by Lake, Alex
Annabelle’s brother, Mike, walked over. ‘Let’s have a photo of the parents and godparents,’ he said. ‘Now a good time?’
He had offered to take photos; he had an interest in photography and an expensive camera, and had been snapping away throughout the ceremony.
‘Sure,’ Matt said.
‘I’ll round them up. You go and stand by the fireplace.’
Matt walked over. By the time he reached the fireplace, the others were on their way.
‘Matt and Annie in the middle,’ Mike said. ‘Guy, you stand next to Annie and Miriam, and Tessa, you stand by Matt.’
Matt unclipped the baby carrier and took Norman out. He held him facing the camera. Mike took a few shots, then rotated the bezel of the lens and moved a few steps back. He took some more, then moved to the side.
‘How about one with Annabelle holding Norman? And then Miriam, Tessa and Guy?’
Matt passed Norman to Annabelle and Mike took more photos. Then Miriam and Tessa had their turn.
‘Only Guy left,’ Mike said. Guy held out his hands and Tessa handed Norman to him. He held him away from his body, his hands under Norman’s armpits.
‘Here,’ Matt said. ‘Put him in the crook of your elbow.’
Guy held Norman a little closer. He was stiff and awkward. ‘Not my strong suit,’ he said. ‘I like babies, but I don’t have much experience. It’s weird. You don’t know how to hold them.’
‘It comes easily,’ Matt said. ‘I had no idea before he was born, but you soon pick it up.’
‘You’re a natural,’ Guy said. ‘That’s obvious. You were made to be a dad. I could see that from the start.’ He paused, and looked over Matt’s shoulder. He gave him a warning glance. ‘Someone wants to say hi,’ he said, his forehead creased in a frown.
Matt turned to see what had caught his attention. At first he didn’t recognize her. She was very thin and her hair was short, but after a few seconds he realized who it was.
‘Lindsey,’ he said. ‘Hi.’
‘I wanted to come and say congratulations,’ she said. Her voice was slurred and her eyes were unfocused. It was obvious she was extremely drunk. Matt glanced at his watch. It was half past three in the afternoon.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘I’m so pleased for you,’ she said. The words were hard to make out. ‘I always knew you’d have a good life.’
‘Again, thanks,’ Matt said.
‘You got everything you wanted.’ She swayed as she looked at him. ‘Better off without me, weren’t you? You were right to get rid of me. I’m a fucking hot mess.’ Her voice rose at the end and more than a few heads turned to look.
Annabelle was standing with Miriam. She came over to Matt and put her hand on his back.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m Annabelle.’
‘I know who you are,’ Lindsey said. ‘And I want to say congratulations to you too.’
‘Thank you,’ Annabelle said. ‘Remind me of your name again?’
‘It’s Lindsey.’ She leaned forward, her eyes wide. ‘Lindsey.’
Matt watched as Annabelle put it together. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see.’
‘Yeah, you see. You remember me? I’m the sorry bitch you stole Matt from.’ She paused. Matt could see the conflict play out on her face, see the desire to stay cool and in control fight with the anger.
The anger won.
‘You slut,’ Lindsey said. ‘You fucking slut.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Guy said. ‘But that’s enough.’ He put his hand on Annabelle’s elbow. ‘You and Matt go elsewhere. I’ll deal with this.’
‘Who the fuck are you?’ Lindsey said, swivelling to Guy, her face livid. She was holding a bottle of Budweiser and Matt thought she might hit Guy with it.
‘I’m a friend of Matt and Annabelle. This is an important day for them and it doesn’t need to be ruined by you, or anyone else. So, if you wouldn’t mind, please leave.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind, please leave,’ Lindsey said, in a mocking tone. ‘Who invited Prince fucking Charles? Fuck you, you posh cunt.’
She looked at Matt, then Annabelle, then Guy, and then back to Matt.
‘Your turn will come,’ she said. ‘Mark my words. Your turn will come.’
A man appeared behind her. He was tall and wiry, curly brown hair poking out from under a baseball cap.
He put his hand on her shoulder; she started, then whipped around. As soon as she saw him, she started to sob.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘It’s OK. Let’s leave.’ He pulled her close to him. ‘Come on, petal,’ he said. ‘Time to go.’
He led her away from Matt. As they walked past Tessa, the man said something to her. Tessa touched him on the shoulder and gave a little shake of her head, then followed them to the door of the pub.
As they left, the man turned and stared at Matt, with an expression in his eyes that was something like hatred.
2
‘Jesus,’ Guy said. ‘That was like a medieval fairy tale. Wicked witch turning up at the feast. Who was that?’
‘An ex,’ Matt said. ‘From a long time ago.’
‘Why was she here?’ Annabelle said. ‘Who told her?’
The door of the pub opened. Tessa came in and glanced at Matt. He caught her eye and then she looked away.
‘Tessa?’ he said. ‘Did you tell her?’
‘No,’ Tessa said. ‘Not exactly.’
‘Or not at all?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘What does not exactly mean?’ Annabelle said. There was an edge in her voice. She knew Tessa had remained friends with Lindsey after Matt had broken up with her. He had told her – perhaps it was a mistake – that Tessa had tried to persuade him to reconcile with Lindsey. It had led to the first real argument he and Annabelle ever had.
She’s my sister, he’d said. She’s loyal to her friends. I know it’s annoying. But that’s all it is. Loyalty.
She’s trying to break us up. And she will, if you don’t tell her to stop all this bullshit.
There was no way he was risking their relationship because of Tessa’s friendship with Lindsey, and he had told Tessa exactly that. She called Annabelle a bitch who didn’t deserve her brother. He left her to cool off and things eventually settled down. Annabelle seemed to have forgiven her and moved on.
Still, there was an edge in their relationship that was never far from the surface. And right now it was in the open, given that Lindsey had just showed up in the pub after their first son’s christening, apparently because of something Tessa had done.
‘So?’ Annabelle said. ‘What does “not exactly” mean?’
She held up her hands. ‘I saw her last week in town and she asked after Matt. I mentioned that you guys had a son, and then said, “The christening is next week actually, at St Wilfrid’s.” And she said, “I suppose you’ll be at the pub afterwards for a drink?” and I said, “Yeah, that’s the normal drill” or something like that.’ She puffed out her cheeks. ‘I had no idea she’d come. I didn’t invite her.’
‘For God’s sake, Tessa,’ Matt said. ‘What were you thinking?’
‘I’m sorry! I didn’t want to ruin your christening. I mean, Jesus. It’s not my fault she showed up, is it?’
Annabelle gave her a sweet smile. ‘No, it isn’t. Don’t you worry about it. It’s fine. I hope she’s OK. She seemed to be struggling a bit. I mean, Matt and her broke up a long time ago. I’m surprised she’s still thinking about it.’
Matt stuck out his bottom lip. ‘I’m a very sought-after man,’ he said. ‘Losing me could scar a person for life. Once you’ve had sight of the mountaintop, life in the valleys is unbearable.’
Annabelle rolled her eyes. ‘I think you know what I mean.’
‘You’re right,’ Tessa said. ‘She’s had a really hard time. I don’t know exactly what happened, but at one point she disappeared. She was living with her parents and just vanished. They found her a week later, in a homeless shelter in Birmingham.’<
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‘Who was the guy?’ Matt said.
‘Her boyfriend. He’s called Anton. They’ve been together a while. He’s been good for her.’
‘Are you still friends?’ Annabelle said.
‘Not as such,’ Tessa said. ‘But I stay in touch. And it’s a small town. I’ve seen them out together. She was doing better, but from today’s evidence she’s had a relapse. Anton was upset about it.’
‘I hope it works out for her,’ Matt said. ‘But I don’t need her to be part of my life again.’
‘No,’ Annabelle said. ‘That would not be good.’
Matt looked at his sister. ‘So maybe don’t share details of our private affairs in the future, OK?’
Sunday, 8 March 2020, 5.41 p.m.
She is mine, now.
It is done. Finally. She is in the back of the car.
Mine.
I can barely contain my excitement. I want to take off this hood and turn and smile at her and say, Look, it’s me!
I want to see her reaction, I want to glory in the moment.
But I will have to wait for that. I want this to be as special as possible, and now is not the right time. I have set up the perfect tableau at our destination.
And I have waited this long. I can wait a little longer.
Matt
A few minutes later, two cars came through the gate and up the track. Mike and Tessa got out of the first one and sprinted over.
Mike grabbed Norman in a hug, then picked up Keith in one arm and Molly in the other.
‘Oh my God,’ he said. He wiped tears from his eyes. ‘I’m so glad you’re OK.’
Rob got out of the second car and beckoned to Matt. ‘Let’s go.’
Matt hesitated. He looked at his kids. Now he had them back, he did not want to let them out of his sight ever again. He took a deep breath. He had to. He had to get Annabelle back. Everything else – even the kids – had to wait.
‘Come on,’ Rob said. ‘I’m sorry. But we have to go.’
Matt hugged all three of his children. ‘Uncle Mike and Aunty Tessa will take you home. I’ll be there soon. Take care of them until I’m back, OK?’
‘No,’ Keith said. ‘I want you to stay here.’
He felt his heart breaking.
‘I know. But I have to go, and I won’t be long.’
‘Can we come?’ Norman said.
‘Not this time.’
‘We could help,’ Norman said.
‘Matt,’ Rob interrupted. ‘We have to go.’
‘I’m going to get Mum,’ Matt said.
‘You’re going to get Mum?’ Keith said.
‘Yes.’
‘OK,’ Keith said. ‘Then you can go.’
Annabelle
She was wedged in a tight gap. When he had shoved her into the car he had pushed her down between the front and back seats; she had heard a click and the front seats had pushed back, trapping her in the footwell.
She supposed he didn’t want anyone seeing a hooded person through the car window. It was simple, but effective.
And very painful. There was something pressing hard into her chest. It hurt, but worse was her arm. It was twisted in an unnatural position, and the pain was steadily increasing as the seconds ticked by.
The engine started and the car began to move. For a few minutes the road was bumpy, but then it got smoother. They must be on a main road. She wondered in which direction they were heading, and whether, somewhere above them, a drone was tracking their movements.
She hoped so. She hoped they arrived at their destination soon, and then Rob and Mike and Matt and the police and whoever else they could muster would come and rescue her and she’d see her kids again, her amazing, wonderful kids.
That is, if they were still alive. All she had seen was the car. She had been hoping for a shout in answer to hers, but there had been nothing.
There was no proof her kids were OK. And that made the pain in her arm feel like nothing.
And it made her dangerous. Because once she felt there was nothing to lose, there was no telling what she would do.
She felt the car slowing to a halt and heard another vehicle pass. Traffic lights, maybe. Then the car started moving again and she was pushed to the right as they made a turn.
She had been trying to map their location in her mind, but already it was pointless. She had no idea where they were.
She lay back, her head resting on something hard. Less than two feet from her was the person who had kidnapped her. She still had no idea who it was, or why they wanted her. It was possible it was a fan, but how would they have been able to plan this? How would they have had Matt’s phone number?
The car slowed to a halt again. Another traffic light? She rubbed her head on the seat. The hood lifted, and she managed to shake it off. She tried to twist her body free.
She was pinned in position. Her shoulder ached. This was pointless.
It was also an opportunity to do something, and it could be her last one. If she could get herself free before they started moving, she might be able to disable the kidnapper somehow, or kick out a window and shout for help.
Anything. She didn’t care how much it hurt or how badly injured she might get. Anything was better than this.
She pushed her feet against the side of the car and arched her back.
Her arm moved into a more comfortable position and she felt a bit of space open up around her.
She tensed every muscle in her body and pushed again.
And she felt herself move.
2014
The Knot – her third book – had been published a month before. It was the story of Maxine, happily married to Nigel, both of them hoping for a child. Then, out of the blue, she falls ill. Very ill. She has a year – maybe two – to live. Maxine is forced to assess her true priorities and realizes – to her surprise – that her husband is not one of them. She does not want to spend her final year with a man she does not love.
Her husband, however, does not agree. He is glad, though, to know what she truly feels about him.
Because it turns out he is not what he seems, and neither is her diagnosis. Someone is weaving a knot about her and it will not be easy to disentangle herself.
It had been well reviewed and she had been asked to come to a large bookshop in Manchester to do a reading. She was reluctant; the readings she had done in the past had been sparsely attended, but the shop owner said she expected quite a few to be there, so she had decided to accept.
And it had been worth it. There were about fifty people there and most of them had bought a book for her to sign. She worked through the queue of people until there was just one person left. She looked at him, and realized his face was familiar.
It took her a moment to place him, and then he spoke.
‘I was waiting till the end. So we could talk.’ He took out a small, hand-bound book from the pocket of his trench coat. ‘I’ve got another book out too.’
‘I remember you,’ she said. ‘You’re a poet, right? You came to a reading when my first book was out.’
A wide grin spread across his face. ‘I gave you my first book. We swapped. Did you read my poems?’
She hadn’t – when she got home she had taken the book he had given her out of her bag and put it down on a shelf and hadn’t seen it since, but she wasn’t about to say that, so she told him, ‘I really enjoyed it.’
‘Which was your favourite? Of my poems?’
‘Gosh,’ she said. ‘I don’t know. I did enjoy them, though.’
He flinched, his left eye twitching. ‘You don’t have a favourite?’
‘It was a long time ago,’ Annabelle said. ‘I don’t remember all that well. I barely remember what I read last week! But I do remember enjoying them.’ He didn’t look convinced and she decided to change the subject. ‘Which is your favourite?’
‘Of my poems?’
‘Yes. Do you have one you like the most?’
‘“The Nightingale”,�
�� he said. ‘It’s about a beautiful bird trapped in a cage which is eventually set free.’ He leaned over the desk. ‘It’s a bit like your new book.’
‘I suppose so,’ Annabelle said. ‘Have you read it?’
He shook his head. ‘I read the reviews. I haven’t got my copy yet.’ He put the hand-bound book on the table. ‘Can we swap again?’
‘Absolutely,’ Annabelle said. She took a book from the pile and opened it. ‘Remind me of your name again?’
His eye twitched again. ‘Carl Jameson. Can you write “To Carl, with thanks from one writer to another.” That’s what I put in yours. Except not to Carl. To Annabelle.’
She wrote the words he had requested then closed the book and handed it to him.
‘I can’t wait to read your new poems,’ she said. ‘Con-gratulations.’
He clutched the book to his chest.
‘Same to you,’ he said.
Sunday, 8 March 2020, 5.44 p.m.
Matt
Matt sat in the back seat. Brenda was in the front alongside Rob. She had a tablet on her lap. The screen showed a car – Annabelle’s blue Golf – driving along the road. She had another tablet open showing a map with a dot moving across it.
This was working.
Matt watched as the Golf paused at a traffic light.
‘How far is that from us?’ Matt said.
‘About half a mile, as the crow flies,’ Rob said. ‘But we have to get onto the A49 first, which means heading to a junction a bit south of here, then travelling north to them. Maybe a mile in total.’
