Charlotte woke up the next morning, her head pounding. She remembered the night before clearly. A short while after downing the pills she became amazingly energetic, talking up a storm to anyone willing to listen.

 

They all went for fish and chips at a local seaside café, with Keith having taken so many pills, that he stood on a table, declared to the whole place that Charlotte was his new best friend, and promptly passed out, hitting his head on the table on the way down.

 

 

She put on a robe and headed downstairs, noticing the grandfather clock in the foyer said it was 1pm. Her parents sat in the dining room with Caitlin.

 

            “Charlotte, we were about to wake you dear.” Irene looked nervous about something.

 

            “We’ve got to talk to you sweetheart.” Peter said. Charlotte immediately turned white. They’ve found out  about the pills last night. I’m dead. She thought.

 

            “It’s been so hard since Rebecca passed, and we’ve been blessed. Your father has been offered a lucrative deal back in Galway, so we can move back and leave all of these bad memories behind.” Irene said, holding back tears at the thought of her daughter, dead and gone.

 

            “Now, we’re giving you a choice. We know your career is thriving and your friends are here. So, you can stay here, and live in your own flat, or you can move back home with us.”

 

            “But this is my home.” She said softly. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving London, but didn’t want to be separated from her family. She went up to her room to think.

 

 

 

 

Charlotte was at a loss. She could return to what her parents called her homeland. Even though she had grown up in Ireland, she had matured in London, and just felt like she belonged there.  She just couldn’t embrace her Celtic heritage, even though her father and mother had traced their roots back to Celtic warriors. As far as Charlotte was concerned, her homeland was England, well, London to be exact.

 

 Just a few weeks later, after kissing her yet-again expectant mother, her father,  12-year-old Caitlin, and 6-month-old Colm, they set off to Ireland. Charlotte moved into her new flat with the help of Peter, and John Lennon, who Charlotte had to admit, looked rather sexy getting all red and sweaty from lifting her vast boxes of clothing to her room.

 

The flat, located in Notting Hill, right near Portabello Road, was amazing. Her father had bought it, telling her it was a good start in life to own your own flat. The small foyer led straight into the living room, then the kitchen and dining room. To the left of the foyer was a few small stairs, leading to a master bedroom, complete with a walk-in closet, private bathroom, and French doors leading to her own balconey in the front of the flat, which overlooked the street below.

All of the floors were pale oak hardwood, and the furnishings ivory, and pale, pale rose, just as Charlotte liked it.

 

That night, as she lay sound asleep in her four poster bed, she was jolted awake by a loud banging sound. At this time of night? No, there couldn’t be someone  at the door. She reluctantly got up, threw on a plush terry robe, and peered through the peephole. It was none other than Keith Moon, the young, crazy drummer for the new mod band she had met a week before. She opened it up, and Keith, dressed in a pinstriped suit with no tie, stumbled in.

 

“Ello’ Charlotte!” He wrapped his arms around her. The smell of cheap lager and cigarettes instantly surrounded her.

 

“Um, hi, um..Keith. Are you aware its 3am?” She rubbed her eyes.

 

“Oh god, is it that early?”

“Yes”

 

“Wow, at the ripe old age of 18. I must be getting’ soft comin’ in this early into the night.”

 

“So, why are you here?”

 

“Well I was on me way home and decided to stop by”

 

“You live in Wembley.”

 

“Well, you are my best friend you know.”

 

“I wasn’t aware.”

 

“Yes! At the fish n’ chips kip up in Brighton I told you.”

 

“Oh Keith, I was out of my mind on Guiniess and purple hearts.”

 

Keith made a sad face. He was cute, and seemingly harmless.

 

“Fine! There are blankets in the chest by the couch. Enjoy.”

 

The next morning, Charlotte awoke and went to the kitchen for a glass of tea and a grapefruit. On her way to the kitchen, she saw that Keith was gone. There was a little note written on the back of a magazine:

 

 

                        Dear Pretty, Pretty Charlotte,

 

                         Thanks for letting me crash here last night. I’m off back to Wembley

                        Before my mum finds out I’m not in my room. I found your phone

                        Number written on your phone. I’ll give you a ring later.

 

                                    Keith

 

On top of the letter was a plastic bag of purple hearts.