Don't Turn Around

by Amanda Brooke

  Jen doesn’t respond. The worst is over, and I feel myself relaxing for the first time since telling Geoff of my decision. It’s time to feel some of the excitement I see in my husband’s face as he passes the conference room and gives me a nod. I should go and greet our visitor but I don’t want to leave Jen. With a twist of my stomach, I realise I’ll be leaving her soon anyway and I force myself to stand. I wish Jen would get up too so I can give her a hug but she remains seated as I move to the door.

  ‘You should have heard her the other night, Ruth,’ Jen says before I can escape. ‘She’s terrified of him and OK, maybe he’s already made a start at stripping away her soul like he did to Meg, but she’s not dead yet. The fight isn’t over.’

  ‘We can’t—’

  ‘Yes, we can,’ Jen corrects me. Her chin is up, her tears dried and I envy her composure. ‘I’ve no intention of counting down to the last gasps of the helpline. Ellie won’t phone back but it doesn’t matter because I’m meeting Charlie at lunchtime outside John Lewis and we’re going to search until we find her. If you meant what you said about not turning your back on her, you could come too.’

  I hesitate before I reply. ‘Geoff and I are taking Oscar out to lunch.’

  Jen hears the regret in my voice. ‘But you do want to.’

  The thrill of anticipation I’d been hoping for earlier arrives as a flutter in my chest but I do my best to smother it. I have to stop protecting others and protect myself. ‘I can’t, Jen.’

  29

  Jen

  I could tell by the way Ruth avoided looking at me all morning that she was going to pull the plug on the helpline. I’m not angry. If anything, I admire her for having the courage to know when it’s time to quit. Who’d have thought I’d be the one to keep fighting? Not me, that’s for sure.

  I don’t look like a warrior as I check my reflection in the harsh light of the Ladies. The whites of my eyes are bright pink and the makeup I’d hoped would brighten my pallid complexion this morning has been washed away by my tears. How am I going to convince Ellie that I can still help her?

  By the time I’ve dabbed concealer beneath my eyes and smeared colour across my lips, I’m running late. I hold my nerve and choose the shortest route to John Lewis along the Strand and I’m sweaty and flustered by the time I find Charlie waiting at the foot of the steps that lead to Chavasse Park.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ I say as I rise on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  He pulls away and squints at my bleary eyes. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘Not with Gemma,’ I tell him quickly. ‘But she might be our last official client.’

  ‘Ah. They’re closing the helpline?’

  Charlie and I had had a long conversation last night. After Geoff’s confession, it mostly involved me grovelling for forgiveness again, but we had spent some time speculating about what would happen next. I suppose it was about time I was right about something. ‘Can we not talk about it now?’ I ask, glancing at the yawning mouth of the store’s main entrance.

  ‘I can’t say I’m looking forward to this,’ Charlie says. His eyes are as bloodshot as mine.

  ‘You don’t have to come with me.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  I link his arm gratefully and we step out of the bleak October afternoon and into the sparkling department store. We stop close to the escalators and check the list of departments spread over four floors. I know which one I’m heading for first. Charlie reminded me last night how Lewis had met his girlfriend when buying a gift for his mum.

  ‘I’ll make a start in the beauty department. We need to think presents for a middle-aged mum in poor health.’ I stop to bite my lip. ‘Although there’s always the possibility that Ellie, or should I say Ioana, has moved departments.’

  ‘So basically we need to check every floor.’

  I scrunch my nose. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  Charlie scans the list again. He’s not a seasoned shopper and hadn’t realised how much ground we have to cover. ‘In an hour?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t build your hopes up, Jen,’ he says in a way that doesn’t inspire confidence.

  ‘We can do this,’ I promise. ‘And if you do spot her, call me. We have to take this slowly, Charlie. I don’t want Ellie to feel like she’s being ambushed.’

  We agree to take alternate floors and, leaving Charlie on the ground floor, I step onto the escalator. I look over my shoulder to see which direction he’s taken but Charlie is exactly where I left him. I want to tell him to get on with it, but I smile. I like the idea of him watching over me.

  Growing up in a household where I was often overlooked, there was a time when nobody noticed me at all. Meg would tell me I didn’t know how lucky I was but I don’t think she ever appreciated how much her parents cared about her. Whenever they tried to intervene, Meg saw it as interference, and it was Ruth who bore the brunt of her daughter’s anger.

  I’d spotted them once when I was on the bus. I was standing at the front with an annoying group of Year 7s and I’d had the perfect view. Ruth had dropped Meg off close to the school but then jumped out of the car to call after her daughter. I could tell by the way Meg crashed through everyone that they’d been arguing.

  When the bus came to a halt and the doors opened, I was swept along by the hordes. I would have to pass Ruth’s car to get to the main gates and schoolbags thumped into me as my pace slowed. I didn’t want to be drawn into their latest argument. I could see a few of the kids ahead of me rubbernecking as they waited for Meg to react to her mum’s calls. Meg didn’t disappoint. She held her head high as she turned to face Ruth one last time.

  ‘If you really want to help then leave me the fuck alone!’

  I flinched but Ruth didn’t. She’d received worse from her daughter by this point. ‘Your father will be here to pick you up later so you’d better be waiting!’

  Meg lifted her arm to give her mum the finger. I’m not sure that Ruth saw her because she had covered her face with her hands and slumped back against the open car door. I could hear her sobs as I crept past, and thought I’d got away without her seeing me, but Ruth gave a sniff and lifted her head.

  ‘Jen?’ she called out. ‘Have you got a minute?’

  ‘Sure,’ I replied as I glanced up the road to check if Meg had spotted me too. She was gone.

  Ruth gestured for me to get into the car but I took my time sliding into the passenger seat. Once the doors were closed, Ruth wiped her eyes again and gave me a watery smile.

  ‘Thanks for stopping, Jen. I just … I don’t know what to do. I try to reach out but Meg only hates me all the more,’ Ruth said, her voice catching. Her mascara was running but she didn’t seem to care. ‘We tried accepting Lewis but he deliberately avoiding us. It’s obvious he isn’t making her happy. I don’t understand. What does she see in him?’

  I explored the corded edges of my backpack resting on my lap. ‘We don’t see much of them these days. If Meg’s out, she’d rather spend time alone with him than with us,’ I replied as if it were a simple choice my cousin had made, when in reality we all had our reasons for letting the distance widen.

  Ruth picked at the ragged edge of a fingernail. ‘She’s under the illusion she’ll scrape through her exams with some last minute cramming, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Lewis is deliberately sabotaging her studies so she doesn’t leave for Newcastle. Geoff’s grounded her more times than I care to count but she always manages to escape,’ Ruth said. Looking towards the school gates, she added, ‘She needs someone with a calming influence. You should come around more, Jen. We miss you.’

  Tears had stung my eyes and even now, all these years later, I find myself sniffing them back as I step off the escalator.

  I start scanning faces immediately, hoping for that sudden rush of recognition, although I’m not sure if it’s Meg or Ellie I’m hoping to see. Charlie and I had looked again at the photo Lewis had posted on Facebook, and even with the benefit of a bottl
e of wine, neither of us could see the resemblance that has Lewis fixated.

  There was a time when I would see Meg everywhere. My heart would leap whenever I glimpsed the back of her head and I’d have to stop myself from racing up and hugging a complete stranger. In my heart I knew she was dead. There was no last chance to tell her I was still her friend.

  I’m here as Ellie’s friend now and I weave my way through womenswear to begin a systematic search of the cosmetic counters. I start with Dior.

  There’s a blonde woman behind the counter and she smiles as I pick up a sample bottle of Poison and squirt my wrists.

  ‘It’s quite a provocative fragrance,’ the shop assistant tells me. ‘One of our most popular.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say as I breathe in the familiar scent and wonder if it had drawn Lewis to the counter too. ‘A friend of mine wore it all the time.’

  ‘Are you shopping for a gift?’

  I set down the scent bottle and chew my lip as I consider my next move. I’m not supposed to draw attention to our search but the clock is ticking in more ways than one, and the subtle approach didn’t work for Ruth. ‘Sort of,’ I reply. ‘I was here the other day and the young woman I talked to was really helpful. I promised her I’d call back.’

  ‘And she worked on this counter?’

  I give the sales assistant a broad smile that neither denies nor confirms her supposition. ‘I think her name was Ioana.’

  The woman’s brow furrows. ‘If it’s who I’m thinking of, she doesn’t work on this floor. She’s downstairs in the gift department.’

  ‘Of course she is!’ I say as I turn on my heels. Remembering my manners, I shout a thank you as I race back the way I’d come, my heart pounding.

  Weaving dangerously between shoppers, I clatter down the escalators. Any remaining thoughts of being inconspicuous have been swept away by my excitement, along with my nerves regarding what I should say to Ellie. I don’t care how illogical it sounds, this is as close as I’ll get to redeeming myself with Meg.

  My eyes dart left to right as I zigzag through the aisles in search of anyone in the black John Lewis uniform. I spy a shop assistant, a man this time, and I rush towards him.

  ‘Do you know Ioana?’

  He almost drops a heavy paperweight onto the glass shelf he was rearranging. ‘What the—’ He recovers quickly and straightens up to greet me with a fixed smile. ‘Sorry, do I know …?’

  ‘Ioana,’ I repeat.

  He’s taller than I am and looks over the shelves. ‘I think I saw her over by the scented candles. Would you like me to—?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’m fine.’

  I can’t believe I’m heading back over to where Charlie and I first entered the shop. We could have walked straight past her and not realised. Remembering we’re supposed to let each other know if we pick up her trail, I check my phone. There’s no message to say Charlie has moved on to another floor so he must be here somewhere. I send him a message to meet me by the candles but when I look up, I can see the top of his head over by the cookware. I guess he’s reading my message because a moment later he peeks over the display of bright orange Le Creuset pots. When he spots me, he beckons me over.

  Choosing a circuitous route, I skirt close to the scented candle displays. There isn’t a shop assistant in sight so I carry on towards Charlie.

  ‘She’s on this floor,’ I say in a hushed tone.

  ‘I know,’ he whispers back. ‘I’ve seen her.’

  ‘What? Why didn’t you tell me? Where is she?’ I ask as I spin around.

  ‘She went into the back a minute ago.’

  He points to a set of double doors marked staff only, and we begin an anxious wait that gives my nerves a chance to make a reappearance.

  ‘Are you sure about this, Jen?’ Charlie tries one last time.

  I don’t take my eyes off the doors. ‘Yes.’

  I’d prefer to continue our wait in silence but Charlie fidgets with nerves. ‘You smell nice, by the way.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ I snap.

  He raises an eyebrow. ‘It means, you smell nice,’ he says slowly.

  ‘As nice as Meg?’

  With his hands shoved in his pockets, Charlie wafts his open jacket to create a cooling breeze while a blush burns his cheeks. ‘I don’t remember.’

  I let the comment slide and we resume our stakeout. With my full concentration on the sealed doors, I don’t notice as someone approaches from behind.

  ‘Did you find her?’ asks the shop assistant I’d spoken to earlier. He’s polite but his voice is louder than entirely necessary and he doesn’t appear concerned that he’s given us both a start.

  ‘Not yet,’ I mutter, feeling Charlie’s eyes boring into me. ‘But it’s fine. Thanks for your help.’

  ‘No problem. Let me know if you need anything else.’

  When he’s wandered off, Charlie continues to glare at me. ‘You’ve been asking for her? I thought we were undercover?’

  ‘I know, but …’ My voice trails off as I see our quarry emerge from the staff doors. I watch in horror as our annoyingly helpful shop assistant walks over to her and points in our direction. ‘No, no, no.’

  Even if Ioana doesn’t know what I look like, my eyes widening in panic will give me away. I turn my back on her and Charlie does the same. For now, she’ll presume we’re normal customers. ‘Is she coming over?’ I whisper.

  ‘I don’t know, I think so,’ Charlie replies. ‘What do we do?’

  I give his hand a quick squeeze before pulling away. ‘It might be better if you’re not here. She won’t want to talk with someone listening in.’

  When a figure appears in my peripheral vision, I give Charlie a sharp nod and he walks away without looking back. I’m left to face Ellie alone.

  My heart pounds and I feel dizzy as I turn. I’m expecting to see Meg’s ghost and although my vision wobbles, the woman’s features are clear enough. Her brown hair has more copper than Meg’s gold and her bright, friendly eyes are green, not grey.

  ‘My colleague says you were looking for me,’ she says in a soft, Irish brogue.

  The breath I was holding is forced out by a rush of relief. ‘No, sorry, it wasn’t you,’ I say as I glance at her name badge. She’s called Iona and the Celtic spelling matches her accent, but it’s not Ellie. Except, my brain screams at me, this is the woman in the photo cuddling up to Lewis. I’m frozen to the spot, my eyes flicking between her face and her badge.

  Iona’s green eyes dim. ‘What’s this about?’

  As I take a step back, my hip knocks into a shelf. I hear crockery rattle above the beating of my heart. ‘No, nothing, it’s a mistake,’ I tell her. I look around for Charlie and find him loitering over by the glassware. Iona follows my gaze.

  ‘Did you go to school with my boyfriend by any chance?’ she asks, but not in that curious, delightful way you might when you discover a new connection with someone.

  My voice wavers. ‘Well. I – Who exactly is your boyfriend?’

  ‘Lewis Rimmer, but I think you know that.’

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  ‘Oh, shit exactly,’ Iona says. Her lip curls as she takes a step closer. ‘I don’t know what it is you people have against him but it stops here and now. I feel sorry for that girl’s mum, honestly I do, but I’ve seen her snooping around in here. She was looking for me, wasn’t she? I bloody knew it!’

  ‘We’re only trying to protect the people he hurts,’ I reply weakly. ‘And if that isn’t you right now, don’t think it won’t be one day.’

  Iona shakes her head. ‘You’re sick. The whole bunch of you are sick. Do you have any idea what this is doing to him? His mum’s dying, for pity’s sake. Can’t you leave him in peace?’

  ‘No, I can’t.’ The full implications of what’s happening hits me: if Iona isn’t the terrified young girl I’ve been speaking to, then who is Ellie, and how am I going to find her?

  ‘This is harassment and if you don’t leave this minut
e, I’m phoning the police.’

  I might not have found Ellie but, I remind myself the man Iona is defending is still Lewis. ‘Try suggesting that to your boyfriend,’ I say. ‘He won’t want them involved. He has too much to hide and, by the look of it, he’s hiding it pretty well from you – for now.’

  I don’t wait for a response. I have no argument with this woman and if I wasn’t so angry and confused, I’d feel sorry for her. She doesn’t know what Lewis is capable of, and while I don’t wish it upon her, there will surely come a time when she wants to talk to me.

  ‘How did it go?’ Charlie asks, catching me up at the exit.

  ‘I need some fresh air.’

  I walk straight out of John Lewis and keep going. I don’t want Iona to look out of a window and see me unravelling. Charlie keeps a hand on the small of my back and follows where I lead. I head towards the Albert Dock and slump down on the bench I’d shared with Geoff two days ago.

  I hide my face behind my hands. ‘It wasn’t her, Charlie.’

  ‘Then why are you so upset? What did she say to you? Does she know the girl we’re looking for?’

  Letting my hands drop, I look at Charlie. He’s confused and I’m not sure if what I’m about to say will help. ‘She was the girl we were looking for. That was Lewis’s girlfriend,’ I say. ‘But it turns out she’s Irish, not Romanian. She’s not Ellie.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yeah, fucking “oh”,’ I reply. ‘Ellie isn’t Lewis’s girlfriend.’

  After a long pause, it’s Charlie who breaks the silence. ‘So that’s it then,’ he says, nodding his head as if we’ve found a nice, neat solution. ‘You tried your best, Jen, but maybe now would be a good time for everyone to accept there’s no more to be done and move on.’

  ‘And will Ellie be moving on?’

  ‘You can’t help her if she doesn’t want you to.’

  ‘Of course she wants help. She phoned the helpline,’ I insist. ‘She phoned me, Charlie. And she didn’t make it up that someone’s been abusing her. Everything she’s said fits in with what we know happened to Meg, from the scarves on her bedpost to the things Meg said about running out of air.’ My words speed up as I quickly sift the facts from the fiction. ‘Geoff told Lewis that Ellie was phoning the helpline, and the only way Ellie could have found out I’d betrayed her trust was through Lewis. What does it matter if Iona is his official girlfriend? It wouldn’t stop him cheating on her. It’s not like Lewis ever worried about being faithful to Meg.’