Never Alone

by Elizabeth Haynes

  ‘I’m not saying it to be charming. It’s the truth. I watch my clients – how they are – and I honestly think, if women had any idea of the power inside them the world would be a completely different place.’

  She doesn’t smile at that. That look is back, whatever it is: watchful, thoughtful.

  ‘If you had any idea,’ you say, ‘for instance.’

  ‘I don’t feel powerful,’ she says. ‘I feel…’

  ‘What?’

  Here we go, you think.

  She reaches out a hand to him. ‘I feel foolish,’ she says, ‘and old. And sometimes a little bit terrified.’

  I saw them together

  And her all smiling and flirting, it made me want to punch her in the face

  And now the anger’s back, and it’s so fierce this time it HURTS and I can’t even see straight

  How dare she, how dare she…

  I will show her

  I will show them who they are messing with

  Sarah

  On Monday evening, just as Sarah is thinking about going to bed, Kitty phones. Sarah knows instantly that something is not right. Kitty is too quiet, bunged up – she’s either caught a cold or she’s been crying. Kitty never gets colds.

  ‘What’s the matter? What’s happened?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ she says. ‘Can I come home for a bit? I’ve only got one lecture next week, the tutorial got cancelled, so I wouldn’t miss anything.’

  ‘Kitty, of course you can come home. You know that. But why, what’s up?’

  Kitty launches into breathless sobs and Sarah catches the odd word – Oscar, of course. Eventually it all comes pouring out, Oscar being distant, telling her he needs space, seeing someone else.

  ‘Oh, Kitty, my poor darling,’ Sarah says. ‘Are you on your own? What about tonight, will you be okay?’

  ‘Kul’s taking care of me,’ Kitty sniffs. ‘She said I can go round to theirs.’

  ‘Good. When are you coming home?’

  ‘Wednesday. I’ll text you when I know what train I’m getting,’ Kitty says. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  Later, lying in bed waiting for sleep, Sarah thinks about getting in the car and driving through the night to go and get Kitty and bring her home. She cannot do this; Kitty is an adult. She has to keep reminding herself. Outside, the wind howls and now it’s started to rain again. The temperature has hovered just above freezing and it feels more likely that there is snow on the way. Sarah listens to the wind, and prays to whoever might be listening that the snow will hold off until Kitty’s train gets in the day after tomorrow.

  The next morning Sarah walks the dogs early. It’s still barely light; the wind is cold and bitter and an icy sleet is falling intermittently, blown around by the swirling wind. At the top of the hill the sleet becomes more defined, and the valley is shrouded in white cloud. The snowfall is brief; by the time she is back at the house, the dogs ahead of her, it has stopped again. Ahead the sky is a dirty yellow-grey; more snow is coming.

  Back in the house, she tries to call Sophie to ask about meeting for lunch; but she isn’t answering and her voicemail, unusually, fails to kick in.

  Then she tries to call Kitty, leaving a message, and then Louis. There’s no point in leaving a message for him; she doesn’t know what to say, in any case.

  An hour later, Kitty calls back. She sounds brighter than she did last night, but not by much. She is going to go straight to the station tomorrow after her last lecture.

  ‘How are you feeling today?’ Sarah asks.

  ‘I’m worried about him, Mum,’ Kitty answers.

  Sarah hadn’t asked how Oscar was, but that was what Kitty heard. Typical of her daughter, to be thinking of someone else even when she’s hurting.

  ‘He’s just gone very quiet. He’s really sensitive, you know? He really feels things. I’m worried that he’s working too hard; he’s trying so hard to please his dad and it’s not doing him any good, honestly.’

  ‘Oh, Kitty, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Just because you can breeze through work, you have to realise other people work at a different pace…’

  ‘I know that! He’s been quiet ever since we got back from seeing you. I think it’s the whole family thing, you know – he really feels it with his family fractured the way it is. Same as with Will. How is he, by the way?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sarah says. She has not thought about Will for days.

  ‘I was quite worried about him. He looked so thin, and pale, didn’t he? It was nice of you to let him come out with us. Where’s he staying? I wondered if he might have been sleeping rough.’

  ‘He was house-sitting for someone the weekend before last. He’s probably found somewhere else by now. Don’t worry, I think he’s good at taking care of himself. He’s managed up to now, hasn’t he?’

  ‘I suppose. He looked troubled. You must admit he looked like he had something going on, Mum.’

  ‘I think, maybe, he’s been having some relationship problems…’

  ‘Relationship problems! I didn’t know he was in a relationship. Who with?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sarah fibs. ‘I don’t even know for sure it’s that. Just something I picked up on. I thought he looked a bit heartsick.’

  ‘God. I just can’t imagine him in a relationship, can you?’

  ‘He’s quite sweet,’ Sarah says.

  ‘Mum! You’re old enough to be his mother!’

  ‘Not quite,’ she answers indignantly. ‘Anyway, that’s not what I meant. I just meant his heart’s in the right place; he’s had a rough time of it. He deserves a bit of happiness. Don’t you think so?’

  ‘I do, yes, but Oscar didn’t like him.’

  ‘Really? I thought they got on okay.’

  ‘Yes, when you were watching. When you left the room it was quite awkward.’

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘He sat down next to me on the sofa, too, when there were the armchairs to sit on. Oscar sat the other side but he said that Will was trying it on. He said Will was flirting with me. I had to tell him that Will’s practically my brother, that’s just not something I would ever consider, but he didn’t get it. I told him Will was Louis’s friend, not mine, but that didn’t work either.’

  ‘Try not to worry about it,’ Sarah says. ‘Men are like that. Hormones worse than ours, although they won’t admit it.’

  But now, even after she’s put the clean sheets on Kitty’s bed and made herself some soup, Sarah can’t get Kitty’s words out of her head. She thinks about Oscar, the silent, sullen young man who had hugged her and thanked her for letting him stay; about Will and his relationship with Sophie, which has somehow changed from a bit of fun, a fling, into something that has left both of them ragged; and about these two young men left to live in the space between broken families, finding their own way in life and having no positive role models to learn from. What hope was there for either of them?

  In the early afternoon, Sarah tries Sophie again, this time the landline in case Sophie has lost her mobile. It’s happened before. After just a few rings George answers. His gruff voice is unmistakable.

  ‘Hi, George,’ Sarah says chirpily. ‘Is Sophie there? I’ve been trying her mobile but she’s not answering. She said she was coming over this afternoon and I wondered what time.’

  There is a moment’s hesitation. ‘No, she’s not here.’

  ‘Oh. Any idea when she’ll be back?’

  ‘Not really, no.’

  Sarah thinks for a second. There is something odd, guarded, about the way he’s speaking. Sarah has a sudden horrible sense that Sophie is there, telling him to pretend that she isn’t.

  ‘George, I’m just a bit worried I might have upset her somehow. Can you ask her to call me?’

  ‘No, I can’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She’s gone off for a few days’ break.’

  It’s like a cold shower. ‘Oh? Like a spa break?’

  ‘Something like that, I expect. She’
s probably turned her phone off. You know what these places are like.’

  There’s something about the way he’s phrased it that sounds odd. ‘You expect? You mean you don’t know?’

  ‘She left a note,’ he says. ‘She said she’d be gone for a few days, and not to worry.’

  ‘You mean you don’t know where she is?’

  There is a long pause.

  ‘George?’

  ‘When did you last see her?’ he asks.

  ‘At your party. But I spoke to her on Sunday.’

  ‘And she was okay?’

  Sarah thinks of the best way to phrase it. She doesn’t want to bring up the subject of George’s car. ‘She was all right, I think…’

  George doesn’t wait for her to finish. ‘No idea where she might be?’

  ‘No. I mean – I could ring round a few people?’

  ‘I’ve already done that,’ George says.

  Sarah is used to him sounding impatient, even though he really isn’t. ‘Are you worried about her? I mean – if she left a note…’

  ‘She’s been under a lot of stress,’ he says.

  George is the sort of man who doesn’t believe in stress. He uses the word in the same tone of voice that he might use to describe an evening of spiritual guidance, or meditation.

  ‘George, I’m sure she’s fine,’ Sarah says, although she’s not sure about that at all.

  ‘Do me a favour,’ he says. ‘If she calls you – will you let me know?’

  ‘Did you have a row? I mean – tell me to mind my own business, but –’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ he says. ‘I mean that in the nicest possible way.’

  Sarah is stung. But he’s right – it’s nothing to do with her.

  ‘All right,’ she says. ‘If she calls me, I’ll ask her to phone home, how’s that?’

  ‘Thanks,’ he says, and rings off.

  Immediately Sarah checks her own mobile phone. There is nothing; no message from Sophie.

  After speaking to George Sarah tries calling Sophie again, but the calls go unanswered. Whether it’s the bad weather, the wind making the dogs restless, or Kitty, something has made her afraid for her friend. What if Sophie has been in an accident? What if she’s turned over the Audi in a ditch somewhere, drunk, driving too fast?

  Sarah is tempted to go out in the Land Rover looking for her. She thinks of all the places Sophie might have gone, all the people she might be with. Most of them George will already have tried. She turns the phone over and over in her hand, looking at it, before reaching that decision.

  And then she dials his number.

  He answers after about the tenth ring, by which time Sarah was expecting voicemail.

  ‘Sarah,’ he says.

  ‘Hi, Will,’ she replies. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m good.’

  Sarah is relieved to hear that, wherever he is, he is indoors. She cannot hear the wind howling, and he sounds relaxed, calm.

  ‘I just wondered – I know this is a bit out of the blue – I just wondered if you’ve seen Sophie.’

  ‘Sophie? No, I haven’t. Why, should I have?’

  ‘I spoke to George just now. She’s gone off somewhere – left him a note. He doesn’t know where she is.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I thought he might have called you, but, you know, in case he didn’t I just thought it was worth a try. I think he’s worried.’

  ‘She’s not here,’ he says, although Sarah notices he doesn’t give any indication of where ‘here’ is.

  ‘Oh, well, that’s okay, then,’ she replies, keeping her voice light. She doesn’t want to spark off any sort of panic.

  ‘She didn’t tell you where she was going?’

  There is something about the tone of his voice that Sarah doesn’t like. It’s jokey, a little bit challenging, as though he thinks it’s amusing that Sophie and Sarah aren’t as close as they let on. The emphasis is on the ‘you’.

  ‘No, I haven’t seen her for a few days.’ You knew that, she thinks.

  ‘She’s probably gone off with one of her fancy men,’ he says.

  ‘Will, really. That’s a bit…’

  ‘A bit what? Near to the truth?’

  Sarah doesn’t reply. She wonders if he’s been drinking, or taken something. This isn’t like him. He sounds wired.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says then. ‘You’re right. I just don’t know why you’re asking me.’

  ‘Look, I know you were seeing each other. You told me that yourself.’

  ‘Right,’ he says. ‘Only, turns out she’s not that bothered. She doesn’t want to be tied down to the likes of me. She thought it was a casual thing, she said. She thought it was just a bit of fun. Did she say that to you?’

  ‘I didn’t realise,’ Sarah lies. A bit of fun; that was almost exactly the phrase she herself had thought about Will and Sophie. She tries to change the subject. ‘So did you find somewhere to stay?’

  ‘I’ve got somewhere for now. Something else is coming up soon. Much nicer.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘Not too far.’

  ‘That’s good,’ she says. ‘Sounds nice. How long for?’

  ‘A while.’

  Why is he being so evasive? She wonders if she’s offended him somehow.

  ‘You on your own?’ he asks.

  Sarah doesn’t answer, wondering what he means. He’s got somewhere to stay, so he isn’t looking for a bed for the night.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replies, not answering his question.

  ‘Yep,’ he says. ‘Anyway, if there’s nothing else…’

  ‘No – it was just – you know, if you do see Sophie, ask her to call George? He’s very worried.’

  ‘Course I will,’ he says warmly, and that’s more like the Will she knows. ‘Bye, Sarah. I’ll see you very soon.’

  And he rings off.

  Outside, the wind howls and moans. And, for no apparent reason, Tess starts barking.

  It takes her a long time to get to sleep that night. She leaves her mobile phone on the table next to the bed with the sound turned up, in case someone calls. Sophie. Or Kitty. Or even Louis.

  She wakes up suddenly, from deep sleep to wide awake in a second, her heart thumping.

  She does not move, listening.

  The wind has dropped and the house is silent.

  She wonders if Tess barked again, if that was what woke her, or if she was dreaming about something.

  She can hear breathing, looks up and gasps.

  Someone is sitting on her bed.

  Part Six

  Sarah

  Sarah reaches for the light switch. ‘Will! What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just checking you were okay.’

  She sits up in bed, clutching the duvet around her as if it might afford some sort of protection. Her heart is thumping, so hard that she fears that she is actually having a heart attack.

  ‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he says, his bright blue eyes wide. He looks so young, just for a moment, and she almost forgets that he is actually a fully grown man. He looks like a boy who has just woken up in the middle of a nightmare.

  ‘Well, you did,’ she says. Her voice sounds high and panicky. She tries to lower it, tries to sound authoritative. ‘Please get out of my bedroom, Will.’

  He stands up, quickly. ‘Yes, of course. I’ll – I’ll wait downstairs, shall I?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah says. ‘You do that.’

  She watches as he leaves the bedroom, head bowed like a kid who’s just been told off. When he shuts the door she breathes out, her hand clamped over her mouth in case she starts screaming. She wants to yell at him to get out of the house and not come back, but having him wait downstairs is better. She needs to make sure he’s gone.

  She dresses in jeans and a jumper, all the while wondering why the dogs didn’t bark. What on earth possessed him to let himself in? In the middle of the night? Why didn’t she he
ar him? Why didn’t she wake up? She pulls back the curtains. It’s still pitch-black outside.

  Thick socks on, she pads down the stairs.

  Will is in the kitchen and smiles brightly at her when she comes down. He is boiling the kettle.

  ‘I don’t want any tea,’ she says sharply. ‘I want you to leave.’

  ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘I’m really sorry, Sarah, I didn’t mean to – I didn’t want to scare you, I was just checking you were okay.’

  ‘I told you on the phone that I was fine. Why wouldn’t I be? What made you come out in the middle of the night, for heaven’s sake?’

  His face crumples. He sits down at the kitchen table, puts his head in his hands.

  ‘It’s Sophie, I’m really worried about her.’

  ‘So am I, Will. But she’s a big girl. She’s probably just gone away with a friend for a few days and has forgotten to tell George. Or she’s told George a while ago, and he’s forgotten. I’m sure she’s fine.’

  ‘She didn’t tell you, then,’ he says. His voice is muffled by his sleeve.

  ‘Tell me what?’

  He lifts his head, looks at her with dry eyes. ‘About Aiden. She’s been seeing him, behind your back, and mine.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asks.

  ‘I saw them. I was going round to see her, as a surprise, like, because she’d told me George was going away again. And he was there, with her, in the conservatory. They were all over each other.’

  Sarah wants to explain. She wants to tell him that Aiden and Sophie get on well and she’s fine about that, but it’s the middle of the night and, besides, it isn’t something she wants to talk about.

  ‘Aren’t you angry?’

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend. We are just friends.’

  Actually, she thinks, not even that.

  ‘You should be fuming,’ he says, and there is something in his tone that feels dangerous.

  ‘Please, Will. It’s late.’

  Abruptly the anger dissolves into misery. ‘I love her,’ he says; ‘it wasn’t just a bit of fun for me, it was serious. I felt like I belonged with her. I wanted her to leave George and she played along with it; she… she…’