#FreewriteMadness Day 15 – 😮 MIDPOINT OF THE #NANOWRIMO CHALLENGE 😮 – My Response to the 'Debt' Prompt

Fellow #FreewriteMadness writers ... can you believe we've been at it for two weeks now?! 😍 At the time of writing, my NaNoWriMo word count is 24,881, so this next bout of writing will push me over the halfway mark of 25,000 words. Right now, I'm responding to @freewritehouse's latest prompt, debt. Let's do this thing. 💪

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Today's prompt has led me to write a little montage of scenes involving Derek's accountant sister Moira in some way – I have to say, Moira is one of my favourite characters (right up there with the glorious Sir Pawskins). I love her no-nonsense attitude, her deeply perceptive nature, and the way she constantly jokes around with Derek.

GTA Accounting

Derek wakes up – blinking for a moment in his unfamiliar surroundings – before it all comes back to him, and he smiles. Emma. The night before. Everything they did together...

She isn't beside him in the bed, though: he can see her sitting on the floor a short distance away, with her laptop and a ream of documents spread out before her.

He sits up, still a little bleary-eyed. 'Emma?'

Emma looks up at him, slightly startled. 'Oh, hi! Sleep well?'

'Yes, but ... what are you doing?'

'Sorry – I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. Just looking over a few of the accounts...' She sighs and pushes her hair behind her ears. 'Always a fun job...'

He shakes his head, amused. 'Emma, it's a Sunday morning. This is no time to be looking at damn accounts!'

'I know, I know. I just got worried, I had to check something...'

'Emma. Please stop worrying, at least for now,' he urges her softly, then holds out his arms. 'Come back to bed.'

Her face softens at this display of eagerness. 'Alright.' She puts her things to one side and walks back to the bed, lying down by his side and snuggling into his chest. Derek begins to stroke her hair. He knows that she isn't totally relaxed : there is still an air of tension about her. 'Are you okay?'

'I ... I am,' she says hesitantly. 'Mostly.'

'Are things okay with the business?'

'I don't know. I mean ... it's staying afloat, at least. It's just that I'm trying to juggle everything by myself right now: my debts, my income, my outgoings ... it's ... well. It's a lot! I would love to have a professional accountant helping me with all this, but I can't afford to hire one right now. Everyone I've checked out so far has been beyond my budget.'

'Hmm ... listen, I have a sister who's an accountant. She helps me out with my taxes from time to time and she's brilliant. I'm not saying she'll definitely agree to do yours, but ... would you like me to ask her?'

Emma looks up at him, hope in her eyes. 'Do you know what her rates are?'

'I'll ask her,' Derek promises. 'I can't guarantee anything, but maybe the two of you can negotiate a price that works best for you both. All I can do is ask. I could put the two of you in touch, if you'd like, and you can take it from there.'

Emma considers this for a moment. 'Alright. Thank you.'

'I'll just ask her, like I said. The worst she can do is say no.'

'What's her name?'

'Moira. I'll be meeting her tomorrow night, so I'll talk to her about it then.'

'How will you explain to her ... you know, how you know me?'

'I – eh, I'll say you're a friend. She'll know it's a lie the second I say it, but that's what I'll say anyway. I've actually mentioned you to her before –'

Emma raises an eyebrow, smirking. 'Oh, you have?'

'I just ... I said you were someone in the group whom I'd spoken to a few times.' He laughs. 'She's terrifyingly smart, though. She saw right through me ... and that was before I knew myself that there was something there!'

'Wow. You've been telling everyone that you like me,' she teases me.

'It's hardly "everyone", Emma...'

'Everyone!'

'Oh God...'

'You like me – you really, really like me...'

'Come on, Emma. What are we, teenagers?'

'Derek and Emma up a tree, F-U-C-K-I–'

'Up a tree? I don't think so. What if one of us fell? Or worse, got a splinter? Did you ever think of that?'

'Hmm. Not one of your fantasies, no?'

'Not quite.'

'Aw. You don't like the idea of me, up there with you, indulging in all sorts of debauchery...' Her hands begin to wander down his torso. 'You don't like the idea of me doing ... this? Or this?'

Derek groans. What she is doing with her hands is killing him.

✮ ✮ ✮

Emma stands just inside the entrance of the café where she and Moira have agreed to meet. She feels a little nervous. She is grateful that Derek's sister has agreed to work with her, and that their phone conversation was pleasant and cordial. Moira seems nice, so she shouldn't be on edge like this, but...

She supposes that Derek has raved about his sister so often – her kindness, her professional acumen, her razor-sharp intellect – that she's ended up feeling somewhat intimidated by her already. By the sound of things, Moira already knows very well that Emma and Derek are involved with each other. If they meet today and Moira decides that she doesn't like her ... well, her opinion clearly means so much to Derek, Emma is afraid that her disapproval will put an end to the hopes she has been quietly nurturing ever since that night at the concert: her hopes that she and Derek can somehow make it work.

The door opens – a woman steps into the café, glancing around – and Emma instantly knows that it is her. She bears a faint facial resemblance to Derek, especially around her eyes. She also has his fair hair and a similar tall, athletic build. Catching sight of Emma, she smiles and mouths: Emma? Emma smiles back and nods, prompting Moira to move forward. 'Hello!'

'Moira, hi. It's nice to meet you –'

Moira has just reached her: she clasps her hand and shakes it warmly. Now that they are close to each other, Emma can see that her eyes are almost identical to Derek's – the same pale blue, marked by occasional flecks of hazel. 'Emma. Very nice to meet you too ... have you ordered yet?'

'No, no, I was waiting for you.'

'Thank you. I'm so sorry I was late – parking in town at this hour is a nightmare, you know how it is...'

'Oh, I do! And don't worry. Really. I was only waiting for a couple of minutes.'

'Still, I do apologise – I can't stand being late. So, where shall we sit?'

'Hmm. How about the corner table over there?'

'Oh, I do love corner seats,' Moira exclaims enthusiastically. 'That sounds good to me!'

Emma smiles. She knows, somehow, that she and Moira will get along just fine.

✮ ✮ ✮

Derek is all too aware of the tension at the adults' table on Christmas Eve: the kids have been seated at a smaller table further down the room – shrieking and hooting with laughter over something or other – but he, Dermot, Moira and Anne-Marie are sitting in near-total silence. He shudders to think what the big family gathering tomorrow will be like. Are his entire family going to shun Anne-Marie like this? What a fun-packed Christmas dinner that'll be...

'Can you pass the butter, please, Moira?' Anne-Marie asks, a hesitant smile plastered across her face.

'Certainly.' Moira pushes the butter across the table, but doesn't look at Anne-Marie while doing so. She has barely glanced at her all evening.

'Look, Moira,' Anne-Marie says in a low voice, quickly glancing at the kids to make sure they're still occupied with their own conversation, 'I've said, time and time again, that I'm so sorry for everything. Is there any way I can make this right?'

Moira continues to eat her meal as though she has heard nothing. Anne-Marie's face reddens. Derek experiences a sinking feeling in his stomach: he knows all too well that her tears are not too far away, if this discussion continues.

'I don't like being treated in this way, Moira,' Anne-Marie hisses.

'Well, I don't like the way you've treated my brother,' Moira says crisply. 'So we must agree to disagree on many things, Anne-Marie. It's unfortunate, but such is life...'

'Moira...' Derek says warningly.

'I said, I'll leave it at that, Derek,' Moira points out matter-of-factly. 'We needn't discuss it any further. Now ... anyone for some brussels sprouts?'

'I came back to Derek, Moira, and I told him just how sorry I was,' Anne-Marie whispers disingenuously – clearly not knowing when to let things lie – 'because I knew with all of my heart that he was the one I wanted, and I knew –'

'Oh, was that it? I thought it was because Ernesto didn't want you anymore.'

'Moira, please!' Derek cuts in. 'The kids might hear!'

'I've been whispering,' Moira says – though she is slightly shame-faced at this mention of the children – 'but ... I do apologise. I shouldn't be saying this with the kids nearby, you're absolutely right –'

'So anyway, Derek, what's your forecast for the All Blacks versus Wales next weekend?' Dermot butts in, clearly anxious to defuse the tension. Derek immediately turns to his brother-in-law: eager to start discussing his favourite subject.

Later on, while Moira is preparing the desserts, Derek goes with her – both to help her, and to ask: 'Moira, what the hell are you playing at?'

'I'm "playing at" nothing, Derek.' She looks at him a little sadly. 'You're the one who's play-acting – pretending that nothing is wrong – and it breaks my heart. It really does. Why are you putting up with her lies? I can tell you right now, if Dermot ever treated me the way Anne-Marie has treated you, he'd be out on his ear!'

'Look, Moira: we're trying our best to make this work. Anne-Marie is trying, with all her heart, to make it up to me, and I appreciate that. The kids need us to at least try – I mean, just look at what happened to Sophie while Anne-Marie was away. I would die if she had to go through all that again – it would quite literally kill me.'

'Oh God, Derek.' Moira's eyes fill with tears, and she gently squeezes his arm. 'Is that what this is all about? What happened was not your fault. You don't have to sacrifice your own happiness, trying to make it all better ... and what sort of lesson will the kids learn if they see you and Anne-Marie struggling to fix something that clearly can't be fixed? Hm?'

'Can't be fixed? Moira, that's not fair. You don't know that.'

'Whatever happened to Emma?'

At this mention of Emma, Derek is briefly tongue-tied, not knowing what to say. 'Well ... we just ... it's ... things didn't work out, Moira. They couldn't. Not with the kids and everything...'

Moira gazes piercingly at him for a moment, before shaking her head and turning away from him to take a batch of cakes out of a nearby cupboard. 'Ah, Derek, you drive me insane sometimes. Stop using the kids as an excuse for being miserable. Emma was mad about you, she really was. How could you not see that?'

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This little series of Moira-related scenes has given me a lovely tally of 1,855 words to add to my total word count for the day. In my earlier post, I wrote 1,158 words, so today's total is 3,013!

And I've now written 26,736 words out of the 50,000-word target!

I want to end this post by giving a shout out to everyone else who has signed up to the fit of absolute lunacy invigorating creative challenge that is #FreewriteMadness. 😇 Make sure you go and support their work too! I have limited voting power (damn my not-quite-plankton but not-quite-redfish status 😉), but will upvote as many posts as I can per day. Per @felt.buzz's suggestion, I'm mixing up the list a bit to make sure different writers get their fair share of attention.

@carolkean
@kaelci
@improv
@bennettitalia
@stinawog
@byn
@mariannewest
@felt.buzz
@ntowl
@botefarm
@kaerpediem
@kipswolfe
@ireenchew

For a chance to WIN SteemBasicIncome, just read and comment on my #freewritemadness posts. 😊 The lovely people over at @freewritehouse are doing a great job of supporting us complete and utter lunatics NaNoWriMo-ers. 😁

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