by J. A. Baker
“Yeah?” His voice is slurry, groggy. Not like him at all.
“Tom?” I shrill down the phone, a little too loudly.
“Mum? What’s up?” He sounds faint.
“Nothing darling. Just thought I would give you a call to let you know how well things are over here. And see how you are obviously,” I snort a little as I giggle. Gosh, it feels good to laugh. In fact it feels bloody marvellous. Long may it continue.
“I’m. . . we’re fine. Is everything okay?” He is livelier now. I have his attention.
“Yes sweetheart, why wouldn’t it be? Am I not allowed to ring my only child?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s just that it’s the early hours here,” I can hear him murmuring to Mya no doubt. Her again. It’s always about bloody Mya, “It’s 4 a.m. mum. What’s up?”
I chuckle again, determined to stay upbeat. Nobody is going to drag me down, especially my son’s girlfriend, the woman who is keeping him from me. Because that is obviously the only reason he has stayed over there. To see her. She is to blame for my little family unit being incomplete.
“I have a visitor here,” I stop and gasp a little. I didn’t mean to say it. It just slipped out. Fortunately he doesn’t seem to hear me.
“Mum, can I call you back when we get up? Mya and I have an early start and really need a few more hours sleep.”
“Of course darling, of course,” I hear a sound behind me and turn to see Martyn pointing to the phone. Exhilaration grips me. He wants to communicate with his son. At long last. My heart batters around my chest at the thought of it. They haven’t spoken since. . . well, I can’t remember. . . since Martyn’s accident I suppose. I smile and nod at my husband, “Tom. I have some exciting news for you. Your father’s here and he wants to talk to you.”
There is a stony silence at the other end of the line. When he does speak, Tom’s voice is a whisper, a thin reedy squawk that sends a chill across my skin, “Mum? What are you talking about?” I hear his breathing become laboured and a rustle of fabric as he moves closer to the phone, “Mum, what on earth are you saying? What the hell is going on?”
Twenty Two
After speaking to Tom on the phone I guess I got a bit carried away and had a rush of adrenalin, or something, that made me uninhibited. I have no regrets though. For all I know, it may be the last time I will ever get chance to step foot in there. Martyn and I have pretty much burnt our bridges now haven’t we? And besides, isn’t it the ‘done’ thing to help neighbours with the search? I’ve seen it on TV. All the locals out combing an area when somebody disappears. Not that I did help with the search; I was more of a shoulder to cry on, a friendly face in time of need. But of course it didn’t go as well as I would have hoped. When does it ever?
I called around, leaving Anna and Martyn alone in the house together - a risk, I know - but after speaking to my son I was gripped by exhilaration and before I knew it I was on their doorstep, asking if they needed any help. They were very polite and welcoming, if a little puzzled by my appearance. The house was a mess. Crockery and clothes strewn everywhere, cushions laid on the floor, shoes littering the hallway. Complete chaos. And no Simon. That was good.
“I was wondering if you needed any help with anything?” I asked, trying to appear as humble and sincere as I possibly could.
“Not unless you fancy making yet more tea?” Mike had said, his voice cracking as he spoke, “that’s just about all we’ve managed to do,” he whispered before turning away and wiping his eyes with a crumpled-up tissue.
I should have felt some sort of guilt at that point, a modicum of remorse at his predicament. But that’s the strange thing. I didn’t. If anything I was suddenly elated. I had power over these people. They were all there because of me and Martyn. Puppets on strings and I was the puppeteer, the master of their futures. And it felt good.
I offered to tidy up, keep the house in some sort of order.
“After all,” I had said, with a forced note of positivity in my tone, “When Anna gets home, she would hate to see the house like this wouldn’t she?” They had all nodded and with a murmur, stepped aside while I gathered up coats and sweaters and hung them all in cupboards. The cups I placed in the sink before washing up and wiping down surfaces.
“Where do these go?” I had asked as I walked back into the deathly hush of the living room where they were all standing in a huddle, their faces the picture of misery and wretchedness. I held Anna’s gloves and scarf aloft and headed towards the stairs. Mike nodded as I made my way through and slowly climbed up. They had been in a drawer but after a quick rummage it was what I had needed to get up there. Just one little look in my childhood bedroom. That was all I had wanted. Too much of a temptation to resist.
I had mounted the stairs as quietly as possible and quickly worked out which room was Anna’s. I quietly placed the items on the bed and backed out before padding along to my old bedroom. It had two single beds on either side and was quite obviously the room of Anna’s two sons with modern electrical gadgets stuffed in every corner and crevice. I looked out of the window and sighed. Apart from the growth of shrubbery and trees blocking some of the view, the river was still visible. Ferocious and mildly threatening, it rushed past, rumbling over rocks and stones, frothing up into a ragged circle of white-water before moving on downstream.
Behind me I had heard Suzie’s voice, a whisper, telling me it was an accident, that despite what everyone thought, it wasn’t my fault. I had replied that it didn’t matter anymore because she was home now; we both were. Back where we belonged. She agreed and suddenly, feeling as if a weight had been lifted, I had lain down on the bed. Just for a second to let the moment pass. I hadn’t intended to do it and was almost certain I had only been there a few minutes but maybe it was longer because when I opened my eyes one of Anna’s sons was stood in the doorway staring at me. His expression had said it all. It was a mixture of horror and bewilderment.
“Sorry,” I had mumbled sitting up abruptly and swinging my legs off the bed, “I had a sudden dizzy spell and needed to lie down to let it pass. It’s probably all the upset.”
He nodded, his eyes still wide with shock, my words doing little to alleviate a horribly awkward situation. I stumbled past him, my legs liquid as I made my way downstairs and into the living room where Mike and Toby were stood talking.
“Remember to contact me if you need anything,” I managed to say hoarsely. They nodded and gave me a smile. It was fine. They hadn’t noticed my absence. They were too wrapped up in their own dilemma to care about me.
I stepped out the front door and headed home. It was just as I had got in that I heard them - a group of youngsters hollering about finding something. I had assured myself that at least this new find will help that boy forget about what he had just seen. In the grand scheme of things, a lonely old neighbour taking an unexpected nap on his bed won’t register as a threat. Finding his mum is all he will be interested in. If only he knew.
Twenty Three
Mike feels his chest tighten when he hears it. Something has happened, something of significance. A couple of the younger neighbours are helping Simon, taking the river path both ways to see what they can find. They made Mike stay here. Forced him. Said he would need to be here for when the police turn up. Mike prickles at the thought of them. Where the fuck are they? His wife is missing. He wants Mountain Rescue, a team of police officers, a search helicopter. The whole frigging shooting match. But now he can hear Simon’s voice, clear as a bell, carried on the thermals, drifting towards the house,
“We’ve found something!”
Mike fights to suppress a wave of nausea that grips him. They’ve found something. Jesus Christ. He hangs onto the sofa for balance as the floor slopes off at a painful angle and the walls tilt. An image of Anna’s bloated dead body fills his head. No for god’s sake. They wouldn’t be shouting it across the entire village. So what have they found? Hair perhaps? Or a piece of clothing? He tries to picture Anna’s outfit
before he left the house. He has no idea. She could have changed clothes to go walking. She probably did change clothes. He tries to think. What does she usually wear? Dark jeans or joggers maybe? A sleeveless jacket? Why the fuck didn’t he stay in or insist she go to the pub with them?
Callum comes hurtling through and grabs Mike’s arm breathlessly saying, “You need to come outside and have a look at a trainer that we’ve found in the bushes, dad. See if you recognise it.” His eyes are dark, his voice a harsh screech.
Mike’s stomach flips. Where would she be with only one shoe? He doesn’t move. Panic clasps at his stomach. Anna has dozens upon dozens of pairs of shoes. Sandals, running shoes, sling backs, stilettos, boots. What if it is actually hers and he doesn’t recognise it? What kind of husband doesn’t know his wife’s clothing? Jesus, this is absolutely fucking unbearable.
“Toby reckons it might belong to that other woman,” Callum looks at his dad hopefully, willing him to say that his mum didn’t own any trainers. Mike looks at his son, is able to read his thoughts. He too, finds himself praying that the other missing lady was wearing trainers and that this one belongs to her. As bad as he feels for the other woman’s family, right now he has to look out for himself and his two boys. He hopes to god this trainer isn’t Anna’s. He nods and disappears into the utility room and emerges a couple of seconds later wearing a pair of dark green wellies.
They walk together towards the others in silence, the squelch of wet mud under their feet the only sound to be heard. The drizzle runs down Mike’s neck. He pulls his collar up and dips his head, acutely aware that his every move is very probably under scrutiny.
They follow the path, pass through a garden and continue on up through a series of overgrown bushes and thickets. It isn’t a pleasant walk, far from it, and he wonders why ramblers would want to take it; why Anna took it. It needs a thorough cutting back. Thorns and spikes snag him as he passes through. He tries to imagine how it would look in the dark and suppresses the thought.
“Just down here if you can manage to get through,” Simon is on his haunches leaning into a dense patch of shrubbery. “We didn’t want to move it till the police get here. Any sign of them yet?”
Mike shakes his head and closes his eyes, wanting to put this moment off for just a little bit longer. He opens them again and looks over the top of the surrounding foliage. The bank leading down to the river is staggeringly steep. The sharp drop down to the thunderous river below them, that is on the point of bursting its banks takes, his breath away. Anyone who lost their footing around here would stand absolutely no chance whatsoever. A painful lump sticks in his throat and he finds it hard to drag his eyes away from the fast flowing water far below them.
“It’s just here if you want to take a look?” Mike reluctantly steps over to an area beside his feet. He gets down next to Simon and Toby who push a clump of branches to one side. And there, trapped between two thick, gnarled branches is Anna’s training shoe. Mike recognises it immediately. Of course she has some. How could he have forgotten? They’re not what he would think of as trainers, the sort of shoes people wear to go jogging or to go to the gym. These are the ones she wears every day for what she calls her ‘scruffy jobs,’ such as sweeping the path or cleaning the windows or even just walking to the local shop. Anna’s shoe. Here, by the river, up a high bank. A pain pulses behind his eyes as he scans the nearby area. The rain has saturated everything in sight. The path is sheer sludge and parts of the bank look so slippery and wet, they look liable to erode and slide away at any minute.
“Jesus,” is all he can say.
Simon looks at him, his eyes dark with dread, Mike nods and walks away. His legs are liquid as he makes his way back home. He needs to be alone. Just for a few minutes. That’s all he wants so he can sort all this out in his head. The garden is empty as he staggers up the path, in the front door and upstairs where he collapses on the bed and howls like an injured animal. Toby and the boys are standing at the doorway when he looks up. He hates being seen like this - weak and ineffective - but can’t seem to summon up the strength to do anything anymore. He is sapped of all energy after seeing that shoe and the almighty strength of the current. There is no way anybody, even the strongest of swimmers, could survive that. Nobody says anything. What is there to say? Toby quietly turns and guides Callum and Mason away and downstairs. Mike sits up and wipes at his eyes. How the fuck did this happen? It’s his fault of course. He should have stayed in with her. He knew as soon as they got in and the house was in darkness that something was wrong. No more visits to the pub. That’s it. No more drink for him. Ever.
...............................................................................................................................................
Toby stands staring out of the kitchen window. Where in god’s name has Anna gone? This whole thing is surreal, like something off a TV drama series. Stuff like this shouldn’t be happening to them. They’re an ordinary family bordering on the mundane. Razor blades slice at the lining of his stomach every time he moves and his head feels as if a herd of cattle are stampeding through it. Lack of sleep. And lack of food.
He turns the gas on and finishes cooking. They all need to eat. Despite the awful circumstances, people still need to be fed. Tea will still get drunk, bacon butties will get eaten. Life goes on. Just as it did after Bridget died. He remembers feeling infuriated after his sister’s funeral that people were mowing their lawns, heading out for picnics, laughing. Mike was there for him then, listening to his woes, forcing him to see the positives even on the greyest of days. Now it’s his turn to do the same.
He flips the bacon, the sizzle from the pan the only sound to be heard. Toby watches it mesmerised, his mind in momentary shutdown until Mason hurtles past him and grabs Toby’s arm, eyes wild,
“Mountain Rescue are here. And the police. And there’s bloody loads of them.”
Twenty Four
I am downstairs bustling about, trying to compose myself after the silly moment in the bedroom, reassuring myself that it will soon be forgotten, when I hear the bang. I rush up, wanting to get there before Martyn makes his way up. If he finds her messing about again, prying, there’s no telling what he will do. She knows his temper is unpredictable at the best of times. I have told her over and over what kind of a man he is. Just when I thought she had started listening to me, she goes and starts playing up again. I’m just thankful that she waited till I got back otherwise goodness knows what would have happened if she had done this while I was over the road in her house.
When I get to the bedroom she has somehow managed to stand herself upright even though her hands and ankles are still tightly bound, pulled the blinds apart, and is looking out of the window at the throng of people outside. She has seen that the search party has upped their game. I need to take action.
I drag her back onto the bed, a fistful of her delicate golden hair wrapped tightly around my knuckles. She makes a strange strangled crying sound beneath the tape as I lay her down and lean over her,
“Don’t move again Suzie. You’re making this way harder than it needs to be. You really need to start co-operating you know.”
I turn her over and tighten the cords around her wrists then fling her onto her back. Time for more sedatives. Not too many. I don’t want to kill her. Not when I’ve waited for so long to have her back. I mix them up, slice off some more tape and go through the procedure. Rip, drink, re-apply.
Standing up I walk over to the window and peer out at the activity around the front of the house. They’ve got plenty of bodies helping out now. I can’t help but laugh. I wonder what is going through their minds at this moment in time? If only they knew. It’s so empowering having this level of control. I can’t remember ever feeling so confident, so strong and euphoric. I had no idea this calamity would leave me feeling this way. Isn’t it funny how a spontaneous and potentially catastrophic event can turn to ones’ advantage so quickly?
When I look
back over at her, she is almost gone, her eyelids flickering as she tries to battle against the effect of the drugs. It is useless. She may as well relax and let them do their thing. Fighting it all is futile. And anyway, why would she want to? She is back home now, back to where she belongs. Back with me, her sister.
It doesn’t take long at all for her eyes to become sealed shut and for her body to go limp. I could sit here all day staring at her, marvelling at how beautiful she is. And she is. I can’t quite believe how fortunate I am to have her back. And in time, she too will feel the same way. I am sure of it.
The noise outside draws my eyes over to the window. Yet more movement out there. And the police. Lots of busy people scurrying about like ants. I doubt they’ll come over here to speak to me again. Why would they? I’ve been over and shown my support; done my bit as a good neighbour and friend. And apart from our proximity, there is nothing to link her to me. I look over at her unconscious body and can’t suppress a smile. She’s all mine now.
Over the road a line of uniformed officers trudge into the house, leaving the door open behind them while some men from the Mountain Rescue get kitted up to go walking. They can search all they like. They won’t find her.
I leave the room, closing the door with a light click, and head back downstairs. Martyn is in the dining room, exactly where I left him. He looks up as I go in and smiles before returning his attention back to his food. I leave him be and wander into the kitchen. This is my favourite room in the house. It is always flooded with light no matter what time of day it is. I also have an excellent view of the river. What more could anyone want? Such a perfect day.
