Chapter 3

The drive from Porthmadog to London took longer than I anticipated, as my car was overheating I needed to pull over a few times at service stations for the car to cool down, every time enjoying a piece of the pie Mrs Watson baked for me. Getting on the M25, I knew another hour, then I’ll be home.

I was considering to go to my parent’s house first but changed my mind. Driving straight to my flat I found an empty parking space. Sitting here for the last forty-five minutes, just looking at the entrance. The neighbourhood hasn’t changed much, all the houses on the street look the same. Like time has stood still for the last three years. People walking up and down the street, entering or exiting properties, I recognised a few faces I use to see when running in the morning, but to them, I was just another face in the crowd.

Our flat was in the residential part of Enfield Town, away from the town centre, it was mostly families in this part of Enfield. In the summer you would get the sound of children playing outside. Over the weekend neighbours always had barbeque parties.

Focusing back on the property Sarah and I bought. Originally it was a four-bedroom house which was converted into two flats, each one had two bedrooms. We purchased the ground floor apartment. The price was a little higher, but you had the advantage of the small garden it came with. On viewing the property, Sarah fell in love with it. Already renovated when we moved in, we didn’t need to do much, but Sarah insisted on painting each room a light pastel colour.

The sun started shining directly into my eyes, it will be nightfall soon there is one more hour of daylight. If I’m going to go inside, I will need to go now. All the utilities were disconnected before I left for Wales, electricity, gas, water, etc. Once it gets dark, I will not be able to see anything inside the flat.

Crossing the road, making my way to the main front door I had my key ready to put in the keyhole, As I turned the key, you had to give the big Victorian door a hard push to open. Entering the passage the door closed behind me with a loud thump. On my left was the entrance to my flat, I stood there just glaring at the door, scared to open it, wondering what I will find inside.

Suddenly the main door opened behind me, I turned, standing there was a lady maybe a few years younger than me. With a shocked expression on her face, she held the door open as if she was ready to run out.

“Hello, my name is George, George Michaelides,” I said.

Still uncertain what to do she just stood there at the entrance. I guess when you walk into the property you live seeing a six-foot stranger in the hallway you get scared. Putting my hand in my pocket, I removed my wallet to retrieve my driving license, then handed it over to her to inspect. “If you have been here a while, you must have seen some letters with that name on them,” I said.

She nodded her head up and down to say yes. “Sorry, seeing you like that was a shock. Wasn’t used to seeing someone else in the building.”

She closed the main door then entered her flat quickly slamming the door behind her, I could hear her footsteps as she ran up the stairs.

Unlocking the front door to my flat, needing to give the door a hard push for it to open. The apartment had been closed up for three years, it had a smell to it. The smell of dampness, the first thing I did was open all the windows for fresh air to circulate in the flat. Everything was just how I remembered it. Family pictures of Sarah and I, magazines we use to read scattered on the coffee table, even our slippers next to our side of the bed. Feeling a heaviness in my chest as I entered each room.

“Hello is there anyone there.” It was the ladies voice from upstairs.

At the front door, standing there was my neighbour from upstairs. Peeking inside, in her hand a cup of something hot, maybe tea. After a five-hour drive, my first thought was just what I needed a cup of tea.

“Sorry to disturb you, I wanted to apologise for earlier, I didn’t know who you was, all the things you hear all the time you can’t be too sure about someone. By the way, my name is Vicky, Mr Michaelides. The least I could do was make you a cup of tea if you just moved back in I thought your utilities might be off.” She handed me the cup over. She still stood on the outside to the entrance of my flat, understanding her reason, better be safe than sorry.

With the cup of tea in my hand, I said. “Thank you. You don’t have to call me Mr Michaelides. George is OK.”

“OK, George.” She said with a smile.

There was a telephone ring coming from outside, probably upstairs, she excused herself, going back to her flat.

“Hopefully next time we meet we have a longer conversation than that,” I said to myself.

Looking around the apartment, it brought back memories of Sarah. Sitting down on the sofa I started to cry while holding my head. When I looked back up the room was darker, I must have been sitting like that for a good half hour, quickly getting up to check the utility metres, writing down the readings, they will need them when I call the utility companies in the morning. Took a last look around, locked up everything then left.

The drive to my parent’s house was only twenty minutes from my flat. They lived in Palmers Green, on a side road just off the high street. I stopped at a Tesco Express store to buy some flowers for mum. Picking a bunch of pink roses, as mum liked that colour I paid for them then started making my way out of the store. Walking towards my car, I noticed a group of boys outside were intimidating whoever entered the store. Ignoring them, I got in my car and drove off.

Standing at the front door for a few minutes, considering to ring the bell. What do you say to your parents after disappearing for three years? Then turn up on their doorstep. How will they react when they see me after three years, will they be happy or angry with me.

Pressing the doorbell, I could hear my mum inside telling my dad. “Can you get the door, Michael, my hands are full.”

After a short wait, I see a shadow behind the patterned glass door. The outdoor light came on lighting up the patio. When the front door starts to open, I feel my mouth dry up, my heart skips a couple of beats, at the same time thinking of what to say. My dad appears at the front door when he sees me he just stiffens. For a minute he just stands there, his bottom lip trembling, trying to say something with no words coming out.

“Hi, dad.”

He doesn’t answer back he just shouts out. “Helen!”

I hear footsteps then mum appears behind him, looking over his shoulder, part of her cooking apron showing.