The Missing Husband

by Amanda Brooke

  ‘Thank you for that little gem, but it’s not going to be that easy,’ Jo said patiently. ‘I still haven’t got my appointment with the therapist and even when I do, I have to be realistic. There’s only a limited amount of treatment on offer on the NHS and I can’t afford to go private, so that means I’m going to have to look at ways to help myself.’

  ‘With my help?’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘I’m not sure I could play at being a therapist, Jo.’

  Jo laughed. ‘I wouldn’t dare let you inside my head, although I can certainly give you a sneak preview. I’ve spent the last few weeks obsessing about David being out there watching me and that’s why I’ve been so terrified to leave the house. But I’m not so sure any more; in fact, I’m starting to believe it less and less. I’ve even taken the blind down off the door,’ she added proudly.

  ‘Yes, I noticed. Not one of your mum’s finest creations.’

  ‘It served its purpose, but I don’t think I need it any more. What I do need though is someone who can help me rationalize my fears once and for all and tempt me back out into the world.’

  ‘Do you want to go out for a walk now?’ Heather offered.

  Jo tried to ignore the flutter of her heart, which had temporarily jumped into her throat. She had wanted to go out all day, but even though she had stopped feeling as if David was watching her every move, she had another fear to contend with: she was terrified that she would have another panic attack in spite of her new-found confidence and where would that leave her? How would she ever convince herself that she was free from her fears? ‘Not yet, I’ll need to build myself up to that, learn how to relax, how to stay calm when I feel an anxiety attack coming on.’ She had a hand on her chest and the warmth from her burning palm soothed her. ‘You haven’t seen me when I’m having an attack, it’s not pleasant, Heather, and they can come out of nowhere.’

  ‘You can’t put me off, I’m here to help.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, but I don’t think you quite realize what we’re up against. My mind’s been in free fall these last few days.’

  Heather crossed her legs, leant forward in her chair and rested her chin on a hand. ‘I think you’d better tell me how this all started.’

  Jo raised an eyebrow – trust Heather not to beat around the bush. Her thoughts spun round inside her head, but this was what she needed; this would help her grab hold of them. She started by telling Heather about the creeping fears she had felt since Archie was born, going into detail about how she had been convinced so many times that David had come back home only to discover it was Steve hiding behind the tree or knocking at the door. She talked about the birth certificate disappearing, about chasing shadows along the path by the station and finally about waking up in bed, convinced that David had been watching her. All of these were false alarms – she knew that, which only gave more substance to Sally’s counter-argument.

  ‘I can’t help thinking Sally’s right,’ Jo said. ‘Oh, God, what if David didn’t leave me? What if—’

  ‘But he’s been seen, Jo. He’s been caught red-handed dipping his fingers into his account. I mean, I’m certainly not about to convince you back into thinking he’s been spying on you, but I do think that he’s out there somewhere.’

  With her hand still on her chest, Jo could feel her pulse quicken. ‘You’re right, of course you’re right … But if you had seen the look on David’s face when he was playing with Luke! I was there, I saw him, and he was desperate to be a dad. He was simply struggling to let go of this twisted belief that he couldn’t be a good father until he had done everything else he wanted to achieve in life. It took that damned video to remind me what I already knew: he wouldn’t walk away, Heather.’

  Heather sighed. ‘I don’t blame you for wanting to think the best of him, I’m struggling to understand it myself, but he left you, Jo. He made his plans, he took his passport and his money and he left you. No. Doubt. About it,’ she finished, spitting out each word.

  Jo released a juddering breath as she willed herself to accept the convincing argument that was the lesser of two evils. David wasn’t dead. ‘So what I’m left with is a constant battle to convince myself that he isn’t stalking me.’

  ‘If you’re that scared, then carry some pepper spray.’

  ‘I can’t do that!’

  ‘I would,’ sniffed Heather.

  ‘I wouldn’t.’

  Heather looked shrewdly at her. ‘So you’re not that scared of him then?’

  Jo rubbed her chest to ease the ever-present tension as she gave some thought to what Heather was trying to say in her inimitable way. ‘It’s not that simple. You have no idea what it’s like, this fear is paralyzing. Just taking that first step outside is like jumping from a plane and not knowing if I’m wearing a parachute.’

  ‘The step isn’t that high,’ Heather exclaimed with a twinkle in her eye.

  Jo’s jaw clenched. She didn’t want to see the joke and wondered if Heather had been the right person to turn to after all. ‘Do you think I don’t know that? I’m well aware that not all my fears are rational, Heather, but it doesn’t stop me reacting as if they are very real. It’s like they feed off each other. Even when Archie was ill, when he needed help. What did I do? I stood in the hallway rooted to the spot. I let him down,’ Jo said and closed her eyes as she relived the terror of that moment when she had been paralyzed by fear, imaginary and real.

  ‘But you didn’t let him down. You got Archie to the doctor.’

  ‘Yes, but what about the next time? Even sitting here thinking about going outside brings me out in a cold sweat.’

  The phone rang, giving Jo’s already tense body a start. Heather looked back and forth from Jo’s face to the phone, which her friend was refusing to pick up.

  ‘I’m not answering it,’ Jo explained. ‘It’s only Steph. She’s been phoning constantly since last night and I think she might have come over at dinner time too.’ There was in fact no doubt that Steph had visited. Jo had been standing at the nursery window and had seen her arrive then leave again five minutes later when Jo refused to answer the door. Her sister might not like the sun going down on an argument but Jo was in no rush to face that particular problem just yet.

  ‘She has a right to be angry,’ Heather said after Jo explained what had happened.

  ‘I know, but there was more to it than simply letting Lauren get a nose stud. I can’t tell you and I won’t tell Steph either. It’s for Lauren to explain to her mum and I have to give her time to do that. But if I’m honest, I was the one who ended up the angrier one out of the two of us,’ Jo said. ‘She had a go at me for leaving Archie with Irene.’

  Heather cleared her throat. ‘And how long exactly are you planning on leaving him there?’

  Jo had phoned Irene the night before and again that morning but with her self-confidence at an all-time low and Irene still worried about the state of Jo’s mind and her ability to care for the baby, neither could summon up a good argument for Archie’s return.

  ‘I’m scared that I can’t be the kind of mother Archie deserves.’

  ‘Do you want to be?’

  Jo looked away, avoiding Heather’s eyes and the question itself. ‘It’s not fair on him. I’ve let him down time and time again.’

  ‘So you don’t want him then?’

  Jo closed her eyes and immediately saw the little boy of her imaginings. ‘Yes, I want him. I want my son so, so much,’ she said but when she opened her eyes and the image disappeared, she added, ‘But if the last few days are anything to go by, he can do better.’ She gulped, ready at last to consider something she had been too ashamed to fully acknowledge before. ‘And what if the one thing stopping David coming home is Archie? What if it’s best all round if the baby isn’t here?’

  Heather shook her head. ‘Look, it’s going to take me a while to get my head around all this anxiety business, but if you want my considered opinion then that’s a load of bollocks.’

>   Jo’s eyes widened. ‘Thanks, Heather.’

  ‘Well, it is. You told me you wanted my help, so you’re going to have to put up with some straight talking. Archie’s already been abandoned by his dad; he’s living with his grandmother who no doubt loves him very much, but he’s also under the same roof as that good-for-nothing son of hers. Or one of them, at least. Do you want Steve to be a role model in your son’s life? The man who could make a pass at his missing brother’s wife?’

  Jo wished she hadn’t mentioned the incident to Heather and was half expecting her to drag her out of the house there and then to collect her son. ‘No, I wouldn’t want Steve anywhere near Archie, given the choice.’

  ‘Good, because you do have a choice. We’re going to get Archie back here where he belongs. You cared enough about him once to get him to the doctor. So, if you love him, you’ll pick him up sooner rather than later. You say you need time to prepare? OK, you have until tomorrow but you will go get him, Jo Taylor, and you’ll do it because it’s the best thing all round for you and for your son.’ She stopped dictating only long enough to allow herself a smile. ‘Sound like a plan?’

  Playful bees chased bright yellow sunflowers in a relentless pursuit that cast long shadows across Archie’s empty cot. Jo was watching from the rocking chair as she hummed along to the music. Pushing herself gently back and forth, she kept her breathing steady as she prepared herself for the epic journey to Irene’s house a few miles away, a journey that would begin with one step.

  Jo blinked slowly then turned to the window. The morning looked surprisingly bright but the world was still in the grip of winter and she imagined it would be deeply cold outside. She pictured herself opening the door and lifting a foot over the threshold. No one was watching her, no one was judging her, she repeated to herself but her heart still raced. She wasn’t ready yet, but there was no rush, she would take her time, she would do this right. She had told Irene she would pick the baby up at midday and it was only eleven. Her pulse began to slow.

  ‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,’ she sang and as she did, she thought of David. He had been her sunshine and the world had been impossibly dark without him. The house was devoid of light and life and she felt his absence seeping into every nook and cranny; but here in the nursery there was dappled light playing amongst the shadows. There was hope.

  Heather had filled Jo with such determination that she felt a growing sense of anticipation at the thought of being reunited with her son. ‘You make me happy when skies are grey,’ she continued.

  When the music stopped, all she could hear was the sound of her deep, steady breaths. She stood up. David – the man who must be alive somewhere because she couldn’t consider anything else – had left such a mess for her to clear up but Archie wasn’t going to be part of that. He could be the shining light in the darkness if only she would let him in. Ready to face the world, Jo headed for the stairs but at the last moment changed direction. There was no need to hurry, she reminded herself.

  Standing in the study, the chaos David had created was painfully apparent. There was a stack of correspondence between Jo and the countless organisations she had been forced to explain her misery to; everything ordered into neat files but with so many loose ends still to tie up. To one side of the desk an in-tray groaned under the weight of incoming mail. Her mum had opened some but more envelopes had arrived since then.

  She didn’t have time to go through everything but she could make a start by separating the tedious junk mail from the more demanding correspondence. It was a job that needed doing and it was far better to do it while Archie wasn’t there, she told herself as she justified her latest delaying tactic.

  The task didn’t take long at all and soon the only envelope left in the tray was the one from the police that her mum had wafted in front of her but which Jo had refused to look at. She picked it up now, took a deep breath and removed the contents.

  It was another black-and-white image of a man standing in front of a cash machine. Because of the camera angle and the way his head was bowed, the man’s face was mostly hidden by a baseball cap. It could have been David, she supposed; he was the right build and there was some sense of familiarity, particularly about the coat, which she knew would be olive green, one of Nelson’s corporate colours. She was surprised how little emotion the photo evoked. With a sigh, she pulled open a drawer and took out a manila-coloured file so she could add the photo to the rest of the police evidence she had acquired. Opening the folder, she smoothed it out until her hand came to rest next to a faint smudge on the inside cover. She traced it with her finger. It was yellow paint.

  Pulling out the contents of the file, Jo quickly found another smudge. The paint was the exact same shade as that in the nursery and she knew she would never have been so careless, but then she hadn’t painted the nursery, Steve had. She turned over the smudged piece of paper and stared at another black-and-white image. This one was the first cash withdrawal and she found herself lining up both photographs side by side. Her eyes darted from one to the other. The man withdrawing cash the second time had used his right hand to take the money, not his left, as she would have expected David to do. She took a closer look at the tantalising glimpse of his face beneath the peak of his cap until her nose was almost touching the paper. She couldn’t be sure, but as she sat back she let her mind summon up a third picture, the image of a man shivering against the cold in a flimsy white T-shirt and pulling a baseball cap out of his pocket. It was the same man who had stumbled into her house smelling of stale beer before taking her in his arms and telling her how sorry he was and how guilty he felt. That man was not her husband.

  When Irene opened the door, she had to take a quick step back as Jo pushed past her mother-in-law into the house.

  ‘Is Steve here?’

  ‘He’s on nights,’ Irene said. ‘Why? What’s wrong, Jo?’

  ‘He’s in bed?’

  ‘Jo, what’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Are you ill again? Do you want me to call the doctor?’

  Jo didn’t have time to explain; Irene was going to have to catch up as the drama unfolded.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Jo reached the landing and stormed straight into the second bedroom where she found Steve sprawled out on the bed in a mess of linen and limbs. Lying on his back with his mouth wide open, he had one arm dangling over the edge of the mattress, the other tucked beneath a pillow. Jo launched herself on to the bed and grabbed hold of his T-shirt. He cried out in shock and reflexively shoved away his unknown attacker. Jo almost lost her balance as Steve scrambled up so fast that he fell out of bed. He kept moving until his back thumped against the bedroom wall. Jo had been lucky his first reaction hadn’t been to throw a punch.

  ‘What the f—’ he began and then recognized his assailant. ‘Jo?’

  ‘It was you!’ she screamed, kneeling up on the bed with the envelope clenched in her fist.

  Steve was still too groggy and confused to make any sense of the accusation. ‘What was me?’

  Gasping for breath, Jo struggled to open the envelope. Her body shook so much she was in danger of toppling off the bed herself.

  Irene was standing behind her. ‘Jo, why don’t you try to calm down so we can sort this out? I don’t know what’s going on but we’re all here to help you. If you don’t want me to phone the doctor yet then maybe I could phone your mum or your sister. They can help decide what to do.’

  The gentle, sympathetic words were meant to placate Jo but instead they fuelled her anger. ‘Shut up, Irene. I’m not going mad! Look!’ She had ripped the photograph from the envelope and snapped it straight so Irene could have a clear view of her son’s betrayal. ‘It’s Steve!’

  She turned back to her brother-in-law who was wide awake now and looking just as terrified as his mother, although Jo suspected for completely different reasons.

  ‘You withdrew the money! Look at the date stamp, Steve! It was the day Sally kicked you out, the nig
ht you turned up drunk at my house. Remember? You were wearing a T-shirt in the freezing cold. Where was your coat? Was it this one?’ she asked waving the photo at him. ‘Did you borrow David’s coat that night so you could do his bidding and withdraw more money?’

  ‘Please, Jo,’ Irene was saying, ‘Steve only had a T-shirt on when he arrived on my doorstep too. There was no coat. There’s only one person it could be in that photo and that’s David, it has to be.’

  Jo ignored Irene’s infuriating attempt to pacify her and continued to stare at Steve. Her eyes were wide and she could feel the sting of tears. ‘What about the baseball cap! That’s yours, isn’t it, Steve? You’ve seen him, haven’t you? Were you out together drowning your sorrows? Did you get David caught up in something to do with your gambling debts? Is that why he left?’ Steve was shaking his head but Jo wouldn’t give in. Sally was right; she couldn’t take anything he said at face value. ‘You’ve been letting us suffer all this time while you’ve known what happened and why he left! Where is he, Steve?’

  Steve squirmed with each accusation. ‘I swear to God, Jo, I don’t know where he is! You’re not well and you’re going to make yourself worse if you carry on like this.’

  ‘Steve’s right,’ Irene said. She had come closer to Jo in a bid to encourage her off the bed. ‘You’re not in the best frame of mind right now. I know you want answers, we all do. But screaming and shouting won’t get you any nearer the truth.’

  ‘Look at it, Irene!’ Jo demanded but the fight left her with a sob.

  Irene started rubbing Jo’s back in much the same way as she might to soothe Archie.

  ‘Look at it, please,’ Jo begged but the tattered photograph had blurred from view and she began to cry. She had been so certain when she stood in the study looking at the photo with the sunlight streaming through the window. She hadn’t stopped to think it through but had gone with her instincts just as she had done a few days earlier when she had accused Sally of an affair, and yet again, she was making outrageous accusations that were utter nonsense and made her look a fool. Why had she been so sure?