She couldn't do that to her little boy. I swear she loved that dog more than Dad or me. So he stayed in his cage all day, it was a nice cage, with curtains and a soft bed and porcelain water and biscuit bowls, but it was a cage non the less. I let him out into the garden and put the kettle on while I waited for him to yap at the door. I liked dogs, but Ming was not a proper dog, more a moving hearth rug that pissed and smelled, yuck. I let him back in and popped him back in the cage, then I went upstairs to sort out my clothes.
Sir had been right, I had a lot of clothes. As well as two large suitcases of shoes, there was a packed full double sized wardrobe. And then there was my books. Growing up with my mother looking over my shoulder the whole time, telling me to behave more like a lady, I escaped into books more and more. There were some in there that were like old friends, stories I had gone back to again and again, finding something new each time. They all had to come. I just hoped Sir would have the space for me. I was packing up my life, parts of me, and trying to fit it all into the cases I had was hard. I eventually came to the conclusion that I would have to leave part of it behind. But what? I didn't know what Sir had planned for me. Would He take me to the parties and functions He had to attend as part of His work, or would I be left at home? Would He expect me to get a job? Oh speaking of which I still had to quit my job up here. I sat on my bed, looking around at the chaos that I had created and I didn't know where to start. I was starting to panic, the decisions I had to make were too big, they were overwhelming me.
I stared around my room, trying to decide what to take with me. I didn't want to call Him, I knew He would be busy, but if I sent Him an email then He could answer it when He had the time. I grabbed my laptop from under the bed where I hid it from my Mother's prying eyes. I'd used to stay in contact with my Dad when he'd left and I used to talk to Sir on the long evenings when I was stuck at home. Mother didn't approve of young ladies going out to the pub at night, and in her house, she made the rules.
'Dear Sir,
i am in the middle of packing my clothes etc but i am unsure of what my role at your house will be. If you could clarify what my situation would be i would be most grateful,
Your pet xxx'
I sent it off to Him. He found it funny that I used formal speech when I sent emails to Him. When we would chat online at night, I was the opposite, using short cuts where ever I could. I had explained to Him that when I was online, I thought faster than my hands could type, that's why I used the short cuts but He still found it cute. He told me once that it was my little quirks that had appealed to Him so much. I started packing my books while I waited for Him to reply. There was no way I was leaving them behind. I pulled my old school trunk down from the attic.
I'd been sent to a boarding school when I was eleven mainly so I wouldn't see how unhappy my parents were. With me out of the picture they could maintain their cold war without having to pretend for my sake. Mother's parents were complete snobs; they thought that sending me away to a posh school would make me the sort of friends that they approved of, ones with three cars and a stable full of horses. The last thing they wanted was for me to turn out like my Dad, down to earth, practical and in their eyes boring. His biggest passion in life, other than me, was making model boats, tiny little replicas that would take him weeks of painstaking work. I knew from an early age that they didn't like him and I wondered how my parents had ever gotten together.
I threw out all my old school work, goodness only knows why I'd kept it but in the bin it went. I carefully replaced it with my books, folding my underwear in between them. I checked my email once they were all in and found my reply sitting there waiting for me.
'My pet,
While you are living with me, you will be responsible for looking after my house. I earn more than enough to keep us both so you wont need to work. Clothing wise, jeans are perfectly acceptable for day to day living, though I will expect you to dress for dinner. (shirt or blouse, skirt and heels) I will have cleared room for you in the wardrobe by the time you arrive and I have three large bookcases in the garage that you can use for all your books.
Sir.
P.S. You've got me writing posh now, wench.'
I giggled at the P.S. It was so like Him, He had such a dry sense of humour that could make me laugh even when I was feeling horrible. His comment about working sparked my attention though, I had forgotten to tell my boss I was leaving. I sent him an email. He wouldn't read it til tomorrow anyway and by that time I would be safely away from him.
'Dear Mr Andrews,
I hereby give notice with immediate effect.
Yours sincerely,
Megan Foster'
I spent the rest of the afternoon sorting through all my clothes, leaving the stuffy below the knee skirts and dresses my Mother insisted on me wearing to work, only taking the short mini's I'd bought when I'd moved out. Likewise the thick woollen jumpers and heavy cotton blouses she had made for me when I was at school. In fact anything that was remotely unsexy was left hanging in my wardrobe so that in the end I only had my trunk and my shoe suitcases to take with me. It amazed me at how my life could be converted in to so little. This was all I had to show for twenty-one years on the planet, three suitcases.
I dragged my trunk down the stairs. It weighed a ton with everything that was in it and it made a satisfying thump on each step as it slammed down. I could picture Mother's face at the noise, horrified and shocked at the mess I was making of her home. As it reached the bottom of the stairs, I began to think of how I was going to be able to cope with it on a train. The answer in my head was that I wasn't. I ran back up the stairs and wrote to Sir.
'Dear Sir,
Thank you for the ticket you bought me this morning. Unfortunately i am unable to use it. My trunk weighs a ton and there's no way i can lift it on to a train. If it's all right with you i will drive down tomorrow morning.
Your pet. Xxx'
I opened the front door and heaved my luggage out on to the drive where my little car sat. It was a black three-door Ford Fiesta that my Dad had bought for me as a present for passing my test. Needless to say my Grandparents had thought it very common but I loved it. He had sold two of his models to pay for it and the pride on his face when I had taken him out in it for the first time was incredible. I opened the driver's door and pulled the back seats flat so I could get everything in. Heaving my truck in was no mean feat but after a lot of swearing and pushing I got there in the end. I ran back up the stairs to look round my empty room. All I had left to pick up in the morning was my old teddy who still went everywhere with me, my toiletries, make up and my laptop, still sitting on the bed, open, waiting for Sir's reply. Other than that I was ready to go. I heard my Mother's car in the drive, she was home from work already. I couldn't believe how fast the afternoon had sped by. I heard her voice in the hall, sweet and sugary, cooing over her dog. Then her tone sharpened as she noticed I was home.
'Megan, where are you and why is your trunk in the car?'