Gone Without a Trace

by Mary Torjussen

  ‘You said you’d marry me!’ he’d shouted. ‘You said we’d get married and have the baby together!’

  I was still sore from the procedure and my hormones were all over the place. I hadn’t slept in a week and my head was pounding. I shouldn’t have been at James’s house that night; my dad had forbidden it, and when he did that, you didn’t disobey him. He was away for an hour visiting a client and this was my only chance to speak to James. That hour was nearly up, and the fear of my dad discovering I’d gone out had nearly tipped me over the edge. So when James screamed and cried and shouted and just wouldn’t listen to me, I could feel my blood pressure rising and my head whirling, and I couldn’t answer his questions because I just didn’t know the answers, and then I hit him.

  I’d hit him before and he’d always forgiven me, but this time . . . Well, this time I hit him harder than usual and I knew his eye would be black the next day. It was already swelling and closing and all of a sudden he just stopped dead in his tracks and said, ‘Get out.’

  I’d stared at him, still fired up. In a way I wanted him to hit me back so that I could hit him again, harder. The disgust on his face, though, stopped me.

  ‘Get out,’ he said again, and my eyes had filled with tears. Even then I felt sorry for myself.

  I’d picked up my bag and my coat and left. I was home just minutes before my dad, and my mum was nearly beside herself with worry. I told my dad that night that I wanted to go away, to go to Australia, the furthest place I could think of, to work, I said, just for a year. The word ‘work’ mollified him, though he was probably glad to be rid of me too, and he paid for a ticket there and then. I was gone within a week. I told Katie none of this, only that I was going to take a gap year and go to Australia. She told me I was lucky and I said nothing to make her think otherwise.

  I hadn’t seen James from that moment until the day I saw him with Katie, though I can’t say I’d never thought of him.

  ‘Just tell me the truth,’ he said. ‘Why did you tell us you were pregnant?’

  I sat down on the sofa, feeling weak with shame and regret. I couldn’t look at him. ‘It just happened,’ I said. ‘I was stupid. Sam suggested I might be and I thought for a minute it was possible. When I realised I wasn’t, I knew that if I said I was, people would understand why I was trying to find Matt.’

  ‘But why did you want to find him?’ he said. ‘I don’t understand. Surely you knew why he’d gone?’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ I said. ‘We’d been OK for the last few months. At Christmas . . . well, we had a fight and I went out and Katie called round and found him hurt.’

  ‘Katie? How do you know that?’

  ‘She told me. Today.’ I shook my head. ‘Yesterday.’ I hardly knew what day it was.

  He was quiet. ‘She said nothing to me.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have told you. That’s when things changed between them. And . . . I don’t know . . . things were better between Matt and me then for a while. I knew something had changed, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I never thought he was having an affair. But things were easier between us and I just didn’t question it.’

  ‘Between Katie and me, too,’ he said. ‘I noticed that. We were hardly sleeping together but we were getting on well. I knew something was up but I just couldn’t think what it was. It was only today, driving back from the hospital, that I realised that she was happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time.’

  ‘So was he.’

  ‘And I should have guessed it was Matt.’ He sounded so sad. ‘I’m such an idiot.’

  ‘Why should you have guessed?’

  He shrugged. ‘It was obvious she would go for someone you were involved with. That’s probably why she tracked me down on Facebook in the first place.’

  ‘I thought you met in a club?’ I could remember that phone conversation, Katie excited and happy, telling me she’d bumped into him in Liverpool the night before and he’d asked her out to dinner.

  He shook his head. ‘No, I joined Facebook and a few days later Katie got in touch with me.’ He rubbed his eyes and said again, ‘I should have known something had started up with Matt.’

  I should have known, too.

  We sat in silence. I was thinking of Matt and Katie and wondering whether their relationship would’ve lasted, whether it was happiness they’d had or just the illusion of it.

  ‘She would have left me the same as he left you,’ James said, almost in a conversational tone. ‘Once he was safe and you’d gone off the boil, she would have left too.’

  I thought of her then, that day in school, her face scrubbed, her smile eager, as she asked me to be her best friend, and then time and again throughout the years when I had something she wanted and she’d said, ‘You’re really lucky, Hannah!’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘She would have left both of us.’

  Of course I knew that this was the end of it. It was the end of everything. Katie was dead, Matt in a coma. The moment he woke up, he’d tell the police what I’d done. But James would tell them first, I knew. And he’d be right, too. This had to end now.

  I wanted to ask how her parents were, but I didn’t dare. I hoped they would be able to cling to each other for comfort. Everyone needed someone to hold.

  ‘Do you think Matt will be all right?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea.’

  We sat in silence for minutes, our arms barely touching. The night James and I got together, we spent hours like that, listening to music, neither of us wanting to break the spell. ‘Some Devil’ was on repeat, and it started now for the third time. I used to think I’d never tire of hearing it, but now I knew I wouldn’t play it again.

  Matt and I used to make love in here, on the floor, listening to that album. He’d never known that I’d heard it first when I was with James, that he and I had played it as we lay together on his single bed when we were seventeen. I wondered whether either of them had played it to Katie. If they had, I didn’t want to know.

  ‘Why did you play that song on the phone?’ I asked. ‘ “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling”?’

  I’d caught him unawares, I think, and he looked as though he didn’t want to answer, but then he said, ‘Don’t you remember?’

  And suddenly I did.

  James would call me at night when my parents were asleep and we’d talk for hours in our separate beds. When I looked at him now, I knew that he might hate me, but when he played that song to me the other night and we lay in the dark listening to it, it wasn’t just hatred he felt. There was that moment as the song ended when I thought he’d speak, and I wondered now what he would have said. It might have changed everything.

  I felt completely lost.

  ‘Why did you come here tonight, James? If you knew what had happened, why didn’t you just call the police?’

  He said nothing for a long time, just sat staring at the candles in the fireplace. Then he looked at me. ‘I wanted to talk to you. Just one last time.’

  My eyes filled with tears, and his did too.

  ‘Do you wish we’d stayed together?’ he asked suddenly.

  Slowly I shook my head. ‘I’m glad we split up,’ I said. ‘I would have destroyed you.’

  We were quiet for a long time then until he said, ‘I think that’s happened anyway.’

  He stood up and took his phone from his pocket.

  My blood ran cold. I’d known this moment was coming; I just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. I forced myself to speak. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Hannah, I have to.’ He moved back to the doorway, one hand on the handle as though for safety. He was safe, though he might not feel it. I wished I could say the same for myself.

  The thought of him turning me in made me feel worse than doing it myself. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’ll talk to them.’

  He dialled and asked for the police to come to my address. I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t know what to do and besides, I thought I’d d
one enough lately.

  ‘We’ll let them deal with it,’ he said. ‘Just tell them everything.’

  My knees started to shake. I knew what was going to happen now. I knew I’d end up in prison. I think I’d always known my anger would lead to this. How could it not? And it was better to tell them what had happened myself, without them hunting for me. I shuddered at that thought and I saw James close his eyes. I couldn’t let him see my fear. He was doing the right thing. The only thing.

  I tried to stay cool. ‘Well I’m glad you called them,’ I said. My voice shook but I made myself go on. ‘I’ll be able to have a word with them about all the things you’ve done to me.’

  ‘Like what?’ said James.

  He went to the candle in the window and blew it out. It spluttered, then died. At the hearth, he knelt and blew on the wicks of the big candles until they shuddered and gave up their flames.

  ‘What will you tell them? That there was warm water in your kettle? That you thought you could smell your boyfriend’s cologne even when he wasn’t there? That your living room light was on?’

  He walked around the room, blowing out each candle, and the light grew dimmer with every step he took.

  ‘You beat up your boyfriend and tracked him down when he escaped. You beat up his new girlfriend, your best friend. You pushed her and she fell to her death. He was so scared of you he nearly killed himself trying to get away from you. What will you complain to the police about? That your Vera Wang glass went missing?’

  He blew out the last candle and all I could hear was the gasp of the flame as it died.

  ‘It’s time to face the music, Hannah,’ he said.

  He stayed by the door, guarding me from myself now, I think, and I sat with my head against the sofa, my face turned towards him, searching him out in the dark. For a while all I could hear was the sound of us breathing, and then all I could see was the reflection of the blue light from the police car on the walls of my living room as it raced up the street towards me.

  Epilogue

  Two and a half years later

  ‘Hannah Monroe?’

  I nodded.

  A middle-aged woman stood in front of me, her arms full of files. ‘I’m Janine Evans and I’m your new offender manager. I was here to see another client so I thought I’d pop in and introduce myself.’ She seemed harassed, as though her previous meeting hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped.

  ‘What happened to Vicky?’ For the last few months I’d had occasional visits from another probation officer – or offender manager, as they called themselves – who had guided me through the leaving process.

  Janine sat down opposite me and nodded at the prison officer. ‘We’ll be OK now, thanks.’

  The officer left the room and then it was just the two of us sitting there.

  ‘She’s transferred to another area. So, big day tomorrow?’

  I nodded.

  ‘How do you feel about it?’

  How did she think I’d feel? ‘Happy,’ I said. ‘Excited.’

  ‘Are you feeling nervous?’

  I thought about it for a second. If by nervous she meant was my stomach churning, then yes, of course it was. If she meant was my heart racing, then yes to that, too. And if she was asking whether I felt like I was going crazy with the knowledge that I had to spend one more night in here, then yes, I definitely was.

  ‘I feel a bit scared,’ I said.

  She smiled at me and instinctively I smiled back. ‘That’s only to be expected. Two and a half years is a long time to be inside.’ She looked at her file again, licking her finger and flicking through papers. ‘So the charge was manslaughter and you were given five years.’

  I shut my eyes for a second, then nodded.

  ‘And tomorrow morning you will have served two years and six months, including time spent on bail, which is half of your five-year sentence. For the rest of the term you will be on licence, and as you know, there are conditions you have to stick to.’ She passed me a document. ‘You should take this with you and make sure you understand it fully. You know that if you don’t abide by these conditions, you could be sent back to prison.’

  I knew all about this. Each condition had been drummed into me at my meetings with the offender supervisor who worked here.

  ‘I can see you lost some privileges early on.’ She looked up at me. ‘Fighting.’

  I nodded. I’d been such an idiot. I’d been warned that if I was involved in anything more serious I’d lose days rather than television privileges, and the thought of that had been enough to make me stop. ‘That was at the beginning. In the first few months. I haven’t done anything like that since.’

  She carried on looking at me, as if she was trying to weigh me up. ‘And you’ve attended counselling?’

  I nodded. ‘It was a big help.’

  ‘You’d never had any before, to help you cope with your childhood?’

  She’d obviously been doing her homework.

  ‘Only at university. I had some there the first year. I didn’t see how it could help me then.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘It has really helped me. It’s something I’ll carry on with.’

  ‘That’s good. I think you’ll find it useful. Now, I notice you haven’t had any visitors while you’ve been here.’ She sounded surprised, though I don’t know why. There were quite a few women in the same boat.

  My smile froze. ‘No,’ I said. I could hear that my voice sounded colder now, and she looked up. I hadn’t been able to stand the thought of anyone seeing me here.

  ‘What about your mum? Are you close to her?’

  I avoided her question. ‘She lives in Scotland. I didn’t want her to come here. She . . . she’s not been well. She’ll be at my new apartment for a few days, though, to help me settle in.’

  She gave an understanding nod. ‘What about your dad?’

  I tried to hide my shudder. ‘No, I didn’t want him to come.’

  I’d had a few letters during the time I’d been inside from people asking whether they could visit, though I hadn’t heard a word from my father. Sam had been quite persistent. He’d written to tell me that Lucy had been fired for sending the wrong documents out in my name. She’d done it on purpose, he said, as a short cut to getting my job. As if she would have got your job! he’d said, as though he was loyal to the end. He didn’t mention their relationship and I assumed she was dumped now. He told me that the emails HR had sent me, which I hadn’t opened, were to invite me to a meeting to rescind my suspension. Mind you, his letters had been sent before the trial; I didn’t hear from him afterwards and I assumed HR had changed their mind.

  My mum had wanted to visit but I couldn’t bear to put her through that. A mother shouldn’t have to see her daughter incarcerated, should she? She was living near her sister now. I’d written to her to tell her I didn’t want any visitors and I thought she’d probably be relieved. That’s one good thing about prison: nobody can visit you without your consent. I’d see her the next day, as she was helping me settle into my new home, but I knew the real test would come after she went back home. In prison it was hard to think realistically about what life would be like outside; I was used to hearing the other women talk about leaving as though they’d won the lottery. I knew it wouldn’t be like that. Everything I’d had, I’d lost.

  ‘I believe you had a house before you were arrested,’ said Janine.

  I nodded. ‘My mum sold it for me.’

  ‘You couldn’t have rented it out while you were in here?’

  ‘I don’t want to go back there,’ I said. ‘Not now.’

  ‘Was there equity in it?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes. I’ll put a deposit on another house later.’

  ‘What happened to the equity while you were in here?’

  I was used by now to having absolutely no privacy. ‘I got a third-party mandate on my bank accounts. My mum’s been managing my money for me.’

  She’d been a changed
person since she left my dad. She’d seemed to find strength from somewhere, and when I was sentenced, she came down from Scotland and put my house up for sale. When it finally sold, she came down again with her brother-in-law and a couple of his friends. There was no way my dad would confront her if she had backup. She wrote to tell me she’d sat at the end of the road and watched him leave for work, then they’d gone into the house and taken all her things. She’d gone from there to my house and emptied that, too. In her next letter, she said that Ray and Sheila had watched out of their living room window the whole time. Everything I owned was in storage now, though I don’t think I want to see any of it again.

  ‘I know Vicky has talked to you about work. Don’t forget I can help you look for suitable jobs,’ Janine said. ‘Well, I can point you in the right direction. And I’ll need to see you every week as a condition of your parole. It’ll take you a couple of weeks to settle into your new home, but you should start to look for work as soon as you can.’

  My stomach clenched. I’d already been told it was very unlikely I’d be employed as an accountant again. Or as anything. I’d have to tell any future employer that I was fresh from prison: a sobering thought in a depressed economy. I’d spent the last couple of years trying to figure out what I could do, and I still wasn’t sure. Self-employment seemed my only option; I couldn’t even think of explaining my prison sentence in a job application.

  ‘There’s just one other thing I need to talk to you about,’ said Janine. She turned to another page in her file and looked up at me. ‘When you first came in here, I can see you blamed other people for the position you were in. For what you did.’ She glanced at the page. ‘Matthew Stone in particular. He testified against you at your trial, I believe.’

  My chest tightened at the memory of Matt, pale and thin, standing up in court telling everyone that I’d hit him. As soon as he said it, every eye in the room turned to look at me. Every eye except his, that is. He didn’t look at me at all. It was as though I wasn’t there, but I could tell. I could tell he was aware of me. Hyper-aware. I knew that feeling.